#this got away from the original question a bit but i don't think anyone will mind

[saphushia]

DEUCE TRIED TO BEAT ACE WITH A LARGE STICK WHEN THEY MET????????????????

oh my god i get to tell you this i'm so happy. this is going to get long because i just. adore how fucking cringefail deuce is at the start of the novel. the manga is great but it's so important to me how badly this man can fuck up within 10 minutes of meeting a stranger. his ass does NOT know how to keep his foot out of his mouth

going behind a read more bc long and spoiler filled (specifically heavy spoilers (essentially an abridged play-by-play of the first chapter) for Ace's Story book 1 and a little bit of the first chapter of the Episode A manga adaption)

if you don't want spoilers but are curious uhhhh basically deuce got a lil hangry ^-^ thats all ^-^

so, in the manga adaption, deuce pretty immediately warms up to ace, yeah?

yeah. deuce is pretty fuckin easy in the manga. meanwhile, in the novel, when ace immediately asks for help...

(if it's unclear, all first person is referring to deuce, the book is written from his POV)

in fact, deuce manages to fail basically every speech check in the first conversation they have together. i'm not kidding look at how fucking bad he is at this.

my man falls ass first into a rant to a guy he just met and manages to find himself saying 'wow why don't you go cry to your mom and leave me alone to be depressed' to a man who's mom literally died in childbirth. less than 5 minutes after meeting the guy. and the best part? HE KEEPS GOING.

he's gotta stop there, right? surely? surely even a man who's been stranded on an island alone for 3 days can tell when he's got his foot so wedged in his mouth he's practically deepthroating it? NOPE!

at this point, you'd think there's literally nothing worse that he can say. you would be so, so wrong.

MY MAN. MY GUY. i want to hammer in the fact that deuce managed to fuck up a conversation this badly with a man he's literally never met within like, 15 minutes at most. deuce then proceeds to recover from this utter failure at conversation by just. walking away into the woods and proceeding to continue slowly starving to death for several days whilst avoiding ace. he also eats ants on at least one occasion. this isn't really relevant to the hitting ace with a stick thing but it's important to me that you know that. he also despite all of this has this gayass moment

again, not relevant, but important to me that you know he saw ace failing to sail on the worst raft you've ever seen and still called him 'dashing'. now, at this point, deuce has been without food and with only minimal water for days- probably close to a week, though it's a bit ambiguous. and my guy, brilliantly, thinks to himself 'well. ace doesn't look like he's starving to death. what if he has food?' and sneaks behind ace, following him until he sees ace with a huge fruit (the mera mera no mi).

all of this... deuce sneaking up on ace planning to fight him for the fruit, kill him if he needs to, because he's the son of roger... and you know what ace fucking does??? you wanna know what this giant depressed puppy of a man fucking says to a guy who was abt to bash his brains out??

"nice stick!" and deuce just fucking. starts sobbing on the spot out of guilt while they argue both trying to get the other to eat the fruit. they are. so stupid and i love them so much.

so yeah. deuce's first ever interaction with ace is loudly announcing that he'd want to kill himself if he was the son of roger, and his SECOND interaction is him attempting to kill ace with a stick because he's hangry. i love him so much he's so fucking shit.

tldr you're not you when you're hungry and also you should all read the ace novels. because of this and also because ace and deuce get cockblocked on a gay ferris wheel ride by a marine just deciding to jump in the gondola with them and sit there menacingly until ace breaks the door and just jumps out to escape her monologuing abt her traumatic backstory

[monarchberrysblog]

📄 — xx.emo_boy.exe (early y2k au)

now presenting…

⛓️🩷 kinktober | week three → dry humping and mutual masturbation

🖤 emo boy! miguel o’hara x pastel! reader 🖤

🎮 summary: “it may not look like he gets bitches, but honey, that dick was eleven inches.”

🎮 content warning: peeking under the skirt, voyeurism, public sex, mutual masturbation (kinda), dry humping, and switch behavior in both parties (more submissive behavior from Miguel.)

🎮 word count: +1.5k words (something smol)

🎮 author’s notes: I originally posted this last Wednesday, but I didn’t feel satisfied with the story's ending and layout. Take this as an unofficial sorry. And if the ending feels weird, I apologize in advance as well 😖

📀 not proofread 📀

Dedicated to @opaloharas and @miguelhugger2099, to my cuties. Thank you for the inspo and y'all deserve some mandarinas 🍊

Regulars. The best or the worst damn thing to exist on the planet.

But for Miguel? Seeing you as a regular in Spencers' always caused a flutter in his stomach. You were a pretty little thing that starkly contrasted in the dim store. The white ribbons in your hair and the pink and purple pastels made you glow. But the kicker?

The thigh highs you always wore.

The nylon material screamed to be ripped and accessible from your plush thighs. Every time you bent over to pick out a shirt or weekly browsing of piercings, he could have sworn that he heard the souls of your thigh highs wanting to be free, but they never ripped.

They either were little bows or fishnets. But your favorites? They were black thigh-highs with big satin bows, matching with your shorts or black skirts. The nylon thigh-high made you look soft, so soft to sleep on, to bite, and to squeeze.

But the little mini-skirts only fed his perverted ego—the tiny bit of fabric barely covered your rear, which caused you to flash anyone who happened to be within your radius accidentally. It has happened so often that he practically memorized your underwear drawer and how much you frequent his job just to look for clothes or piercings.

Being the bigger man, he asks you out. (In which you accept happily after he said he would help you take a couple of pictures for your MySpace.)

“Could you move to the right?” He mumbles, trying his best to not eye you with how you leaned on the marble headstone. “Should I arch my back?” You quip. Your fingertips graze the cold stone while you pose.

“Nah.” He dismisses, fighting back a blush on his cheeks and hoping the autumn air did him justice to blow the warmth off his cheeks. The digital camera's flash lit up the radius momentarily before the small digital device beeped an obnoxious tone.

“Damn, out of storage.” He huffs and turns the camera downwards, away from you. “Here, let me delete some old pictures.” You jumped off the marble, patting the cold stone and whispering a thank you.

You place a crystal at the foot of the grave and make your way over to Miguel.

He hands you the digital camera before looking around the flat land that is only filled with marble stone or flowers.

“Are we even supposed to be here?” He bites the question, seeing an old couple leave the graveyard, holding onto each other while shuffling away. “Yeah, graveyards used to be known as hangout spots.” You reply and push down on the tiny buttons on the digital device.

“I don't mean to sound like a pussy or whatever, but this place rubs me the wrong way.”

“Don’t worry. They mean no harm. Just respect them and don't step on their graves. I think we got enough pictures…”

He dismisses your statement with a grunt and haphazardly moves his feets towards you instead. He didn't need a heavy stomach after this.

There was no way that this was the cutesy, pastel girl at his job two days ago looking for cat plushies…

“I know it's early to call it a day, but,” You raise your brow and exhale a shaky sigh. “Wanna hang out a little while longer?” You exhaled a nervous chuckle as you fidget with the hem of your skirt, nearly ripping off the lacy frills.

His heart leaped into the back of his throat—the urge to scream a loud yell that was enough to wake up those asleep in the afterlife. “Yeah, sure. It's no big deal.” He answers with a light dismissal and shrugs.

The dried grass's vibrant orange and red leaves provided a stunning contrast to the color of your hair. The soft earth underneath cushioned you as you lay back, and a giggle escaped your lips. Slowly, he crawled over to you, and with the utmost tenderness, he planted a soft butterfly kiss on your cupid’s bow.

The soft gesture contrasted the careless nature he bumbled about. “This is new.” You quip, reaching up to comb a loose strand of hair away from his face.

As you lean in for the next kiss, the playful smirk on your lips fades away as a surge of sweet warmth envelops you, stealing your focus and drawing you into the moment. Tilting your head slightly, you tenderly press your lips against Miguel, savoring the gentle and innocent connection.

His gentle hands glided along the curves of your body, reveling in the warmth and tenderness as your skin resisted the chill of the cemetery.

His hand hovers the swell of your breasts, itching to ravish your warmth and softness. “You can touch me.” You look up at him through your faux lashes. His fingers were taut like a cadaver. He wanted to touch and ravish you like a seafood boil on a summer day. The goose pimples on his skin trembled and seeped into his core like poison coursing through his veins. “Right.” He exhaled and moved his cramped fingers to squeeze your breast gently.

Warm and soft. He did another squeeze as if he was confirming what he felt was genuine and it wasn't one of his perverted dreams from the night before.

“Your face… are you okay?” Your question plagues the silence. “Yeah, of course. You’re just… soft.”

“Can I take this off?” His eyes gesture at the pastel-pink sweater—his fingers toy with the zipper pull.

You nod adamantly as you squirm closer to him and pull yourself closer. His fingers tremble, but he manages to pull the zipper down. The sight of your simple tank top and hardened nipples peeking through the cotton top.

“Are you sure?” He swallows, ready to back down from the close proximity. “Yeah, go ahead.” You whisper and gently guide his hands back to your figure.

His crimson pools leaked into your honey ones, the contrasting colors mellowing out to one another into one. His mouth latches onto your clothed nipple, gently licking and sucking. His sharpened canine grazed the sensitive skin, earning a shudder from you.

He pulled away, leaving a wet patch against the cotton tank top. The dark color of your areola peeked through, pleading for more attention.

A soft growl escaped before he gently pins you down on the soft patch of grass. Your hand wanders down, snaking into his dark denim. The clothes bulge against your fingertips ignites a fire deep in your core.

A soft groan escapes him. You had him wrapped around your pretty little fingers. Quite literally. He jerks his hips towards your palm, seeking friction to relieve the aching, numbing pain in his lower stomach. “Wait, hold on…” You squirm about and pull your hand away.

Your hands move quickly, removing his chunky belts and disregarding the faux leather. You yank down his jeans to free him from the restraints of his jeans. He softly groans when your fingers gently probe at his tip. The taut, moist skin seeks attention, twitching for contact. Then, your warming palm firmly grasped him and gently began to move up and down his length. It felt as if his body took a screenshot. The sensation ached slowly as his body trembled for a release.

His pleads were soft, afraid of his voice being heard from unseen presence at the flat lands around them. He adjusts himself, and moves his hand down south. The wet slit against his fingertips enables him to gently rub the pads of his fingers at the thin, wet slit on the cloth. His fingers gently pull at the gusset, and finally, his fingers probe at your clit, rubbing the nerves in tight, slow circles. The slow build up caused you to squirm about, ready to coat his fingers.

Soft pants filled the cemetery while your fingers produced more squelching noises from each other’s bodies. “Give me a moment…” You pant, letting go of him and moving your clothed cunt toward the tightening friction of his jeans.

The moist, soft sensation against the bulge softened into him. He melted and adjusted the two of you, gently settling you down onto his hardening arousal. He gently moves his hips, seeking relieving friction to his aching cock. If he could, he could almost imagine the sticky coating of your juices seeping out of your panties and coating his cock. The imagery plagued his mind like a vice as he continued with the gentle motions against your clothed pussy.

The temptation to just slide in…

The sticky fluid snaps him back to reality, effectively staining your already-soaked lacy panties and his boxers. His eyes dart away quickly, and he sits back, getting off of you. The milky fluid contrasted the dark panties, evidence that he left his heavy load on you.

He pulls you close, his exhale trembling into an uneasy vibrato. When he feels your skin tight and cold to the touch, the warmth of his palms rubs against it, creating more goosebumps in their wake.

tag list:

@hyjionie @zaunsin @kavimoo @keiva1000

[wuwapetal1s]

write anything abt geshu lin or calcharo im begging on my hands and knees ill give u my first born or a kidney whichever u want

I don't need any organs can I have a pair of knees maybe (ty for the request anon :3)

Love languages

content: sfw, rambling-ish format, not entirely proofread (it's midnight currently), swearing used, etc.

reqs open!

— Calcharo.

Calcharo is an ‘acts of service man’ through and through. To me, he doesn't seem the best at giving affection verbally though he thinks he's *very* good at it personally. As in, you will ask him for comfort or reassurance and he'll give it to you readily… But it will sound so stern coming from him.

“I feel uncomfortable with [such and such]..”

“I understand. I will rectify/fix that.”

Communication KING, though I imagine it can still feel very intimidating to bring stuff up to him. It will always be met with understanding, and he certainly would try his hardest to accommodate what language/tone you'd rather hear in those moments (autistic.)

Getting back to the original point, he will do just about anything for you. There's hardly any limits or rules to that fact. He will kill for you, he will fight for you, he will get in trouble with the law for you, etc etc. He'll also grab extra of your snacks the moment he's back in town and stops at the market before he goes to visit you.

Tired from a long day at work or studying? He'll clean up as quietly as he can while you sleep. You'll wake up to all the dishes done and your living space looks pretty much spotless.

He's the kind of man to learn how you organize things pretty easily, even if you're a very messy person. He's very clued in on anything that involves you (smitten, much?) and he's also just got a keen eye on him.

"Ugh, I can't find where I left my-”

“Bottom drawer of the nightstand.”

“Oh.. Thank you!”

He loves holding and kissing you as well, it's his favorite thing to be welcomed home to. Just the ability to sink into your arms is like heaven to him. Receiving, he probably likes physical touch a lot more, but he feels 100x more satisfied doing something for you to show he cares :).

— Genshu Lin.

Genshu Lin is a possessive man. It's subtle, but it's definitely there. Above all else, he adores you. He's a deeply devoted person when in a relationship, though I don't feel like he's had a lot of experience to pinpoint that exactly, but it's his nature. I believe he enjoys gifting you things he gets his hands on, trinkets or otherwise.

He mostly enjoys giving you things you can make use of or wear. He always gets a warmth in his chest when he sees you in the bracelet he got you (one that matches his that he keeps tucked away for safekeeping) or using pens he gave you after you kept losing your last ones. As long as it works, suits you, and it means a lot to you, he's snatching it up.

I also believe he's a sucker for stealing kisses in private. He may not seem it to anyone else, but he's a softie. Just for you though. Cooking something or simply sitting around? Funny how his lips just found their way to your cheek!

He's a bit more apprehensive about receiving it unless it's the time you two lay in bed together, then he'd let you rub his back or play with his hair. In return, he most enjoys quality time.

Even if it's something as mundane as running an errand or having to pick something up from the pharmacy he wants you there. He'd tell you “I don't need your presence, I just prefer it” if questioned, but he does need it. More than he knows or even lets on, he wants you and needs you there. He hates having to be away from you. It drives him up a wall almost. Like nearly insane.

After long hours working or even days/weeks of it he wants nothing more than to just lay with you and bathe in your presence as if it's a balm for his soul :’).

I love these men they're so fine

[celticcrossanon]

BRF Reading - 1st of December, 2024

This is speculation only

Cards drawn on the 1st of December, 2024

Question: Are Harry and Meghan divorcing right now?

Interpretation: They are being held together by money problems

Card One: The Devil

This is a card of obsession, addiction, dependency, being trapped in a situation, excess. It can also be a card about lies, as the Devil is the father of lies. It is also the major arcana card for Capricorn.

The energy of this card is of two people who are tied together and who are thoroughly miserable in that situation (no surprises there). The Devil is often used as a card for Meghan by tarot readers, and as it has come out here that tells me that Meghan is the one in charge; she is the boss, the dominant energy in the relationship. Harry is no innocent, but she is the one in charge and making most of the decisions.

There is a strong energy of co-dependency in this card, of coping with the situation by enabling the other person's addictions (drugs and alcohol for Harry, attention and money and fame for Meghan).

The energy of this card says that these two can not stand each other. They literally loathe each other and want to escape from the other person all the time. Life for them together is dark, full of anger and despair, and just awful. Both of them may have 'bits on the side' and one of both of them are almost certainly using drugs and alcohol to cope, It's a toxic and co-dependant relationship where they bring out the worst in each other (again, no surprises there).

With the Devil as the father of lies, their relationship is full of lies - both to themselves and to the other person.

With The Devil representing Capricorn, an earth sign, they may find or have found (in the past) consolation in the things that are of this earth - originally sex,/alcohol/drugs/ego (we're free, no one can tell us what to do) but now it feels more like drugs/alcohol/money and social status, being courted by the rich and famous etc, and as that has dropped off their dissatisfaction with the relationship has grown.

There is an energy of pride here, of refusing to admit that they were wrong to get married, and both of them are looking for someone to ride in and rescue them - not by helping them sort themselves out, but by supplying them with money/attendance at famous events/praise for doing nothing so they can continue their current lifestyle and still get what they want.

It is a thoroughly revolting relationship, and I don't think it will come as a surprise to anyone that this is what their relationship is like at the present time.

Card Two: The Ace of Wands

Aces are yes cards. The Ace of Wands is very sexual, it is a phallic card, and it is a card of passion, new projects, new creative directions, new energy, new enthusiasms.

The energy of this card is that yes, Harry and Meghan would love to be separated and never see each other again, but something is stopping them from taking that step. They are busting at the seams with the desire to be rid of the other person - for good in Harry's part, until she needs him again on Meghan's part.

This card could mean that both of them have new sexual partners, because of the phallic overtones of the card. It also hints that Harry might be happier with a male sexual partner, even though I don't think Harry has admitted that to himself yet. In Meghan's case, if she has a new sexual partner, this card tells me that it is a fling - there is no long term to the relationship, it is just about sex, or that Meghan is putting herself out there but no one is interested - she is seen as someone who will emasculate you and no one wants that.

The message from this card is "Go For It!", i.e. Meghan and Harry should take the plunge and divorce now, but I'm not getting that energy from the cards. Harry may stay away and slither into a divorce while Meghan is not around, but I don't think Meghan is ready to let go just yet (and I do think that is because she hasn't got another man lined up to support her).

Aces can also be children, so this could be the two of them staying together (at least on paper) to avoid questions about how is the father of their alleged children and everything that comes with that question.

Card Three: The King of Pentacles in Reverse

Money problems. This card is screaming at me that Harry and Meghan have serious money problems and that is why they are still together, and neither of them can find someone who is willing to bail them out financially.

