#they certainly seem to have got it back after he died; tho.

[jevilowo]

It's me the timeline guy. Here are my many lore related grievances with the comic:

SPOILERS UNDER THE CUT tho most people have probably read it by now lol

FIRST OF ALL, the Administrator's plan. What happened to "plan so disturbing that several US senators pardoned her for the Poopy Joe incident?" What even was her plan actually was it just to keep the fighting going forever? Then what was the point of Australiummaxxing after Redmond and Blutarch died?

What's up with Zepheniah’s hooked up corpse. Isn't his ghost still around? He certainly is by the seventh scream fortress comic, which takes place during MvM. His will says he won't rest until he's done being mad at the world idk how that relates to anything.

OH HORSEMANN MY HORSEMANN. Why is Zepheniah claiming to be an only child? And it's not a retcon bc later on Soldier pulls up the family photo WITH SILAS IN IT. Where did he even get that. Anyways. The only explanation is either 1) some in-universe attempt by Zepheniah to write Silas out of history (implied by the two copies of the quarterly concern, one seen in a hidden page in the classless update and the other in the background of the Engineer update), or 2) ...i was going to say Silas was actually his cousin or something but that wouldn't make sense if the siblings of Zepheniah’s dad all died young. Urgh. I hoped the Horsemann would return and put to rest the implications dragged up by scream fortress two but alas twas not to be.

What's with the 3 different covers of a young Administrator? My theory is they're supposed to represent three possible backstories the writers were cooking and wouldn't commit to. Who knows.

CHARLES DARLING. The triplets' birth certificate claimed that their mother was a Darling (save me Bette Mann etc etc), and that had me convinced Charles was going to be at least RELEVANT. Why else would he, a joke antagonist introduced in the War! Comic, show up at all? Looking for Australium, no less? I tell you that flashback of him and Maxton had me CONVINCED something would happen. Especially with the two of them lowkey treating him like shit.

So so so much Admin stuff left unexplained. Seeing her child self in the Australium. The census dated back to 1850 with "HELEN" on it. Telling Engie "your family has already done so much for me". By that she could have just meanth Radigan making an immortality machine for Redmond as well as Blutarch I guess, but ??? I liked the Emily reference tho that was something one of the artists reffered to her as for the Engie Update Comic by mistake and later took back so neat callback lmao.

SPEAKING OF RADIGAN. Nothing on who the third Australium machine went to. Presumably Admin I guess? Not explained, never will be probably.

Who was the person in the torn Mann Family portrait? My main theory was always either an earlier version/design of Grey or a Darling, but in the picture Soldier shows (SERIOUSLY WHERE DID HE GET THAT) we can't even see the outline of a person around his thumb. It almost looks like they just made a version of the picture without anyone in the middle and called it a day.

TFI having other mercenary groups came out of fucking nowhere, even in comic six. The T and F presumably stand for "Team Fortress", fuck you mean "Team Citadel", "Team Vanguard", giant fucking statue of random epic looking mercs??? What is happening. They did NOT explain that shit at all. Multiple, seemingly incredibly competent teams are NOT "eighteen perfect idiots". Did Poopy Joe die for nothing.

One of the top posts I've ever made is the one where I point out the date Spy and Scout got arrested on that newspaper: September 7th, 1972. This means the rest of the comics should take place 5½ months later i.e. February/March 1973. Ergo, 1979 could not be "seven years later". The comics seem to think themselves that they're set in 1972 already, there's a few lines about it but for the life of me I can't remember. Something something however many years since Zepheniah died blah blah year the triplets were born. Whatever. It's on my timeline probably.

Smaller thing, but embarrassing lack of a full name reveal for Heavy and Medic. Spy also, but I wasn't really expecting that. They shall remain Mikhail "Mischa" Weponzgy and Fritz Ludwig (alias, he's a wanted man) in my heart.

SO IN CONCLUSION: the writers went in with no clue how to end the story, something made evident by the possibility of the 4chan leaks being an early script and also entirely fucking different.

Still, there were a lot of lore unrelated things I did enjoy: the fact that the mercs actually got a happy ending, for one thing. Sniper stealing a plane, Scout maturing and moving on from Pauling, Pyro literally just being overjoyed to see Engie again, babies!!! The fact we even got a comic! How crazy is that? At least we didn't have to wait another seven years.

I might draft a script for an alternate ending that tries to answer lore stuff more, but knowing me I wouldn't finish it. Still, I am working on making a website for my timeline and I'll upload the link here once I'm done with it. Oh and I'll update the doc version soon. Bitterly.

[fideidefenswhore]

Did most of Henry's court dislike Elizabeth just because she was the daughter of Anne Boleyn? Do you think that she was bullied by them growing up?

No, I think very few disliked her, for that reason or otherwise (Observant Friars, the Aragonese and later Marian, factions, notwithstanding). She was literally a child, and after 1544 she was officially third in line to the throne, & once Edward VI became King, second in line. There's the argument that most would have revered Mary more, for at least habit's reason (she had been acknowledged Princess for the first seventeen years of her life, versus Elizabeth's scant three); but Elizabeth would have probably been revered, too. All the reports of her as a child, both when Anne was Queen and after her death and disgrace, spoke of her 'towardness', her gravity, her intelligence, her grace, politesse and charm...even Chapuys, after the death of his bete noire, admitted she was a pretty child.

Who would have been brave enough to bully a King's daughter (who wasn't exiled, wasn't in disgrace, see, Mary 1533-36), later, a King's sister, really? What would it have gained them? There were probably some sidelong glances and speech in Edward VI's reign, but that would've had more to do with the drama with Thomas Seymour, and there was outright hostility towards her in Mary I's reign, but that was likely courtiers emulating their sovereign.

[xerotiny]

Trouble in Paradise // Our Precious #3

Trouble in Paradise (Our precious series 3)

M.list ┃ Previous ┃ Next

Pairing: Jeong Yunho x Reader

Warning: smut, dom!yunho, sub!reader, bits of food play (a little disgusting if you aren't into that kinda thing), frottage (non-penetrative sex), cunnilingus (oral sex), nipple/breast simulation, dirty talk & degradation (ofc, because Yunho's really got a foul mouth on him, and we like it <I need therapy>).

Note: do not proceed if you're uncomfortable or triggered by mentioned tags. Please, if you're really grossed out by "transferring" food from one's mouth to another's, then do not proceed. (Here, it's just strawberries, tho. So totally upto you 💀)

Gist: after the deliberate game night, you're left to contemplate about Jongho's and his flatmates' proposition of being their fucktoy. If that wasn't enough of an issue for you, a phone call from your parents leaves you in a mess. And the only way to relax during your hard times is something you know Yunho does all too well.

Word Count: 12,686

  "So, have you thought about it?"

You bite your lip, obviously contemplating every word of his.

"You know, Jongho just asked me about it a couple of days ago." you stifle a groan and shake your head, "agreed you all are very eager to have me on board, but I'm going to need some time to think, right?"

You take a deep breath, listening to his deep voice murmuring, "and we don't mind how long you take to give us your ultimatum. Of course, I am aware of the kind of plight you're put through. So, don't sweat it and don't make a decision you would end up regretting, okay?"

The grin on your face widens when you let his words sink in; well, he was right. But there was something which was quite tedious to figure out.

"Can I ask you something, Yunho?"

Hearing him lowly hum against your ear, you resist every urge to stuff your hand in between your legs; you roll over your stomach and grab a pillow to hold it under your chest. Your lethargic body relaxes almost immediately when you feel the soft coziness of the pillow and silk sheets draped over your bed. The mattress sinks once again when you move, shifting on your back to stare at the bland ceiling before pushing your phone closer to your ear.

Your heart thumped in your chest, words itching to be said, somehow balancing off the tip of your tongue yet having no grit to let them out. This question, the supposed doubt you had in your mind was troubling you ever since Jongho dropped you off at your dorms the next day of your game night. It was a fiddling question, not too serious or brooding, yet you had your conscience tied in a knot over it. The after-bearing sentiments of your proposed 'bargain' had been irking you to your ultimate limits.

What if, keeping a sex exclusive relationship with the people you barely know, turns out to be the worst decision of your life?

Or, what if your feelings come into play with this superficial relationship?

It may seem crazy, but spending only a week with Yunho had already made you sublime; you could only dream of experiencing the better half of a relationship because Yunho was certainly the boyfriend material, the exact kind you had been craving for years. As truth would have it, and as it would sting your morales, you had couple of exes who were shitty and contemptibly obnoxious. So, now that you had a man who was ticking off every single wish on your list, the profuse quandaries were messy.

"Princess, did you fall asleep?" he teases you through the phone, his tone making you envisage him smirking.

You might as well—after a hectic day of chemistry lectures coming into a play for your lethargy and hebetude, you certainly didn't mind letting off some steam before falling sleep.

"No, I'm here. I'm just..." you trail off, "...I'm thinking of ways to voice my thoughts."

"Have I ever judged you? Even though for the past week you've told me some really disturbing shit," he laughs, and you retaliate, "and don't act as if you didn't enjoy as much as I did narrating it to you."

"I did. I did," his laughter wrings out to a sigh, "don't think too much, okay? Be openly honest with me, ask me what you want to."

"I don't want to ruin your grocery store trip," you let out a soft titter and could picture him rolling his eyes, "understandable, because grocery shopping is all rainbows and unicorns anyway."

"If you had me there with you, it would've been fun," you mumble, turning on your side to stare the dingy wall of your dorm room.

"If that was the case, we'd probably not even make it to the store." He adds, "and we do not want to piss Seonghwa off. He's not pretty when he gets mad."

You drawl on your lower lip and squeeze your thighs together, "it's hard to believe, but okay."

"Ask, Angel." His stern and commanding tone makes your heart palpitate faster in your chest, fluttering sparks in your pussy as you prepare yourself to question him, "okay, it's a simple question, so...why me?"

"Why you, as in why we asked you to be our fucktoy?" he muses and you groan softly yet again, rolling back on your stomach to hold the pillow tighter under your chest.

"Yes. Why me? Why not someone else—maybe Wooyoung's friend, or San's or you know, Mingi's even." You grit your teeth, nervously chomping on your cheek to rid your anxiety.

Yunho chuckles, heartily, very proudly so because he wasn't sure if he had heard you right or not. "Do you think those losers have any girlfriends, Angel?"

"Why not?" you let a smile fleet on your lips.

"Because Wooyoung is a manwhore, he's slept with entire female population in his department and if it isn't obvious, I'm not interested in someone who could be a prospect carrier for herpes," he titters still, "I'm not slut-shaming him, but—ah well fuck it! I am slut-shaming him. Not my fault, he is a pathetic excuse for a human because hit and run is his specialty. Now, you tell me why any of his casualties would agree to our demands, let alone would want to sleep with us?"

You shake your head, trapping your lower lip with your teeth. "I get it. So, am I supposed to feel special?"

"Hmm, I'd rather consider myself lucky to have a cum-slut like you." you squeeze your thighs again, remembering the two nights you had spent with him. "Hold on a moment, let me park my car first."

You hum, restless and exhausted; your day hadn't been decorous since the morning, and considering you had two consecutive chemistry sessions today, you were definitely drained of your frisky energy. Yet, there's something about Yunho and talking to him while he drives around the town to get to the grocery store; at this point you questioned your motives and abilities—why were you getting turned on by a man driving his car to the store?

Maybe because it was very much attractive in your mind. Him, driving a hatchback (probably, you hadn't seen what car he drives), wearing a dress shirt with its sleeves rolled up to his elbows, black shades on his eyes, the dainty rattling bracelets he usually adorns around his wrist—to conclude, the picture you were painting in your mind was the cause of your panties getting drenched.

Silence engulfs you, not necessarily, you could catch up on the soft shuffling sounds his clothes, or even his delicate grunts as he puts the car in park and gets out, slamming the door behind him. Although, there's a momentary hush when his phone gets disconnected from the car Bluetooth; he holds his phone close to his ear, while he straightens out a stray crease falling on his shirt near his waist.

"Angel?" he calls out, breaking your trance of staring at your study desk adjoining your bed, "you're still on line. Are you...?"

"I'm here, I did not fall asleep, though I think I might because of the very tiring day I've had." You pout, shifting on your bed to rest against the headboard, while you bring your legs to your chest.

Yunho chuckles, "ah my dear princess, I am coming over after I'm done with this tedious task. You're not gonna get much sleep then. I'd suggest you take a nap till I get done here."

"Oh." you bite your lips, glancing down at your chest. "Wake me up when you get here, and ah—p-s, I'm not wearing anything under my dress."

You hear him let out a breathy chortle, more like a scoff which taunts you into slipping your free hand to the hem of your silk dress. Coming back from the university, you were too exhausted to care about your outfit. You simply put on a coral shaded silk babydoll which barely covered your ass, with spaghetti straps and called it a day—of course, by also abandoning the underwear. So, you were practically naked under the flimsy silk dress, your breasts loose and hanging, your nipples taut from the friction and they really did poke through the material of your dress.  Both of you are quiet for a minute, but then you're also deeply submerged in the thoughts of him coming to your dorm room and fucking you. An annoying chime of bell dings in the background, followed by a soft sound of mechanical doors sliding open—that brings you down to earth, and so does his grumbling voice.

"An open invitation for me to wreck you in any way I want?" he muses, tittering as he moves past the doors and grabs himself a cart. "Princess, you better know what you're getting yourself into. I won't be gentle."

His warning only makes you wetter, your hand slithering past the hem of your dress to trace your fingers on your wet and slick folds. Biting back a whimper when the warmth of your fingers melts around your skin, you take a deep breath and throw your head behind. You knew your breathing would sound wispy to him if you tried to speak but you couldn't control yourself from not uttering a word.

"Yun—you can do—ahh..." you stutter, pressing your fingers against your mound, just above your clit, "I'll be waiting."

"Is my princess touching herself to the thought of me fucking her raw again?" he slurs his words, merely in a whisper considering he was in public. You were deaf to the somber tunes playing in the mart, you were too busy controlling your raspy breath because your desires were flaming you out.

"Yes..."

Yunho lets out a laugh and shakes his head, muttering under his breath then, "can't wait to taste that tight little cunt of yours. Rest well, princess."

He's the one to hang up on you; rather than throwing an imaginary fit, your mind is filled with the images of his cock straining in his pants as he meanders through the aisles of the supermarket. You might be too over in your head, but the exhaustion was slowly crawling up your spine. In no time you find yourself slipping against the headboard and slumping yourself properly in the bed. And in the few passing minutes, your eyes close and you're drifting away into your dreamland.

Dreamland. An alternate universe where you were living your wildest fantasies—maybe a little too realistically. The resonating voice of Yunho and his words were dwelling on your mind. Your imagination was coming to life, nonetheless in your dream. Soon, you're breathing out whimpers of desperation, squeezing your thighs together and murmuring your moans; you never thought you'd be having wet dreams, but you weren't fazed by the unpredictability. The tingling sensation in your pussy only grows when you envision Yunho with his head buried in between your legs, licking and lapping his tongue in your slit, over and over again.

A harsh tug at your lungs makes you breathe deeply, eyes squinting to the imaginary pleasure you were experiencing—with your brows scrunched together, you knew you were pooling in your lingerie. Though, in your dreams, Yunho doesn't stop, and it feels too real to not react to it; however, in the dark corner of your mind, you feel another presence.

Jongho.

The grinning man stands behind Yunho, arms folded over his chest, lips quivering with his eyes fixated on Yunho. Him watching Yunho eat you out was a turn on you didn't think you'd have. But there he was, with his twinkling gaze not once wavering off of you two. Why was it so hot? Why...? Out of the blue, a knot tied itself in your stomach and your guts loosen; the urge to just let go crosses your hazy mind but you try to hold it in. Until it gets too hard to bear and you're jerked out of your sleep.

You don't know how long it has been but when your eyes crack open, you're in direct contact with your open window and furling curtains. The space holds a beguiling view of the evening merging with the night, dark at the seams and bright in the middle. Purple and orange hues mixing together to a crisp shade of the fore-night; you're immersed in admiring the sky, too much to realize you had been holding yourself in. Though when the dire need starts tickling your stomach again, you rush out of your bed and head to the bathroom to relieve yourself.

Once your conscious clears out, you notice several things which have been cluttering your mind. One, you had a wet dream about Yunho and Jongho, two people you never thought you'd ever dream of. Two, as you're staring at your reflection in the mirror, you discern a wet patch on your dress, right near your lap; the dress must've been wedged in between your thighs when you were having that sensual dream. Three, you are really horny. Really really horny. Which sort of reminds you of yours and Yunho's conversation before you dozed off to sleep.

Biting your lip, you get out of the bathroom and dump yourself on the edge of the bed. Your eyes glance over at your desk to read the time on your alarm clock. 5:56 pm, it read, almost 6:00 pm you thought and heaved out a sigh. You run a hand through your hair and stroke out the tangles with your fingers. Searching for your phone, you find it near your pillow and grab it in a haste. When you watch the screen blare with the notifications, your breath hitches in your throat and then delves deeper down in your stomach.

Ten missed calls from your mom.

"Fuck," you curse under your breath and dial her number.

The ring resonates in your ear, infuriating and anxiety striking; yet you listen to it till it echoes out into the obnoxious droid voice telling you the 'number you've dialed is unavailable. Please try again'. You huff and call again but are met with the same outcome as before and it continues on for the next ten attempts you make to call her. Giving up at what you could remember as your twelfth try, you throw your phone aside and let the anxiety eat you out. How ironic was that, in your dreams it was Yunho, and in reality, it's your own mom.

You were certainly restless, weaving all these uncertain notions about your mom—your father too, but since you and your dad didn't really share much of an intimate bond, you weren't surprised to receive no calls from him. Soon, the anxiety reaches your gut, you're quivering with fear and second thoughts; what if it had been an emergency? What if your mom had something really important to say to you? What if you—what if you were too late to call her back? Everything was eventually gone in the blink of an eye.

Knock! Knock!

Two knocks sound on your door, and you flinch; even though you knew who was at your door, you couldn't shake off your perturbation regarding your family. It was true, you had stood up for yourself when your parents were against you pursuing your higher education in a different state but now all those moments were disappearing into a heap of worries. Did you even make the right decision of coming here? Given, you had scholarship and exempted tuition fee, was your decision to come here really ethical from all other perspectives?

Troubled, you drag your feet to answer the door. A trifling gasp is caught in your throat when instantly you're pushed against the door by someone's burly arms, closing the door in process. You were quite used to Yunho's scent, knowing he always carried around a delicate whiff of amber and peonies. The addicting scent rakes your senses to its fullest when his lips capture yours in a searing kiss. His lips move with yours, one arm around your waist tightly wound to keep you in place while his other hand cups a side of your face. Delighted, but mostly razed by his touches, a frail smile sculpts your lips, and you slide your arms all over his back to hold onto his shoulders.

The worries plaguing your mind soon melt away into the heat of your kiss; you're leaning in for more, diving headfirst into this beautiful mess when you know he's only going to tease you and not give in so easily. You're left whining when he bites down on your lower lip and tugs on it. Watching your lips wobble with a smirk on his plump ones, he chuckles softly and shakes his head. He grabs your jaw and pushes his fingers deep into your cheek for your mouth to open wide.

"Hey, Angel," one of his eyebrow twitches on his forehead when he calls out your name with a smirk. "You asked why you, right? I'll tell you why..."

He buries his head in the crook of your neck and sucks at a random spot on the juncture between your jaw and head. Warm tongue rubs your skin, before his teeth sink in and his lips suckle. You groan at the sensation, your mind numbing to any anxiety you felt before. His hand drops from your waist skims over the hem of your babydoll before diving under to trace it along your inner thigh; his fingertips graze against your wet folds before rubbing you down gently.

You prevent yourself from moaning out loud when his finger moves in and out of your slit at a slow pace. Holding your jaw tightly, he nudges your head back into the door.

"This—this fucking thing you have going," he mumbles against your neck, "I don't care about others and why they want you, but for me it's this—the way you're attuned with my body. And also, how fucking addicting you are to me."

You swallow thickly and throw your head further back against the door, banging yourself but you weren't bothered in the least. Hearing soft crinkles of a polythene bag, you peek at him through your half-lidded eyes; lustful gaze rummages around till your vision fills with the sight of him remaining buried in your neck, sucking deep purple bruises on your skin. The carnal darkness in your room is scattered when the lurid rays of moon wash over your invader. You notice him wearing a long coat over his outfit, you carefully listen to every crinkle of his dainty silver bracelets, and you're definitely lost in the appreciation of his teeth creating blotches on your skin.

"This thing started with us," he adds, a little breathless, "as much as I am willing to share you with my piddling flatmates, I can't pretend to be I'm okay with our arrangement. I'll be jealous, I'll be possessive. At certain times you might even see a side of me you probably won't find too adorable."

"I like it when you get jealous, though," you slur your words, smirking at him diligently. "I'm not sure what it is, but you rather have what belongs to you in your own ruthless ways."

Yunho coughs out a tiny chortle before stepping back and shaking his head; you stumble on your weak feet, watching him shrug off his long coat before flinging it over on the seat of the chair in front of your desk. Sighing dejected, as the anxiety once again starts bubbling under your skin, you make yourself comfortable on the edge of your bed. You kept your eyes on him as he loosens first few buttons of his pastel blue shirt—his bracelets keep chiming in time to time, with every movement of his hands. Just as you pictured him to be dressed; he wore a blue dress shirt adorning thin vertical white stripes and paired it with black trousers and boots. The faded blue hair of his was complementing the look, alongside the bits of silver jewelry he wore. He takes a step close to you and leans over to get to your face level; he slips a polythene bag in your lap and when you inspect into it, there are two plastic containers of peaches and strawberries. Did he get those for you? How thoughtful. He clears his throat, lips ghosting over yours as his arms plant themselves on either side of your thighs, trapping you against the bed this time. 

"The first time I saw you at the bookstore, all lost and bemused, like a deer in headlights—I wanted to ruin your innocence so fucking badly," he murmurs, his hot breath fanning your cheeks, "if only had you taken a peek in my head that day. It's a bit exhilarating, isn't it? —" he nudges you with a subtle nod of his head, his hands tracing along the length of your arms, "—how you had to be Jongho's friend. How you were dragged into this mess."

For the purpose of your sanity, your fingertips grasp onto the plastic containers, tightly so because the proximity between your faces kept on dithering to nothing. Running his hands back and forth along your arms, he trails one up to hold you in place by your neck; you gasp the sensation of his fingers tightening around your throat, sinking into your skin, suffocating you.

He presses his lips against yours in a mere touch to whisper, "maybe it's some sort of fate's blueprint or whatever. I don't really care what it is..." he hums out low and drags his words in a gentle mumble, "but I know there's a spark between us, between our bodies to be so profoundly in sync with each other."

Stifling a moan, you mutter against his lips, "are you done with this banal folly? If you are, then just shut up and fuck me."

He raises an eyebrow at you, a small smirk then fleeting on his lips. "Your wish is my command, princess."

"What...?"

You muse to yourself when he pulls away and takes a step back, he eyes you with a lustful twinkle in his eye and strides towards to the full length mirror you had accommodated beside your study desk for the time being. Your dorm wasn't much, to be honest. It was spacious, yes; a bed to a side, a study desk adjacent to it and other trivial things you had lying around, including a closet to the right side of the door, a mini fridge situated next to it, and to the left side of the door was the bathroom. Single room dormitories were expensive compared to the shared ones, but you didn't like the idea of having a roommate or two even.

"Was this the same mirror you used to send me that picture?" he questions, observing it closely.

"Yeah, what about it?" you place the plastic bag to your side and bite your lip, considering.

"Hmm," he purrs softly and picks the mirror up to place it right in front of you. "Let's set it here, shall we."

"What's on your mind, Yunho?" you whine softly, turning it into a chuckle when he prepares to get down on his knees before you. "Really...?"

As exasperated as your voice is, you can't hide your anticipation of your body when he slides himself closer to you. His hands on your thighs, sear a burn on your skin when he grips your flesh. Thumbs rub circles, till they're pressing down and sinking in; he pushes your legs apart, and you let him do as he pleases. One of his hands is already skimming across your thigh to the hem of your dress, pushing it up till it rolls around your chest. He holds it there, exposing your glistening cunt for his eyes to feast on.

"I said I'd be pining to taste you," he mutters in a breath, and gazes up at you, "so here I am. Unlike others, I deliver what I say, princess. And I've been craving a taste of you for quite a while now—since the day I saw you. But with the mirror in front, you can see it for yourself, the kind of mewling mess you become for my tongue."

He shrugs and pouts, tightening his hand which rested on your thigh, while he prompts you with a nod of his head to hold your dress up. You do as said, letting your trembling fingers clip on the hem of your dress to hold it up. Perusing your glistening cunt with his lust-filled eyes, his lips curl into a sly smirk. He slots himself closer to you, tracing his delicate lips down your abdomen, fluttering kisses which tickle your spine and your spark your cunt. Watching his reflection in the mirror was already fucking you up; but watching his reflection when his head is buried deep in between your legs was certainly savage. 

"And what are those fruits for? You were going to treat yourself, weren't you?" you mumble softly under your breath.

Dropping one hand to stroke his hair away from his forehead, you tangle your fingers in his luscious locks while trying to clasp your lower lip to bite back on any possible moans you might voice. His kisses trace up your stomach, up till he's giving your skin short kitten licks under your breasts. Your fingers pinch his hair, other hand struggling to hold your dress up—his thumbs help you soothe by rubbing circles on your thighs, engulfing you in a trance of comfort and ease.

"Of course, I'm treating myself," he mumbles under his breath, skimming his wet tongue down your abdomen to your stomach again. "Strawberries just taste better, you know."

Scoffing out in bewilderment, he presses a deep kiss just over your belly button and drags his lips slowly down, purposely teasing and nicking his teeth at your skin. You tilt your head back, your lips carved in a sleazy smile when the sensation of his soft lips flutter further down; your fingers tighten their hold on his faded blue locks, while other let's go of your dress. The silky material of your babydoll slips over his head, but he does not seem bothered as he continues littering soft kisses down your belly button.

And then, a moan hitches in your throat, anticipating. You're urged to squeeze your thighs together; only because his hot breaths were caressing your mound. His thumbs carried on rubbing circles in your flesh, soothing you bit by bit. In a way, his placid ministrations were helping you to keep your legs spread from him.

"Hmm, fuck," you gasp, voiceless, under your breath, screwing your eyes shut to the feeling of his soft lips pressing insanely close against your clit.

But you're left high when he pulls back, angling his head up to look at you; he wasn't fond of your dress slipping down your chest and waist, he didn't like it when your skin was covered. If you had the body to flaunt it, then why would you or anyone else want it covered? That was his logic, according to what you could stipulate from the week you had spent with him. Phrases and words like that made you an absolute puddle for him, you'd melt into a cold and sybaritic plash for him—all because you knew he would worship your body like the goddess you are, whenever he had the chance to. He has a chance now; he wasn't going to let it slip.

"You really like to tease me, don't you?" you squeak, listening to some shuffles of his clothes while your eyes peel open. "Now, what?"

"Getting rid of your lingerie," he grunts, huffing out a stubborn breath while lifting your babydoll over your head. Groping a handful of your tits, he buries his face in the valley of your chest and showers your skin with a few kisses. "I'd rather prefer you wearing nothing when you're around me. Can't get enough of this body, can't get enough..." he pauses, mulling over as his fingers dig into your fleshy tit, "...fuck, I'm all out of words to describe what this body means to me. Not just a fucktoy, no. Not at all. This body...hmm, this body should be displayed in a museum for being so fucking perfect. You're perfect for me, princess. Don't think otherwise, or else..."

Or else? You wondered. Not as much as exalting yourself in the way he was slurring his words, rambling even to get his point across. His teeth scratch your skin, his fingers now rolling your taut nipple; his other hand has been on your thigh all along, stroking circles to keep you levelheaded. You whimper at the sensation of his calloused hand kneading and groping one of your tits, while the other wasn't getting the attention it deserved. Turning your whimper into a whine, you look down at him, surprised to find him staring at you with the loudest smirk he could possibly scour.

"Aww, is my princess needy?" he tugs his lower lip out, brows scrunching down at the corners to feign his discretion. "My needy princess will get everything," he mutters against your skin, and leaves behind open mouth kisses when he gets to your other tit. "Hmmfyou—pfneeded—fthis?"

It drives you crazy how he was being muffled by your tit in his mouth; you glance down, biting your lip to avoid yourself from getting too aroused by the sight beneath. Oh lord, were you wrong. His lips had encased themselves around your flesh, tongue lapping and licking at your hardened peck; though, you could not resist being tempted by his doe eyes staring up at you with such nativity in them. His other hand squeezes your other tit, keeps it going till you're blabbering his name in wispy voice.

"Yunho...please," you shudder to the stimulation of your chest.

He hums around your tit, teeth slowly sinking in and biting lightly, his tongue was at it too, slicking it in his spit and unprecedented licks. Muttering a string of incoherent curses to yourself, you let your hand slip from his hair to the back of his neck, gripping tight. His moan gets muffled around your tit, sending spine-tingling vibrations to your cunt. You needed him, now. There was no way you could handle him playing with your chest like this.

He pulls his mouth back, reverberating a 'pop' sound on purpose as he does. "When I first saw you at the bookstore, I imagined you tasted like strawberries or peaches. So..." he blindly reaches out for the plastic containers of fruit he brought with him, while his other remains on your tit, caressing and pinching. "...coming across these at the grocery store was a good trip to the memory lane. I was reminded and I thought why not?"

"Let me devour you, princess."

You don't know what it was, but it was enough to make you leak. And in that while, you couldn't figure out how he got one of the strawberries out of the box you had placed to the side on bed before, and already had it in his mouth. The leaves were off the strawberry, conveniently—as he bites on it, the faint crimson juices slop past his lips and further down on his chin. You wanted to lick him clean. Maybe it was a silent yet coherent thought beeping in your mind, and maybe he had just read your mind. He slithers his hand along your arm and grabs the back of your neck, pulling you down, he lets his lips collide with yours.

Sweet. The redolent taste of strawberries fills up your mouth, eventually, a few bits of it when he forces his tongue in your mouth. There you are, frenching him while he shoves down the broken and mushy pieces of strawberries down your throat. Now, both of your chins are sticky and stained from the juices, though for you, a stray drop trickles past and falls perfectly in between your tits. 

A spark goes off in Yunho's mind when he feels the coldness of the drop dribbling over his hand which still played with your tit. You trace both of your hands to his shoulder and grip them tight, crinkling and creasing his shirt haphazardly—well, as if you cared.  He breaks the kiss and takes a deep breath in, while you're still breathless at how hard his tongue was shoving itself down your throat. A few pieces of strawberry are stuck in the gaps of your cheeks, and you swallow them down as you stare at him.

Picking out another strawberry, Yunho smirks slightly as he brings it to your mouth and prompts you to take a small bite out of it before he engulfs it whole. Again, the juices fill up his mouth, cumulative drops collecting themselves by the edge of his lips—but then don't spill, not until he buries his head back into your chest. A few drops roll down on your skin, his kisses soon turning into open mouth suckles. Pale stains of crimson trail with his mouth as he takes one of your tits in; it was the other one this time. His mouth wraps perfectly around your flesh, sucking and squeezing your tit with his lips and teeth. One of his hands snakes around your waist to rest on the small of your back, while the other cups a side of your face.

"This is awfully freaky," you mumble, dragging one of your hands to play with his hair falling on his nape. "But I like it freaky, you make it seem—ah," you gasp when you feel him give your nipple a gentle tug with his teeth, "—ah fuck, that feels good. So, fucking good..."

Your chest heaves up and down in his face, too bothered by him and his innocent eyes gazing up at you. The warmth of his mouth and the vague gelidity of the strawberry juices dissipates when he detaches himself from your chest; his smirk grows in his cheek, perusing the piece of art he had left behind on your chest. The sticky red strawberry pulp had adhered to your skin quite magnificently and he couldn't be prouder.

"This is just the tip of the iceberg," he winks, swallowing the remnants of fruit in his mouth. "I can get freakier."

Confidence in his eyes strikes you in the best way possible; you for sure know your cunt had drenched your bedsheets by now, all slick with the arousal his mouth was causing.

"Then get freakier, I need more from you."

In the erratic moment of time, he grabs another strawberry from the containers and props it right over your mound. The frigidity of the fruit was searing against your skin, that is only until he had fisted his hand around it and squeezed the life out of it—the pulp and juices trickled down, slotting itself perfectly in your folds and slit.

"Ah, fuck—you fucking bastard," you half-moan-half-chuckle, but it soon turns to an astonished gasp when his hot breath casts itself on your cunt before his wet tongue licks up your slit. "You—fuck—you fucking—you fucking freak!" you succumb to breathlessness and close your eyes tight; clutching his nape with both of your hands, you held onto him for your dear life.

He chortles against your slick folds and delves further down; the tip of his nose nudges with your clit at first, and then slides along your slit. How fucking good did that feel? You moan, your chest ripping itself apart when you do. It was unlike anything you had felt, especially considering pleasures received through oral stimulation. Yunho knew what he was doing, and he was doing it really well. His tongue licks up a stripe, lips sucking around your clit for a hot second before he drags them down to repeat the long and hard licks. You were squirming with a want, the oh-so sweet want of release.

Yunho's hands grip your inner thighs, his thumbs nudge and spread your cunt apart for the remaining pulp and juice of strawberry to roll down in between your folds. He leans in close and picks out the granules with his teeth, biting down softly as he does. It sends tremors under your skin, forces a saccade series of moans and groans out of you while your eyes squint tighter to let out tears. The pleasure was immeasurable, wooing you off into a faraway land of orgasm and joy.

You were delighted, so delighted to find your stomach knotting itself without having to be stimulated with penetration. He continues to lick and suck on your folds, gradually giving your clit some attention with his tongue while his hands groped your thighs and fingers dug in; they were leaving bruises tomorrow, but you were looking forward to it. Those handprints of his, they were going to be something you'd love to show off to your friends or someone.

"Fuck, Yunho. Your mouth—" you take a breath in through your mouth, "—it feels like I'm in paradise."

When your eyes open you see stars twinkling in the corner, your sight was full of them eventually—that is, as he carried on with his ruthless licks and flicks to your clit. The knot was intensifying, if anything, you really were on the verge of letting yourself go and watching you cum all over his face. Your face twitches and you're about...

Ring! Ring! Ring!