The King of Pentacles in Reverse is a card of greed, someone who is wasteful with money (all that excessive Devil card living), who is materialistic, chauvinistic, exploitive, possessive, and a risk taker in certain areas - in others they are very conservative,

Greed is the key word here for me. The energy of this card says to me that Harry and Meghan have spent all their money, they are in serious debt, and they are both looking for someone to come in and carry them off to a life where they have bottomless purses of money to spend and all their problems are taken care of by someone else (in Harry's case I believe he wants his father to do this, or his brother). Neither of them are interested in examining themselves and fixing the problems that caused the debt in the first place; they have no intention of downsizing and living frugally to pay off the debt, they just want the debts to be taken care of by someone else so they can continue on their merry way.

For some reason the money problems require that they stay together, or they think that they have to stay together to stop the debts becoming legal problems, and that is the chain that binds them together and keeps them from separating (for Meghan more than Harry - he could walk away but doesn't want to meet the conditions that have been set by his family?, she is just desperate and clinging on for all she is worth.

Underlying Energy: The Queen of Pentacles in Reverse

We had the King in the main reading, and now we have his wife underneath. If the King as an earth sign man is Harry, then this is Meghan, If the King is the boss in the relationship, then he is Meghan and this card is Harry. This does feel more like Meghan's energy so I am going to take it as her.

Note that both the cards are in reverse, meaning that both Harry and Meghan are showing the worst side of their natures in this relationship.

This is money problems again, specifically for Meghan, ones that Harry either does not know about and/or is not legally liable for the debts. Meghan has serious money problems here. There is also the energy of not wanting to give up her title - she seems to think that she will lose it if she divorces and she is not willing to do that. She's rather live apart and keep her title.

The Queen of Pentacles in reverse is someone who is selfish, materialistic, greedy, a gold digger, insecure, jealous, envious, intolerant, self absorbed- this is definitely Meghan. As the underlying energy, this tells me that she is the obstacle to the marriage ending in divorce. She is hanging onto Harry for her title and to keep a lid on her money troubles. If they are in divorce talks then she may be demanding too much as a divorce settlement, or deliberately being obstructive to make the who process as drawn out and painful as possible. She will use the divorce proceedings to get as much for herself as she possibly can with no concern for anyone else (eg her supposed children). If they are not in divorce talks than Meghan is hanging on as tightly as she can until it is to her advantage to divorce. As always, for Meghan, it is all about her and not a shred of thought or concern for anyone else.

There is a strong energy of envy and jealousy here directed at the royal Queen of Pentacles, Princess Catherine. Meghan wants to beat her and destroy her and she sees staying in the marriage with Harry as a way to do this. Meghan is the antithesis of Princess Catherine, who is the Queen of Pentacles upright, and it destroys Meghan inside to see Princess Catherine living her life and (in Meghan's eyes) having everything that Meghan desires and that Meghan thinks should be hers.

Conclusion:

I'm not getting yes or no answer to my question of whether Harry and Meghan are divorcing right now. What I am getting is a vivid picture of their current relationship. Both of them feel chained together by their current marriage, which is a toxic mess of co-dependency and abusive behaviour. Meghan is the one in charge but Harry is no innocent - she is in change because he would rather sit back and indulge himself than make the effort to take some leadership in the relationship. Both of them are lying to themselves and to the other person - the relationship is riddled with lies. Both of them are turning to drugs/alcohol/press attention/fame etc to cope with being in a relationship with a person they now loathe.

There is a strong push to go and create a new life for themselves, but neither of them are really doing it. Instead they seem to be taking lovers as a way of consoling themselves for their marriage (and possibly to find a new partner - almost definitely for Meghan, not so sure for Harry). There are questions about their alleged children that would be raised in a divorce, especially about the paternity of said children, that make it safer to stay together for now.

The marriage is definitely bringing out and fostering the worst in both of them (King and Queen cards in reverse). There are huge money problems that neither of them want to address, they both seem to be looking for someone to ride in and rescue them by dumping and enormous amount of gold in their laps, enough that all their problems will temporarily vanish until they spend all the gold (and not on paying their debts). Harry is lazy and self indulgent, Meghan is selfish to the core, greedy, and a gold digger, and both of them have money problems that bind them together in that is is better for the problems if they stay together for now (or at least that is what one or both of them think).

Meghan is the one who is causing problems with any divorce and who possibly is deliberately creating issues to draw it out as long as possible. She doesn't want to give up her title - there is a real fear that if they divorce her title goes 'poof' - and there is an obsession with Princess Catherine and with besting her in some way, which Meghan seems to think is easier to do if she is married to Harry.

While Meghan is currently the issue with them separating, and not Harry, I would not be surprised if Harry slithers out of her grasp sometime in the future and the first that Meghan knows about it is when the divorce papers arise - assuming that she doesn't find another man to support her and serves the papers first herself.

[everparanoid]

Make me lose my breath, make me water ┃Wriothesley

pairing: f!reader x wriothesley

genre: fluff , NSFW

rating: 18+

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT !

tags: Cunnilingus, consent is hot, Reader is from Natlan, cuffs used inappropriately, Body Worship, My First Smut, Fontaine is France but it's not but it is, PWF, PWP, Mutual Pining, No use of y/n, Reader is Not Traveler (Genshin Impact), Creampie, biting kink, Written After 4.1 Update, Minor spoilers for 4.0 quest, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Light Bondage, light orgasm denial

wordcount: 6.1k

synopsis: The notorious Duke of the fortress of Meropide hasn't been on his A-game lately, and it shows.

Originally posted: 25.10.23 on AO3

a/n: I am now reposting my AO3 stuff onto tumblr. If you know me....no, you don't. ;) Also check out my AO3 for more wriothesley fics.

Song Inspiration: 'Water' by Tyla.

Three quick knocks rattled the door to his large office. The sound echoed up to the second floor where his desk resided.

“Come in,” Wriothesley said not looking up from his papers.

Wriothesley was a busy man. Well, being the Duke of the self-running, man-powered Fortress of Meropide wasn’t an easy job. It wasn’t exhausting either, but that was beside the point.

He took a slow prolonged sip from his teacup. The second sip in the last hour; the flavoured water had long since cooled from the general chill in the office. Not that he could feel anything beyond the normal chill of the underwater Fortress; and with the added benefit of his cryo vision he considered himself well-suited for the climate. That didn’t mean he didn’t miss the sun. Although, he could see the sun whenever he found a reason to leave the fortress, which he often didn’t.

He sighed for the fifth time that hour.

“I hear you’ve been doing that a lot,” You said ascending the spiralled staircase.

He paused and lowered his teacup, placing it on the small pile of report papers he was using as a mat. One side of his lips raised threatening to become a half smile. He quickly wiped it away.

“Oh? Have I now?” he asked.

“Yes,” you said, your voice smooth and confident. “I think I’m going to have to report you to Sigewinne.”

“Am I to assume she isn’t the one who sent you?”

His eyes met yours as you arrived atop the stairs, a hand on your hip and that sassy look in your eyes that he had grown fond of. He realised now why he had been so distracted.

He missed you.

You often frequented the fortress. First as a commissioned messenger between Wriothesley and Neuvillette, then a ‘convict’, and after that a friend and now… he didn’t know, but he wasn’t going to complain about the company. It was nice having someone as into tea as he was. Not that he would admit it, but it got lonely in the Fortress sometimes. More so since he met you.

“What? You afraid of a couple of stickers?”

“You know about that?” he grumbled, glancing at the pile of crumpled Melusine stickers littering the side of his desk, freshly pulled off the back of his coat.

“I have ears everywhere, Your Grace,” you smirk, withholding the crucial fact that you were the culprit providing the stickers for Sigewinne and her Melusine friends. They paid you back in giggles and smiles, and just the joy on their small faces was enough for you.

“I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. You probably know more about what’s happening in my humble home than me,” he said. Only a half lie on his part. You had an aptitude for making tough things bend to your will. Him being the toughest of things in question. He dismissed the thought of you flashing that blinding smile at anyone other than him.

Your shoulders rose and fell as a melodic laugh left your lips and graced his ears. If he could keep your voice in a bottle, he would.

You shook your head and pushed off the railing. His attention remained on you as you took a seat on the settee a bit away from his desk.  His throat—as if he hadn’t just taken a sip of his cold tea— felt overwhelmingly dry. He cleared it gently and picked up his teacup.

“How’s the Traveler and Paimon?” he asked, taking a sip.

The flavoured water was colder. He needed to calm down lest he froze the entire thing. He imagined you would be the only one to find amusement in him sipping ice.

You crossed your legs, and your skirt rode up. He looked away respectfully, much to his dismay and the favour of his quickly deteriorating will. He didn’t remember when it happened. When he started seeing you as more than just the middle woman between Neuvillette and himself; more than just a pawn in this game against the fatui, but now he found himself knowing the way your cheek dimpled slightly only on your right cheek when you laugh; how the skin around your eyes crow when you yawn or squint; how you change to fix your posture every thirty minutes when you’re lost in a book, and your neck starts to get sore, and your lower back begs to be stretched out. He pulled himself out of his thoughts before they had a chance to spiral further.

“They send their regards and a thank you for your help with ‘the situation,’” you said making air quotes. You didn’t mention how you didn’t plan to return to them for a while, but some things were best left unsaid with Wriothesley.  

Wriothesley nodded and gestured for you to join him in for some tea.

“If you have some time, of course,” he finished.

“Of course, If you are offering,” you responded. 

You went to stand but Wriothesley beat you to it. Thankful for the excuse to busy himself with something other than your smouldering presence. If he was an icy avalanche, then you were like a raging inferno, melting him into warm water. Perhaps it had something to do with the pyro vision dangling from your hip. He glanced at the vision and caught a glimpse of your bare legs. He froze, curious about what colour you might be wearing underneath your skirt: black, white, blue, red? Instead, he was beyond relieved when he saw black shorts. He breathed a sigh. That’s so you.

“I can heat the pot, you know?” you say, growing increasingly more tired of his strange mood and equally as obscure silence. Never had Wriothesley sighed so much. Honestly, you never would have considered him a sigher; more a hmpher or a quiet snickering type.

You and everyone in Fontaine who had the pleasure or misfortune—mostly the misfortune—of knowing the Duke, knew that recently he had been off. In truth, your visit hadn’t been to express Neuvillette’s message (though that made a great cover). No, you were there because of a chain of strange letters from Sigewinne, given to you by an equally as annoyed Clorinde, telling you of the Duke’s bizarre behaviour. According to these letters, he was more attentive than usual. He had appeared around the fortress checking in on the production zones and the inmates an alarming number of four times in the last month, nearly causing several heart attacks amongst the inmates, which as a result caused Sigewinne to be on high alert from all the overworking; he hasn’t been partaking in as many fights in the ring, and he hasn’t been drinking as much tea.

It was the last two on the list that shocked you the most and was most of the reason why you were there now. Wriothesley not drinking tea? Was Fontaine’s archon a fraud?

Uncrossing your legs, you stood and approached him. Placing a hand on the teapot, you heated the water with your vision.

“Let me do that," you said.

You sounded more breathless than you had intended to, but being so close to him does that to you. He always managed to take your breath away, but you had stupidly thought that with time those senseless reactions would die upon learning more about the mysterious brutish duke. The way all crushes faded when the mystic i.e., the lack of information and the delusions of projection, disappeared. Instead, it seemed to have only worsened. A butterfly somersaulted in your stomach when you accidentally brushed your hand against his.

Wriothesley stiffened. The touch went straight to his gut.

“Why are you here?” he responded smoothly, crossing his arms over his broad chest. Not that he was concerned about why you were here—he couldn’t be happier—but you were supposed to be away for the next six months on a quest with the traveler to your home region, Natlan. Had Sigewinne called you back out of concern for him? He had to be more careful around the small nurse in the future.

“Your tea collection isn’t as depleted as usual,” you observed, staring into the box filled with other miniature boxes of tea, skilfully deflecting the question.

“An interrogation. You’re making me nervous,” he joked. “I am a busy man, I don’t always have time for tea.”

The look you fixed him with was not amused.

“You always drink at least three cups a day,” you said putting stress on the ‘at least.’ If it wasn’t tea, it would be a terrible addiction.

“Wow, you’re counting? I’m impressed.”

“Which flavour do you want?”  you said, ignoring him.

“The special blend.”

Without a second thought, you plopped the tea bag into the teapot and left it to brew.

It was your favourite, and that is why he chose it. He was more of a black tea or green tea kind of person, but the special blend he had made specifically for you. You didn’t know that though; you didn’t have to, he enjoyed hearing your quiet hums of happiness with each sip. It was great fodder for his late-night thoughts.

His heart warmed, as the skin around your eyes crowed the way he loved. Loved? He cleared his throat.

“You aren’t booking yourself as many fights. Which I would be happy about if I thought it didn’t directly correlate to why you’re acting so strange,” you lectured, and to him, you sounded like a particular short blue-haired Melusine.

“I can’t help but feel that you are worried about me,” he jested.

“As anyone would be about a friend,” you said.

Friend? Yes, that was what you were. Friends.

“Friends. Yes,” he agreed albeit stiffly.

You gave him a cautious side-eye unsure as to why his tone hurt you.

The word left a bitter taste in Wriothesley’s mouth and when you offered to fill his cup again, he accepted. Suddenly needing the soothing numbing effects of his tea more than ever. You topped up his cup before you poured the heated water into the teacup that had unintentionally become yours.

 Wriothesley didn’t let anyone else use it. It was superstitious really, and he didn’t consider himself a superstitious person. However, he worried that if he let anyone else use it you suddenly won’t come back one day. Not that you would be able to tell the difference if he did let someone else use the cup; all the teacups he owned looked exactly alike, but yours was different. It was a cup with a little chip on the rim near the handle from when you decided to have your tea with Neuvillette, Clorinde, the traveler and himself after the recent troubles with the Fatui. Your cup had chipped due to the heat of your hand; he could recall the horror on your face when he informed you how much each cup cost after letting you ramble on about owing him another cup.

You eventually fell into a comfortable silence sitting together on the settee.

“Clorinde has been visiting you a lot recently,” you said from behind your teacup. You took another sip.

Wriothesley recalled his earlier meeting with the champion dualist.

“Yes, we had some tea.”

“Really?”

“Jealous?”

You turned away.

“There is no need to be, I assure you,” he said, feeling a deep sense of relief at the way you seemed so bothered by his meeting with your mutual friend. The same friend who had been lecturing him about his ‘mutual’ feelings for you. Perhaps it was because of your reaction, that he realised that Clorinde might have been right. Or he was delusional? Maybe it was both.

Wriothesley placed his mug down on the coffee table. His hand brushed your bare thigh and you both jolt.

“Who says I am jealous?” You snapped, your lip twitching.

He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms.

“I don’t know. Maybe it’s because your lip twitches when you’re upset, and your pyro vision makes you heat the things around you without abandon. Your eyes lose that spark which makes them look like the spotlights guarding Meropide, and you refuse to look at me because you know I’ll see right through you. And I do. I see you.”

He took another sip from his tea, pretending to not notice your tea bubbling in your hand, and the crack growing on the side of the teacup.

“It’s not nice to make jokes like that, Your Grace,” you said nervously.

Your eyes darted about the office settling on anything but him. The bookshelves looked fuller than usual. Has he been reading more books?

“Indeed. It is not but come on you should know me better than that by now. I never joke about things like this,” he said. His voice was clear and sincere. “Is it so strange that I would want to give a few words of praise out of genuine adoration?”

Especially since he saw the way you’re reacting; he knew that it was real and not a fantasy from his misguided thoughts. He wouldn’t lose this opportunity to make his feelings clear. He was a straightforward guy, after all. When he knew what he wanted was within his reach he wouldn’t simply pass it up. It would be unjust. He wanted to watch you smile, to be the one that caused that smile; he wanted to be the first person you went to when something good happened in your life; he wanted to feel your skin and not just in passing touches; he wanted to let it scold him, to embrace the flames.

“Ah, it seems I have ruined the mood,” he said smoothly.

He stood.

You went to stand too, but when you did the boiling liquid in your teacup splashed your hand. You hissed and dropped it. The porcelain shattered against the metal ground; the liquid spilt everywhere.

Wriothesley sat back down on the settee and took your warm hand in his immediately not sparing a second to glance down at his soaked boots. They encased yours and worked to chill the burn; one of the many benefits of having a cryo vision. The two of you couldn't be any more different. Fire and ice co-exist? Impossible.  Unimaginable. Dangerous. The tenderness in which he held your hand sets your heart ablaze as if it wasn’t already. Had he been telling the truth? You knew the Duke better than most, and with that knowledge you know he wasn’t the type to lie about that, but did he mean it? Could he mean it?

“I’m sorry,” you said.

Wriothesley’s attention remained on the forming boil on your soft skin. He soothed it gently, trying not to give you frost-burn. Thankfully the natural heat of your skin stopped his cryo from hurting you further.

“For what?” he responded softly, bringing your hand up to his lips and breathing out cool frosty air. You felt like mush, and if it weren’t for the dull ache in your hand you would have snatched up the opportunity to run said hand through his salt-and-pepper hair. It always looked so soft and maybe he would allow you to touch it.

You pulled a face between flustered and self-loathing.

“That was one of your expensive teacups,” you managed to choke out.

He continued to blow cool air onto your hand.

“There will be other teacups,” he says, his lips barely an inch from your skin.

You wanted to melt on the spot.

“But—“

He sighed and said your name sternly looking up at you through the haze of dark lashes.

“Why would I worry about a teacup when you are hurt?” he asked and lowered your hand from his lips. “In any case, I should apologise for ruining a perfectly good meeting. If you have said all you need to say then—”

You waved your hands, flabbergasting him as you snatched them from his cool encasing, momentarily forgetting about the burn, and cutting him off mid-speech.

“No, you didn’t,” you yelped.

He half smiled at the scarlet tint of your ears, and taking your burnt hand back into his, he proceeded to gently apply cryo to the festering burn.

“Ah, is that so?” he chuckled. “Alright then, how will you pay me back?”

“Huh?”

“You broke my favourite teacup, after all. So—“ he said your name with a hint of mischief in his smooth voice. “How will you pay me back?”

“That’s not fair!” You straightened in your seat. “How can that be your favourite teacup when they all look the same? Are you just saying that to make me feel worse than I already do?”