The high you once sought to, was now a deliberate low laying fruit; the knot disappears as the blaring sound of your phone's ringtone grows louder. You click your tongue, and blindly swat your hand on the bed next to you to find your phone. As you would recall, you did fling it somewhere when you went to answer the door. However, Yunho wasn't bothered by the deafening rings percolating in the room, he continues. A man on a mission. You mentally groan at that thought and sigh heavily when you find your phone in your hand. Checking the caller ID, you couldn't help but swipe the screen to answer the call.

Mom's calling you. She's calling you back. You needed answers, something to appease you about the ordeal where she felt the need to call you ten times.

Pressing the phone close to your ear and while gasping for air, you mumble, "he-hey mom."

"Oh, hey Angel—wait, did I get you at the wrong time?" you shake your head, trapping your moans in your mouth, "uh-huh, I was worried—I was worried about you and da—and dad. Giving me ten misse—ten missed—fuck."

All breath is knocked out of your lungs when you feel Yunho's tongue slither along your slit and his spit cover you up in its warmth; you're left to drawl on the remaining air in your lungs, specifically when he places his hand on your lower abdomen and forces you to lean behind into the mattress. Your back arches, your hips lift off the edge slightly for him to fix himself better between your legs. The angle your body now holds, gives him the perfect view of your hole. You squirm, wiggling your ass and bucking your hips into his face to get that much needed contact you had been craving for so long.

"Keep it hush, princess," he whispers, glaring up at you, "and watch your mouth when you're talking to your mother, hmm?"

You slightly glance down, hand trembling to hold the phone close to your ear—his face was breathtaking, glistening with your juices and the saccharine scent of the strawberry mixing in with your musk. The tip of his nose goes back to being buried in your slit, while his tongue rolls on your clit till it trails down to your hole.

Knowing where this was headed, you clutch the sheets under you and press your lips together. You so hoped your mom wasn't getting any ideas in her head about why your words were slurred or whimpered.

"Angie, I can call some other time," she murmurs from the other line, reminding you that you were still on call with her.

"Mom, just—just tell me—fuuc—hmmm," you cry out in pleasure when his tongue thrusts into your cunt. "I'm good—I'm good, you had me—hmmm—you had me worried—it's—"

"Yeah, I'm sorry, darling," she interrupts you, her tone soft and gentle. "The thing is, your dad..." she sighs and continues, "...in the last quarter of your dad's business—we're going under, Angel."

She comes straight to the point and bemused you; but your mind is occupied with Yunho's tongue shoving in and out of your cunt, slurping your juices, squelching your fleshy folds, and pressing the tip of his nose against your slick slit. You were done for better this time. The familiar knot ties itself in your stomach again. This time, your body rather hoped you'd get to come undone and release your tension all over his face. But, Yunho had some different ideas in his mind.

Hearing a bit of static from the other side, your mom continues, "you're understanding the weight of this situation, right? It brings me no peace to tell you that," she pauses and you hum, sinking your teeth further down in your lower lip as Yunho's tongue carries on with the abuse, "we can't support your accommodation, Angel. The tuition is already paid for, which we have no concern about since you're on your scholarship—but your dormitory fees, they'll be—you'll have to pay them yourself. Maybe, get a job? Or look for a new residence, where you have to share your rent?"

Her words were going over your head, regardless you were able to catch up on few phrases which sounded important and held grave promise to them. 'Look for a new residence.' Okay. 'Get a job?' Surely something you weren't looking forward to. But 'sharing a house with strangers?'A big no-no.

Though, all you could do was nod along and release your lip from your teeth to mumble, "sure—sure, fine. I'll—mom, I'll call you later at night—I promise, I'm busy—fuck."

The moment the curse escapes your mouth in the form of a moan, you hang up the call and squint your eyes shut; Yunho was thumbing your clit at an accelerated pace, stroking circles to let your orgasm delve deeper into your soul. Your phone slips out from your hand, falling down on the ground with a subtle thump while you bring both of your hands to rest them around his neck. Oh how tempted were you to push his head down, to make his tongue reach deeper into your swollen cunt.

"Fuck, Yun—Yun, I was on call—I was on a fucking call with my mom—fuck, couldn't you—couldn't you tone it down?" you stutter, trying to steady your erratic breath. 

Yunho hadn't stopped thrusting his tongue into you, neither had he stopped stroking your clit with his thumb—he doesn't utter a word and continues to do so. You were done with his teasing, huffing to yourself, you push his head down against yours cunt; now his tongue reached deep, submerged completely in your flesh and your walls clenched tightly around him.

"Yes, fuck, yeah, feels good. So good," you drool, throwing your head back and arching yourself to let the pleasure wash over you.

More importantly, your orgasm was only a few thrusts away; maybe a few flicks of his thumb could have you mewling at him as you release all over his tongue and face. The imaginary sight in your mind was riling you up in the worst ways already—you wonder what it'd be like if it were to come to life. Now that you do think about it, your dream comes crashing through—merging with the reality to spread goosebumps on your skin. Just imagining Jongho being present in the room, watching you get fucked by Yunho's tongue, was pushing you further to your edge.

"Yunho...? I'm—" you tap his shoulder twice, but he doesn't budge and continues to push his tongue in your cunt.

"Fuck." You yell and then scream out his name when you feel your walls clenching around his tongue one last time, "Yunho!"

His thumb stops toying with your clit, but his face remains buried in between your legs, his thumb having quit shoving itself into your cunt. You're flooding down his face, squealing and mumbling his name under your breath in a voiceless chant before catching a beat to respire properly. In the daze of your orgasm hitting you like a bucket of bricks, you hear him hum and nuzzle his head further into cunt; a second passes by in the heat of the moment, and he reels himself back. Leaning away eventually, he straightens himself and wipes his face with the back of his hand, getting some of your slick on the sleeves of his shirt.

"Are you insane?" you breathe out.

"Insane to get my princess cum on my face," he chuckles and shakes his head, "I hope you're feeling better now because I felt you tense up when you were talking to your mother."

He begins unbuttoning his shirt, one by one he undoes the button and shrugs his shirt off his shoulders. Exposing his toned body, he throws his shirt off to somewhere and gets on his feet. You're still trapped in the stupor of your orgasm, to even notice him shimmy out of his pants. Clad in his black briefs, he leans down to capture your lips in a gentle kiss.

"I've got a problem, Yunho," you murmur, and he nods, "and is it bad enough to keep us from fucking?"

Rolling your eyes you scoff, ready to shove him away, "are you really thinking with your dick, right now?"

He traces his lips down your jaw, leaving behind open mouth kisses along your skin to your neck. His hands roamed to her bare back, skimming his fingertips up front till he drags them painstakingly slow to your stomach and then further to your clit. You hug his shoulders, tight enough to hold onto him.

"You are less tense now, princess. I'm guessing my tricks are working, so...why won't I think with my dick?" he chuckles, kneeling down before you to slot himself between your spread legs.

"It's not about that, Yunho," your whine, suppressing a titter to yourself. "I'm practically homeless."

"What?" he gasps, amused and pulls back to stare at you, a confused smile sculpting on his lips.

"My parents are having some financial troubles; they are falling short to pay me for my accommodation," you pout, noticing the tent in his briefs, "so, I have to find a new place to live. And I don't where I can find an affordable apartment."

The worry lines on your forehead, concerns Yunho too. He licks his lower lip and sighs, "Angel, you can live with us."

"What now?" you massage circles into his shoulders as you hold them.

"Yeah, we've got a spare room in the loft. Well, Jongho occupied it not too long ago, but he can surely move back in with Mingi." He explains, wrapping his hands around your waist, "you don't have to pay us rent because you're going to be paying us in a different way...in all, it's the best arrangement you could ever ask for."

You think, muse and contemplate. To one side of your head you were agreeing with his proposition, but on the other side, you were marred with the thought of living with eight men out of which five were sexually interested in you and two had already fucked you good. Well, you're given no choice but to agree and get along with his deal.

"Hey, you don't have to give me an urgent answer," he mumbles, thumbing the sides of your waist, "after we're done here, you can come on over and we'll talk it out with Hongjoong and Seonghwa. Capisce?"

"Why, are they supposedly the alpha males of the household?" you joke, giggling softly.

"Technically," Yunho shrugs, "Hongjoong owns the loft and he was generous enough to let us stay and share the rent. It started with me and Seonghwa, others eventually joined us through mutual friends—it was the beginning of our freshman year, so..."

"I'd need their permission?"

Yunho scoffs playfully, "princess, no. They'd be happy to welcome you in. But this is supposedly my suggestion and I fall a little short on making such decisions as compared to them. It's better if you talk with Hongjoong."

You sigh, "fine."

A smile fleets on your lips and it delves deeper in your cheek. "So, are you going to ease my mind or not?"

"You don't need to tell me twice, princess," he smirks, diving in to kiss you passionately so.

You kiss back with the same want, same heat crawling up your gut as his; the intensity wasn't dithering, neither was your anticipation. He pushes you back on the bed till you're laying under him and he straddles your lap. The kiss never stops, even when he fumbles with the waistband of his briefs to get them off in a haste. He somehow manages to tug his briefs down till his knees and his hard cock pokes your inner thigh, until the tip of his cock brushes past your lower stomach. His hands are back on you, holding your neck to position you better to deepen the kiss; his tongue wriggles its way in your mouth. For the moment it does, you feebly taste the redolence of strawberries and your cum on his tongue. There goes without saying, you still couldn't believe he let you cum on his face.

But who's to judge his preferences? You aren't a saint either. Definitely not.

Moaning into the kiss, you drag your hands up his back and let your fingertip tickle his skin. Breathless, Yunho breaks apart from the warmth of your mouth, missing the way his tongue was shoving down your throat, and uses one of his hands to pump his cock, while his other supports his weight when he places it next to your head. His back arches, his fingers stroking the reddened tip of his cock as bits of precum drips from the slit—he angles his hand in a way to spread his precum along the shaft with the palm of his hand.

"Fuck," he grunts, closing his eyes shut tight and continuing to pump his cock into his hand.

For you, this was definitely a sight more than breathtaking to witness. How often do you see a pretty blue haired man stroke his cock so eagerly for you? It went on to show how sorely he needed you and yearned to fuck your cunt. This only takes you back to the time when he had railed you so good and hard; you knew it he was untamed and being so feral with that huge cock, was indeed going to deliver the best.

You let out a soft whimper, adding in to the gentle sounding moans of his. Insane, absolutely insane. His moans were pretty, just like him and you know you could never get enough of him moaning.

"Take a deep breath for me, princess," he indicates you with a nudge of his head while he opens his eyes to look at you.

Taking a breath, you prepare yourself for his cock. He chuckles at you, admiring your intrepidity as he eases himself into you. Your face contorts in pain, with only his tip submerging in you. Knowing the pain would soon subside into pleasure, however it doesn't. Your brows twitch and your eyes squint tight enough for tears stream down the side of your face; your mouth falls agape, wide to the ache your walls sensing with the stretch.

"Ah—Yunho!" you gasp out loud, breaking out into a yell. "It hurts, stop."

And he stops. With same ease, he guides his cock out of you and cups your face immediately after noticing the tears in your eyes. You flutter your gaze across him, a little blurry but you still discern the concern etched on his face. 

"Hey, what's wrong?" he asks, voice gentle and wispy. "Am I hurting you?"

"It just," you hiccup, "it hurts like hell when you..."

"Oh," he trails off, "is it because of last week? I think it is. I was too rough back then, wasn't I?" Sighing, his caresses your cheeks and leans in to kiss a stray drop of your tear away from your lips, "you're not used to such a huge cock, are you? It's fine. I'll have to be more careful with you next time—were you feeling any discomfort after that night?"

"I'm not sure, I felt sore and really raw at that time. Maybe I couldn't decry between vaginal tears and soreness," you mumble, assuring him with a faint smile before continuing, "look, it's not your fault. I failed to identify—"

"God, Angel," he groans, "it's not your fault, and for fucks sake put the blame on me. I should've been gentle with you for the first time. You're not used to it—ugh, never mind, I'll have to get you used to my size otherwise..."

"I'll be fine, stop worrying so much," you cup his face in your palms and reassure him. "Now, can we just...let's just forget about it and focus on making you feel good. It's only fair if I return the favour."

You lick your lips and let your tongue poke out through your lower lip; glancing down at his still hardened cock, you drool and your eyes twinkle with lust. He grabs your chin and forces you to meet his eyes.

"I am not so fond of blow-jobs," he says, smirking and then looking around till his eyes fixate on your chair and study desk. "Get on your feet, I've got a better idea." He then stands up and holds his hand out for you.

"Okay, mister," you roll your eyes and set your wobbly feet down, grabbing his extended hand before pulling you close to his body.

Your naked bodies crash into each other and heat emanates from both of you; his arms wrap around your waist and tug you around. He positions you in front of the chair, and pushes you down by the small of your back to have you leaning over the chair. He's right behind you, situating his cock perfectly against your ass which was raised high in the air.

"Legs apart," he whispers his command too close to your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

Slapping your inner thighs, he establishes a small distance between your legs and slips himself into it, his cock slides easily amid your thighs, a little below your folds. The tip of his cock rubs against your slit, rubbing back and forth—you're driven wild with the sensation, and even more so when his hands grope your thighs from behind. His fingers dig, sink in tight enough for bruises to appear. Again, you looked forward to it, being decorated with his marks. Perfect for a possessive man like him.

"Fuck, this is your idea to make yourself cum?" you dreamily laugh out, throwing your head behind on his chest.

"Your thighs feel godly, princess," he susurrates, licking up the shell of your ear before biting down hard on your earlobe. "Squeeze them."

You do as he says, squeezing your thighs together to feel his cock slip in and out at a steady pace. He bucks his hips a little higher to let himself rub against your slit in long and consistent strokes. This was certainly new to you, yet you were getting stimulated close to your second orgasm. You didn't think you would because this wasn't the same as the time he had actually penetrated you. There's no space for you to complain, you were slipping close into the world of pleasure and sensuality to give a damn about whether his cock was pounding in you or fucking your thighs.

"Fuck, just as I fucking thought—just as I fucking imagined what it would be to fuck your thighs," he whimpers close to your ear and later on you realise he was leaning over to kiss your cheek. "Princess, you've got unquestionably the best thighs to fuck. So thick, so tight—just fucking perfect."

You know he had lost it riding himself in between your thighs but you, on the other hand hadn't quite recovered from your last orgasm yet. Or even figured out how you weren't alerted to your vaginal injuries. It'd be unfair to call them injuries, they were basic nicks in the muscles of your vagina and cervix, from tremendous and tedious sexual activity. Pushing those thoughts to the far corner of your mind, your knuckles turn white while holding onto the chair, you were starting to get hot and bothered—so close to your orgasm again.

His cock thrusted along your cunt, hard and slick with his precum, which supposedly provided enough lubrication for his strokes to be smooth and pleasant. Your skin was covered with it however, and you were resisting to picture how his cum would paint your thighs. Picking up his pace, he thrusts faster yet keeps them long and sharp. Your walls clench around nothing, while your stomach drops to your knees; your legs buckle under you, under the weight of sensory overload his cock was proffering.

He flattens his palms on your thighs and gives you light slaps on either of your thighs, "we need to keep them thick and fleshy like this. I bet others would enjoy fucking them as much as I am right now."

"Hmhm, yeah..." you moan, shutting off your cognitive dissonance and mumbling along with him, "thick for you—thick for Seonghwa—thick for everyone."

"Ah, you're already blabbering bullshit, aren't you?" he titters heartily, pulling his hips back and driving them in sharply. "My cock makes you dumb, doesn't it? Hmm...a pretty little slut like you would be dumb for anyone's cock, isn't it?"

His taunts make you shake your head, lips parting to whimper, "no, fuck, only for you—only for you, Yunho."

"That's what I thought," he gasps, increasing his back and rattling his hips into yours.

His death grip is back on your thighs, his eyes are shut tight as he lurches forward to rest his forehead on your shoulder; sweaty chest presses up against your back, while you hold onto the chair for your dear life and to sedate the tremors his thrusts which caused your body to keel. The same tightness grows heavy in your gut, your spine tingling with how close you were to your second orgasm—your nails scratch off the varnish on the chair, scrapping bits of wood in them as he plunges his cock ruthlessly in between in your thighs. You squeeze them firmly, sensing the knot coming undone in your lower belly.

"Are you going to cum for me, princess?"

You nod your head, closing your eyes shut and leaning back into his touch; the heat creeps up your stomach and in a second's beat, the tension slips into comfort. You're releasing all over his cock, splashing on his and your thighs, a bit on the floor too. This time, you were knocked out for good; this orgasm was far more intense than the last one, far more overpowering too. You're mumbling his name like a chant, while he lets a laugh rumble in his chest.

"Fuck, my princess really made a mess on my cock, and everywhere else." he adds, "now, be a good little whore and help me cum too."

Without any warning, he goes even harder and faster than before, causing your body to convulse to his relentless thrusts. His untamed desire was evident in the way his fingers were bruising your skin, how tightly he was groping your thighs to stable himself from his ever increasing pace of his thrusts. He could go for long, and he does; your brain is turned to a mush in regard to the time or energy—his cock keeps hitting your folds, and the tip keeps abusing your clit.

You were past the point of sanity, breaking apart at the seams with your foul mouth screaming out his name and moaning it as if he was your god—technically, he was starting to show you stars, galaxies and miracles behind your shut eyes. All this from only rubbing himself between your thighs; it makes you wonder how much wilder the sex would get once you get to move in with him. Those ideas are for later, right now, you were vicious with his cock.