He cocked a brow and tugged you forward. You fell into him, your free hand coming to rest on his lower abdominal. Your nose brushed his, and you felt his cool breath against your cheeks. His breathe smelt of spearmint. Your lips twitched and you tried to focus on the scar under his eye (the one you’ve always wanted to trace with the tips of your fingers) so as to not meet his icy blue stare, or to glance down at the obvious smirk on his lips. You wanted to kiss him; you could kiss him; would he let you kiss him?

Wriothesley watched your tongue dart out to swipe across your lips; he wanted to bite it; but he had more control than that. He had an image to uphold. The Duke was supposed to be fair and reasonable; he was supposed to lead by example and be a neutral figure of respect and reverence, not a brute without self-control. He pushed you back gently, hoping beyond hope that in your shock you haven’t noticed how hard he was.

“Kidding, of course,” he drawled.

Anger coloured your face and you punched his shoulder, half seriously. You hissed and shake your still very much wounded hand. You had been duelling partners for a while when you had spent a significant amount of time in the Fortress pretending to be a convict back when you were neither friend nor whatever you were now. He’d only agreed to it at the time because you managed to beat everyone and nearly him.

“You are breathtaking,” he muttered. “Come on let’s get you to Sigewinne.”

He stood and offered you his hand.

Your heart stuttered. Even though you weren’t native to Fontaine you were well-versed in their mother language, but even then, you didn’t believe your ears.

“What?” you asked.

He chuckled again, a deep and hearty sound.

“When will I stop doubting the ears of a seasoned traveler,” he said out loud although it was meant for his ears alone. He must have been mentioning your mutual friend, the blond traveler, and their small pixie pie companion, Paimon. You have been accompanying them on a few commissions and quests here and there, especially through Natlan. Which kept you away from Fontaine for significant periods of time, much to Wriothesley’s silent dismay.

However, he would never keep something so precious away from the light. He tried to keep a pet once—not that you were a pet—but he soon realised that it was wrong to keep something meant to be in the sun away from it. And if he couldn’t do it to a small animal then he definitely couldn’t do that to you. You were a traveller, not even native to Fontaine. Although you have made it clear countless amounts of times that Fontaine is your favourite region; he can’t help but feel like you weren’t meant to be chained to one place. He won’t be your administrator, the fortress won’t be your prison, and he couldn’t imagine keeping you in this cage with him. He refused to, even if his more selfish desires would have you cuffed to his desk where he could gaze upon you forever till you hated him and wished him gone.

“No, I want to talk first,” you said.

“I assure you we can talk after your hand has been seen too.”

“Wriothesley.”

Your tone went straight to his cock. You have never said his name, at least not his face. Even when you’re both around your mutual ‘friends’ you still have only ever called him ‘your grace.’ He wanted to hear you say his name again. He wanted to hear you say his name breathlessly, desperately, whilst you crumbled into each other. He cleared his throat and walked across his office hoping that the distance would stop you from noticing the obvious tent in trousers. He fiddled with the cuffs on his hips to distract himself and pulled at his tie.

“You really should go…to Sigewinne,” he said.

You approached him. He turned away from you facing a bookshelf. You brushed your fingertips to his forearm feeling the chilling aura around his skin. You expected him to pull away, for him to stop you from going past the point of no return, but he didn’t.

“Wriothesley,” you said his name again, this time with a wistful air. You don’t even realise you’re saying it. You never said it; not to him, only to the crisp cold darkness when your back arched on your sheets late into the night.

“Say it again,” he said.

“What?”

“My name. Say it again.”

Your eyes widened as you realised your mistake. You have always tried not to say his name to separate your lustful fantasies from the real man.

He faced you, capturing your gaze and with it your heart too in his glacial eyes that looked so warm. “Please.”

You couldn’t help but obey. His name slipped out in a hushed prayer: “Wriothesley.”

In turn, he said yours; just as quiet, just as wanting.

“You really should go to Sigewinne,” he said and ghosts his thumb along your jaw.

“What if I don’t want to?” you stepped closer. “What if I want to stay right here?”

His expression darkened.

“You shouldn’t,” he said with no bite behind it.

You didn’t budge.

“Can I kiss you?” You asked, sounding way more desperate than you intended. Before you could cringe at yourself, he had you caged in his arms, mouth cold against yours. He groaned when you bit down on this bottom lip, and for the first time, you felt his thick erection brush against your stomach.

None of your wildest fantasies could compare to the reality of kissing Wriothesley and any pain in your hand disappeared altogether. He kissed you like you’re the only thing tethering him to the earth; like you were his last gulp of air before he dissolved into primordial water.

He tugged on your shirt.

“If you don’t take this thing off right now I’m going to rip it,” he said, his breath laboured.

You reached under your shirt, and he helped you slip it over your head. He threw it away and pulled you into another kiss. His hand wrapped in your hair.

You took off his tie and his waistcoat, his usual fur coat was already draped on the back of his large red chair. He stopped you unbuttoning his shirt, shaking his head, trailing kisses along your jaw, and down your neck as he walked you backwards to his desk. He unclasped your bra. He watched it slide down your arms and then tossed it somewhere that was going to be your future you’s problem.

“Up,” he ordered.

You jumped up, wrapping your arms around his neck. He grasped the underside of your thighs and placed you down on the free space of his grand desk.

He bit your shoulder, and you moaned out his name in a way that had him almost feral. He lapped at the wound and kissed it. You threw your head back biting down on your lip. He continued leaving kisses and nibbles along your collarbone, slowly lowering until your breasts were under his hungry gaze. You suddenly felt nervous. You wouldn’t say you were insecure in your looks. You knew that your looks were something to behold and of which you were very proud. They’ve come in handy in your many jobs as many times as they have caused unnecessary issues but being under the watchful gaze of Wriothesley felt different… intimate. You tried to bring your hands up to cover yourself. Wriothesley caught your wrists, looking up at you from his crouched position.

“Don’t you dare. You’re beautiful.”

“Wriothesley,” you said.

“If you aren’t comfortable, we can stop,” he assured you, although the words pained him and his dick, consent was king—always. If you weren’t comfortable, he could always sort himself out later. You were the most important thing to him. He let go of your wrists and you dropped them, letting him feast his eyes on your breasts.

“Don’t stop. Please.”

“Are you sure?” he asked again.

“Yes.”

“If you change your mind, just tell me and we’ll stop,” he said. “Give me a safe word.”

“Cake,” you instantly responded.

“Cake?” He cocked a brow. “Cake, it is.”

Without a moment spared, he grasped your breasts and planted a kiss there, dragging his lips over your nipples in a way that made you shiver. He smiled to himself at the occasional whimpers that left you; even more pleased that he was the one causing them.

“I love the noises you make. I love your voice. I’m obsessed with it. I wish to capture it and listen to it whenever you’re away,” he groaned.

He dragged his tongue down, further, and further until he was on his knees, he pushed up your skirt that had been bothering him since you crossed your gorgeous legs earlier. He was tempted to have you keep it on when he fucked you, for no other reason than the thought that the next time you decided to wear that poor excuse of a skirt he knew all you would be able to think about was how he messed you up in it. The thought brought him immense pleasure.

 He slid his hands into your shorts, squeezing your thighs. The flimsy piece of black material and whatever surprise underwear beneath it were the only things keeping him from what he wanted. He wanted to taste you. He wanted to feel how you’ll curl on his tongue; he wanted to feel you gripping his hair and screaming his name as he brought you to a high only he could give you.

“These damn shorts,” he grumbled.

“I climb mountains. How else am I going to keep myself comfortable?” you asked.

He tutted and tore them open; the fabric did not put up much of a fight at all.

“I guess you won’t be climbing mountains anytime soon,” he said guiding the torn fabric down your legs.

“Those were my favourites, you brute.”

He winked up at you.

“Ah, I suppose that makes us even,” he drawled.

Was he thinking about that damn teacup right now?

“How are you?” He said, checking in on you.

“Good.”

He smiled and your heart melted a little.

He froze when he took in the sight of your lingerie.

“Were you thinking of me when you bought these?”

“Don’t get too cocky,” you said.

“Too late.”

You bit your lip. It hadn’t been intentional, your underwear matching the colour of his eyes. He trailed his nose up the soaked fabric brushing your clit. You grabbed his hair at the stimulation. You felt the beginnings of the scruff threatening to break out of his chin tickling you as he guided your lingerie aside and gave your clit an ardent lick. Wriothesley wasn’t big on savoury treats, but you weren’t savoury, you tasted like you, and you were fast becoming his favourite dessert.

“You taste divine,” he said.

“Oh Archons,” you muttered.

“They won’t hear you down here,” he said.

It didn’t take long before your toes were curling, and you were chanting his name. Wriothesley gripped your thigh with one hand and fingered you with the other, stretching you out in preparation for him; because if there was one thing he was sure of, it was that you were going to cum around him. He was going to feel the way you would clench around him; he was going to watch your blissed-out face twist as he fucked you hard into his desk. Although he would love to feel you climax on his face there would be time for that. He’d be damned if this was the first and only time he had you. You were his. Morals and reputation be damned, he wanted—no, needed to be inside you. He didn’t care if the entirety of Meropide could hear you; in fact, he got off on the thought.

Just when you felt like you were about to climax, he pulled away and licked his lips. You glared at him as he stood and bent over you kissing you softer than before. You could taste yourself on his lips, and instead of it turning you off it spurred you on. You wrapped your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist, grinding against his clothed erection.

“Do you trust me?” he asked between heated kisses.

Everything felt wet like you both were melting, and you probably were. If so, you didn’t care, becoming water wasn’t half bad if it was with him. You heard his cuffs before you saw them spinning around the two fingers that had been inside you.

“Right now, no,” you lied.

He half smiled.

“I suppose I deserve that. I guess I’ll just have to persuade you then.”

You untangled from around him. He stepped back unbuttoning his shirt and revealing lean scar-littered skin. You wanted to reach out and so you did, tracing the long jagged discoloured scars, slightly keloid. Some looked fresher than others. He shivered and breathed out a low groan when you grazed over his nipple. He raised his signature cuffs.

“Give me your wrists,” he said.

It clinked when it secured around both wrists. The spiked metal looked so beautiful against your skin; he was almost tempted to throw away the key.

“Oh no, you’ve caught me, your grace,” you teased. Something you shouldn’t have done because the way he looked at you after told you that you had triggered something in him.

“You did break my favourite teacup after all,” he said.

“I thought we were even.”

You watched him slowly unbuckle his belt and step between your legs. There would be time for savouring the moment later, many moments if he could help it but not then. You felt his erection only covered by the thin fabric of his boxers press against your vagina, he leans over you caging you between his arms and the desk.

“Indeed, we are for breaking.” He nibbled on your ear, “but that doesn’t mean you’re off the hook. That was an expensive cup you know some flimsy shorts won’t cover the costs. You should know I only play fair, and you got some of the tea on my freshly shined boots.”

Your cuffed hands resting on your stomach fiddled with the lining of his boxers. You lost your breath when he nuzzled into the base of your neck.

“Don’t tease me,” he grunted.

You manage to slip his cock out.

“Says the man who denied me my orgasm.”

You felt his smile on your neck.

He rubbed his cock along your folds but didn’t push in. He wanted to be sure that you’re sure.

“I don’t think friends do this,” he said as he continued to edge your hole.

“Just fuck me already,” you sassed.

He thrust into you, filling you completely. He was thicker than you expected, thicker than you had had before. You couldn’t be more thankful for the earlier foreplay because without it he wouldn’t have fit. He remained still for a while, and you slowly adjusted to his size. The dull ache of the intrusion quickly turned from discomfort to bliss.

“Wriothesley.”

“Fuck, you feel amazing,” he breathed. “Don’t stop saying my name.”

You didn’t.

“Good girl,” he said.

The desk jutted, the papers shook, and books slid off the desk smacking the floor in their wake, but the sound was lost to you both. Despite his strong persona, and much to your delight, he didn’t hold back his occasional whimpers, and grunts. The sound blessed your ears like a symphony. Sometime after your first orgasm, he took off the cuffs and threw them to his settee.

He left the occasional bites and kisses on the underside of your jaw, and down to your breasts. You, in turn, added to the long scars down his back, your nails clawing into the flesh. He would treasure those when they scarred.

You guided his face up from your neck, where he had been breathing you in as if he couldn’t get enough of you into his system. In truth, he couldn’t. You kissed him deeply, filling it with all the words you hadn’t yet been able to say. You felt your third climax on the horizon as he hit the same spot that made your back arch.

“Wriothesley,” you said against his mouth. “There.”

He chased your lips.

“That’s it,” he said, rolling his hips. He slipped a hand between your rocking bodies and rubbed your swollen clit. You let out a needy moan.

 “I’ve got you,” he said as you clenched around him.

Your orgasm washed over you like a tidal wave of primordial water. He held you to him, as he continued to thrust towards his own high, encasing you in his arms.

“That’s it, that’s my girl,” he groaned.

 Wriothesley felt like he was on cloud nine. Being with you was entirely different from what he imagined in the best way possible. It felt like a dream having you here, in his arms, pliant to his every desire. In each kiss, he pretended that you felt the same way; that you wanted the same things. He pretended that this moment wasn’t just a moment but forever—because he wanted you forever.

He slowed down prolonging the experience and straightened up looking down at the fucked-out expression on your face. He knew he didn’t look any better. Swiping a hand through his hair, he continued to roll his hip slowly. He placed a hand on your pelvis steadying you. Your body was covered in a sheen of sweat which glistened under the light of the office. He felt like he was melting into you—like you were melting into each other.

“Can I?” he asked.

“Yes,” you answered opening your arms for him, beckoning him home. And truly, to him, you felt like home.

He pushed his damp hair back once again, before leaning over you. With a final grunt and a spam of your walls around him, he came. He didn’t pull out right away, wrapping his arms around you as if afraid to let go.

Your thighs were sticky from your combined releases, and your body felt like it had been sitting in a sauna for hours but seeing the rare, satisfied look on his face made it all worth it. He closed his eyes and sighed.

“How are you feeling?” he asked.

“You owe me new shorts,” you said.

“I’ll buy you as many shorts as your heart desires,” he uttered, tiredly.

“Really?”

He hummed and nodded slowly.

“Good because I think I’m going to need a lot of them if you’re going to rip them off every time,” you said causing him to perk up. “You know to repay for the teacup.”

“Oh?”

“Unless this was a one-time thing then—“you hesitated.

He kissed you again, unable to hide his smile.

“Next time let’s use my bed.”

“I’d like that,” you said.

He tried to intertwine your hands, but you winced when he brushed against the forming boil.

“Let’s get you cleaned up and to Sigewinne, for real this time.”

“First, can we have a cup of tea?” you asked.

He laughed. Of course, you wanted to have tea. He could do with some tea too; he was famished after all. He laid a kiss on your forehead and made a mental note to send Clorinde an extra box of his finest tea.

“Of course, first let's clean up and then we'll have tea. I promise, but don’t spill it this time.”

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[2baabbies]

🖤 Obsessed (Hyunjin x Reader) 🖤

Pairings: established relationship hyunjin x reader

Words: 3800

Summary: Hyunjin’s jealous streak ends with you finding him in a compromising position. AKA: in your bed, masturbating while wearing your shirt.

(somewhat inspired by Olivia Rodrigo’s song by the same name; quote at the beginning also from this song)

Fluff + Smut + Humour

afab + fem!reader

CWs: jealousy (but make it cute and silly), reader is trying to make hyunjin jealous but only because it makes them both horny (and he’s a drama queen), he’s only a bit insecure, the point of contention is a big shirt but reader’s weight is not described (aka this fic is not limited to any one body size), reader and hyunjin have exes, reader lets hyunjin make assumptions that she teases him about later

Smut Tags: lots of teasing!!, (subtle) subby!hyune x dom!reader, intercourse (peanits in vagina), safe sex/use of condom, a bit of rough sex/uncomfortable position, reader has a kink for hyunjin’s desperation, begging, hair pulling, overstim, slight dumbification of reader, slightly pervy!hyune (smelling your clothes), hyunjin masturbates in your shirt (described in detail), little bit of voyeurism, bit of cum eating

!!ATTENTION!!

Reposting this fic to other platforms, including as a translation, is expressly prohibited. Do not copy, alter, or claim this fic as your own. Absolutely no permission is given to anyone to post my works, even with credit, and this fic should only appear on Ao3 or Tumblr under my accounts. Reposting is not only plagiarism, but a direct violation of my wishes as the original writer and owner. Please respect writers and don’t steal!

Likes, reblogs, asks and comments are very welcome and appreciated <3

~~~

‘And I know you love me, and I know it's crazy

But every time you call my name, I think you mistake me for her

You both have moved on, you don't even talk

But I can't help it, I got issues, I can't help it, baby’

It takes Hyunjin’s brain a second to register that something is wrong, and a second after that to actually take a look at himself and attempt to decipher what feels so off. He is still buffering when you return to your bedroom. You giggle at his bedhead and the cute expression on his face as he grabs the hem of his shirt and holds it up. He thought he had grabbed his white tshirt off the floor, and in his morning daze he had actually grabbed one of yours that you were too lazy to throw in the morning laundry. The graphic tee is far too big on him, even hanging off his shoulder, but you get a good look at the boxers he pulled on seconds before thanks to his hands lifting it up above his stomach. He drops the material and it falls down over his lap, unfortunately covering his soft tummy and pale thighs. He looks up then blinks away his sleep as you enter with a basket of clean laundry. You hold up his shirt and you giggle again at his sleepy smile.

“Looking for this?”

He nods and watches you drop the basket on the bed. You pull each freshly washed garment out for him and he shuffles over to loop his arms around your waist from behind.

“You let me sleep in…”

“You wouldn’t get up, sleeping beauty.”

He huffs and pecks the nape of your neck.

“You didn’t try hard enough…”

“Mhm, sure. You look cute in that.”

You admire him over your shoulder as he leans back and plucks the baggy fabric between his fingers.

“It doesn’t fit me…”

“I think that’s where the cuteness comes in.”

“I’m always cute…”

“That… I don’t disagree with that.”

He chuckles and turns you around so he can properly embrace you. You smile at him and nudge your noses together with a fond smile. He hums and nuzzles back gently, drawing your body tight to his with a content sigh.

“It’s so cozy… How come I hardly see you wearing it?”

You fail to realize at first that he is back to talking about the shirt, and take a moment of silence to contemplate his question.

“I wear it all the time. I think it’s just always dirty, I try to put something cleaner on when I know you’re coming over.”

You both laugh at your honesty.

“It’s really soft.”

“Well, I’d offer to buy you one but I don’t know where it came from.”

“What do you mean?”

“Someone left it over a while ago…”

You do not regret the words when they leave your mouth, but you can do little to fight your smirk as Hyunjin’s lips draw into a tight line. He then purses his lips and puffs his cheeks in a dramatic pout.

“Who?”

“Don’t be jealous.”

“I’m not jealous. Tell me who.”

You roll your eyes. Hyunjin was privy to the history of all your exes, situationships, and sexual escapades. You knew about his too. It had been relieving to be able to talk so candidly about your experiences with him, and it definitely allowed the two of you to become close early on in your relationship. There was something therapeutic about snuggling with your lover and bitching about the ones that let you down.

It did not, however, curb Hyunjin’s jealousy in the slightest. He knew their names, how long you were together, if you still talked, he even knew where some of them lived and worked. It would be alarming if you had not both offered all that information to each other willingly. And you knew, ultimately, Hyunjin would never restrict you from having a friendship with any of the exes you still talked to. Although you would never admit it, you treated his jealousy as a testament of his love. He only cared so much because he cared about you. Besides, it was a natural emotion, and the fact that he was willing to  be so emotionally available did more for you than anything your exes ever did.

“We don’t even talk anymore, Hyune. I don’t think she’s even in this country.”

“She. She. Oh god, I know who it is.”

“No, you don’t-”

He falls out of your arms and to the bed with a heavy thud, wailing incoherently as you observe his theatrics.

“She’s the worst!”

“Well, that’s why we’re not friends anymore…”

He suddenly thrashes and tears the shirt off with an animalistic grunt. You cock your eyebrow up and watch him roll around in vain when it gets stuck on his chin. He manages to pull it off and whips it at the floor, breathless after his performance.

“Are you okay?” You ask.

“I can’t believe you let me wear her shirt.”

You scoff.

“Firstly, you’re the one that put it on. Secondly, it’s my shirt. She left it. Finders keepers.”

“I feel dirty.”

“You’re fine. And overreacting.”

You kneel on the edge of the bed and crawl up so you are sitting in his lap. He huffs and looks at you with a miserable expression.

“Why did you keep her shirt?”

“Because it’s a nice shirt, and I like it.”

“Get rid of it.”

“I will not. But, I’ll wear it less if that makes you feel better.”

“No. It doesn’t.”

You giggle.

“You’re being silly, Hyune.”

He looks away pointedly and you guide him back to face you by gripping his jaw. He swallows thickly as you, slowly, lean in to hover your face over his. You feel his shuddery breath on your lips, and bite down seductively to muffle the satisfied hum you release when you feel him hardening beneath you. He glares and scrunches his face with faux distaste as you dance your fingers up his stomach, then graze your thumb over one of his nipples. He shivers and finally lets the act drop, his annoyance melting into arousal as you peck shyly at his lips.

“Hyune,” You purr, “It’s okay if you’re jealous.”

“I-I know…”

You reward his cooperation with a teasing lick into his mouth, and carefully circle his nipple with light pressure. He whines and bucks up against you.

“You know how special you are to me. I love you, baby.”

“I love you, too,” He whimpers.

You respond with a sultry chuckle and begin stripping off your clothes.

There was a part of you that adored Hyunjin’s jealousy. It made him whiny, and needier for your affection. You would deny it vehemently if he ever called you out on it, but his desperation for your validation could have you dripping in seconds. So, it was a bit of a game between you. For the majority of the following week, Hyunjin would pretend he was unbothered when he saw you wearing that shirt. In turn, you would pretend that you were accidentally choosing it over all your other pajama options. While it may have been a bit unfair- or even mean- on your part to watch him squirm and stifle his complaints each time you pulled it on, it did not weigh on your conscience. You love each other; you trust he will let you know when his limit has been met.

And he does.

“Take it off.”

“Ha-ah,” Your eyes roll as you mumble back, “Hn?”

Your mind is fuzzy. Hyunjin has your ankles hooked over his shoulders and his cock pressed deep inside you. Your arms are limp above your head, fists clenching in the pillow supporting you. You tilt your head back with a moan as his hips rock against the back of your thighs in a steady rhythm.

“Baby, take it off, please.”

His fingers are curled in the hem of the white shirt, lifting it up as he ruts himself into your warmth. You huff out a laugh and tilt your head back to face him. You moan as you take in his heady groans and pleading eyes. His plump lips are parted to exhale a whine and his cheeks are impossibly flushed. You clench when he makes another pathetic noise and shoves his face into your neck. You smirk as your shirt gets rucked up to your breasts.

“I-I’m cold, Hyune.”

“Please. Please, please, please.”

He draws back and now you whine as his movements falter. 

“Hyunjin?”

He raises his head and pouts, eyes teary as he looks at you. You shudder, feeling your heat gush at the sight. You are teetering on the edge of an orgasm, and your mind is scrambled with the intent to chase that high. You roll your hips and he gives a shaky thrust in return.

“Don’t make me beg, darling. I can’t take it anymore.”

“Mhm! M’okay, take it- take it off, Hyune.”

His touch is deft as you lift your arms and he slips the shirt over your head. He throws it behind him, then draws a gasp from you when he repositions himself above you. Your mouth is agape in pleasure when he starts thrusting again, legs folded to your chest as he plows you into the mattress. You are thankful for the pillow, otherwise your head would be banging against the headboard. His tip almost kisses your cervix and you let out a breathless wail as humps into you, following each precise thrust with steadily rising groans. You reach up to thread your fingers in his hair and bring him in for a kiss. Your toes curl as his body melts into yours, and you finally reach your climax. You share more consuming kisses as he fucks you through your orgasm.

Hyunjin is soon following you, getting sloppier in his movements as his pleasure increases. He leans away, just enough to let you catch your breath. Your legs are trembling from the strain, and now from the overstimulation of his cock filling your fluttering cunt. He shakes his head when stray hairs stick to his skin and fall into his eyes, and you lovingly tuck each one out of the way.

“Hyune…”

“G-Good?”

“Mhm,” You nod and quiver, “M’good. Can’t think.”

He laughs and leans down to peck your lips. For a moment it looks like he has a quip lined up, but he just snuggles his head into your chest and lets out a ruined moan. You giggle as his thrusts stutter, then he lazily rolls his hips into you with a relieved hum. You let him ride out his release, kissing the crown of his head and playing with his hair as he lets out little moans and sighs of pleasure. When he finally stills, you reach between your bodies and gently push on his chest.

“Ah-ahn…”

“Hyune, you’re squishing me.”

“Hah, sorry.”

He groggily rises and lets your legs fall out of their tense position. You help him slip off the condom and discard it in the trash bin beside your bed. Your legs are numb, and you are a little shuddery all over from the lingering overstimulation. Hyunjin helps you get comfortable then melts into your waiting arms. You resume kissing and caressing him slowly as he tucks the two of you under the blanket and settles on top of you. He rubs his dumpling cheek over your heart and smiles when you giggle at him.

“I love you,” He murmurs, “You okay?”

You nod.

“I’m good, baby. I love you, too. You always make me feel so good.”

“Mhm, I’m sorry I was rough.”

Hyunjin massages your hips and gently squeezes your thighs. You hum and brush your fingers through his hair, tidying his mussed locks and ridding it of tangles.

“You don’t have to be sorry, babe. I loved it. You were perfect.”

“You’re perfect.”

He leans up to share a sweet kiss, stroking your cheek as your lips meld together. When you part, he pecks your chin then lets his lips trail down your neck. Your eyes flutter and you exhale peacefully as exhaustion overtakes you. Still, you stay awake when he brushes his lips over your ear and whispers to you.

“Thank you, for taking it off.”

“Mhm. Jealous baby.”

He whines at your teasing tone.

“You’re so mean.”

“And you’re ridiculous,” You murmur as you drift off, “But I still love you. You’re my favourite boy. My one and only.”

He nods and pecks your cheek. “I know. You’re my one and only, too, baby.”

The morning arrives peacefully. You wake up before your alarm, and enjoy a few minutes of admiring Hyunjin’s sleeping visage before you slip out of bed to get ready for the day. He is still sleeping after you finish your routine, completely undisturbed as you get dressed and check your phone. You still have some time before you have to go, so you sit beside him on the bed and card your fingers through his hair as you scroll through your phone. He stirs and looks up at you blearily when you run your thumb down the bridge of his nose.

“Mh?”

“Good morning, baby,” You peck his forehead, “I have to go out. I have a couple errands to run. I won’t be long, okay?”

“Mhhm.”

You tuck him in and kiss his temple as he nuzzles his face into a pillow. You giggle and leave with a fond smile.

Hyunjin wakes later, before you return, and pats the empty space beside him until he realizes you are not there. He rolls onto his back to look around and swipes a hand over his face as he fights his disorientation. Eventually, he vaguely remembers you kissing him goodbye earlier when he was somewhere between sleep and wakefulness. Unfortunately for him, he has no clue when that was or how much longer it will be until you get home. He lets out a frustrated sigh for no one but himself and eases himself out of bed. He pulls on his boxers, finding them among the pile of other clothes hastily discarded when the two of you fell into bed the night before, and shuffles to the bathroom.

He is a bit more awake when he returns to your bedroom, and pauses as it registers in his vision. White fabric, carelessly casted to the floor, sitting atop your panties and his hoodie. He scoffs at it, so it will know how he disapproves of it gracing his presence, and crosses the room to pick it up off the floor. He had not cared to look at the white tee any more closely once the idea of you wearing someone else’s clothes crossed his mine, but he is drawn to dissecting it now. He does not recognize the print on the front, some band or characters you never mentioned, but he does admire it a bit now. Ultimately, he understands why you kept the shirt on an objective level. It is nice, albeit a little worn, and there is nothing aesthetic-wise that he dislikes about it.

Hesitantly, he toys with it before bringing it to his nose. He gives a tentative sniff as he recalls your words from a week ago. I wear it all the time. I think it’s just always dirty. The shirt definitely did not smell like fresh laundry, or whatever he was expecting it to smell like. It smells like you. He cannot place it, there is a mix of familiar smells invading his senses; the remnants of your body wash, a hint of the candle you light after stressful days, the trace of your hot scent that drives him crazy during your intimate moments. His eyelids flutter and he groans, pressing the fabric to his nose and inhaling deeper. He recalls how comfortable the shirt was to wear before he learned of its origins, and begrudgingly pulls it on before crawling back in bed.

Missing you is torture for him during the rare moments he wakes up alone in your bed, but wearing your shirt settles his loneliness for a bit. That is, until he gets restless again. He could go find his phone, wherever he abandoned it when you two started getting handsy the night before, but he is already so comfortable under the covers. The only thing missing is you. He pulls the collar up over his nose and breathes in, momentarily subdued by the illusion of being enveloped by you. Then he remembers the vision of you from last night, wearing this same shirt and taking him so dutifully in this same bed. He groans and curses himself, reaching down to palm over his growing erection. The shirt, still too big for him, adds an extra obstacle between him and relief as he strokes himself leisurely. He shucks his boxers off under the blanket and reaches under the shirt to grasp his cock firmly. He groans and gives himself a rough squeeze before jerking himself slowly.

One hand holds the shirt up over his nose while the other roams over his length. He wishes it was you. He bucks his hips up at the thought of you touching him and puffs sharply into the shirt. He squirms, the tip of his cock rubs against the inside of the shirt with every stroke and creates a delicious amount of friction. It is so soft, gliding against him without any discomfort and very little resistance. His hips jump again and he has to clutch the base of his cock to stop himself from climaxing too quickly. He discovers that he can taste your scent stronger if he inhales through his mouth, and before too long is panting desperately as he thrusts into his fist. He is too hot now, and kicks off the blanket before resuming the rhythm of sucking in deep breaths while fucking into his own hand.

He is almost there now, possibly on the verge of cumming faster than any other time he has touched himself. He watches his cock strain under the shirt through his eyelashes, and whines when his precum begins wetting a spot in the white fabric. It sticks to him now, turning a bit translucent where his arousal beads through the material. His eyes pinch shut and he controls himself again. He does not want to finish so quickly. This feeling of pleasure is new to him, being smothered in your scent and comfort with the perfect sensation helping him get off. The only thing that might compare is actually getting to fuck you, but this is so different.

He cannot edge himself any longer, the pleasure that has been pooling has become too much. He begins jerking himself faster, ignoring the dry scrape of his unlubed palm on his shaft. He collects some of his precum and uses that to ease his motions. It helps just enough and allows him to reach his climax without further hesitation. He cries out and pants out a series of whimpering moans as his cum shoots out in thick spurts.

You lean in the doorway, watching his release soak through the fabric and further dampen the spot over his cock. You had been watching since he kicked the blanket away. In fact, you knew what he was doing when you entered the apartment and heard his soft moans ringing out in the silence. What you had not expected was walking in on the scene before you- but you were far from disappointed. You let Hyunjin recover a bit before speaking up. He tugs down the collar of the shirt and heaves in a much needed breath.

“I thought you didn’t like that shirt?”

He jumps and throws his palm over his face.

“Fuck.”

You laugh as his other hand slips guiltily out from under the shirt and falls limp on the bed, a bit of his cum sticking between his fingers. You saunter over to the bed, leaning in to run your hand up the inside of his leg as you walk up alongside him. He shivers and peeks at you through his fingers, chest rising and falling quickly in anticipation. Your hand takes his wrist from where it lies on the bed, you hold him firmly as you ease down to straddle his lap. You hold up his messy fingers, almost in admiration, and meet his gaze as you suck them into your mouth. He groans and lets his other hand drop so he can watch you lap each one clean. Your lip twitches as you guide his fingers over your lips, smearing your spit as you lead him to cup your cheek.

“Well?”

“Huh? Oh, the shirt, right,” You giggle and silently urge him to reply, “I-It’s alright. I still don’t like it.”

“Really? You seem to like it, at least a little bit.”

You pry the shirt up from where it has begun to stick to his cock and he hisses. You tilt your head and run your thumb over the patch of soiled fabric thoughtfully.

“O-Only because it smells like you.”

“Oh? Is that it? Are you still jealous?”

Hyunjin sets his jaw and avoids your gaze for a moment as he licks his lips nervously.

“I don’t know…”

“Be honest, Hyune.”

His eyes flick shyly to yours.

“It’s not easy just to… not be jealous. You know that.”

“Mhm…”

You move up his lap, not caring when you settle onto the dirty patch or his oversensitive cock. He watches with a worried frown as you brace your hands on either side of his head and lean over him.

“Wanna know a secret?”

“Yes,” He breathes, looking up at you expectantly.

“You’re jealous over someone who I never had feelings for, and who never got to touch me.”

His eyes widen then narrow.

“But, y-you said your ex left it!”

“Ah-ah- I said ‘someone’ left it behind. You were the one who assumed I was ever into that person.”

He puffs his cheeks and glares softly.

“You lied to me.”

“I didn’t lie, I just didn’t correct you. You shouldn’t have assumed you knew who forgot it.”

“You set me up.”

You laugh.

“I set you up? For what? To catch you jerking off in my shirt?”

“Yes!”

Your laughter intensifies and Hyunjin fights his smile. He looks embarrassed, face still flushed, but the twinkle in his eye as you become breathless above him seems to signify his ease with the circumstances. You sigh happily and lean down to reward him with a deep kiss, which he eagerly returns.

“How about we get you clean, hm?”

“Sounds good to me.”

You giggle and tug at the shirt playfully.

“And I’ll get our shirt washed up.”

“Yeah, you let it go too long. It’s way too dirty to wear now.”

You snort.

“Okay, actually, you can wash your own messes.”

He grins.

“I love you.”

“I love you too, Hyune.”

[acerikus]

G o d. All gekkos' outertale posting makes me wanna talk more in depth about the characterisation and plot issues in this game and why they bother me...

(readmore bc holy fuck this got long, it's probably like 5k words. It's also pretty much all salt, categorised by character)

Toriel

Why. Why is she like this. Kinda feels like the creator of the game hates her and if they don't, they have a weird way of showing it. She's treated as overdramatic and unjustified in her anger at asgore despite the fact that he DID declare war on humanity and he DID willingly let the people believe he was killing human children to harvest their souls. Even if he didn't do it for real in this game, she has every right to be angry and to not trust him, and it CERTAINLY doesn't make her undeserving to be a mother or whatever. Idk about you, but I don't think wanting kids to stay away from a man yelling about wanting to kill every child that crosses him makes you a bad parent, even if it turns out he didn't really hurt anyone y'know?

They also REALLY zoned in on 'mother' with her in a way that doesn't really make sense here. I could maybe see her feeling guilty for making a snap judgement but how would that call her motherhood into question?

Sans saying isolation messed with her makes no sense too!!!! The outerlands or whatever they called the ruins isn't sealed off in this game, other monsters seem way less intimidated by her in this game than in undertale (she has friends! She knows sans by name and goes to napstablook's shows and even has their phone number!), and we outright get told she takes the taxi to get her groceries... Meaning she headed off to the rest of the outpost and probably does that often enough.

All things considered, Toriel seems fairly well adjusted in outertale, at least by outertale standards. Kinda then makes it feel like everyone's just trying to convince her she's hysterical and that... Sucks.