"Princess, I'm close. Don't worry—fuck—squeeze them tighter, for me—fucking please," he babbles out in despair, and you clasp your thighs even tighter on his cock.

"Fucking perfect."

He words out in a heavy breath, bucking his hips in your thighs as the tip of his cock remains close by your slit; heaving out, the warmth of his cum coats your folds and your slit. Gradually, he starts pulling back, still letting his cum sputter on your skin before he releases all of him on your ass and back. A few of it streaks down your butt-crack, eventually seeping down your butthole. You're groaning out in pleasure and possibly due to overstimulation. Nonetheless, you were satisfied, more than satisfied to know he had painted your back with his cum.

You're both breathless when he leans away from your shoulder and steps back; his small laugh resonates around you before dissipating into a soft titter.

"Princess, you just fucking know how to take a cock, don't you?" he mumbles in his post-orgasm daze, while grabbing his trousers to pull out his handkerchief. "Well, let's get you cleaned and then we'll take a shower together. We are both...sticky."

"Sounds good to me," you manage to gibber, not sure if it was audible or not. "I could use a hot shower and thorough cleaning after this."

"Hmm, I'll gladly help you clean."

You're too weak to turn around, so he helps you swivel on your feet while he holds your body close to his for support. Lethargic and drained, your eyes were closing themselves involuntarily. It was the lack of sleep—the sleep deprivation was slowly catching up with you.

"Keep your eyes open, princess. I need you here with me, okay?" his voice soothes a nerve in your mind, and you nod, opening your eyes. "Guess I'll have to be quick."

"Of course."

The rest of the evening, basically half-evening-half-night goes by smoothly. You both did take a shower together without engaging in anything and got rid of the sweat and stench of sex—but unfortunately, your room still reeked of sex, sweat and cum. You didn't care. Not particularly when you were dragged out of your dorm room by Yunho, after getting dressed in fresh clothes. You wore a long and oversized hoodie, shaded black and didn't bother wearing shorts or pants underneath as it covered most of your skin. To your surprise, as soon as you had your lip gloss on (because you liked lip gloss more than lipsticks), he had your hands intertwined and he was pulling you out of the door. He was eager for you, and the seemingly harmless arrangement you were about to propose to Hongjoong and Seonghwa.

You would've never guessed that this man drives a red corvette stingray if you hadn't been strapped in the passenger's seat of his car. An innocent looking man like him, driving such a flashy sports car, was indeed a shock to you. Looks can be deceiving, so who really cares? Everything passes by you in a blur when he speeds down the road; eventually, the city lights turn into streaks of neon haze and starbursts, until you're by the complex where his loft was located. He parks his car, and helps you out. Your hand in his, he guides you in and takes you to the loft.

Your heart is in your throat, not because you were back to this place with Yunho by your side but because you were too scared to anticipate Hongjoong's and Seonghwa's judgment on your proposition. This has to go well, and it will. Right? You have Yunho with you. What could possibly go wrong?

Yunho unlocks the door and pushes it to usher you inside. His hand never leaves yours; his grip doesn't loosen up for even a second as his pulling you further up to the living room. You and he had taken off your shoes in a haste and did not bother slipping into the house slippers. However, the commotion of your footsteps and Yunho's constant murmurs of 'it'll be okay', 'they won't bite you' and 'just relax' had gotten certain attention from the people sitting on couch.

You're soon greeted with San and Jongho, especially Jongho who has a twinkling and excited smile carved on his face. Both of them were seated on the couch, San having a laptop perched on his lap while Jongho made his observations on the screen—they were clad in their night clothes, San wearing a pair of black pajamas with white cats all over it and Jongho, a pastel blue pajama set with brown bears on it.

"Angel!!" he glees, catching your glimpse next to Yunho, "what brings you here so late at night?" his tone simmers down to being confused.

San adds, "yeah, it's not our game night tonight."

"Guys, stop pestering her, okay?" Yunho groans, looking around, "where are Hongjoong and Seonghwa?"

"Seonghwa's in the kitchen—"

"What is it Jongho...oh hey, Angel!" Seonghwa interrupts Jongho and quickly turns it into an elated greeting. "Should I be concerned for you to make your appearance this late into the night—can't ignore the fact that Yunho's here too. Are you two eloping?"

He's walking out of the kitchen, draped in a variedly stained apron and a wooden spatula in his hand. He looks gorgeous as usual, covering his white turtleneck and black trousers with a grunge red apron—not only his outfit made you quiver, but his hair was also pushed back and tied in a small ponytail behind. If he looked this alluring even when you move in, then you don't think you'd be able to resist the urge to suck him off every time he appeared in front of you.

Yunho clears his throat, aggressively and it becomes a series of wretched coughs till he's gasping for air. "Don't go too hard on me, Hwa. You know how I am."

"Fuck your preferences, Yun," Seonghwa rolls his eyes, "what is the point in bringing Angel here?"

"Well, I'll let her explain it," Yunho sighs, giving you a nudge of his head.

"Uhh, yeah, I need to talk," you mumble, scratching the back of your neck with your other hand.

Your words alert Jongho and San, and they're saturated completely on you, regardless of a certain video playing on San's laptop. Seonghwa hums along, encouraging you with a nod of his head while biting his lower lip. Yunho only stares at you, keeping a frail smile on his face.

"So, go on."

A coarse yet pitched voice booms through the room, followed by nifty footsteps of the man you had been waiting to come. You assumed he was in his room or something, but not thinking he could be at work. Hongjoong strides in, running one of his hands through his hair and other stuffed in the pocket of his jogger shorts. You watch him adorning a black tank top over his toned chest and nothing else; his complexion was striking but wasn't as pale as Yunho. A pop of melatonin makes his skin a little tanned.

"I suppose, Yunho bringing you here is rather crucial for you." He says, walking over to sit next to Jongho. Spreading his legs apart and relaxing back on the couch, he repeats, "go on, Angel."

You clear your throat, "I—I actually—I actually need a place to stay. My parents—"

"—she's in no condition to pay for her university accommodation, so she's looking for a new place to stay. I asked her to come with me since we have a room to spare," Yunho interjects, his eyes trailing over at Jongho, "you'll have to move back in with Mingi, baby bear. You're understanding enough, right?"

Jongho ponders for a minute before silently nodding, "sure. I don't mind. Angel needs it more than me."

You can't help but crack a smile at him, heart palpitating faster in your chest. Yunho could hear your heartbeat, and he squeezes your hand to ease you out. Seonghwa notices it and smiles to himself, shaking his head at the two of you before excusing himself from the living room and going back into the kitchen.

Hongjoong finds it amusing, his lips twisting in a knowing smirk before he asks you, "that's not the issue, Angel. What I need to know from you is—rather what I'm aching to hear from you is, your riposte to my proposed idea of you..."

"I agree to it," you're too quick to reply, taking the man off guard and others too.

San remains confused because he had no clue what you were talking about. Now that he is here, does it mean he'll also be involved in this reverse harem thing you have going on with others? If San gets involved then would the others be involved too? Of course you're thinking about Wooyoung and Mingi, one is a reputed manwhore and other is a man who resents you. That too for no apparent reason—or for something you don't know.

"You do?" Jongho squeals, questioning you.

"Yeah, I don't mind being your..." you trail off, glazing your eyes over at San.

From the kitchen, you hear thudding of metal dishes and spoons, soon Seonghwa comes rushing out with his wooden spatula.

"She agrees?" he asks, and Yunho nods, "she said she'd need more time to think about it, but I guess..."

"Are you agreeing to it because of your living conditions, Angel?"

There it was, Hongjoong comes straight to point. Even his stare was detrimental for you, and how insanely intense it was to pierce through yours. Hongjoong clearly liked to dominate submissive women like you—he has how own share of kinks and customs he likes to follow in the bedroom. And some of them, might seem too unconventional. You didn't want your mind to stray too far off, but he seemed like the type who definitely delighted himself in playing with chains and cuffs.

"I'm not!" you retort, explaining yourself further, "I gave it some thought and I don't think it's a bad idea."

Your pout melts through the stubborn and ice cold heart of Hongjoong's—for a man with domineering aura, he sure is letting himself submit to you. He doesn't let his stoicism waver on his face, rather his purses his lips together and spreads his legs apart further.

"Don't think it's a bad idea?" he repeats your words in coherence to your judgement, "Angel, we don't want you doing anything you are uncomfortable with. Your consent means a lot to us."

"And you have it," your pout grows, and you vaguely point at Seonghwa and Yunho, "I've already gone to the extreme with him and him."

Hongjoong chuckles, and keeping his lips parted, his canines rest against his lower lip, "we'll add it to the very list of your sex chronicles with us."

Your face heats up and turns red, before you could open your mouth to retaliate, San pipes in, "so, you've discussed this before? She's our new...fucktoy?" he cringes thereafter, shrugging his shoulders and scrunching his face in disgust, "with all due respect, let me rephrase, you are our new arrangement to satisfy our sexual desires?"

You nod, your heart hammering in your chest. "Yeah, one and only."

"Are you really sure, Angel?" Jongho wants a confirmation from you and smile at him, wide and bright, wanting to erase his doubts. "Then I guess we no longer have to wait for your answer."

Seonghwa chimes in, "so, when are you moving in?"

"Oh, once this month gets over. There's only a week left anyway," you shrug, smiling a little, "I'll start packing right away."

Yunho hugs you from behind, kissing your neck; first you're caught off guard, second, he's doing this right in front of everyone and third, his scent was driving you crazy.

"I'll help you." He mumbles against your skin.

"Yunho, you know the ground rules," Hongjoong threatens and the man who was sticking to you like glue before, now detaches himself from you in an instant. "So, less P-D-A."

"Ugh, ground rules," Yunho whines, but steals a kiss from your cheek. "I'll go get changed and you are staying over tonight. Let's have dinner together, shall we?"

"Of course!" San sings, "we'll get to know you better too. I bet Wooyoung would be pretty excited to know more about you."

"Speaking of him, where is he?" Hongjoong inquires and Jongho answers, "it's the peak hour, where else would he be?"

Hongjoong nods, getting his answer and Seonghwa sprints back into the kitchen not long before announcing, "we've got enough food for you too, so you're staying here."

You quietly agree to him and swallow thickly, striding over to sit on the lone chair adjacent to the couch. That's when Mingi comes into the room from upstairs, his hair tousled and messy, wearing grey sweatpants and a grunge green graphic sweatshirt. He eyes you as he crosses the living room, glaring at you to set his point through. He didn't want you here. But, he couldn't go against Hongjoong's or Seonghwa's wishes.

"Look who's finally out of their room!" Jongho cheers, laughing and joking around before clearing his throat and informing Mingi, "oh well, guess what, Mingi. I'm shifting myself back into your room. Angel's moving in with us and taking over the spare room."

"What?" Mingi grunts, burning his eyes on you, through you, in all hating your presence in the room altogether.

"Y'all really addicted to this whore's cunt, aren't ya? Keep me out of your fucking deal. I ain't getting involved." 

And that fucking hurt your soul. But you keep quiet and while you're at it, Yunho walks in the heated room—Hongjoong and the others are about to defend you when Yunho does it himself. He adorns a conceited smirk and folds his arms over his chest, they bulge out through his grey hoodie somehow, but your eyes travel down to somewhere where they shouldn't have. His jogger shorts are too thin to show off the outline of his cock, he wasn't hard, but he was huge. Why are you drooling on his cock when you're having trouble in paradise? Not that you hadn't seen his cock before. And you are his damsel in distress.

"That's more for us then, Min." Yunho steps closer to him and gets all in his face,

"If you're not involved in this with us, then it's one less person we'll have to share her with."

M.list ┃ Previous ┃ Next

[colddelusionsheep]

And we are back with the second part! Not going to lie, I started working on a DND campaign right after this. So writing progress is slow. Still writing at ungodly hours of the night tho, and as always, no one under 18.

1st Part

The start

As the other tribute said good by to his family. You could see how they cried for him. How they weeped for the fact that he would not be returning.

The other tribute was a boy that you had seem around the district. Flint Overhill. You never had any interaction with him, but each time you saw him you could tell he didn't like you.

He had dark black hair that was just above his shoulders. His eyes were such a dark blue that they almost looked black in the right light. If you remember correctly, last reaping the girl he was sweet on got picked.

She was a nice girl, quiet and kept to herself. She died as soon as the games started, didn't even stand a chance. Just like you.

The peacekeepers led his family out, and you could hear them weeping even after the door was closed and locked. Flint finally looked at you. The disgust in his eyes was plain to see.

"Looks like your luck has finally ran out. How does it feel to get what you deserve?" His words hit deep. They hit a place you thought had long sense gone cold.

"It wasn't my fault you know. My name was in there same as hers."

"Don't you dare speak of her." You could tell he was holding back. "With how many times you have put your name in, it should of been you."

"I-" before you could even respond. A patronizing voice spoke up.

"Oh my tributes, I certainly do have my hands full, don't I? Let's try not to kill each other just yet. You want to save that for the games!" Nodding his head, you could see all the pins that were in place to hold his wig on. "It makes a great show, oh yes indeed, but what's the point in a show with no cameras."

Both you and Flint were speechless. The complete disregard he had was unlike anything either of you had seen.

"Now, my name is Marius. I will be taking care of you two for the next couple of days. I hope I don't have trouble in the future with you two." As he spoke, he gave you and Flint a small wink. Then he started to usher the two of you into the train.

Before you know it, it felt like you stepped into a whole new world. Finery unlike anything you could've ever thought of existed was right here in front of your eyes.

"For the few days you are with us, you two shall be treated like royalty. Only the finest of things shall be able to touch my tributes' skin." As he went on, you mind stated to wonder along with your eyes.

You could see Flint role his eyes at Marius. Finding whatever you had just tuned out to be incredibly boring. You ran your hands along the wooded walls. It's smoothness brought back a far away memory to you.

It was blurry, but you could see the fine wood above you. Along with a man's voice....a voice that sounded so familiar. Before you could get lost into it more.

You felt a pinch on your arm. Snapping your head up. You could see the unapproving face of Marius. "Now, we will have to work on those manners. They are absolutely deplorable. No matter, we shall tackle that problem in the morning. You two get some rest. You will meet your mentor in the morning as well. So those manners better be improved."

At the last sentence, he gave you an especially harsh glare.

Flint brushed past you, giving your shoulder a mean jab as he did it.

You silently followed where they were showing you two your rooms. Stepping into your quarters. You were in awe of the luxury that was in it. Sitting on the bed felt like you would sleeping in the arms of an angel. Even the smell was wonderous. It was a mix of vanilla and rose.

But, before you could fully enjoy all the things around you. You suddenly remembered at what cost this is all for. Tears start to fall down in violent choked sobs.

You didn't want them to know, you didn't want them to know just how hopeless you are. How you were doomed to die in that arena just like they all wanted.

Yet, as you sat the crying your soul out. You were unaware of the camera watching your every move.

===============================

"I want those mutts done by tomorrow."

"Yes, Sir."

As her lower confirmed. She went back watching the live feed. She has to give you credit, you were a pretty cryer. At least in her eyes.

This year was going to be a fun one.

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

There we go! I hope y'all like it. Also, small little note, I do not do taglists. They can get pretty chaotic and I write on my phone so they can get really annoying to do.

[firecrackerhh]

I don’t think this is really a spoiler (Viv kinda already told us the backstories to most of her main characters in streams before)

So what I will say is this.

I’m pretty sure every fucking character in the hotel. Is a loser. A has-been if you will.

So when I hear “the show about a bunch of demons who clearly are in shit circumstances aren’t the super powerful beings I wanted them to be…”

Man, what the fuck were you expecting?

Now Alastor’s death essentially (remember I’m ONLY getting this info from what I remember and NOT from ANY LEAKED INFO) is that he got shot and ripped apart by hunting dogs. Now I personally headcanon that he got mistaken for a deer somehow, but who really knows currently.

But here’s what I really want to get into.

“Would it be so difficult to at least make him seem like a not incompetent idiot?”

…dude, do you think serial killers are like, uniquely smart or something? A lot of them seem to me to be incredibly cocky if not outright…unwell. (Ugh, don’t even get me started on Ed fucking Gein)

The reason why serial killers do what they do (or at least one reason) is that they like the thrill. They love getting attention for their crimes.

They want to be remembered for their crimes. Now if y’all will let me dive into a lil bit of headcanon…

Alastor was a radio host and a serial killer, I bet when he was reporting on his own crimes it gave him a rush of dopamine just a bit less than when he was actually doing the fucking killing. He probably fucking loved being the only one who actually knew the truth of what was going on.

I imagine dying in a bayou surrounded by hunting dogs is a rather…not fun way to die, I imagine Alastor was pissed off at the whole ordeal, this is how he goes? The hunter becomes the hunted? Oh the delicious irony!

Him dying in such a pathetic way (in his viewpoint, and I’m guessing by the Anon’s POV as well) is the fucking point.

Serial killers only want to be remembered for what they want to be remembered for. They certainly don’t want to be remembered for dying. Sure, I bet after he died his boss and the people working with him at the station felt upset, but they eventually moved on.

They forgot about him in time. His hometown moved on, to now where no one except the people alive in that time from that specific place can even remember his radio show. Who even listens to the radio anymore?

Being forgotten may as well be an ultimate punishment for Alastor, no one remembers him, and while sure, he’s made it big in hell, with the invention of the television and Vox being the new big bad overlord, with Alastor’s 7 year hiatus, very few really know him except through stories.

Maybe he likes it better that way, he likes being a mystery; but if he doesn’t have the power to really back up the whole big bad radio demon persona, and the rest of hell finds out, what will be left for him?

I know Millie said this, but it rings true for him as well. “Reputation is everything.”

Tho not exactly. If you don’t have the power to back up that reputation, you lose it right? Who is Alastor without that reputation? Without his power?

Guess we’ll find out, I hope.

Ok that was fun but now it’s time to be petty.

“Really Amir, can you really say you’re proud of your work?”

Say that to his fucking face you coward-ass lil bitch. Just…fucking wow, that attitude is disgusting. I don’t even know what to say.

Are you proud to act like a fucking cunt online for objectively retarded fucking reasons? Is that how your mother fucking raised you? To be a condescending prick?

Unbelievable. Do you think people act this way towards Keith David online? The way people treat anyone associated with Viv in any way is fucking reprehensible, these people should get their ass kicked at the least.

🧨🔥~Firecracker out~🧨🔥

[thenixkat]

another not-godzilla

pls feed Kafka he's too skinny now

he's not even broad anymore, someone pls feed Kafka. Like he had to regenerate a lot in the past few weeks he needs some more rations pls his waist is so narrow i hate it

oh that's a scar on asshole dad's forehead not just him frowning constantly

that's rude as hell. I do not care for teh gamer boy

yeah Kafka's not really ok with everyone talking about killing him for parts or using him as a living weapon… this is why ya shoulda been better at hiding yer secret identity sir. You could have transformed when no one was looking

rude ass hell

also ignoring why Kafka went berserk (ya know repeatedly getting his limbs ripped off by someone he was under the impression was trying to kill him) Kafka pls dont thank the person who just threatened to turn you into a suit

oh hey a hive of kaiju ants

i dont like this guy. he's rude. asked a subordinate for a loan to buy more junk and toys, is an influencer

huh ant kaiju are rare to see on the surface but folks run into them underground

Kafka wants to be recognized for his ability as an officer and not a kaiju weapon so he's trying to fight without fully transforming but like sir, try that after you've convinced folks yer more useful alive than as spare parts also yeah had a traumatizing time the last time he fully transformed isnt rocking with it at the moment

not the transformation failing. Kafka's kaiju side said 'nah, you didnt want my help last time'

not the cordyceps

also the ant kaiju spray acid like real ants

ah the fungus has a brain

right i have bee seeing brains in split kaiju wild that their brains are not important organs

how does using the Numbers weapons shave years off yer life? what are the ghosts of the kaiju that got made into them taking revenge

ah yeah 100% Kafka is scared of losing control that's why his transformations keep failing gets a pep talk from rich girl that's more or less 'we're too fucking badass for you to kill us if you lost it, so dont worry about it'

what happened to my guy's claws? also he finally figured out how to smile with that face

ah Kafka learned some tricks from the bug's joyride

Kaiju do have telepathy!

no. 9 tells other no. 9 to pls hold its learning about a new strong enemy right now

the influencer has kaiju eyes b/c biomodding soldiers is fine, kaiju-human hybrids from the wild arent tho

so its not future sight just literal mind reading

damn that's the first 'well done' rich girl got from her shitty dad since her mom died

apparently the ant swarm and two no. 9s were a diversion. B/c no. 9 the third planned to have teh shitty dad for dinner hahah

also how did that mother fucker sneak into yer base? damn yall are not ready for intelligent kaiju damn that man was nice to his daughter for teh first time in a decade and then got ate mind you his daughter is like 18 at best ah i assume no. 9 probably ate like a janitor and got in that way

also no. 9 has certainly been eating its Wheaties

huh so its just stressful to use

shitty dad acknowledges that he's been a bad father

rip to shitty dad, he tried to his best but uh he can't regenerate

shitty dad became dinner

no. 9 really was only here for dinner and decided to dip

Kaiju no. 9 what does a kaiju era mean? are you planning on getting rid of the ability of humans to fight back against the kaiju so they can do what they want? like its not like there's many sapient kaiju running around most of the fuckers seem to just be wild animals doing wild animal shit

ah the thing where Kafka started not being able to turn completely back human

human looking at least

have yall tried feeding him cause look at that you can almost see the poor man's abs

these are not good working conditions. Also just bc he stops being able to look like a human doesnt mean he'd stop thinking like a human necessarily

no. 10 regained consciousness in captivity. It's core is too damaged for it to regenerate. It had a blast fighting the vice captain and tells him if it's gonna become a weapon for anyone it wants him to use it

being… you are a head, a small piece of spinal cord, and like 2/3rds of a core the fuck are you gonna fight with??

ah it means it wants to be made into a weapon and that teh vice captain use it to fight. Bc it really really had fun fighting him and wants more like that good news the vice captain made a new friend and it has agreed to be interrogated bad news it still would like to eat him and the possibility of it trying to take over his body if he wears it is not zero

oh hey we've got the reveal that no. 9 is no. 10's parent

to be fair yall havent run into many sapient kaiju that are willing to use their shapeshifting to the fullest extent. and no. 9 is just creating more kids

how tho? How the fuck does heat and pressure at fault lines deep underground make substances that mutate nearby animals and plants (how did the animals and plants get that fucking far into the fucking Earth in the first place) into aliens. B/c you cannot convince me that kaiju arent aliens with their fucking biology that we've been shown

what do you mean in order for a human to use one of the Numbers weapons their cells have to be compatible with the kaiju that the weapon was made from? What kind of superior genetics eugenics shit is this? How are human cells compatible with kaiju cells anyway and why are yall not concerned that human cells can be compatible with kaiju cells

like zoonotic diseases? also should yall not be concerned that some humans are genetically compatible with kaiju cells or is that ok b/c you pick teh super soldier

another not-godzilla but this one has tentacles. There's a lot of not-godzillas in this, yall cant do a not-Mothra or a not-Ghidora for once?

idk about anything else but I think if a human's cells are compatible with kaiju material (i dont get how it works and it seems weird and iffy) but that should mean they can get turned into a were-kaiju the series continuously points out that Ichikawa is a teenager and yet the fandom is so fucking horny for that child it is genuinely disgusting

hmm and we're gonna saddle this teenager with an increased risk of dying young in this already dangerous job b/c apparently lacking in supersoldier badasses who can solo high tier boss monsters

oh hey a somewhat responsible adult tells Ichikawa to turn down the supersoldier offer

also fucking noodle ass human beings unfortunately, Ichikawa is an extremely loyal friend and takes up the offer

there's a neuro link into the weapons ok so the shit is giving people brain damage when they overclock

[swimmingferret]

Not missing a chance to lore dump on Final Fantasy 16 because it’s really good. Basically the world is fuck because there this thing called Blight where where area around it it’s just dead. No planets, water, or animals live in it. So the six kingdoms fight over resources and politics. There people with magic called Bearersthat don’t need Mothercrystal but they treated like slaves in worse possible way and die of the use their. There also Dominants which people that turn into Eikons which old summons from the other games that have giant monsters. The story is super dark(first rated M Final Fantasy game and darker in my opinion 6 and 15) but it has good story, good characters and really good gameplay.

So...it's sorta like the World of Ruin from FFXV and the Scourge? Just without the constant darkness? I sorta vaguely know the astrals change each game, so it's like the same 'universe' but different realities is what I sorta think of the Final Fantasy ones since they seem to have inter-connected lore but only with those guys.

Tho tbh I never really got into Final Fantasy-a few years back I tried to play the one with Lightning, but it took up an obscene amount of my pc storage and the first ten minutes were boring af so I gave up and deleted it. Tho I do know Lightning was like a...celie slave thing or something??? I only vaguely know they were like rebelling or something and the planet died but yeah don't quote me on that lol

Most I got into was FFXV but I just watched the playthru's online 🤷 and read about the drama behind it, like the devs saying women couldn't be in the main team 'cause they'd fuck up the dynamic and the development hell it was suck in for years.

Like, I certainly know of Cloud and Sephiorth (or however tf you spell his name) but mostly 'cause gifsets for the FF games cross my dash from time to time and occasionally pop up in my youtube one. With FF 16 I've only seen it like three times on my dash and that weird video with the bald guy and bad music after he yells at everyone lol which I've seen as odd considering how much the other ones would pop up on my dash.

[knightotoc]

So the World Between Worlds is unfortunately relevant again, and I'm trying to figure out how Ezra could use it to save Ahsoka but he couldn't use it to save Kanan. Idk if I have this straight but it seems like, he could save Ahsoka from death because she was about to be but wasn't yet fatally wounded, while he could not save Kanan because Kanan needed to spend every last moment holding back the fire. No idea why the WBW only lets you mess with the timeline on the brink of death, but I'm following the rest of it. (And I think the Bridger parents thing was an illusion?) Anyway I started categorizing Star Wars deaths into (1) could be prevented and (2) could not be prevented by yanking them into the WBW.

1. WBW-Yank Potentials

These deaths are from sudden acts of violence, usually Anakin's. The potential increases if they are survived (or preceded, I suppose) by someone who has the will and inclination to save their ass.

Dooku and Palpatine are clear examples, though I think you have to be pure of heart to use the WBW, in which case no one who likes them is getting in (I'd certainly try for my Count, tho). Trilla is another obvious one, and it would make a great DLC.

Tarkin and everyone else who was on the Death Star like Ciena's blond friend could also get WBW-yanked. Depending on how powerful Ciena is, and how guilty Luke feels, that could really happen. I'm imagining everyone getting rescued one-by-one and put on trial by the New Republic. What a spooky, morally complicated mess that would be!

For that matter, the entire populations of Alderaan and Jedha could be saved by a very determined guy with the WBW, as well as all the nameless soldiers in every battle. Now we're in serious Avengers Endgame territory. If I could only pick 5, I'd save the guys who got exploded in the podrace, and if I could only pick 1, it'd be that Ewok :(

2. The Un-Yankable

The Important Death formula in Star Wars is to get a fatal wound and then die in the arms of somebody, so a change in location isn't going to help them at that point. Qui-Gon, Cordé, Shmi, Satine, Fives, Padmé (Anakin's only definitely un-yankable victim), Galen, Woody Harrelson, and Anakin all go out like this, so you either have to also prevent the emotional scene or you have to first build a trauma center in the WBW. Yoda dies of old age, Luke and Leia wear themselves out, and Kylo, like, uses up his life force, so I don't think moving them is gonna help either. And Maarva's remains continue to kill fascists after her death.

As for Obi-Wan, there is some ambiguity, since he seems to get struck down but also possibly self-destructs at the last minute, denying Anakin the kill. This might be an Obi-Wan-only trick because he is just that awesome. But he also has to show up as a ghost, so he's got to be in the right dimension for that.

You know it would be funny if reformed Kylo got a vision from his dad (unclear if he's a ghost because no glowy effect), then found a portal to the WBW and saved Han from his own younger, evil self.

Fortunately, WBW portals don't grow on trees. It seems the only way to get around this stupid thing is scarcity. But I'm sure it'll all make sense next week.

[asoulofatlantis]

If you think about it, the Erosions go after peoples weak points. For Ashen it was Cao... not sure about Kurogane in that mess, but maybe it had something to do with his chief, has he had mentioned it was a order from him. We don't know enough about that guy to understand his weaknesses tho. For Maxim and Yume it was the person they love most, Paulette. For Celis and the other guy from the Church(I can not remember his name for the death of me ^^') it was on one hand their Master/Teacher and on the other the fact that they know Van is a Demon that technically speaking needs to be slayed, just that they also know Van himself is good and the Demon is just using him as a Vessel and that is not his fault and that makes it so problematic for them. For Halle is was her fathers death and the circumstances surrounding it. Jack is her partner, so that he has something to do with her fathers death must have been something she wanted to forget and think different off. Van being connected to her fathers death would have been the easier solution for Halle. For Feri it likely has something to do with Aidas death and the fact that she herself doesn't know were to go with her life and struggles with her brother demanding from her to understand her position. Risette has always struggled with her body and the limits it has as well as the fact that sometimes she has to face Marduk, who essentially saved her life (we have yet to find out how tho...) to side with Van and his team who more or less gave her life meaning and granted her happiness and friendship. So it likely is a mix of that for her.

Does this mean its contagious?

At this point I am expecting a death end around every corner XD

Apperantly I am not even so far off with that line of thinking ^^'

Well... if the please of our cute maiden (Agnes) don't work, the death glare of our dear Diving blade Princess here certainly will ^^'

I can honestly not remember them but... if they have done bad things in the Empire, go ahead Elaine!

(I almost feel sorry for those guys, with our lineup here ^^' I mean, cute maiden please, death glare of the Diving Blade princess, a threat from an A-Rank bracer of the guild and if Rene feels like it, even the CiD might give them a "fair warning" XD)

See? XD We really are scary.

So... he killed us twice even tho he seems to be awfully close to being absolutely in control of himself and Risette also killed us twice even tho she at least somewhat seems to have control of her feelings. Do you guys think this is funny?

And that is what I mean. Even under the influence of the Erosion and the Memorys it changed, Risette is feeling that something is off, that she shouldn't fight Van. How come that didn't work with Ashen and her childhoodfriend Aaron? How did Elaine, without any Erosion involved no less, needed to fight Van to make sure he really isn't working with the Oathbreaker? That makes no sense! And I feel like it isn't that the characters are that bad, this is just Falcom being in trouble with their filler-plot for this game.

Right in the money how Risettes biggest weakpoint plays into this.

Welcome back, Traitor. Good thing I am used to people betraying me left right and center from the previous Arcs. This is nothing shocking for me anymore XD

But in all honesty, Kasim is the actually traitor here. He could have gotten rid of the erosion by himself whenever he wanted to, but he preferred to kill us twice. Risette at least wasn't sure what was going on and Feri is definitely completely under the control of that erosion, but Kasim was just being an ass for the fun of it.

You know... it was really cruel of that game to make us walk that path. At first it felt like walking in the direction of Hamel, but the closer you got to the point were Aida died... or rather, Van had to kill her to finally give her peace, the worse the feelings got. Hamel was a story that we lived through multiple characters and it was painful and going there and being in that Village was anything but easy. But it was still something we didn't experience ourselves (thankfully so, don't get me wrong) this... this is different, we walked this path in hopes of being able to save Aida, just to get to that point were the game told you that Kuro would be different, that this time, you will not be able to save them all. And to top it off, this all happened after we spend a while in Creil Village. We helped find the Cat and bring it back home to those two kids... all 3 of them are dead now. So is the woman we helped prepare the food, or the nun that wanted to work in her hometown so badly or the waitress who told us about the antics of the imperial picknick squad... this is Celdic all over again but so damn much worse and it just... is really painful to be reminded of all that...

This was very sad... but in a good way.

(Hey eyes say otherwise... ^^') I do agree here tho, that was exhausting and it took me AGES.

[appreciatingtokrev]

hello, i am happy that you're back and feeling better! ^^

er, i am a bit disappointed but since time had passed, i have realised it was the right move. that is sad but if both parties naturally drift apart, there is always a chance for it to rekindle later on even if it is years on in the future. but moving on does tend to be the less messer route despite it being hard.

i did that too for HSR, all players are probably guilty of that lol. i believe most fans prefer GI over HSR and there is a lot more GI contents on here. i've never played HI so i don't know the fight mechanics 😭

that sound like such a long system ;-; on my end, you could complete a five year degree (like medicine) and be finish before 24/25 or do a three years degree and a master on top before 23/24. at least you still have time to figure things out.

that is true and a part of koko probably died after the fire incident, he probably just needed mikey's approval to join though.

tbh, i just realised his colour palette (outfit/appearance) is really nice too and does contrast xiao's one. maybe, browse online for inspiration? or go to the hair salon and ask the staff? i did that for dying my hair, they said i need to bleach it 4 times where i went lmao.

but i've heard the anime/manga merchandise is pretty cheap in Japan? that is a nice start to your collection and i'm sure the tokrev dolls will be a nice finishing touch when you feel motivated enough. but don't force yourself. i think if she was a kpop fan, i would found it less shocking because they are something else lol. that is a sensible idea and others may mistake it for a bell's bike? if it jingles that loudly and you're walking behind them. i hope you are ready then, styling wigs does seem to be a craft of art in making.

have you found your birthday twin yet? or am i still the closest one? and i actually gave up on makima. the fanart is something else but you can't help but feel intrigued like you said. i dislike her for the same reason. that's great! have you tried taking it to a tailor and get the sleeves shortened? i did it for a blazer and it worked.

ah i’m glad, me too! :) <3

i very much understand. it hurts, but sometimes the right thing to do just isn’t what initially makes you the happiest,, and it’s still for the best.

hm, true. maybe one day lol. rn we see each other maybe twice a year, and go visit a museum together. it’s nice, but certainly not how i pictured my life a few years ago haha. tho i’m content with our relationship the way it is, i think.

understandable understandable lol. i think my pref for genshin does stem from me having played it for longest by far + it being the game that got me into gaming, which both ends in an obvious bias. but hsr has been v fun so far as well! honkai impact fight mechanics are more similar to genshin than to hsr, but the controls for the whole game don’t involve the mouse, only the a, s, d, w, i, j, k, and l keys (if i remember the keys correctly- the point is you only need a keyboard to play) lol. makes it easier to play it in class.....

okay tbh i did repeat/got pushed back more than once 😭 most people here probably are finished with a five years degree at 24/25 too, but a bunch each year will be one/two years older bc they had to repeat. and i’m gonna be one of those lol. but yeah, i’m glad i’ve still got time to decide on what to study bc there’s too many things i’d like to do... omg i used to have a classmate who’s a kpop fan, and she pretty much made her locker at school into a kpop shrine plastered with photos and filled with merch lol. she also was the one to introduce me to kpop funnily enough.

true. i’ll figure out how to make it make no sound before wearing it in public, then i’ll be fine. bc i do think the earring looks funky even when silent hehe.

i have a (bad?) habit of thinking i can do anything i want to, so... wig styling can’t be that hard, now can it..... and there’s a first time to everything anyway.

no birthday twin for me, you’re still the closest. if i ever do find one, i’ll make sure to tell you dw lol.

no, i haven’t been to a tailor yet, but i might try that once! i just hope it wouldn’t be too expensive afhjfdj

[fancyfade]

No offense but so much of this just seems wrong from canon in a different way than typical fandom

Damian tried to kill Jason – When? In which issue? b/c he just regular fought jason from what I remember in all their interactions preboot. Jason was the one trying to kill people.