Also the fact that they added an ending where you stay with her and framed it as a bad ending that doomed everyone is... Really mean? It sucked ass I'm sorry :/

Sans

... Why is he like this. This take on Sans is absolutely infuriating tbh. The only positive I really have here is that his puns are kinda good, I've seen fangames that fuck up this element massively and it was kinda fun to see his interactions in starton.

Okay, back to salt. His whole 'i became a sentry to help humans' thing is trash. He didn't care about that in ut! He didn't care about that at all! The only reason he looks out for frisk is because he made a promise to toriel, and he hates breaking promises. He didn't want to let down his friend.

...Huh. realising this is yet another case of Toriel disrespect somehow. Yet another thing they took from her, that they then just... Handed over to sans instead. :/

His lack of backstory. Look, I get wanting something silly, but they took almost everything that makes sans interesting away. Not hyperfocusing on sans like certain aus do is nice, but it feels like in a lot of situations in this game they overcompensated by a long shot.

No mysterious past/origins. We know he worked with alphys I guess but???? Honestly I have a LOT to rant about for that part so I'll leave it for twinkly's section. And yet despite all this, Sans inexplicably bleeds in tpe when not even undertale has that happen? Make up your mind!

His role in non Asriel chaotic also... Sucks ass. I'm in a pretty awesome corner of the fandom in terms of the people I follow and the takes I see as a result, so if I'm honest, when I saw all those posts about 2024 fanon sans being indifferent to his brother's murder, I kinda just figured they were vaguing about this game. You're telling me that sans of all people just shrugs off you killing everyone and complains a little bit before letting you pass?! He should know alphys already ran off. He should know the only person left to stop you is asgore, and that it's obvious he won't. Part of this could be connected to how frisk is written perhaps, and much like the twinkly situation, I'll have much more to say on that further down.

I understand the creator didn't wanna have a sans fight in their game - however, if that's the case... Maybe come up with a reason for him to NOT show up in the last corridor, then? Have him busy helping with evacuations or something, or already dead like in the first chaotic ending... This was just sloppy.

Papyrus

Honestly he wasn't... Terrible. The phonecalls were fun even if most were cheap references (though they can be fun in fangames sometimes so I'm not mad at this lol). Him being extremely talented at making spaghetti is just one symptom of one of this game's biggest flaws, however. I really don't like how nobody's really allowed to be bad at anything or have any real struggles in this game - especially when spaghetti in undertale is used to demonstrate his relationship with undyne and the similar wavelength they're on when humans aren't involved. She's the one who started teaching him to cook it, it's deeply intertwined with his desire to be a royal guard, and it's something they suck at together. Him just inexplicably being good at it is... Weird, and feels really disconnected from their friendship and her reluctance to let him in the guard yknow?

Also: his boss final phase. Having the dog NOT take his special attack away this time was really funny admittedly but... Idk? Not only is the fight really unfair for pacifist/neutral and those who aren't as good at the game (ut never gets this hard outside of geno), it feels way too on the nose in terms of insisting he's strong and has powerful attacks. Undertale didn't need to overcompensate to get across that papyrus is strong and disciplined and the way you have to infer that in undertale is way cooler. I might just be nitpicking with this point tbh but it's whatever. Letting myself be a hater for once.

And don't get me started on him getting together with Mettaton. It seemed to come out of absolutely nowhere, the idea that they were already friends in this was glossed over really quickly and no time was really put into developing the relationship save for papyrus commenting on finding him attractive every few minutes.

Gotta be honest, I've never been a fan of this ship nor understood its popularity. Papyrus very briefly mentions thinking he's attractive in undertale, but it doesn't really go anywhere and I'm not even sure mettaton knows he exists. It feels like it was just kinda added because it's a popular ship and that's it, not sure it really contributes much to either of their arcs. It was a light-hearted celebrity crush in canon and never really tried to be more.

Oh, oops. Had more to say here than I thought.

Undyne

Not much to say here... I think she was okay, there's nothing super bad with her. I do think the way gerson kinda downplays her/lacks faith in her in the chaotic route kinda sucks and I think choosing to make her non-undying chaotic bossfight harder sure was A Choice, but it's whatever. Undying was weirdly easy in a way that didn't do her much justice. Honestly they didn't do enough with her for me to have a wall of complaints and I can't tell if that's a good thing or not. Her relationship with alphys didn't really amount to much and her lack of understanding of human culture doesn't really hit as hard when she's just talking about random sci-fi things that we have no way of knowing are real or not in this game's idea of the 2600s ourselves, y'know? Her love of anime (that she mistakenly thinks is human history) is pretty absent here except to validate her relationship with alphys in a very shallow way.

The Ghost Family

Hoo boy... Was gonna make this the mettaton section, but I wanted to talk about napstablook at the same time, so I'm just gonna lump them all together.

What. What the hell was this plotline.

It feels like they tried to go for 'smalltime farmer chases passion for stardom after feeling unfulfilled at home' and as I've seen someone else say, 'shy business owner struggles to talk to their cousin outside of work'. This would've been fine tbh, but... There's a lot of things in the execution of this that kinda grossed me out if I'm honest. I don't think they were intentional, but I think it could've been thought through a lot better to avoid some unfortunate implications - or even lean into them in a respectful way.

Firstly, the ghost family intervention was pretty long, awkward, and didn't feel like it really added much - especially when most people playing would already know mettaton's backstory anyway (and his house is still accessible like in undertale!!!!! What was the point?)

Mettaton airing out his family issues on live TV feels very ooc - he keeps that stuff very close to his chest and I doubt he'd like it getting out. Him entertaining any of that out in the open seems... Weird.

Speaking of the intervention, his cousins' treatment of him was horrifying! Part of it seems intentional and it's nice that there's at least one part in the game where characters are allowed to have flaws and do bad things but... There's also elements that feel like you're meant to agree with them? Their insistence that mettaton just come home and everything they did in the past with constantly badgering him to come and help out on the farm were rightfully treated as something that hurt mettaton's feelings and that gave napstablook and the others pause. That's (mostly, we'll come back to it later) fine. He called them out for it and they reflected on it, cool. The way his ghost form was utilised makes me extremely uncomfortable, however.

Napstablook talks about hearing 'the real [mettaton]' in the recording, right to his face, 'the real mettaton' in this scenario alluding to his ghost form. Considering mettaton is a trans allegory, this feels... Kinda gross? In a similar vein, when passing mettaton's quiz barriers, one of the questions is 'what is mettaton's true identity' and you have the option to deadname him (using a name papyrus literally just made up in undertale rather than having any kind of creativity ofc) Alphys' reaction is simply to ask how you know that which... Doesn't feel great. The correct answer is 'mettaton' ofc thankfully, but everything around this particular plot point feels weird. Maybe don't do that w the most prevalent trans allegory character..?

And ofc, they keep insisting he just come home, go back to working on the farm, go back to his family... Idk, gives me vibes of someone abandoning their shitty transphobic family and then insisting they want to see 'the real [deadname] again' and for them to abandon their new life and just go back to the way things were before. Not good.

All of this would still be okay for the most part since the ghost family are painted as being unfair to mettaton... But in true pacifist, he goes back to helping out with the farm anyway and talks about how he thinks he was probably just being dramatic after all, and how 'blooky didn't do anything that bad'

... What?

It takes me right back to Toriel's treatment. Napstablook, Maddie and lurksalot gave no real thought to mettaton's feelings, made it all about them and showed pretty much no support for his transition nor his career! Fuck those guys! It's funny - mettaton is pretty consistently a pompous asshole (affectionate) in undertale but here, I think all his feelings towards his family were COMPLETELY valid. Mettaton outertale didn't do anything wrong.

Lurksalot didn't feel like they contributed much to the story either, save to be yet another character treating mettaton like shit with zero consequences nor narrative judgement. They just made every ghost family event even more drawn out.

And then ofc!!!! Mettaton and Alphys' friendship is so bland in this game! They're two people who kinda know each other and she says some nice things about him in a letter in chaotic but that's about it. Their friendship and the subsequent conflict frisk's arrival brings to it in undertale is the heart of hotland and the core, but here it's just replaced with unnecessary, hard to watch, boring family drama. The two of them have no issues to work out. She doesn't ask too much of him. There's no funny quips and barely any chemistry at all. God forbid either of them have any real flaws.

One last thing: I'm glad maddie gets her mew mew body, it's nice. Wish it was an on-screen moment or something alluded to more though. Some of that time dragging out the family drama could've been used on that instead, y'know? Especially with napstablook getting the mew mew doll... Genuinely thought they were gonna show it to her when they first got hold of it, rather than dragging Frisk into their intervention. She should've gotten to be more mad, too. Kinda a big part of her identity.

Oh, and mettaton's no-asriel chaotic fight was bullshit. It was a nice spamton reference and the first phase was cool, but the second was utter bullshit and dragged out the fight way too long. Attacking him after snapping all the wires should've killed him im sorry. It's even more of a shame bc I genuinely really liked this game's mettaton neo fight - it was fun and creative and felt possible.

Holding myself back from adding any more to this bc I could go on and on, ugh.

Alphys

Alphys. For a game that tries to make her the star of it, it's actually kinda impressive how much they managed to take away from her and just how uninteresting she is in this game.

At the surface level she's awesome, powerful, and the star of the show. In my first playthrough I was actually pretty happy to see her thriving like this! The more routes I played and the more I thought about it though they just kinda... Declawed her. Took away all her flaws. Made her 'perfect' in a way that I don't think works at all.

The amalgamates never happened. None of her experiments went wrong. She never hid away from her mistakes, or lied to anyone (save for keeping Asgore's secret, which she has no negative feelings about), nor did she over engineer any situations to make herself seem cooler. She doesn't argue with Mettaton! She's confident and assertive! She's Asgore's right hand woman and next in line for the throne! And ofc, the badass final boss! What's not to love?

...But none of this is Alphys, is it?

Her anxiety isnt just because of the determination experiments, it's pretty clear she's always been a pretty shy and nervous person. In fact, based on her entries they were one of the things she was more confident in before it all went wrong. People are hard, but she knows science, y'know?

She doesn't get to be flawed or interesting - despite her presence, she's just a generic cool scientist who's suave with the ladies, I guess..?

She isn't particularly dorky, shes overly confident, she has zero issues to work through. Her relationship with undyne is perfect (derogatory) and her infodumping about anime just before the archive feels very forced, like they remembered last minute that she does that and thought it should be included somehow.

Depicting what she'd be like in a scenario where the determination experiments never happened is a fun and interesting idea! But deltarune demonstrates how to do that well, and I think they completely missed the mark. The way she talks, her body language, the way she acts around others in general... These things are universal constants and yet in outertale, she's basically a different person entirely.

Outertale alphys isn't allowed to lie (save to cover for asgore Secretly Being A Good Person), she isn't allowed to miscalculate, she isn't allowed to mis-speak or make mistakes or do anything she'd regret. She feels like an alphys written by someone who hates her in canon and thinks all her flaws make her terrible and unlikable. I doubt this is the case since I don't think a person like that would've given her such prevalence, but that's the level of love and attention I feel was given to her writing here. It makes me sad.

And, of course... The DT experiments and her fight.

... Why did she have vials of determination if all the humans are alive? Did she take it from them? If so, was this before or after they went into stasis? We know she's not been the royal scientist for long in relation to how long humans have been falling, so did ROMAN take the determination? How much of this did she even DO?

Why did she and sans even DO anything with determination? It... Doesn't really make sense.

Speaking of determination, why did she melt at the end of her fight? I'd assume she's injected herself with determination as one of the vials in her lab is mentioned to be partially used, but I'm pretty sure it's also like this on pacifist. Was that overlooked? Are we just meant to assume it's MORE depleted? Does she just have natural determination now because She's So Cool And Badass? This isn't even really a complaint about the fight, more just how poorly that part of her lab is handled lmao

But getting into her fight... Idk, it didn't really feel like her. A lot of it was just random bullshit that was hard for the sake of being hard, that didn't really seem to be tied to her identity very well at all. People complain a lot about the Zenith Martlet fight in undertale yellow but that's done far better than this, imo. It clearly reflects martlet's character, personality and canonical bullet patterns (we see Alphys' in ut tpe!), there's a genuine feeling of progression in the fight and the act you're given to help with the fight feels more effective - you can still damage her on her turn, so taking a turn to heal act doesn't feel like a waste. The Asriel acts though... They just don't last long enough to feel that worth it? Sure they're okay, but in general, you get a lot less time to breathe. Martlet's fight lets you retry from phase 2 if you die. Sans' in undertale gives you as many turns as you need to heal while he's sparing you. Alphys' fight just feels like it's made to feel un-fun and painful throughout in a way that just isn't worth it, and doesn't really feel like it fits her personality either, y'know? The fight was just a slog and like many others, I had zero motivation to finish it legit. I don't think it helps that the undyne and mettaton fights in this route are fairly easy and simple in comparison.

Tldr: they took away everything that makes alphys endearing, fun and interesting. This isn't alphys at all.

Asgore

A huge chunk of this essay accidentally got deleted, including my first attempt at writing this section. In it, I mentioned that the Asgore apologism went way too far.

This time though, I don't think I'd even call it that. Reflecting on it, it feels less like an attempt to defend him and more like a way to hate on and spite Toriel.

Seriously. So much of his character basically just feels like someone going 'fuck you toriel. I'm giving EVERYTHING to asgore.'

It's... Really weird?

Asgore having a way out of killing humans is an interesting concept! Outertale takes place 500 years in the future compared to undertale, so the idea that they have the resources and technology to do that is kinda cool and in theory, exploring this idea sounds really fun. In practice though, it feels like it was mostly done to make Toriel out to be an asshole for no reason and to laugh at her for ever assuming he would've really killed anyone (despite... Y'know. Telling everyone that's what he was doing.)

He just. Completely moved on from Toriel without a second thought seemingly, and doesn't even look that affected by seeing her turn up again - meanwhile SHE'S got crumpled up tea recipes in the trash and all the Sad Divorced Energy - it doesn't really fit either of them! Toriel wasn't really given a reason to miss him like that, and I think even if he DID fully move on, he'd be way happier to see her than that.

All his leading statements on how she must feel in LV1 pacifist sucked ass also, especially with the way she kinda just agreed that yeah, she feels like shit for not trusting that he'd suddenly do a 180 and not hurt anyone (AGAIN. AFTER HE CONTINUED TO LET EVERYONE BELIEVE THIS) and that she must feel unworthy of being a mother. She hadn't even said half of this in front of him yet! He put words in her mouth! That in itself would be fine (social blunders are pretty normal for asgore after all) but it... Wasn't treated like that. It was handled as if this was a sweet and compassionate thing for him to say which... Yikes.

And ofc he gets to adopt frisk, and monster kid, and get to have Asriel live with him! His fatherhood is never called to question in undertale, but ofc Toriel's motherhood has to be here. Hell, despite their divorced status, if you talk to gerson in tpe it's highly implied frisk asks if asgore would start aging again if he became their dad! Idk, all of this part just reeked of Toriel hate and nothing more. Asgore is just yet another character to get sanded down and de-clawed and it sucks. So much of what makes him interesting is his mistakes and flaws and how they impact him, y'know?

Twinkly

I wanna start this by saying I don't think his writing is too bad. It's not amazing by any means but by outertale standards, he's one of the better written characters. That being said, Flowey is my favourite character of all time so I'm still gonna be critical.

So they did save the goat. Save the goat aus really aren't my thing nowadays - I feel like so often people act like he's a separate person to Flowey entirely and act like the alarm clock app dialogue doesn't exist. Asriel didn't end the story as a doomed tragedy fated to fade away! Flowey ended the story as someone who finally got closure on the loss of his best friend, and can finally learn to move on, even if it takes him a while to adjust. I don't think he needs to be a goat again for that.

That being said, I know these kinda aus are a big wish fulfilment thing for a lot of the fandom that aren't even necessarily something people want to be canon as much as they just wanna explore the idea and see him truly happy, so I won't judge that element too harshly. People are allowed to have fun, and I think save the goat can be fine if it respects him as flowey rather than separating them.

I really like that they allow Asriel to be fucked up and an asshole rather than him soft rebooting into some Sweet Perfect Little Prince once he returns to his old form, like so many other save the goat takes. Even in lv0's ending he struggles to bite back insults and mean comments aimed at Monster Kid which is... Admittedly kinda refreshing! There's definitely some flowey (or I guess in this case, twinkly) behaviour that still comes through here and I'm glad. This carried over to chaotic, too. While his characterisation wasn't perfect, this at least felt like twinkly obtaining a few form and continuing to play with the world, rather than your standard Asriel take. I also really liked that he remembers and acknowledges chaotic if done before pacifist, that was neat and adds to his character (as far as this game goes) I think.

However, onto the biggest, glaring issue I have with him.

Why. Why does he exist.

No, seriously.

In its attempt to make the world perfect, a world that blatantly only exists so the creator could make a save the goat ending, mind, there's no reason for the goat to need to be saved at all. Nor for him to exist after dying back when Chara lived with the dreemurrs.

Asgore isn't killing humans, so the souls don't need to be absorbed by anyone. Frisk can just enter the archive and lend their power to destroy the forcefield themselves, so there's no ultimatum like there is in undertale - there's no implied tradeoff of Frisk's life for the freedom of monsters without twinkly's intervention. In undertale, flowey's messing around opened up an ending that would've otherwise been impossible, something that worked for everyone.

Without him existing at all here, frisk could've broken the barrier just fine. All it really added to pacifist was a couple extra boss fights and asgore being dead for two minutes. And him being saved I guess but again, there's no real story justification for him being here EXCEPT to pat yourself on the back for saving him.

Why was he created? In undertale it's pretty clear - they wanted a vessel to hold all the souls in for now during the true lab experiments. He exists because Alphys selected the first flower to ever grow in the garden and injected it with determination that she extracted from the human souls.

... But all the humans are... Alive and well in outertale? They don't need a vessel to contain their souls. They don't need to extract any determination from anyone. Again, why do they HAVE vials of determination? And why did she inject one into a flower?