Dick's favorite brother is Tim, not Damian. - I'm pretty sure Dick doesn't rate his brothers on brotherliness tho. Like are you taking the cringe "Tim's the best Robin" thing from Taylor's nightwing and using that as Dick's opinions on his brothers as his brothers?

Damian's best friend is Goliath, not Jon. - I don't think Damian declares Goliath (or Jon) his best friends

Damian's favorite sister is Maya then Steph. He doesn't like Cass. - Do we even see him declare Steph his sister? He also barely interacts on panel with Cass. He certainly has fewer negative interactions w/ her than he does w/ Tim and at the end of Gates of Gotham they seem to be getting on fine with each other. If you're arguing Damian and Tim should be close or not dislike each other, the same should happen for Damian and Cass.

Tim definitaly had more lovers than everyone in the family. - Lovers??????

Bruce locked Damian in his room and sent him back to the league, just after a few days of meeting him. - . like bruce did not send damian to the league a few days after meeting him, are you thinking of him thinking that Damian died in Batman and Son?

Damian made Demon friends from his time in Hell. - source b/c what? Unless this was in Teen Titans 2016

The fanon relationship between Ra's and Tim is, in fact, the canon relationship between Lady Shiva and Tim. - Lady Shiva actually doesn't respect or fanboy or whatever Tim a ton either. Like he just doesn't have a bunch of respect from either of them.

Dick slept with Barbara. And the morning after, handed her out his wedding invitation with Kory. (Not really sure about that one) - this is technically canon but a retcon (so not the way it initially happened, they added that for ??? IDK drama?)

Damian couldn't have beaten Zsasz, if it weren't for Colin. He even almost died. - debatable. He got a second wind after seeing Colin but he most certainly defeated Zsasz in a single combat on his own. There is no need to diminish his accomplishments and the way that this was phrased definitely implied he couldn't beat Zsasz in a 1v1 fight when again, he clearly could.

Damian did not beat Joker with a crowbar, it wasn't the actual Joker. - source on that not being the actual joker in morrison's B&R comic b/c IIRC that was definitely the actual joker

Cass lives in Honkong. - she did. In 2009. she has long since stopped living there.

Damian blames himself for Alfred's death. So did Bruce. Even though he was on vacation with Selina while Damian was trying to save all of Gotham from burning down all by himself. And then Bane kidnapped Damian and snapped Alfred's neck in front of him while Alfred was begging Bane not to do it in front of Damian. / you already got a correction on this from we save gotham

also have to say that like. bat-dragons are animals, not people.

a lot of these are opinions presented as fact or things i really would need to see a source on from canon b/c they just seem wrong but in a different direction or misinterpreting

New plan, I am outsourcing my Batfam anti fanon list! Please reblog, comment or tag with the Batfam fanons that make you want to tear your hair out and grind your teeth to dust! I’ll start: I absolutely cannot stand the fanon that Tim was constantly left home alone as a small child. And if you ever mention the idea that Jason was anything but a good, smart kid who enjoyed school I will bite you

[kakashihasibs]

for the four headcanon ask, sakumo! tell me your thoughts on this dog grandpa

Oh boy

1) realistic.

Perhaps a contributing factor in Sakumo's social awkwardness is that the Hatake clan was a newer addition to Konoha and there were some internal politics that made the Hatake clan's position in konoha slightly more precarious than what Sakumo was comfortable with.

It probably didn't help that Sakumo was exceptionally strong, meaning he was a possible candidate for Hokage in the minds of more progressive konoha-ians.

His more compassionate nature was probably well known as well. I could easily see his failed mission being a set up to get Sakumo out of the way.

Send him on a mission they know will cost lives to complete knowing he'll forsake it to save those lives. Then when he gets back as a failure lambast him until he's no long a threat to the established order.

Maybe they didn't mean for him to commit suicide bc he still could have been useful but thats what it ended up leading to.

(The precarious situation might have fed into him trying so hard to get kakashi to be a little politer in public as well lol)

2) hilarious. Maybe? Idk more like amusing to me than hilarious.

This poor man has social anxiety so bad. When his future wife 1st flirted with him he turned beet red. (It wasn't actually the 1st time she had flirted with him. She kept having to up the obviousness and it was just the 1st time he realized what she was doing)

Once he got used to it tho he got good at flirting back 😌 Sakumo could be pretty smooth when he lets himself be.

3) sad.

Okay listen. I dont like the headcanon that Kakashi looks like his mom and seeing Kakashi's face made Sakumo sad so Kakashi started wearing a mask. i don't think that Sakumo was that bad of a parent. Kakashi never seemed upset or overly ashamed while Sakumo was still alive.

I think Sakumo loved that Kakashi looks like his mom and loved seeing her smile reflected in Kakashi's smile. And while Sakumo thinks baby Kalashi wanting to look like a cool ninja is incredibly cute and Sakumo is certainly supportive, Sakumo does miss seeing Kakashi's smile. He doesn't let that show bc he's not gonna be weird to his son about his dead mom.

And while i think Kakashi's mom died of childbirth complications just given the time frame, i think she lived for a while and actually got to meet and hold Kakashi for a while. Like maybe she passed a few days after the birth :[

4) unrealistic.

Hmmmm. This might not be unrealistic given everything about konoha but uh if the Hatake clan is newer to konoha then i bet there are more members of the clan outside of konoha but after setting Sakumo up for failure and his suicide they probably wouldn't want them being contacted.

During the funeral while kakashi is out i can see ANBU agents going through the Hatake estate steal anything that has info on members outside of Konoha, effectively cutting Kakashi off from a possible line of support or even protection.

Kakashi was exhausted so he probably never noticed the missing stuff. Scrolls or books with with family trees and history stolen so Kakashi would be alone and cut off from them :(

[thesunicarusfellfor]

Hello my beloved! ( Can I call you that? And people it's platonic!) I have an idea and this is for pogtopia wilbur and ghostbur! Can you do a reader who loves painting and one morning they find a picture of them with a note about the reader confessing to then but they didn't do it in person because they were really nervous? Thank you!

And please take as much time as you want also could it be a long story? Thank you!

- Your beloved Moosh 🥺

Moosh, darling! Hello! Yes, you have my full permission to call me that, thank you for asking! This is the third time I've written this story because Tumblr just really enjoys screwing me over...

Also. You never clarified whether you wanted fluff or angst, but it's Pogtopia Wilby so I kinda just went with angst? If you want a happy end to this, I'll rewrite this no problem! But it won't be as long because... Well, you'll see. Also also, I didn't exactly know where to throw the Ghosty Bur in, so... Yeaaaah? He's at the end tho!

THE FIRST PART IS LIKE NEW NEW POGTOPIA WILBUR

TW: (Sorry it didn't save the first time) C!Schlatt, bruising, threatened hanging, self doubt

Perfect Picture of Imperfection (Pogtopia!C!Wilbur x GN!Painter!Reader)

Maybe you painted Schlatt's horns the wrong colour? Or his jawline was off? He was furious when you finally showed him your art piece... It was the best you could do with the few hours you were given! Paint physically couldn’t dry as fast as Schlatt wanted it to you… He didn’t seem to care when he threw the wooden frame of the torn canvas at you, giving you a dark bruise right above your eye, or when he started yelling at you and threatening to burn your art studio down to the ground.

Or even when he grabbed you and suggested to Quackity to hang you at the gallows for insulting the emperor of Manberg.

The man you had once been friends with grinned widely and nodded happily, “Yes, sir! Yes, sir!” He said, without a single care that you were a living human being, only giving a cheer as he picked you up so your feet were dangling on the ground, leaving you silent in terror. Tubbo only averted his gaze.

“Aww… You’re like a little fawn, caught in the torchlight of a traveller.” The ram hybrid smiled in a sickly sweet manner, causing the colour to drain from your face, “Come now, darling, I’m not a monster… You’re the only one of Wilbur’s sweet little subjects that he hasn’t gotten back, and here I thought you were his favourite… Or maybe he left you here to act as a sacrifice so they could all be off doing their own thing... Guess he prefers Niki over you…” He whispered as he dropped you, chuckling softly as you scurried out of the building as you quite literally ran for your life.

You called Wilbur when you were safely hidden in your house, gasps and sobs leaving your mouth quicker than tears could pool out of your eyes…

“(Y/n)... You can’t be calling me when-”

“Wil…?” You whispered into the communicator, your voice shaking enough to shut him up immediately, “He… He’s going to…” Hiccuping meekly, you curled in tighter on yourself as you heard Schlatt’s loud and pompous voice come over the speaker system he had hung up all around the once beautiful country, “I think I’m going to die here…”

The dead silence that followed through the line was sickening…

“Is it true…?” You couldn’t help but find yourself wondering aloud, “Is that why I’m the only one left here? Am I a sacrifice so you can live happily elsewhere? ...Is that why you haven’t come to get me?”

“(Y/n), I want you to never utter those words again.” His voice was dark and steely as there was a bit of crashing around that came from the other side as well as faint mumbles which were clearly from Tommy judging by all the swearing, “You are not a sacrifice. Now... Get your Enderchest and Inventory packed up, I’m coming to get you tonight, and then I’ll explain in person…”

The line cut off and you slowly lowered the communicator down from beside your ear. Your heart was sinking one minute, but soaring the next… A terrible feeling really. You were saved! But… He could get caught trying to come to get you… You couldn’t let that happen for sure. With a heavy sigh, you rubbed your eyes free of tears before standing up and beginning to shove any necessary equipment into your Enderchest, including your finished painting of Wilbur that you were going to give to him when he won the election… And finally, confess your feelings…

When midnight hit and the lights of the city finally died down, you climbed up onto your roof and looked around for the president, fear and paranoia flooding through your veins as your mind went wild. What if he got caught? What if he was trying to give you false hope? What if. What if. What if. These sort of questions buzzed around in your mind for an hour as you waited for your saviour to arrive…

Finally, when enough became enough and you decided he wasn’t coming, you stopped pacing and slowly sat down on the roof as the tears began to start again. You could practically hear Schlatt chiding you in the back of your mind, telling you that you were a fool for holding out hope.

“(Y/n)!” A low hiss came from beside you and a hand touched your shoulder. You certainly would’ve screamed bloody murder if another hand hadn’t quickly wrapped around your mouth, “Sh, sh, sh, it’s me… It’s Wilbur.” The voice soothed softly as the hand left your mouth, quickly allowing you to turn your head.

It didn’t feel real… Seeing him after so long… And in an outfit other than his uniform. “Wil...bur?” You repeated, staring at him for a while before giving him a soft smile filled with relief, “You really came…”

“Of course I did!” He almost seemed offended for a moment before his eyes softened as he realized what Schlatt must’ve drilled into your head. Wilbur easily caught you as you flung your self at him, quickly wrapping his arms around you and burying his face in your (h/l) (h/c) hair, “I missed my artiste…” He whispered, donning a temporary french accent for the word ‘artist’.

Holding back a sob, you quickly grabbed his extended hand and followed him as he jumped off your roof, safely landing in a bed of hay that you used to feed your old farm animals that Schlatt confiscated before following him out of this damned country.

After that, things seemed to change between you and Wilbur. He always seemed to be at your side, choosing to personally train you rather than letting Techno train you with everyone else, or even running over ideas on how to expand Pogtopia with you rather than with Tommy. His touches always lingered longer or he somehow wound up leaning closer to you than originally necessary, but you never caught yourself complaining. He would watch you paint beautiful designs along the armour he had gifted you, knowing full well it would chip off and was heavily unnecessary, but he only smiled and let you continue doing it as long as it didn’t interfere with enchantments.

Each day with Wilbur became better and better, but your heart physically couldn’t take it any longer, you had to tell him that you felt this way for him… The way that you had to fight back the reddening of your cheeks when his chest pressed against your back as he adjusted your stance in training, or the way you had to struggle to regulate your breathing every time he complimented you on how far you had come…

He was going to be the death of you…

Your already calloused hands were bruised and blistered, but somehow, you were still able to hold a quill, pinched in between the fingers of your dominant hand. Wilbur had come to your Pogtopia home this morning, but upon realizing that he had knocked you to the ground a little too hard yesterday as you were incredibly stiff and sore, he let you have the day off of training.

This was at least a little chance… You had torn a page from your notebook and sat down at your handmade desk with a bitter sigh. Trust me, you wanted to tell him in person, but you were just too scared… Plus, maybe you could play it off as someone pulling a prank on him if it went south.

Biting your lip, your fingers treated the quill as a brush, delicately running the ink dipped tip over the top of the paper, letting your heart control what words you wanted the ink to form.

Wilbur,

You don't realize how much you mean to me. Although we've been friends for only a year, I feel as though I've known you my entire life. My connection to you is already so deep, and my love for you is already so strong that I can't remember what my life was like before we met. Even more, I can't imagine my life without you now. I can't imagine the future without you, either.

You have saved my life several times already. You have even saved me from myself several times, too! I am so thankful for your guidance and care. Whenever I'm having a bad day, I know that I can just give you a call. I know I can depend on you and, with your help, everything will turn out well.

I want you to know how I really feel. It's time for you to know that I'm ready to admit how much I care for you, how much you mean to me. I know, this isn’t the best timing in our lives, but I trust it will get better through your leadership. I love you, Wilbur.

Please, don't ever forget how much I love you.

Love, (Y/n) (L/n)

Sighing, you put the quill into the inkpot and put your head in your bandaged hands. ‘This is going to work. It will work. Go on. Have faith in yourself, as Wil said…’ You took a few deep breaths and stood up, picking up the letter once it was dry and reading it over as many times as you physically could before your mind couldn’t handle it any longer.

Walking to the door, you cracked it open to search for any sign of your president, sighing again as you realized he was likely out helping gather resources. “Is… This enough?” You mumbled sadly as you stared down at the simple letter before looking at your Enderchest in thought. Surely you could give him a few emeralds or some gold… Yeah! That’s what you’d do! Smiling in victory, you quickly wandered over to the chest and opened it, digging through it for a few moments.

It was sort of empty…

You groaned as you remembered that you haven’t really been one of the miners or forgers for Pogtopia. Instead, you were one of the warriors, focused on protecting others instead of gathering supplies.

Going to shut the chest, you suddenly paused as you saw something colourful resting at the bottom. Pushing aside your old L’Manberg uniform, you gasped as you found your old painting of Wilbur from a few months ago. It was old, yes, and a little dusty but you were still proud of it even now! Perfect.

Pulling out the painting, you began to lightly brush the dust off of the picture, smiling at the splashes of paint and colour forming a picture. It was your magnum opus.

It was a painting of Wilbur holding up a massive L’Manberg flag against the sunlight with a wide smile and hope in his eyes… This was the day that L’Manberg won independence from DreamSMP…

Standing up again, you quickly hurried out the door and walked to Wilbur’s room, silently creaking open the door and looking around, even though you were well aware that he was gone for the day. You walked over to his desk and gently setting the painting down on top of the countless sheets of work, making sure not to mix up any of the papers, then putting your letter on top where he could see it before hurrying out before you could change your mind.

Thankfully you got out when you did because, by the time you pulled an already baked potato out of the furnace, Wilbur came down the stone stairs, looking extremely exhausted, “(Y/n), my artiste…” He murmured with a smile, “I’m glad to see you’re still up and going… I was worried we would have to make you a healing pot.”

“It’s not too bad… It’s mostly just my hands that hurt.” You chuckled and held up your shaking bandaged hands, “You want me to cook you up some potatoes and carrots? Or I could maybe try and get some steak cooked up before you go to work?”

Wilbur tried to smile a bit, deciding not to question why your hands were shaking so badly, taking everything out of his inventory and placing them in their designated chests. “No, no… It’s alright. I’m going to go get ready for Tubbo’s report… I’ll see you later tonight, okay?”

You gave him a small wave before Wilbur disappeared into his office. Taking a sharp intake of breath, you quickly followed after him and peeked through the tiny crack in the door where he didn’t close it all the way. He stood in his room silently for a moment before throwing his hat off at a wall, screaming into hands, muffling it heavily to the point where you wouldn’t have heard it if you were still near the furnaces. Wilbur threw off his jacket before plopping himself into his chair with his head in his hands for a few moments, then lifting it to stare at the painting that you had placed.

He was still for a long time, then he slowly picked up the note, his eyes softened slightly before his face broke out into a wide and genuinely happy smile before his mouth twitched and the smile began to fall, tears bubbling into his chocolate coloured eyes. Wilbur held the note up to his chest and slouched back against his chair, sobbing into his hand, whispering ‘I’m so sorry’ repeatedly.