AND THAT'S THE OTHER BIG THING. It's established she and sans injected a starling flower for... Whatever reason. SO WHY THE HELL IS TWINKLY A CARTOON STAR?!

This point makes absolutely no sense at all. He looks absolutely nothing like a starling flower nor does he behave like a flower at all, which is confusing if that's what he started as. Honestly, I think it would've made more sense to just keep him as Flowey if they were gonna include him at all, and just have his appearance reflect a starling flower instead of a golden flower.

This applies to his fight too. Mechanically I think it's AWESOME, but the visuals are... Just very very boring. A huge part of why his fight in the original is so good it's the bizarre and chaotic nature of it, the horror elements, and the way so much of flowey's trauma in terms of how he was created and the things he finds scary was put on blast for all to see. The combination of mechanical and organic elements, all the plants and insects... Idk, just going 'hmm he's a star. Let's have him go through a star life cycle' is boring, there's no visual appeal.

If his creation is so vague and wishy washy, this would've been a great opportunity to flesh it out more. How was he created? What kinds of technology and machinery did alphys use to put all this together? How did she (or roman????? unclear) get the determination? What does twinkly remember?

That leads me onto a tangentially related topic - his trauma. I... Don't think this was shown very well. He talks a bit about BEING traumatised from the lab, but telling isn't the same as showing and canon flowey is terrible at hiding it, whereas I'd just as easily believe outertale Asriel made it up for sympathy points. He never really projects, he doesn't force anyone else to experience anything like he did, nothing like that. He's just a cocky asshole who likes killing, and who eventually decides to start being nice.

This game constantly seemed to be speedrunning ways to get him from being twinkly to being Asriel as quickly as possible in almost every single route which... Huh???? It's weird. Would've been nice to let him be a star more rather than just Asriel...

(final amendment bc I lost a huge chunk of this essay originally and had to rewrite it, and I'm realising I didn't manage to fit this in this time... How does a single monster soul let him get his Asriel form again? Sure he's still treated as if soulless and it doesn't make him a good person, but if he was 'so tired of being a star', why hadn't he tried doing this sooner? It makes no sense...)

For a game that exists to give him a good ending, it's so ironic how little he needs to exist at all in this world. Just goes to show what it looks like when you go too far with 'fixing' things or removing stuff you seem 'too problematic' for the sake of being wholesome or whatever.

Chara

Speaking of which... Look I'm just gonna say it. This version of Chara sucks so bad.

Chara is one of my favourite characters - they're really interesting, morally grey, and a fascinating way for undertale as a game to interface with us as players.

They're a child who likely saw the worst of humanity, then found themselves in a home with family who genuinely loved them once they fell down and met the monsters. Their intense saviour complex made them feel like the best way to help their family was to sacrifice their own life to get enough souls to break them free (and once they realised they had control, get payback against the humans while they were at it). They could be mean-spirited and a prankster. They valued efficiency HIGHLY. Their favourite number was nine because it's the limit, the absolute, a way to stop hurting and to stop others hurting.

And by doing geno, you can push this fixation on stats further. Max out all your stats. Gain power. Get stronger. Become invincible. Nobody can hurt any more if the world is gone. And ofc, they stand as the final arbiter of consequences for the player. Your punishment for killing everyone and for pushing them into believing it needs to be completed. Chara both IS is and is separate from us in a way that can't really be fully disentangled and it's really, really cool.

Anyway, enough gushing about undertale Chara. What's outertale Chara in comparison?

... Nothing.

They're nothing.

Outertale Chara narrates occasionally. They're a ghost that follows frisk around, but aren't confined to that, and have been actively wandering the underground since their death. They also still have a SOUL for some reason? This part doesn't really make sense at all.

Other than sacrificing themself and maybe wanting to take out a few humans after Asriel absorbs them, they don't do anything that could be considered bad ever. The most devious thing they ever do is snatch Asriel's diary to leave a silly comment in there when they first arrive at the outpost (sans does this with Toriel's phone in undertale tpe for comparison lmao). Despite what Asriel seems to believe, Chara is completely absent from the chaotic route - never getting corrupted, never caring about our stats, never wanting to hurt anyone, never even trying to make us face any consequences. They're just... Not here. For a character so prevalent in the murder based route of undertale this is fucking wild.

They all but vanish if you so much as say something slightly mean to someone, too! It's strange, makes no sense, and just like with sans, it feels like they overcompensated waaaaaaay too much for the people who insist they're evil. On top of that, if you do chaotic before lv0, they don't even remember chaotic happening! They'd may as well have just been a member of the ghost family who likes following Frisk around when they're especially nice. Like Asgore and alphys, they've been sanded down and de-clawed to be 'wholesome' and 'perfect', and it just results in a bland, boring character who loses anything that made them interesting, nuanced and fun.

'Chara wasn't the greatest person'... Why, though? They don't have enough substance in this game for that line to really have as much impact.

Frisk

I'm gonna be honest - I actually ADORED their frisk at first, and I think that's because I started with a neutral run and ended up drawing them a lot. They felt silly and mischievous and interesting, and this continued into chaotic. They seem pretty chill with what's going on but then take that even further by being hilariously affectionate with Asriel and still doing silly things like being up for picking up the electrodampening fluid or drinking directly out of the fountain. They felt like a funny little mini-kris (save for being okay with all the murder ofc).

Then uhhhhhhh... That's when I experienced the second chaotic ending, the one without Asriel, as well as lv0. I feel like they definitely DID try to lean on the Kris angle on purpose in terms of their feelings on being controlled and stuff but it???? Just doesn't work very well? There's no ambiguity to this version of frisk once you've seen all the routes. Just like EVERYONE ELSE, they're just a perfect little angel who would never do anything wrong and anything past lv0 is just the eeeeeevil player influence or whatever. Come on, we have deltarune for that kinda approach to control 😭 (though even then, Kris is a layered and interesting character who isn't goodness and innocence personalised, and that's why they're cool)

In undertale, we have no idea what frisk is like as a person. WOULD they spare everyone without our influence? Would they kill? Would they be a scared child lashing out in self defense? Would they run from everything, then give up and let themselves die permanently somewhere? We just don't know! We're not supposed to know! It feels like it went back to the very early fandom interpretation where frisk is Good And Sweet and Innocent while Chara is evil incarnate - except this time they're BOTH the former.

It's a contradiction too! Why in the Asriel chaotic route are they so down to follow him, and pet him, and hug him every chance they get if they don't like all the stuff we're making them so? The player has no influence over Twinkly. Every single thing he did, he chose to do, and yet even if the only time frisk has seen him was him destroying their mercy button and forcing them to kill for him, they seem to love him to pieces and go along with whatever he says happily. What.

I feel like they didn't know what to do with Frisk here at all and it shows.

Other characters

This has been ridiculously long, but to quickly go over non-major characters... They did very few things to make Roman seem interesting, the amount of stuff hes implied to have helped Asgore with just reduces even further any influence or impact alphys had, and (a smaller nitpick)... Why didn't he use times new roman as a font when we DID see him speak in the archive/on the signal stars? It's such a missed opportunity...

Burgerpants was fun... Kinda. Developing him like this feels like something that should've happened DURING the actual game rather than before it though because it made him feel like a whole other person entirely? The poisoned food was very funny though.

Why is Snowy now Stardrake when his dad hasn't changed at all and Crystal looks like any other snowdrake? That was bizarre.

I actually really liked the humans! Establishing them as actual characters was really fun, and I especially like justice. Justice, at least in my opinion, is probably the most interesting character in this whole game tbh - someone who tried to do good but ultimately caused more harm than good, while NOT downplaying it, showing the consequences directly, and showing them work to try to make things better. The way we don't grab their item like the others in the twinkly fight nor go through an area for them in the archive (and just talk to them instead) really adds to their intrigue - what are they like? Who did they know? Is there something they don't want us to see? How are they strong enough to not need us to grab their weapon at all to lend their help? I think it's get funny that the only character I'm fully praising is the clover-adjacent one. Justice outertale they could never make me hate you

(that being said... seeing the way this game is clearly just supposed to be a 'fix' for undertale does sour my thoughts on the humans a little. did they only do this bc they thought them NOT being full characters in ut was bad/a problem with it? 🥴 This applies to the additional monster kid story focus too).

Speaking of monster kid... Them being an orphan was clearly just a plot device to give asgore more kids and therefore feel like he won more than Toriel. Monster kid in undertale seems like they probably did have real and loving parents, and they have a sister too!!!! Would've been nice if they'd at least done something with their sister :(

This got... Way longer than I expected, so I'll stop here. But outertale definitely gave me an even bigger appreciation for other ut fangames. My gripes with deltatraveler section 3 feel much smaller in comparison now, if tsus misses the mark on Flowey later down the line they've at least already done most characters so much more justice, and it really puts into perspective all the heart and soul that went into kissy cutie, as well as its genuine love got the source material and characters.

Sorry outertale, you weren't for me. That being said, if anyone disagrees with any of this then that's fine! These are all just my opinions and feelings on it after going through all the routes and talking about it with friends. Media is always gonna resonate with different people in different ways and that's a good thing! If your perspective on any of this is different and if you had way more fun with it, I'm glad you did and I genuinely wish I could've felt the same. I feel like at the very least, making it has probably been a great learning experience for the devs and I really hope they carry on making games and improving their skills. Hope y'all are thriving and having fun regardless 💙

[gh0st-t0wn3]

Lmk ss edits + headcanons, Part 6 (Azure Lion, Peng, Yellowtusk)

(I originally made my own design of Azure and Yellowtusk but wasn't quite happy with how they turned out so I scrapped them, the designs for those two I used in these edits were made by @/erraday_ on twt, with a few minor changes, but Peng's design is my own :) )

- He/Him

- Pansexual

- Snores so loud, it's insane, Yellowtusk once thought there was an earthquake

- Feels bad whenever he's steps on a ladybug, butterfly etc

- Gives everyone and everything giant bear hugs because he thinks if Yellowtusk can take it, so can everyone else (They cannot)

- Mei once gave him catnip as a joke and he went fucking feral, he's not allowed near catnip anymore

- His hair/fur is actually very soft and curly

- Thought he saw an old friend while out in public and hugged them, it was a stranger

- Wakes up Yellowtusk in the middle of the night to ask stupid questions

- The Brotherhood asked to hear his roar but he got really nervous last second and it ended up being really meek, they never let him forget it

- Coughed up a hairball once and Peng refuses to let him live it down

- Has eaten cat food before and would do it again

- Cannot do the splits and is too scared to try

- Gets really confused by modern slang, MK and Mei abuse the hell out of it because it's funny

- Whenever he's rough housing with people he accidentally hits a bit too hard

- Whenever he walks past anyone playing a game that involves a ball (football, basketball, netball, etc) he somehow always ends up getting hit in the head with it

- If he wasn't sealed away and got a chance to babysit Redson as a kid he wouldn't know what the fuck to do and would be really awkward cause he doesn't know how to interact with children, he'd be able to bond with Redson better when he becomes a teenager though

- No one gossips with him because he always ends up unintentionally outing someone about something

- Ate moldy food once by accident and freaked out, he was absolutely disgusted

- Hates horror movies but loves slashers

- Drinks mouthwash

- Smells like catnip (trust me guys)

- Love language is words of affirmation

- Has horrible bed head, his mane gets tangled really easily and he tosses around a lot at night so his mane takes hours to brush out

- Absolutely refuses to wear shoes, they hurt his feet (paws?)

- The type of person to cry over a movie about a dog getting lost and then finding its owner at the end

- Can somehow eat an entire goddamn buffet and not gain a single pound

- His face always scrunches up when he smiles

- Lost his balance on a hill and fell down like a tumbleweed once, Peng still brings it up

- They/He (Canon, Peng uses They/Them in the show but is exclusively referred to w/ He/Him in the sets)

- Nonbinary (Canon)

- Starts squaking when he laughs too much

- If you throw a blanket over their head he'll immediately fall asleep

- "look behind you but don't make it obvious" Looks behind him in the most exaggerated, obvious way known to mankind

- Stole food from Wukong's private stash for several months when the Brotherhood was all still together, Wukong still doesn't know

- Wukong gave them cooked chicken once as a joke but he actually liked it

- Constantly argues with Wukong about Macaque not being able to hold his own, yes it got physical

- Their wings have a bunch of scars from the amount of weapons and shit they block with them. Has to consistently clean their wings in order to keep them from getting too damaged, yes this includes softening and preening his feathers

- If they weren't sealed away and got a chance to babysit Redson as a kid they would tape him to the wall like that one meme and call it a day

- Bit off a person's finger once just to see if they could

- Doesn't shop, just steals

- "I hate you so fucking much" as he's handing the person a gift

-  Tried to draw on Wukong's face once but got wacked with his tail

- Absolutely HATES beetroot, will actually gag if he smells it

- Kicks over kids sand castles at the beach

- Can't stand small buzzing sounds

- "I'm not that competitive" is that competitive

- Claims you can trust them with anything but will snitch the second they know it will benefit them

- Probably threatened to eat someone's baby once

- Goes to playgrounds to trip kids

- Smells like Lavender, it just feels right

- Love language is words of affirmation and acts of service

- Has tried sleeping upside down like a bat multiple times

- Hardcore wine aunt vibes

- Had a bunch of ducklings accidently imprinted to him and they followed Peng for hours

- You'd have to pin this bird down to get them to eat collyflower

- Jokingly pushed Azure off a cliff once then remembered they're the only member of the Camel Ridge Trio that can fly

- They have full on concerts at like 3 am, has woken up Azure on multiple occasions

- He/Him

- AroAce

- Is the calmest one in the Brotherhood

- He uses Peng's head as an armrest sometimes

- He and DBK were actually quite close, he knew and accepted that DBK was in love with a celestial but was very surprised to see they ended up having a child

- Very poor eyesight but doesn't like wearing his glasses because Peng made a joke about them once saying he looked like a grandma

- Uses ":3" and ":D"

- Loves soap opera's

- Hates seafood

- Peng once tricked him into eating fish nuggets once and he still hasn't fully forgiven them

- If he wasn't sealed away and got a chance to babysit Redson as a kid he would definitely be the most responsible one, and probably Redson's favourite uncle

- Eats a snack then forgets he ate it and will bet frustrated when he can't find it

- The therapist of the Camel Ridge Trio, and probably of the whole Brotherhood in the past as well

- Was the only one who felt bad about imprisoning the Demon Bull Family since he and DBK were very close

- He also reprimanded Peng for when they pinned and scratched Redson with their claws after they left the Demon Bull Palace (he's the protective uncle, trust me guys)

- Hates getting hiccups, he despises the feeling and it gives him heartburn

- Wakes up at ungodly hours just to raid the fridge

- Heard a story about a bug crawling in someone's ear while they slept and has worn earplugs to bed ever since

- Loves apples

- Smells like Lilies

- Love language is gift giving

- Is really big on safety, would be the type of person to make sure everyone is wearing their seat belts before the car is even turned on

- Actually really good at cooking

- Makes the best chocolate chip pancakes ever

- Is the kind of person who assumes everyone tells eachother everything and accidently exposes someone because he thought everyone else knew about it already

- Always hears things wrong but doesn't wanna ask anyone to repeat themselves

- Has the most elegant ass handwriting you will ever see, somehow

- The peacemaker of the Brotherhood,  they all would've disbanded way sooner if it wasn't for him

- Uses his trunk as a snorkle when swimming or sleeping underwater (elephants actually do this irl, I just thought it was cute)

[paintthetownblack]

That Night II

Eric Northman x reader

Part I

Later That Night, Eric dresses his new human up for a night at Fangtasia.

-

"Wait." My voice cracked, but I got a hold of his hand. The notion of my being able to keep him against his will was ridiculous, but I acted instinctively. "Can't we talk for a second?"

"No, we're late." He took my wrist and made to leave, but turned around one last time. "I will heal those for you later, if you want, but, for tonight, I will ask you to keep them visible." He was referring to the bite marks. I hadn't thought about them yet.

"Why?" He began to walk, and to pull me behind him.

"What's with all these questions? You're a hostage, keep it down." His tone was rather amused.

"Am I a hostage? I thought I was yours, isn't that more like a pet?"

"A pet is a hostage. You wouldn't let a pomeranian wander off by itself any more than I would let you. I will tape your mouth shut, don't think I won't."

"But you did let me wander off. And I didn't run, doesn't that count for anything?"

Without turning to look at me, he pulled a roll of duck tape from his trousers' pocket, waved it up so I could see it. "I was watching you from afar the whole time."

Of course he was.

We went in through the back door. Fangtasia was already open, music was blasting, voices were rising to meet above the noise, and they were lacking a bar tender, that was me. Eric led me into a powder room, and ran paper napkins under the tap, to wipe the blood from my neck, which was already drying down. He was being careful not to press the wounds.

"How come the bleeding stopped so fast, you tapped straight into a vein-"

"Stop."

"Is it your saliva? Does it stop-" He very quickly tore off a piece of tape, pasted it to my mouth. I wanted to laugh. I tried to take the blob of napkins from his hand and do it myself, he swatted my hand away, mouthing "stop it", then shouted for Pam.

She came in with some shiny leather corset rolled up in her hand, a pair of heels, and very little patience. "What did you do to her? Wrestle her on the forest floor?"

"She sat on the ground on her own, I had no part in it."

Pam started to pull dried leaves from my hair. I tried to help, but she too slapped my hand away. So I let my arms hang and let them have their fun. Pam eventually pulled my shirt over my head, as Eric backed off and washed the rest of my blood off his hands. She went for the closure of my bra, and I turned away from her.

"My, a prude, how original. There's nothing I haven't seen yet in my line of work. Trust me." She put her hands on my waist, to turn me back around. I was looking at Eric, who was looming next to us, in the way of the lightfixture, casting a shadow over me. "Right. It's not my eyes you want to shield yourself from. Again. How original. Come." She took me into a stall. From there, she took the tape off, took my bra off, and set my hands against the wall. "Let me know if you can't breathe." Was all Pam said, before she fitted the corset around me, and started to lace it, then tighten it. And she tightened it. It was surreal to feel the ease with which she pulled the strings, the effortlessness of her wrist motions, and to then feel the results of that motion on my own ribcage, as it got squeezed in.

It was my only first hand experience with vampire strength, and it bewildered me so much, I forgot to advocate for breathing room. At the same time, I felt protected somehow, with Pam there, it was like I was tapping into an intention she had. Or maybe it was meant for Eric, and I was just in the way.

He had come over at some point, and was watching from behind Pam, admiring her handy work, which she completed very fast, after which she grabbed me, and spun me around to face him, as I was just trying to inhale. She presented me like a wrapped present, let go of me, and I stumbled in place a bit. "This is as good as I can do, so, as good as anyone can do." She opened the door narrowly "Hurry up. Plenty of time to make doe eyes at him in the morning." She slid out with grace, and closed the door. It felt inarticulate to describe her as modelesque, she wasn't ethereal exactly either, she had more edge than that, which was all the more mesmerizing.

"All I need from you now is to sit" he pushed my hair behind my shoulders "and not look afraid until closing. Think you can manage?" He took me by the arms and bent down to look me in the eyes.

I nodded.

"Speak, I need you to focus."

"Yes. I can manage." I whispered, not knowing why, I hadn't meant to.

He didn't seem convinced, he probably wished he could glamor me. I almost did too, it would have been easier. He kept looking into my eyes, calm and collected, and I became aware I had been holding my breath. I started to breathe regularly, and started to relax. It was him, who didn't need to breathe, who reminded me I did need it. He led me outside, after that, up on the stage, where he sat me down in a chair next to his, before he took his place.

I could almost see myself with my mind's eye. Corseted, and bitten, and sat next to my vampire overlord, it was a bit funny and a bit scary. What was he to me, in vampire terms? I didn't even know how to call this, what we had, what we were doing. That, in itself was proof I was in over my head.

That, and the awe he inspired in the clientele of Fangtasia. They not only accepted his presence, as a kind of authority, looking down at them, but they came specifically to bask in it. Exactly as I had done, choosing to work there, accepting to be his. Sitting next to him, and becoming aware of the effect he had on people, I felt my choice had been somehow out of my hands, as if he were hypnotic, irresistible. Was it a consoling thought? Not exactly, but it didn't pain me either. I had time to turn the matter over in my mind, over the course of the night.

At closing time, I felt like I had worked three consecutive shifts, sitting and being watched had been a lot harder than I had imagined.

"Here" Eric gingerly pressed his thumb into his fang, and rubbed the little droplet of blood that came from it, onto the bite marks on my neck. And I felt them close.

"What's the point? Won't you have to feed again, soon?" I think the exhaustion was getting to me, and I was getting short with him. I wanted to take it back, when I heard how it came out.

"You never reopen an old wound. It's bad practice. Now off to bed with you." He kissed my forehead, almost in passing, as he pawned me off to Pam. She took my wrist with just as little interest and led me to the basement.

"I thought I had evaded the dungeon."

"It's not a dungeon anymore. Look." A spark of sarcastic enthusiasm in her voice.

There was a fainting couch arranged for me. Ironic.

"Best Ginger could do on short notice. It'll suffice for today, I'm sure."

"Are you going to help me take this off?" I finished saying, as she closed and locked the door behind me. I was left to sleep with the corset on.

Even so, lying down felt revolutionary to me in that moment, as the tension in my shoulders began to release. I noted some scattered pieces of furniture around the former dungeon, a mirror, a side table, an area rug. Ginger had put in an effort, it was genuinely sweet. I fell asleep on that thought.

I jolted awake a few times throughout the day, until, finally, Pam was face to face with me, come to wake me up. I saw her turn for the door, so I hurried to stop her "Would you please help me take this off?"

She sighed and rolled her eyes, but came over anyway. She took me to the mirror, so I would see, and peeled the corset off of me. It stung, as it pulled away in places, after it had pushed into my skin for so long. I had red indentations from every seam, and every piece of boning. The pattern was so vivid, almost beautiful.

Behind me in the mirror, Pam put her hands on my waist. Again, that cold touch felt wonderful. "You have a nice waist." She said. "Back in my day, there was hardly a higher compliment you could pay a woman. Brutal times, really." She ran the backs of her hands across my ribs, and down my abdomen, then up again. "For all his faults, Eric wouldn't let a damn thing happen to you. That is, if you are who you say you are. When he takes ownership of someone, he means it. Count your blessings, most vampires would have just washed their hands of you. If you know what I mean... doc." She whispered into my ear. Was that her way of welcoming me into the family? If so, it was a warmer welcome than I'd expected from her.

"Did you leave me like this all day, because you wanted me to feel what it was like for you, back when you were human?" She seemed impressed, somewhat taken aback.

"What an intuition you have." She disappeared from behind me, I only heard the door.

Part III

[irisintheafterglow]

bachira meguru is a dog person ! i don't make the rules !

well, that's not usually there.

he stares down at the dirty green tennis ball in the center of the grass where he usually plays soccer. bachira knew his area like the back of his hand, down to cracks in the concrete and weeds wrapping themselves around the fence. so, when the tennis ball appeared among the ankle-high blades of grass, curiosity took over and spurred him to investigate its origin.

it doesn't take long for him to find the dog park; the sound of incessant barking and scurrying paws is an easy enough beacon to follow. tossing the ball absentmindedly in the air, he slips through the gate and is immediately bombarded with a large mass of muscle and fur. the animal nearly knocks him over and he stumbles, barely able to keep his balance when he registers a wet tongue trying to wedge the ball from his grip. the culprit is a huge golden retriever with a bright green collar, and it sits patiently while eyeing the toy in bachira's hand. when bachira finally throws the ball, the dog races off, quickly followed by half a dozen other dogs that scramble for the tiny green sphere. the golden returns to him, the ball proudly in its mouth, and drops it at bachira's feet expectantly.

"ah, sorry about that. he's been looking for that ball for a week and he wants you to throw it since you found it." a sheepish voice approaches him from behind and he squints through the sunlight over his shoulder. when you're finally close enough that bachira can see your face, something in his chest stops working. maybe it's his heart, maybe it's his lungs; either way, it feels like his whole body shuts down for a solid three seconds when you smile at him. "i hope you don't mind the slobber," you continue, rubbing the back of your neck with your palm. if you notice the way bachira's eyes are popping out of their sockets or how he keeps dragging his sweating palms on his shorts, you don't mention it. "he's still learning his manners, unfortunately."

"it's alright, i'm happy to play with him if it's okay with you," he answers, hoping you don't sense the sudden nervousness in his voice. your entire being radiates warmth and kindness, something that he's drawn to like a poor moth to a burning candle in a dark room.

"of course it is." you glance around, presumably looking for another dog to run up to bachira. "are you just," you pause, looking for the right word, "here?" the awkwardness of your question hits you after the word leaves your mouth and you backtrack, trying to reassure the stranger that there's nothing wrong with him being here alone. he, however, can't stop himself from bursting out laughing at the bluntness of your statement.

"i mean, i guess i am," he chuckles. cute, he thinks when you avoid his eyes with an embarrassed expression. "i usually play soccer on the other side of the park, but i figured i'd return this ball to its rightful owner." he chucks the ball again, the golden bounding after it in a flurry of hair and dirt. you're smiling softly when he glances at you out of the corner of his eye, and he turns away quickly when you catch him staring. you introduce yourself to fill the silence as your dog returns; bachira commits your name to memory and manages to blurt out his own.

"it's a pleasure to meet you. oh, and this is frank." the dog in question prances over to you and leans against your legs, his tail flicking happily while you rub the side of his body. "short for frankenstein."

"your dog's name is frankenstein?" bachira didn't have pets, nor did he know anyone else with pets, but he still knew that frank's name was...unique, to say the least. you shrug and he interprets it as shame, something he's lightning-quick to correct. "not that it's a bad thing!" you make a noise between a cough and a snort.

"it's okay, it's okay," you laugh and he thinks it sounds like a melody. "he, uh, had surgery at the shelter where i got him. his heart stopped for a bit, but he fought his way back and had stitches when i brought him home," you explain, frank looking at you with all the love in the world. bachira probably had a similar expression. "hence the name frankenstein."

"that's amazing," he says, awestruck.

"mhmm, he's my little monster. i choose to ignore the fact that frankenstein was the doctor's name," you add, pressing a kiss to the top of the dog's head and ushering him back over to bachira. "you ready to throw again? he'll keep going until your arm falls off." if it meant he kept talking to you, bachira was ready to play fetch with frank until his arm popped out of its socket.

---

there's a new space in bachira's routine reserved for you and frank. even though you attend a different school, you live around the same area and visit the park at similar times when bachira practices solo. after a few weeks of meeting you in the dog park, he invites you and frank into the secluded little patch of grass where he kicks the ball alone.

"wait, stop for a second," he requests before you throw the ball for frank again. you look over at him, puzzled, and he moves his soccer ball up against the fence. he reaches behind a tree and pulls out a vibrant orange ball about the same size as the soccer ball, but this ball has handles carved into it. "i hope it's okay i bought this; i noticed frank likes when i kick the ball for him..." you take the ball from his hands and are too surprised to notice the bashful pink on bachira's cheeks. you gape at the toy for a few seconds longer before summoning frank, squealing look at this, buddy! and you have a new playmate! and isn't this wonderful?

"this is-this is so nice of you, bachira," you manage to say once frank goes after the large ball, a firm strike from your friend sending it flying. "you really didn't need to buy this."

"i wanted to," bachira shrugs, "and you can make it up to me by calling me meguru." he shoots you a grin that makes your knees wobble before meeting frank halfway across the grass, dribbling the ball away from your dog and running him in zig zags. i could get used to this, he thinks as frank dutifully follows his dribbling, the sound of your laughter shooting through his veins like caffeine.

---

"i didn't know you had a dog," isagi comments the first time he sees the polaroid on the back of bachira's phone case. "o-or a..." he stutters, taking a closer look at you pressing a kiss to meguru's cheek while he holds frank's furry body close.

"i think isagi's just surprised you have a life outside of soccer," chigiri finishes for him.

"i'll introduce you to them at some point, i promise," he beams, unfazed by his fellow strikers gaping at your picture. "one's the love of my life and the other's a golden retriever, so they're both pretty important to me! now, let's win so i can get back to both of them sooner."

if you enjoy my writing and would like to support me, you can buy me a coffee on my ko-fi! you can also check out my full masterlist here :)

[vinnsley]

omg.. so ummm i was thinking.. have u seen norton in the new story? :3 and yk how he kinda like.. didn’t say a word to Alice.. I was wondering if u can write a fic.. where norton has a s/o.. :3 in the game and only talks to them.. and everyone is just like “wtf”.. :3

ORIGINAL: chuckles evilly. LOOK NO FURTHER DEAR ANON!!! (i deleted idv awhile ago. Youtube, my friend... :3)

UPDATED: Yes. I redownloaded IDV a while ago and finished the new story quests and unfortunatly by the time i am writing this, i don't remember everything clearly, so if this has any information wrong, i apologize 😭 (lately i haven't been playing either (by lately i mean months))

Edit 2: i realized that the most popular thing ive written is exactly abt norton.. and its smut. ermmmm😓

[----------]

-At first, you had 0 idea what to expect. Your boyfriend got sent a letter inviting them to a mysterious manor and he had to go alone. You were worried for him, considering the events of his past, but you let him on his way.

-It only took a few weeks for you to recieve a letter similar to what Norton recieved — from the same manor. It mostly contained that you are invited to the manor for reasons the writer rather not disclose trough a letter.

-Considering this was the same letter that made Norton leave, you immedieatly grabbed your suitcase and started to pack a few clothing items you deemed fit.

-The ride towards the manner was long —making you nervous by every second that passed. Would you see Norton again? Did something happen to him? What is it that this mysterious person wanted to talk with you about? Aswell as with a few others who would be present?

-When you finally arrived infront of the manor, you took a deep breath. Not too sure if you were ready to hear or see what was going on inside said manor. You walked up to the door and knocked, waiting for a few seconds (Which felt like hours in your point of view) and the door opened.

-A butler opened the door. Not saying anything aside your name as a question. Wanting to confirm it was actually you.

-You nod and give the old-looking man your invite, to which he nodded and let you inside. A maid bowing infront of you slightly as a greeting, before saying that she'll be your guide, and that you were free to ask questions whenever you wanted.

-You felt like you wanted to burst into words, you had so many questions. But anxiety has sewn your mouth shut, unable to mutter a single word besides an affirmation to the maid and following her to your temporary residence.

-The tour tooj atleast 1,5 hours in your opinion. The whole manor was... giant, in your words. You asked questions here and there to the maid, to which she either responded... or not. Which made your gut feel weird, but you shrugged it off.

-You already met a few people already. Like Mr. Kreiburg...But you wouldn't actually call it a meeting. As you reached out your hand and tried to introduce yourself, he only picked up his cane and moved your hand away from him before walking past you, his face only being... sour. Quite the asshole, you thought.

-Ms. Plinius, the entomologist you saw outside the small garden of the manor. For being such a big house, the garden was for sure small to your standards. But Ms. Plinius atleast didn't... shrug you off first chance she got. She simply introduced her and went back to examining... or atleast that's what you thought she was doing with the bees.

-You also met Orpheus. He was nice. He actually conversed with you for a bit. You found out that he was a writer of some kind, and that he's mostly at the manor because of this.

-You also met Ms. DeRoss. Or how she preferred — Alice. She was also nice. She conversed with you for a bit aswell. She was a journalist, that's what you found out about her.

-As you continued to walk around the manor, trying to see if there was anyone else, you had no luck. When you peeked inside the last room and you didn’t see anyone, you sighed.

-Wasn't Norton invited here? Why isn't he here then? You were confused. And mostly scared for your lover.

-You decided to shrug it off. You were already tired from all that travelling you did during the day, the meetings —Good or bad—, the tour.

-You ate dinner with the invited people who... participated in the dinner, because Mr. Kreiburg... was missing. As it seemed like it was a common occurance for him to not attend, he usually asked his food to be brough to his room appearently.

-After you were done, you said your good night's to everyone and went to your room. Your luggage being next to the small space next to the bed, as you picked it up and placed it on the table, rummaging trough it for your nightly wear.

-When you found it, you tried to change as quickly as possible to be able to get more rest that your body and consciousness craved at this point.

-Tomorrow morning, you were woken up by a sharp knock on your door. The person on the other side for sure knew how to wake someone up... You called out a 'come in' in a sleepy tone stretching as your body popped here and there from the movement.

-The butler from before came in. He informed you that breakfast would be starting soon, and that you should probably gather yourself together for the day. You yawned and nodded in response. The butler soon walked out when he saw your nod — giving you your privacy.

-You stood up, going to the bathroom to wash your face. After that, you went to your luggage still on the table, opened, and picked out your next outfit for the day.

-You opened the door and walked out, closing it behind you as you saw someone with black hair and a... hat of some kind walk down the stairs? It was... a green or grey. You couldn't really tell from how fast they rushed down the stairs.

-You shrugged it off, walking downstairs in your own pace and walking to the dining table.

-When you arrived, you looked around. Alice, Ms. Plinius, Orpheus... and Norton?

-So he was actually here! Your heart felt like it could burst open from happiness any second now. You wanted to scream in happiness, but no. You couldn't. You were with people who were technically still strangers.

-Norton did notice and recognize you too. His reaction simply being his eyes widening than narrowing to his usual look. He always had a better poker face than you — that you both knew.

-But for some reason, there was no space set in the table next to Norton... So you simply put your fingers on the satin that was under the plate, and pulled it infront of the chair next to Norton, sitting down beside him.

-You took your food and while you did, everyone besides Norton stared at you weirdly for a bit. Why did you... sit next to Norton? They barely managed to get his name out of him (which was actually given by the butler) but you sit next to him? The most anti-social person besides Kreiburg?

-They were confused to say the least. But... hey. You do you. They guess.

-While everyone was eating, talking, Alice noticed that Norton was... actually talking to you? Sure, she couldn't hear what you two were conversing about, but Norton was definitely going on and on about something.

-Did you two know eachother? Probably. No. Most definitely. Norton hasn't spoken a single word to anyone, yet he is actively talking to you. You two definitely knew eachother from somewhere.

-Alice looked over to Orpheus as he was talking to Ms. Plinius, slightly nudging him with her elbow and she signalled to the pair of you with her eyes.

-Orpheus kept talking to Ms. Plinius, making an act of as if they weren't watching the two of you, while he glanced at the both of you from time to time. Nobody could tell, but Ms. Plinius took the hint aswell and noticed the same thing as Orpheus and Alice.

-It was as if the two of you were friendly with eachother. Maybe even more.

-But they couldn't do much at the moment... they might ask you two... or more specifically you of your relationship with him later.

[----------]

ACK. im sorry if i messed up anything... and im so uncertain if melly was actually referred to as Ms. Or Mrs. google didnt give me any solid answers either so... excuse that if its wrong pls🤕🙏

[imperator-titus]

Some personal Astarion headcanons because I'm bored.

Some are rooted in my experience as a player or digging in the files, some might be from other player discussions, and others are purely made up. I don't take any of it seriously

Astarion is not ORIGINALLY from Baldur's Gate. Where is he from? idk. I don't know that much about Forgotten Realms/DnD. But I think Cazador is too smart and paranoid to not vet his potential spawn, if they were Baldurian they'd have to be "forgettable" and it seems unlikely anyone in the Gate is forgetting Astarion. I think it was smart for them to nix the Noble background for Astarion because of this, although he could be a noble from somewhere outside of the Sword Coast.

That being said, Cazador compelled Astarion to forget everything about himself from before he was a spawn, so to spawn Astarion, he IS Baldurian and after 200+ years, he blends right in.

Astarion came to the Gate as a fresh-faced adventurer rogue, which explains... being a rogue. Why? I don't have a real why, I've considered everything from "rebelling/getting away from his family" to "for fun, maybe his family is full of retired adventurers"

"I was a magistrate" was one of many stories to lure victims. Even if he was for even a brief time, I don't think he'd remember that. also possible Cazador told him that.

Astarion may not have been the only one luring people back with sex but I think he learned it was the most effective way. When you're getting tortured for failure, it doesn't matter if success turns your stomach.

Cazador carefully seduced Astarion, but not with the promise of eternal life. His resemblance to Vellioth caught Cazador's attention. Cazador lured him with promises of patronage or just good ole "rich powerful man wants me?" energy. Cazador attacked Astarion himself and sold him a lie that Gur (easy to blame, as they are widely disliked and considered barbaric) attacked him.