Frowning, you realized that he physically couldn’t return your love because of the stress of caring for Pogtopia and trying to win back L’Manberg. With a sad smile, you stood up and walked to your room, putting your head down as you saw water droplets hit the stone below you, “It wasn’t a no…” You tried to tell yourself, ignoring the tears running from your eyes as you shut the door, sliding down to your knees.

The next few weeks after that were hell, the complete opposite of the Utopia that you were blinded by for the past month. Wilbur asked Techno to pick up your training, and he never even spoke to you about it again… It was the Piglin hybrid that awkwardly told you. During dinner, Wilbur would practically eat as little as possible as he ignored you, trying to make any situation where he would be in the same room as you as short as possible.

“Wil-...” You reached out to the president but watched as he only gave you the saddest gaze before walking past you as if he never saw you. But he would have no problems talking to Niki, or anyone else! It wasn’t fair!

Time ticked by in a haze of fog and you quickly watched the man you had once fallen in love with becoming a complete shadow of his former self… It was sickening… He… Lost it… His mind was becoming twisted… And all you could do was watch in horror…

You knew something was wrong when he crept away from the festival and the celebration… But you just decided that he was going to take a break from the excitement. He was quite old after all…

Then the ground shook with booming roars as TNT blew craters into the earth, sending debris scattering and people screaming, scattering for their lives. Gasps of terror escaped your lips as you realized the cause of it all… You hopped over gunpowder scented broken stone and batted the smoke away as you saw the final picture to paint the last stroke of horror in your heart.

There was a blond man with massive avian wings holding a diamond sword glimmering with enchantments as the brunet clung to his clothing, slowly sinking to his knees. With a sob of despair, you watched the man you once loved so dearly, get stabbed through the chest by his own father.

“WILBUR!” You shrieked, your ears ringing from the blast as you sunk to your knees, sobs racking your frame violently. Wilbur’s head lazily rolled to look in your direction…

And in his last dying breath… He smiled…

-

“That painting…” A light airy whisper echoed through the darkened stone halls of your home, “It’s familiar… Yet so foreign...”

You gave a hum as you hung your netherite armour on your stand before turning to stare at the spectral figure floating in your doorway, “Which painting, Ghostbur? There’s many… You have to elaborate.”

“Right! Because you’re an artiste!” The transparent male chirped happily, not seeming to notice your flinch, “I mean the one hanging above the fireplace, of Alivebur.”

“Right…” You nodded, following behind the eager sweater-wearing ghost down the eerie hallways and into the office, "I'm going to take it down... I think it's doing more harm than good..."

Ghostbur didn't seem to understand your reasoning, but he didn't say much, knowing that Alivebur hurt many people... But he didn't think he hurt you, "It's pretty though... But your art style has changed, in a good way though!" He smiled softly as you opened the large dark oak double doors.

You walked past your grand dark oak desk to stare at your former magnum opus, dangling above the unlit fireplace. "Hey, Bur, if you have a flint and steel, could you light the fire please?" You glanced over and watched him nod as he dug through his pockets. In the meantime, you climbed up onto the mantle and began to struggle to pull the canvas off the wall. With a bit of hassle, you managed to pull it down and toss it onto the ground before climbing down, just in time for your ghost friend to light the fire.

"Don't damage it, (N/n)! It's still really good!" Ghostbur scolded you with a pout once you hopped down and picked the canvas up, "And you used to be proud of it!"

"I'm not, don't fret too m-" You paused mid-sentence as you saw a letter tucked into the bottom corner of the back of the painting. Frowning in confusion, you slowly picked it up and turned it over into your hand, only to discover that it was addressed to you in fancy cursive, sealed with a light red and white wax seal, "What's this?"

He looked over at you and tilted his head, seeming almost as genuinely confused as you were. Ghostbur shrugged as you propped the painting up against the wall before sitting at your desk, using your letter opener for its purpose, "Love letter, perhaps?"

"I doubt it..." You mumbled softly as you carefully unfolded the paper, recognizing that it was probably a few years old, "Let's see... Who wrote this..." You hummed before beginning to read.

My darling artiste... I'm sure by the time you read this, I'm either dead or... Well, most likely dead, if all goes to plan...

I am writing this letter to you to let you know that life without you is not the same. Life without you is very sad and lonely. I have realised that it was you who keep me alive and cheerful.

I thought I would get used to your absence from my life, but every day has been harder when I think of all the good times we spent together.

There are so many things which I want to confess. It's killing me because I don't want you to go another day without knowing how I feel about you.

And I'm not able to tell you I'm in love with you.

What an idiot I am.

And for the past few days, I've been trying to figure out, why there aren't some words to describe it. I want to tell you exactly how I feel but there isn't a single goddamned word in the entire dictionary that can describe my love for you.

But I need that word. I need it because I want you to hear me say “I love You". I want to make the sweetest gestures in front of you which make you feel even more loved.

Trust me... I know... I act like an absolute ass towards you. I'm so scared of your life being in more danger than it was... I really did love you, and still do, but I didn't want it to hurt you more when I blow up L'Manberg...

Darling, I could have simply called you on your communicator and took you out on a surprise date but I couldn't have expressed my feelings. You have become an integral part of me. I want to give you all my love throughout my life.

The painting you made me is beautiful and I will cherish it for as long as I'm alive... It's a perfect picture of imperfection...

I Love You, (Y/n), even if by now you'll never love me back.

- Wilbur Soot

"That... That idiot..." You whispered, holding your head in your hands in an attempt to hide the tears from Ghostbur, "He planned blowing up L'Manberg from the beginning... That's why he refused to acknowledge me after I... He wanted me to hate him..."

Ghostbur held a bit of blue in his hands tightly, avoiding your gaze as you murmured to yourself, "Yeah... Most of my happiest memories involve you... That's why I couldn't understand when you said Aliverbur hated you..." He glanced away again as he saw you look at him.

"(Y/n)... Are you ever going to move out of Pogtopia?"

"Probably not for a long time, Ghostbur."

[aceofthegreenajah]

Okay, time for Sandman!

What I think I know before starting:

- I’ve read some of Neil Gaiman’s more popular books but no comics. I own the Sandman… audiobook? Audioplay? Radioplay? One of those. But I haven’t gotten around to it yet.

- I know the inciting incident – Dream aka Morpheus was captured (I think they were trying to capture Death and got him by accident).

- I’ve seen some pictures about casting.

- I think the comics were vaguely DCU related but I might be wrong about that. I think the show has to write around some things they don’t have the rights for in regards to that, but again, that’s just me reading between the lines and I might be wrong.

- I think the comic series is really long, was started when I was a kid, and might even be still ongoing???

On with the show!

- Okay that opening sequence was cool as hell I kinda want to rewatch it immediately.

- Oh this place is not ominous at all.

- Charles Dance! I didn’t know he was in this too!

- mr. Charles’ character you are sus. And a dick.

- prediction – the summoning will interrupt this and the Corinthian will remain free while Dream is trapped, and will be more powerful when he gets out. A volume 1 villain or something further down the line. (five seconds later:) yes I knew it.

- These older shakespearean actors really can declaim.

- Is that kid gonna be Morpheus’ eventual ally and releaser?

- The Corinthian came back faster than I expected.

- I also kinda want to go back and analyse the way the Corinthian moves sometimes. Kinda dreamlike, not fast, just the moment you take your eyes off him he’s somewhere he wasn’t before, but it’s the logical place for him to be so your brain just goes ‘oh, makes sense.’ At least mine does.

- Ooh that look says a lot with 0 movement, well done!

- He looks kinda spindly and a little eerie. Well done on that too.

- Well I think your father would just ask for more and more and more if he got something, but who am I to know? I’ve only seen him be a shitty father to you and a cult leader and an arrogant, reckless amateur magician who stumbled his way into good fortune by accident. See, he even makes, you, his own son call him ‘magus’!

- Is Ethel like Alex’s stepmom now? Or an apprentice magician? (hoping for second, expecting the first)

- By the way I love this bird on principle.

- Daring heist / escape by bird??? Sign me in! Oh you little saboteur!

- WHO DID THAT I WILL KILL YOU

- IT’S THE KID I LIKED YOU YOU’RE DEAD TO ME

- Maybe it’s okay his sibling to death maybe it’s not permanent

- Is that motivating him to escape tho (or motivating the kid to turn over a new leaf (I won’t forgive him but I’d give him points for effort))

- This man – Roderick or whatever – gets worse by the second.

- Sure you’ll probably be fine but it should still be your decision! Yes run away Ethel! I mean free Dream first as a distraction / to screw him over.

- Oh well robbing him is good too I guess.

- Sure fight over the magic circle of containment hope you made it from a durable material.

- That look from Dream is pure disgust and derision. Deserved of course.

- Ethel giving off villain vibes. Well more than she already was. I like it. She’s smart she’ll be terrible *★,°*:.☆(￣▽￣)/$:*.°★* 。

- Paul act as a conscience here please someone needs to. (but don’t get yourself in trouble you seem sweet.)

- understandable. Short-sighted maybe but understandable.

- I told you make your magic circles out of a more durable material. Also was it on purpose? I’m inclined to think so, but certainly he didn’t seem inclined to correct it.

- Feeling a little bad for the quilt Paul must feel but Alex kinda got what he deserved. If he had released dream after his father died I’d have said he’s a kid and an abuse victim he should be spared, but he had decades to try to be better. Eventually you do run out of time to change.

That was a fucking good time. 10/10

[anniesocsandgeneralstore]

Darkness and Light - Part 1 (Battinson x OC)

Summary: Bruce Wayne had given up all attachments. It just made his double life easier. And tonight, he has to go to an art auction as himself to snoop on the Penguin. Only he meets someone he doesn't quite expect.

Pairing: RPatz!Bruce Wayne x OC (Sloane Di Marzio)

Word Count: 3811

Warnings: alcohol mention, wet cat bruce wayne, i think that's about it tho

ONE | TWO | THREE

There were some things that he just couldn’t do as Batman. Like going to this art auction to get some information on the Penguin’s motives for being there at all — especially after the drug ring shakeup that the takedown of Maroni caused. What could possibly be at this auction that the Penguin wanted when the entire underbelly of Gotham was scrambling for power. Bruce needed to find out.

Alfred was just happy that he was getting out of the house.

The auction was being held at one of the estates just outside the city limits. The grand limestone mansion was lit up with spotlights — the fountain at the center of the circular drive practically sparkling in the artificial light as dusk fell over the Gotham countryside. It seemed that nearly all of Gotham’s elite were in attendance tonight. The most influential families, the DA, the police commissioner, even the mayor and his wife. Bruce couldn’t remember which one of them actually owned the mansion, however.

He pulled up to the front steps and the valet seemed shocked when he stepped out of the car. Bruce did have a reputation as a recluse these days, but he had been hoping for the surprised stares to be saved for when he got inside, not as soon as he opened his car door. He flashed the valet a small smile and handed over his keys, along with a generous tip. The valet chuckled as he got to work, pocketing the money quickly. Bruce adjusted his black suit jacket as he looked around at the other party-goers walking in.

Fine ladies dressed in even finer evening gowns, glittering in the dying light. Distinguished gentlemen either stepped out for a smoke or escorting their chosen partners inside. The whole thing was a very usual Gotham-elite affair. He remembered going to plenty of things like this with his parents and being bored out of his mind.

Bruce nearly winced. He wished he would’ve appreciated those times more.

As he walked inside he avoided the open-mouthed stares and whispers of his name behind his back. He probably should start going to more of these functions. But he could barely stand them or the people usually in attendance. It would certainly make Alfred happy if he did.

The front doors were wide open and Bruce walked right inside — welcomed by the sound of soft violin music, the smell of canapes and chardonnay, and the idle chatter of socialites coming from the ballroom further inside the mansion. He ordered a ginger ale from the open bar in the foyer to pass off as whiskey. Then he made his way into the ballroom where the art was being displayed and would later be auctioned off one piece at a time.

The ballroom in this mansion was immaculate. Nearly pulled from a Jane Austen novel. Marble floors, great white pillars reaching up to the heavenly painted ceiling, a balcony ran along the western wall where the band was situated — along with a few guests looking for a bit of seclusion. Waiters weaved through the mid-sized crowd with flutes of champaign and trays full of finger foods. Beautifully dressed people stood around laughing and chatting without a care in the world — blissfully unaware or too important to care about what was going on in their own city.

Just inside the ballroom entrance was a table stacked with pamphlets outlining the paintings to be auctioned. Bruce grabbed one and quickly skimmed the names of the paintings and artists. His eyebrows lifted when he noticed that there was only one artist listed. He glanced around the room — there were at least fifteen paintings up for auction tonight, and they were all by the same artist.

L. M. Vance, whoever they were, was going to make absolute bank this evening.

Bruce wandered over to the first painting on the right side of the ballroom, keeping an eye out for Penguin while also trying not to make eye contact with anyone. If he caught eyes with any of these bureaucrats he was a dead man who would be forced to talk to them about money and grants and Wayne Foundation funding. Something he was utterly unprepared for and would never be prepared for. He sipped his ginger ale as he looked at the painting, his focus really on his peripherals as he continued his search for the Penguin.

“Do you think the artist was being too forward with their statement here?” a feminine voice asked from beside him.

He sighed in annoyance. Someone had caught him. Bruce looked over to find a woman standing next to him with her head cocked to one side. He had never seen her before. Her brown hair was done up in a simple bun at the base of her skull, a few loose hairs framing her face. She wore a satin blue slip dress with buttons up the front, plain in comparison to some of the gowns he had seen the other women wearing that evening. She didn’t look up at him, only continued to stare at the painting, and for a moment he wondered if she was even talking to him. There were other people around surely, but no one close enough for this mystery woman to be talking to them. Everyone around them, in fact, seemed preoccupied in their own conversations, leaving the two of them as alone as you could get at a socialite auction.

Huffing slightly, he finally took in the painting before him. He didn’t want to be rude to this woman, after all.

Bruce was suddenly struck with a feeling he couldn’t describe. The painting’s subject was clear. It was Gotham. At the bottom, a filthy dark street lined with the homeless and deprived, but moving up the building there were small vignettes in each of the windows. A couple struggling. A family eating a meal together. A celebration. A loss. A heartbreak. Love. Joy. Sorrow. Mundanity. It was all there. Every aspect of the city of Gotham was there. The statement of the piece was clear.

“No,” Bruce finally replied, “No — I don’t think it’s too forward.”

“No?” the woman answered, “I mean, they named the piece The People of Gotham. It’s like the artist is throwing their whole theme in your face.”

“Well, when you’ve got a good theme.”

He looked over at her when she laughed. Really took in her face — in the back of his mind hoping he could look back at the footage from his contact lens later. Her face was pale, freckled, barely any makeup adorning her large brown eyes. Bruce had to admit she was rather beautiful. His eyes were quick as they observed her. She stood casually beside him, clearly used to the elite crowd. But her dress was simple, so not from money herself. There was a paint smear on the inside of her wrist — missed in the shower. An aspiring artist maybe? An avid appreciator of L. M. Vance perhaps?

“Are there any other paintings you’re interested in this evening?” she asked with a small smile.

Without even really knowing what he was doing, Bruce drifted over to the next painting along the wall. He heard her heels clicking along behind him as the woman in blue followed him. A smaller piece in a simple frame — the reference photo the painting was so clearly based on hung beside it. He knew the picture well. It sat on one of the many shelves in his father’s office. But the painted rendition took some liberties. Embellished the rising sun as nearly a beacon in the top right corner.

“The construction of Wayne Tower,” Bruce muttered as he inspected the painting.

“The photographer nearly died to capture this moment. Wayne Tower was the tallest building in the city for nearly thirty years. But he thought this little nugget of history was worth capturing at the risk of his own life,” the woman said, “When the Waynes came to Gotham it brought the city hope. And I think they still do…In some way.”

She has no idea who I am, he thought. And it nearly comforted him, in some strange way. Any time he left his house without the Batsuit on, it felt like everyone was staring at him, questioning him, waiting for him to mess up. Cameras followed him around and people asked him questions he felt he didn’t have the time for. But here in this moment, in a ballroom full of people who knew exactly who he was, he was anonymous to this woman. This woman who looked over at him with a dimpled grin and a glint in her eye.

“Do you know L. M. Vance?” he asked.

She nodded. “Yes. We’re very close, actually.”

A sudden, unexpected pang of jealousy hit Bruce’s heart. What the hell? He just met this woman — he didn’t even know her name. Yet the very idea of her being with someone else made his insides feel rotten. Bruce didn’t realize how captured he had become by this woman until that moment. In all the time they had been talking, he hadn’t been looking for the Penguin at all.

“Are — Are you his apprentice or something?”

“Something like that,” she said, cocking her head to one side with a knowing smile Bruce didn’t quite understand.

“Sloane!” Someone called.

It was Mayor Mitchell with his wife on his arm — towing behind him Oswald Cobblepot. The Penguin. Bruce kept his eyes on the painting before him so as not to arouse suspicion.

The woman in the blue dress turned with an interested look.

Sloane. Her name was Sloane.

“Mayor Mitchel! How are you this evening?” she asked, her voice mellow and relaxed.

“I’m doing well — this auction tonight has been just beautiful,” Mitchell replied.

His wife piped up next, “Yes, we can’t decide between three of the paintings. We might just end up bidding on all of them!”

“I’m glad to hear that!” Sloane smiled.

“Now, Sloane, who’s this that you’re with — ?“ Mitchell’s tone was teasing, but he paused when Bruce fully turned to face all of them. The mayor looked shocked. “Bruce Wayne.”

Bruce put on a smile as he sipped his drink. “Hello, Mr. Mayor.”

Mitchell laughed. “Your foundation hasn’t returned any of my calls about your support for my re-election campaign coming up.”

“Ah, sorry about that. I’ve been out of the country for several months.”

A lie. But at least it would get Mitchell off his back for the moment and make it to where he didn’t have to talk anymore. He was so terrible at this part of his life.

“How do you two know each other?” Mrs. Mitchell smirked as she wagged a finger between Bruce and Sloane.

“Oh, we, uh — we actually just met a minute ago. I had no idea I was talking to the Bruce Wayne,” Sloane laughed.

She looked up at him and flashed him an expression as if to say why didn’t you tell me who you were? He only shrugged in response.

“Then you wouldn’t mind if we pulled her away for a moment, Bruce?” Mitchell asked. “We have an acquaintance here who has a question about one of the paintings.”

The mayor gestured at the Penguin who smiled, flashing his gold teeth, at Sloane. There was a split second where Bruce in fact did mind if they pulled Sloane away to be anywhere near that creep. But as she said, they only just met.

“Of course.” He turned towards the woman in blue. “It was nice to meet you, Sloane.”

Her name rolled off his tongue and a pink flush flared across her freckled cheeks. Even the tips of her ears turned a shade of red. A shy smile tugged at the corners of her mouth as she looked up at him.

“You too, Mr. Wayne.”

The two of them reached out to one another and shook hands lightly. Her hands were so soft. Like silk running through his calloused fingers. Somehow the blush in her cheeks deepened.

Then she disappeared across the ballroom with the Mitchells and the Penguin.

Bruce made quick work of crossing the room himself — trying to act as casual as possible while keeping a keen eye on Oswald Cobblepot. He was leading Sloane over to a particularly large painting in the southwest corner of the room. Bruce could see even from a distance that the central piece of the cityscape painting was the Iceberg Lounge that the Penguin owned. For a moment, Bruce wondered what vantage point Vance had gotten in order to paint the piece. Sidling up to the painting next door, Bruce sipped his ginger ale and tuned in to the Penguin’s grating voice.

“It’s just amazing the Lounge would be subject of a paintin’ tonight!” he exclaimed with a laugh.

“Of course,” Sloane’s melodic voice chimed afterward, “The Iceberg Lounge is an iconic building — a cornerstone in this community.”

The Penguin’s tone turned dark. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Bruce turned to see what was happening — gauge everyone’s stance and attitude. The Mitchells looked uncomfortable. While Cobblepot stood with his back a little straighter, his fists balled at his sides. But Sloane — with her satin blue dress and baby hairs curling around her ears — was as relaxed as could be. She looked at Cobblepot as if he wasn’t a notorious mobster with a pension for murder and drug running. Maybe she didn’t know who the Penguin was. But she had to know. His face had been all over the news when Maloni was taken down — the two of them had been close after all. A smirk quirked the corner of Bruce’s mouth.

Sloane wasn’t scared of the Penguin. Wasn’t even intimidated by him.

“You do know the history of that building, right?” she questioned with a smile. “When Gotham was first founded, this building served as the city hall. You can actually still see the limestone sign built into the space above the door there.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Bruce watched as Sloane pointed at the canvas with her pinky finger.

“Then it was converted into a conference hall and then — for the last ten years — you’ve run a very well-established business out of the building. So, yes, I would say that this building is a cornerstone of the community. This painting represents that history. The Iceberg Lounge you see here is actually what the building looked like when it was city hall and as the background stretches back behind it the eye travels through time to a modern Gotham skyline.”

“Well I’ll be damned,” Cobblepot said as he leaned in close to the painting.

“You really know your stuff, Sloane,” Mayor Mitchell said.

“I just love this city, Mr. Mayor.”

“Ya know.” Cobblepot stepped away from the canvas and pointed a finger at Sloane. “When I heard about this auction — this painting with the Lounge — I didn’t really believe it. But now that I’ve seen it, well, I’m gonna be gettin’ this to hang in my office.”

“Well, let’s hope you win the bidding then,” she said.

Bruce felt deflated. So there was no alterior motive for the Penguin being at that auction. He had heard through the grapevine that a painting featuring the Iceberg Lounge was going up for auction and he wanted to see it for himself — maybe buy it to hang up. Bruce should have known. At least he didn’t have to wait around for hours for the auction to end. He could leave early and start his nightly rounds in the suit.

He wanted to get one last look at Sloane, however, before he left. Even though he would have the footage from the evening to look back on, it wouldn’t be like looking at the real thing. After this, he would probably never see her in real life again. Never see that smear of paint on her wrist. Those freckles or that dimple when she smiled. Never hear her talk about Gotham with such an awe and reverence as if it was paradise. She had charmed him in only a few short moments. Part of him felt compromised — but the other part really didn’t care. He just wanted to see her one last time.

Only problem was he couldn’t find her anywhere. Cobblepot was still there, standing beside the painting of the Iceberg Lounge ready to claim it as his own. The Mitchells had disappeared from the crowd as well.

Where could they have gone to?

Then the sound of a mic crackling to life and feedback from the speakers made the people gathered in the ballroom shout in surprise and cover their ears. Bruce immeadiately looked for the source. On the balcony, Mayor Mitchell stood with the mic in his hand, smiling apologetically out to the crowd.

“Sorry, everyone. I just wanted to welcome you all to tonight’s auction. There are twenty beautiful pieces all by the local Gotham artist L.M. Vance. Tonight, each piece in this collection is about Gotham and its storied history. The buildings and skylines that still stand to this day and the people that make this city what it is. But, without any further ado, I would like to present L.M. Vance, who would like to say a few words before we get started.”

The mayor gestured to the side and Sloane stepped out onto the balcony. The people around Bruce cheered.

God, he should have been able to figure that out.

“Thank you, Mayor Mitchell,” Sloane spoke into the mic with a smile, “I just wanted to come out this evening and properly introduce myself. I have had a career in Gotham for nearly two years, working under the pen name — or I guess brush name would be more appropriate in this instance — ”

The crowd broke out into laughter while Sloane chuckled nervously. As she looked out over the people, her brown eyes caught Bruce’s. He didn’t look away and neither did she.

“ — of L.M. Vance. My real name is Sloane Di Marzio. And I have lived in the city of Gotham my entire life. I grew up in the Bowery, raised by a single mother who always encouraged me to strive for greatness. At eighteen I was awarded a Wayne Foundation scholarship that would get me through Gotham University. And after my graduation, with a degree in fine art and history, I was given the opportunity to go and work abroad. But I couldn’t possibly leave this city that I love — this city that has been my muse my entire life. Gotham is in my blood and I hope that that shows tonight in each of the pieces a lucky few of you will be bringing into your homes.”

She finally looked away from Bruce and he felt a heat rising up his neck. A blush. He sipped his ginger ale casually, trying to regain his composure.

“But these twenty paintings have been a labor of love for the past three years — long before I broke out into the professional art scene. This evening, along with your help, these paintings are going to see a dream come true. Because, while a small portion of the money raised this evening will go to me — an artist has to eat somehow — “ The crowd laughed again, and even this time Bruce huffed into his drink. “The majority of the funds will be used to start an art program with the Gotham City Community Centers. This program will be a way for impoverished and underprivileged children to be able to express themselves and get them off the streets. And…I will be leading and teaching the program myself. Thank you, and enjoy your evening.”

Sloane handed the mic off to the auctioneer and stepped off the balcony to roaring applause. The Gotham elite did love a good charity case to make themselves feel better. And if they got photographed while doing it? Well, that was even better. However, Sloane Di Marzio didn’t seem to be looking for praise or recognition for her work, not really. In the end, it was all about Gotham and helping the city. Sloane had risen from poverty, through the ranks of Gotham’s social structure, and when she was finally at the top? She used her position to get kids off the streets and into a better life using the thing that she loved doing most. It was brilliant and brave and generous and kind hearted.

So when the first painting to come up for auction was the small one of the construction of Wayne Tower, titled Gotham’s Hope, Bruce was the first to bid on it.

“Welcome home, Master Wayne,” Alfred said as he stepped into the cavern below Wayne Tower. “How was the auction?”

“Fine,” Bruce replied.

He was preoccupied. As he usually was these days. The Batman was his entire world now and there was no going back. Hadn’t been since the day his parents died. Alfred was surprised, however, to find him in this cave at all. He had expected, once he was back from the auction, to get in his suit and go out for the night. But there Bruce was, still in his dress suit, standing in front of the computer monitor looking at footage from his eye camera.

A painting was set down on the table.

“You bought something?” Alfred asked, picking up the small frame and inspecting the painting in the dim light.

“Yeah.”

Alfred had to admit, it was a beautiful piece of art. Simple. And he recognized the picture that the art was based on. Knew exactly where the photo was located in the late Thomas Wayne’s study. Alfred set down the painting and looked at the footage Bruce was reviewing.

It certainly wasn’t what he was expecting. He thought Bruce would be looking at footage of the Penguin and what he thought he was up to at that auction. But instead he was looking at a girl. Brown hair and eyes, dimpled cheeks, blushing as she looked up at him.

“She’s pretty,” Alfred commented. When Bruce didn’t reply he went on, “Who is she? Friend of the Penguins?”

Bruce was quick to reply as he rewound the same moment over again. “No. She’s the artist. Tonight was useless.”

“Ah, I see.”

The video of this woman smiling up at Bruce with a blush on her cheeks was replayed one more time before the young Master Wayne walked away from the monitor. Headed towards his Batsuit laid out on the other table. Alfred looked over his shoulder to make sure Bruce wasn’t looking before he moved in towards the monitor. Beside the painting was the pamphlet from the auction. Alfred picked it up and noticed the artist’s name — along with her contact information.

L. M. Vance.

Well, maybe tonight wasn’t completely useless.

I'll tag some people who I think may be interest, if you want to be removed pls just tell me! If you would like to be tagged in future installments just let me know!

@ocfairygodmother @a-reader-and-a-writer @loverhymeswith

[thatonecoryosimp]

The Devil's Mercenary pt.3 Technoblade X reader

Hey y'all, this is part 3. Probably not the last part tho, I have some ideas for this story, but I would love some help on ideas for 4. This was wanted by the beautiful 🐍 anon. I hope you enjoy :)

Warnings: Cursing, suggestive.

Series Masterlist

Pt. 4

Do I regret agreeing to the deal? Yes and no. I would have never said yes if this wasn't to save my ass, but at the same time, I'm glad that he gave me this opportunity.

Technoblade and I started off the next morning, giving Wilbur some bullshit excuse about going to get resources. I guess it wasn't a complete lie, but it most definitely wasn't a full truth.

The walk to the portal was relatively quiet, but oh gods was it boring. He had insisted on a portal somewhere only he knew, it was ridiculous. Not to mention the clothes I had on were not something to wear into the Nether.

We made it to the border of a glade. The sight was almost breathtaking, it had rolling hills and beautiful flowers. There were spots of ponds dotting the grassy fields. Bees buzzed overhead, and bunny's hopped along through the narrow tree patches.

A smile tugged at my lips as I followed the blood god through the greenery. I was in a daze as the ocean appeared in front of us. The coral-filled water was clear and unfiltered. The breeze was fresh, untouched by the people on the server.

The waves crashed as Dolphins rushed above the water, swimming in small packs. Fish danced in schools as they swam. If you looked close enough in the beautifully decorated area, you could see the colors of an axolotl or two.

The sight was enough to distract me from my evident demise, but only until it was rudely interrupted by the man it would be caused by.

"We're here," he huffed out. I turned to him. He was stalking off along the edge of the beach, there was a tiny shack where the woods began. I started to follow him soon after, my feet sloshing in the sand as I listened to the life around me.

The building would certainly be a blink and you'll miss it, that is if it didn't have the ghostly noises ringing out from inside it. That in itself was enough to catch anyone's attention.

The door thudded open as Tech pushed it. The hinges squeaked, and the floorboards cried out in despair as the hulking man stepped onto them. The eerie sounds only got louder as I followed him in, and it sealed my fate as purple particles came into view.

Technoblade didn't seem to care that I had frozen behind him, that or he didn't notice, which I doubt. He sat the bag he was carrying down on an old chair that looked like it would give way any second.

"We have food, water, and weapons," he stated as he turned to me. My eyebrows furrowed.

"Don't you need armor?"

"Sweetheart, the day I need armor to go into the Nether is the day Tommy's voice stops cracking."

I slightly chuckled at that, it was nowhere near as close to the feeling of calm the water gave me, but it was something.

"Well, I guess we should just get it over with then." Tech nodded as he looked at me.

"You have a sword on you, right?" I patted my hip.

"Yup."

And that was that. He stepped in first, leaving me in the dark shack all on my own. I could run away now, leave everything behind, Wilbur, Tommy, Techno... this stupid bet... and... Dream. I sighed. I couldn't do that, I've already betrayed my friends, the least I could do is face karma as I should.

I made contact with the purple and a shiver shot down my spine. My feet rested on the obsidian below me as my body started to fade out of the world I knew. My eyes closed and a nauseous feeling fell over me.

I gasped, almost falling forward before catching myself. He stood before me as I leaned on the portal's edge. I will never get used to how that feels.

"There's a fortress right near here, it's only a little ways North."

I shook my head and stood up straight, my swords felt heavier than they ever had as I walked towards the brick building. My heart was hammering as my boots thumped. The Nether was cast in its usual red hue as we walked. The heat was close to unbearable, and my skin felt like it was melting.

The fortress was in a Soul Sand Valley. Of fucking course it was. He did say he needed a bunch of Wither skulls.

"We'll split up, that way we can get in and out, meet back here in an hour, if you're not here, I'll assume your dead and tell others as such, got it?"

I didn't really have the time to argue with him, nor did I feel like it. I just want to get this over with.

"Yeah, whatever."

Then he walked away. I started to make my way through the Nether Brick walls, there was a staircase leading downwards, that's probably my best bet. The clicks of my feet were very apparent as I walked downwards. My eyes caught onto the black bones of almost 6 skeletons. I unsheathed my swords from the belt and smirked. This was gonna be fun.

~~~~

It had been about forty-five minutes. I sighed heavily as I picked up the last skull I needed. I had a full stack, if that wasn't enough then I don't know how to please this man.

My body and clothes were covered in black dust, my hands hurt, and my swords needed to be cleaned. Thank the gods I knew which way was out, otherwise, I'd be completely screwed. The familiar stairs came into sight and I smiled. Finally.

I leaned against the wall where Technoblade told us to meet, my eyes shut and I finally had a chance to breathe. There was sweat dripping from my face, and my shirt was transparent as it hugged my skin.

My eyes shot open as I heard heavy footsteps making their way towards me. I unsheathed one sword and stood there. Eyes scanning along the area. Pink hair became visible and I relaxed.

Technoblade saw me and raised his eyebrows, "I really thought you'd be dead."

"Thanks for having faith in me," I grumbled with a roll of my eyes as I chucked the stack of skulls at him, "Let's just get the fuck out of here."

"Some mouth you have their sweetheart."

"Don't call me that," I stated flatly.

"You sure didn't have a problem with Dream calling you that."

"Well you're not Dream, are you? You're most certainly not attractive enough to be. Looking like some knock-off barbie doll with that hair."

"Oh, alright high and mighty. You think you're some spectacular view?"

"Oh come on, I'm sure you'd just love to fuck me against the wall, huh Blade?"

His eyes turned to slits, "I'm sure you'd enjoy that, y'know, since you seem to be such a cock hungry whore, to the point where you'd betray the people that took you in, helped you, loved you."

I huffed. That sad thing is... he was right. Not about him, of course. But about me, everything he said about me was true in some aspect. My eyes trailed to the floor and I embraced defeat.

"Let's just go."

I stormed out, making my way back to the portal. Technoblade followed close behind me. Eyes glued on my back. I was gonna kill him. One day, I'm going to shove my sword through his heart and watch the Blood God crumbled to his knees.

But that day wouldn't be today...

And that day would never come. Because unbeknownst to me, fate had another idea. One that didn't involve hate, or plunging a sword through his heart.

I stepped into the glowing portal and fell through into the overworld.

~~~~

"There's a shower in the other room, but the water won't stay warm for both of us, the plumbing is shit."

"Well ain't that just lovely," I looked around the room, it was getting dark out, which didn't make much sense, but time is weird in the Nether, "I guess we're staying here tonight?"

Tech nodded, "It's the smartest idea, it's a long walk back, and there's two beds."

Well, ain't this just great? A night with the Blood God. Just what I needed.

"What about the shower situation?" He looked at the door, which I could only guess was the bathroom, "We could shower at the same time."

My eyes widened, "Do you expect me to shower with some pervert?"

He rolled his eyes, "Do you wanna shower in the cold?" I shook my head. "Didn't think so."

"Couldn't one of us just shower in the morning?"

"It'll still be cold, it takes almost two days for the water to warm up, it's never been much of a problem since I don't come here too often."

I sighed, "Fine, just don't be lookin at me." He nodded.

I should have just died in that fortress.

~~~~

Not too sure how I feel about that, but it didn't end up too bad. As I said earlier, I would love some ideas for part 4. Love you babes <3