The graveyard Astarion was buried in is small and has a mix of noble mausoleums and paupers' graves. Likely Cazador had enough sway and money, through a intermediary ("oh, the poor boy, Lord Cazador hired him for tasks and he did so well, what a tragedy"), to get Astarion an expedited burial with no questions (seeing as anyone with eyes can see he's got 2 big bite marks in his neck). Astarion says he's never been there since he came out the first time, but I believe Cazador has put him back in there on occasion as punishment (along with putting him in a proper tomb, possibly borrowed from the Hhunes), he just represses it. That's why Cazador keeps the plot and headstone, to torture him, but it remains overgrown.

Astarion's original hair color is silver, but it was a bit more lustrous, and his skin was already fairly pale but now it doesn't have the glow of life/blood (and they should have picked a paler skin tone, but it is what it is). I know that this would probably make him a Moon Elf, who commonly have blue or green eyes, and while I love me some vibrant blue or green eyes... I am a "golden brown" fan, sorry. They looked dark while in the shade and turn golden when hit by the light. I really enjoy the brown hair/brown eyes fanart and edits though, good job everyone

They say vampires feel only hunger. They are paranoid, loveless, and cruel. They believe they are superior to all living creatures, even the spawn. In a fucked up weird way, Cazador really did love Astarion and his spawn (but especially Astarion) and believe they were like family. The Szarrs were a vampiric family in blood and... well, more blood. Cazador took out his hate and twisted love for his master Vellioth on Astarion. Cazador hated that Astarion constantly wriggled out of his grasp, testing him. Sometimes Astarion would play along just to get Cazador to cool off, but Cazador would find out it was a lie and punish him harder for "breaking his heart."

Astarion is THE MOST self-interested person in the party and it's perfect that he is. He is paranoid, hungry, cruel, and superior. He needs to get back as SOON as possible to Baldur's Gate because Cazador will probably scalp him and hammer bamboo shoots under his fingernails for disappearing. Then he realizes that he could feasibly BEAT Cazador and the sooner it happens, the better. Stop helping orphans, I need to get home, tick-tock! He also has no foresight, even though that would be a GREAT trait for a fucking ROGUE. He wants you to stop helping and saving people even though they will help you in the future because he projects his own personality on others: they're selfish and won't do shit for you.

I could probably go on forever but I've forgotten some things at this point. I'm supposed to be doing math right now.

[sweetwolfcupcake]

Wildflower: 02

The Secret Garden

Category: Short Series

John Wick x Reader

Warning: Nothing Yet

Notes: John is relatively younger in this fic-- late thirties to early forties.

The gif is not mine. Credits to the original creator (Sorry, I don't remember where I downloaded it from)

Unedited

Wildflower 01

“I thought you weren't one for socialising.” Winston commented, observing John’s eyes before they met his gaze again.

“I am not.” John stated simply. 

Winston hummed dismissively and sipped his drink, keeping his gaze locked with John’s.

“You seem intrigued.”

John looked away and frowned. “It’s not every day that I get to meet someone who has not even heard of the Boogeyman.”

“Fascinated?”

John looked up “Amused.That’s it.”

 With that, he chugged away the bourbon on the glass and bid Winston a goodnight before leaving.

—---

As the bus moved past streets and signs, the world around her remained blurred. She sat on the window seat, gazing at her mother’s ring. The tears she fought finally won– a thick drop lined her cheek, followed by another, but she bit her trembling lips and held tight, wiping away her tears quickly. 

Calm down, calm down, calmdown calmdown calmdowncalmdown…

She would not break down like that. She would not allow anyone to witness her break. She was in the  midst of keeping herself together when a handkerchief came into view. She looked up, only to see a man she has never seen offering her the piece of cloth. 

“Please,” He offered politely.

She blinked but mindlessly accepted it “Thank you.” 

That was all she could come up with while wiping her tears. He sat on the seat in the front turned to face her with a smile “You’re welcome. Rough day?”

She mustered up a faint smile and nod, reflecting on the events a few hours ago.

“I haven’t seen you around here before? Are you new here?”

His question made her look up to him in surprise.

He noticed it and added– “I take this bus regularly, the next stop is mine– I know the regulars. So, just curious.”

“Yes, I just…moved to New York.”

“Tough day at work?”

"Would have been better to have a tough day at work. personal stuff."

He offered an understanding silence for a few moments until the bus came to a halt. “Well, here’s my stop. Guess we will run into each other often. I’m Alex by the way.” He rose and offered his hand.

“It was nice to meet you Alex, I’m (Y/N).” She shook his hand with a faint smile before he waved and got off the bus.

What an unexpected, kind surprise.

—-----

Moving into New York was a completely new experience– but she was settling in. A month after her visit to the mysterious Continental, she had not been contacted by Winston— not directly, at least. A parcel was sent to the apartment she had rented. A parcel containing a card under his name and a note saying ‘In case you need it.'

Winston was a strange man. Even though she wanted to ask him how he got her address, she had no other way but to either visit the Continental again, or ring up the number provided in the card. She could not bring herself to do that.

Every other evening, she would take the same bus home from her workplace and run into Alex. Alex Norton was a Pharmacologist who happened to be exceptionally bad at driving cars or balancing motorcycles. So, public transport was all he was left with. Not that he minded, as he told her– he liked to observe, and liked the steady cycle of public transportation– 

“It's one of the few stable things I have in life.”

He told her once, standing over her seat after he had kindly given up his for an elderly man. She did not poke further in favour of keeping the conversation on a lighter tone (he had an amazing sense of humour), but she was almost certain that he meant something deeper.

Almost.

In the last month, she had realised that there was nothing too ‘obvious’, or ‘too certain’-- there were always gaps and cracks, what ifs and buts. It was not that she did not think of her mother. She did, every night before falling asleep, questions would plague her mind and every morning, she would be filled with a sense of hopelessness and dread thinking of all the possibilities– one worse than the other, and all the ‘what ifs’-- what if her mother never left? What if her mother told her where to find her? What if she got the letter on time, what if—what if.

She was in one of those ‘what if’ phases in her mind, walking with her  eyes downcast, but unfocused as she navigated her office street with muscle memory when her vision shook—

No, she shook, after she had stumbled– perhaps walked right into a man and bumped into him hard enough to leave her nose with a dull ache.

She hissed, rubbing her nose. “I am sorry.” She stepped back, apologising.

“No, it was my fault.” 

She looked up. It was the same man who was there with Winston the other night. His eyes remained on her, as if waiting.

“Oh, hello again Mr…”

“Wick—John Wick. Are you alright?” There was a faint frown that settled between his eyebrows.

“Yes, yes, I am. Just a little distracted.” She smiled awkwardly, the man only nodded.

“You’ll settle in.”

“I hope so.” There was no conviction in her tone. If he noticed, he did not comment, just stood there, looking at her. “Okay so, I need to get to work. Good to see you.”

He simply nodded again.

With a tight-lipped smile, she walked past him, turning into another head among the thousands on the street.

John smoothened his shirt, feeling the bulletproof vest underneath– eyes still on her moving form before he finally looked ahead and walked on. He was working after all.

—---

John Wick was not the one to linger around past business. His work was done, he should be heading home. But he found himself staying. Staring at an unassuming office building, he turned around to buy a pack of doughnuts– just in time (Y/N) walked out of it. He turned slightly, watching from the other side of the road as she navigated the streets. His stoic gaze remained on her.

John was conflicted.

He had nothing to do with that woman. She belonged to the other side– the clean, untainted side he could never even dare taste, for he knew that a cursed demon like him would taint it, wither the garden, bring dark, stormy clouds over the perfectly sunny world. The world which she came from was his childhood fairytale and now a distant, wistful fantasy— perhaps some other dimension, universe? He did not know, he was doomed after all. The world he came from…was a nightmare to her– to people like her. 

So, what was he doing there?

John had no reasonable answer to that. He had seen her walking on the street with her eyes downcast, and stopped, allowing her to bump into him. Even through the bulletproof vest he could sense her warmth– a tenderness that made chills run down his spine. Something he had never experienced before. It felt forbidden, but so… so good. It took him some effort to not reach out to the warmth, instead, his fingers folded into a tight fist in his pocket.

She was the forbidden fruit that walked into the place where angels feared to tread— but so oblivious, so sweet so…

John shook his head and stopped. With one last glance at her form at a distance, he turned around and walked away, dropping the pack of doughnuts on the lap of an old, homeless man on the footpath.

-----

“Isn’t this my favourite commuter?” 

She turned around to face Alex with a smile. It was crowded and neither of them had a seat. But standing with Alex was much better than being cramped up with strangers.

“Hi.” She smiled “You look tired?” She commented,assessing him. His usual pristine coat seemed crinkled and dirtied and despite the cool weather, he had beads of sweat. “You okay?”

“Yes, yes I am, just a project going haywire, don’t worry. How was your day?”

“As usual. You were right, once you get a hang of it, I guess things do become bearable.”

Alex smiled “So, tomorrow’s weekend. Wanna grab a beer?”

Now, that was a tempting offer. She glanced at her watch– she had plenty of time.

“Okay, let's go. Your stop or mine?”

“Neither, the next to next stop is a street filled with good pubs. You’ll love it.”

—-

Alex was not wrong. The pub he took her to had just begun to fill in– so they managed to get their desired spot to sit, the ambience, and the environment was lively.

“It's a lovely place, thank you for bringing me here.”

Alex raised his glass and smiled “You're welcome.”

Getting along with Alex was easy. It was smooth-sailing to have a conversation with him, to jump from one topic to another.

“I do not think that it's necessary that the street should be under constant surveillance. You see, it's the people we need to mend.”

“Until then, constant surveillance might help. My colleagues, I mean most of them are so nonchalant about the reports of crime and all.” (Y/N) added. 

They had somehow landed on the topic of crime and surveillance in the city and she was surprised by the degree of nonchalance in the locals.

“You’re new here.” Alex commented, sipping his beer as his eyes casually moved around the place.

She shrugged, focusing on her drink “There are a few things I might never get used to.”

“True.” His eyes found hers again and he smiled.

It was then she noticed– truly noticed how attractive he was. Tall, dark, well-built with a gentle smile. Alex Norton was a treat for sore eyes. But what truly made him attractive was his approach to people, the way he spoke, the way he listened more. 

She took a swig of her beer, an attempt to divert her eyes. 

****

So, what do you guys think? I have decided to turn it into a short series.

[eventinelysplayground]

A Sleeping Rabbit

There was a post a bit back by @ichgakr01270910 wondering about Chevaliers pov for Chapter 10 and if there was a fanfic out. I don't know if there was one but I got inspired by the post and wrote this. This was also the highest voted WIP in my recent poll. This pulls from not only Chevaliers route but also his episode 0 story, as always don't have to have read the extra bit to enjoy this fic. Emma's fallen asleep in Chevaliers room causing him to think of his past again. WC approx 940 also tagging @aquagirl1978 and @kraiyne because they were interested in this topic as well.

Ridiculous

Chevalier scoffed in disapproval as he peered down at Emma's face while she lay sleeping peacefully in his arms.

Not even that woman was foolish enough to allow herself to fall asleep in my presence.

“Did I not just warn you simpleton?”

Chevalier did not expect a reply to his question.

‘Prove here and now that you have enough of a brain packed into that small head of yours to defend yourself.’

For a frightened rabbit it was a creative idea and proves she is at least capable of thinking under unfavorable circumstances. As foolish as the position of Belle is, it would be an annoyance to have to restart the process from the beginning if any harm were to befall her.

Chevalier went to move but just as he did Emma snuggled closer to him letting out a contented sigh. The warmth from her body seeped through into his own and although an unfamiliar feeling Chevalier found that it was not entirely unwelcome.

You not only fall asleep in the arms of the Brutal Beast but you would willingly move further into his clutches? How foolish can no… wait.

‘Prince Chevalier, you're not a beast- you're a person.’

These actions are not from foolishness but your misguided belief that I am a person.

Chevalier had truly been stunned when Emma had made her declaration that he was indeed a person.

I have been accused of being many things but a person was never one of them, yet this simpleton declares me to be one without hesitation. Even that woman knew I was a beast…

‘You’ll never be loved by anyone.’

'Why is that?'

'Because you're a beast without a human heart.'

Chevalier let out a disgusted sigh. He moved more cautiously this time and managed to remove himself from his bed and Emma.

I shall have someone fetch her mutt and have him carry her back to her room.

Chevalier strode over to the door but stopped short, his hand hovering above the handle. It was not like him to hesitate and yet he found himself doing just that.

It is late if she is seen being carried from my room that will only further fan the flames of these ridiculous rumors. Yet if my fool of a brother were to find her here in the morning, the rumors will be ‘confirmed’ and lead to a tiresome and pointless conversation with four eyes.

After what seemed to be a long deliberation Chevalier withdrew his hand from its place above the door handle, turning around to study Emma for a moment.

She has already meddled enough in these matters that there is no escape for her now and there are ways I can use these rumors to my advantage.

That was the rationalization that Chevalier used for his actions; however even as he stood there he was aware that his actions were only creating more work for himself and putting Belle at greater risk. Yet even knowing that he found himself pushing that knowledge away in favor of keeping her by his side.

At least her knowledge of books is proving to be useful.

Chevalier reached down to the books on his desk that had originally brought Emma to his room. He picked one at random and returned to his bed, settling himself awkwardly if not carefully beside Emma. After a while Chevalier found her soft rhythmic breathing drawing his attention more so than the book he had chosen.

Curious.

Chevalier hesitantly reached down and tentatively ran his fingers over her hair, it was soft to the touch and smelled faintly of citrus and roses. Emma suddenly stirred under his hand letting out a contented sigh and Chevalier removed his hand from her hair. He attempted to return to his book however he quickly gave up as his thoughts continued to wander.

This is nonsense, why am I wasting valuable time with such senseless actions? After all

‘Because…because it's unnatural to be so calm about it! Neither the King nor I can find it in ourselves to love you any longer. As long as you don't know what love is, you'll remain a beast forever.’

Nothing has changed since then, I have always been the Brutal Beast. But perhaps…

‘I won't argue that you can be as cruel and merciless as a beast. However, I don't think that's all you are.’

Chevalier lay back down on his side in bed with Emma's back to him. His eyebrows knit together in concentration and his ice blue eyes were filled with a forgotten longing.

Perhaps this simpleton truly is capable of seeing deeper, into the very essence of a beast? That first day in town she faced me directly and didn't avert her gaze even when I drew my sword on her.

Although there were no assassin's in his room tonight, Chevalier still fought. As he stared down at Emma the fight played out within his icy eyes. Just like against a physical opponent the fight ended quickly however there was no clear victor in this fight and Chevalier sighed.

No, it is more likely she has been influenced by all the romantic tales she has read and her simple life. Once she has spent more time in the palace she will see there is no value to emotions or attachments, especially to a beast.

Despite his carefully crafted thoughts, Chevaliers body betrayed him. He pulled Emma tightly to his chest as carefully as he could manage and held her there, her warmth seeping into him and continuing to thaw the coldness it found inside as he drifted off to sleep.

[tnt-kokoo]

See you again

Arthur Morgan × fem!reader

(this is part two of Savior)

summary: Nearly 2 months later, you were in the news paper as well as a symbol of a futuristic movement, that proved you were as hood as any man in your work field as a biologist. But... somehow you didn't feel complete, so you went back to the only place that you knew you'd find him.

warnings: can't write accents, wrote it pretty rushed so idk if it's good, got lazy at the end icl, I don't really like writing endings so I hope that it's alright how I ended this one (even if this is technically still kinda an open ending)

AN: @hairinurbutt I hope you like it, sorry if it doesn't met your expectations 🙏

The trains final call to get off was heared as you carefully stepped down the stairs to enter the familiar town called Valentine.

Not far from here, you met a man called Arthur Morgan, who not only saved you but helped you get your notebook, filled with your work, back.

In hopes you see him again, you visited the nearest town to find him.

He helped you reach your dreams and be known amongst the biologists but, you just felt lonely. Then you remembered how much fun you had in your short period of time with the over 6 foot tall guy.

You just so dearly hoped you'd see him again.

____________________________________________

Now looking around, it seemed way too early for your search to start. Barely anyone outside.

So therefore, you choose to eat breakfast in the bar you found. As you entered, you could see the bar keeper cleaning the tables and another man sitting a bit further away. Neither noticed you until the doors closed, the bar keeper asked "Can I help you?"

"Do you serve food?"

With a nod, he walked back to the counter and started preparing you something fresh. As you waited you couldn't help but ask, "Excuse me, do you know a guy that's like a bit over 6 foot, strong, like dark-ish blond hair?"

The barkeeper then deadpanned at the vague description, while the guy a few tables away heared and started to wonder as he recognizes your face....

Your food was bought to you as the barkeeper continued his work and suddenly, the chair in front of you was moved to accompany the guy that originally sat a few tables away.

He had dark shoulder long hair and very visible scars on the side of his face.

"Tell me more about the guy you're searchin' " he said.

"Well, like I said, tall, dark blond, like green-blue eyes-"

"What was his name?" He asked more impatiently.

"Arthur Morgan?" You answered, wondering if he knew your friend.

"So it's you! You're that girl that also got mauled by wolf's, huh?"

"....Huh"

The stranger you've never met knew about that incident?

Just who was he? Does he maybe know where Arthur was??

"And you are who?" You questioned him as he told you he was called 'John Marston'. The guy also told you about how Arthur told him alot about you, Arthur also wondering if you'd ever come back.

"So why 're you back here? Thought Arthur said you were famous or so?"

"Oh! I wouldn't say famous but-" you mumbled but then changed the topic to the other part of his sentence, "Yea, I am back to look for Arthur, if I am honest." shyly you admitted.

"Y'know what! I'll bring him to you! Meet up back here in this saloon at sunset!" He proudly decided.

____________________________________________

'I read through the news today again,

I still can't belive how far that girl made it. I am happy for her.

But still, I wonder if she still thinks about me like I think about her.."

With that, Arthur closed about the 20th page that was about you. Sure, he may seem a bit too foolish to write so much about you, a girl he met for a short while and had to let go even in a much shorter amount of time, but he for sure knew, that someone like you was a one-in-a-million.

"Arthur!" He looked up to see Abigail, "Have you seen John??" She worryingly asked.

"Sorry but I-"

"Arthur!" A family voice boasted through the camp as many looked at John getting of his horse and walking fast to his somewhat brother and wife.

"John! Where have you been??" The women asked worried as well as mad seeing that after being gone the whole day without saying anything, he goes to Arthur first.

The scar faced man looked at his wife and gave her a kiss on the cheek, "I've been in Valentine, was in the saloon this morning as I met someone interesting." He chuckled towards the other man.

Arthur instead did not seem to want to play the guessing game and just sighs and hoped John would just say who he met with.

"Uh so- As I was saying, I met with.. What was her name?" Abigail was now beyond confused on why he spend a day away with a girl.

"The girl you always talk and write about! That biologist!!"

Weights seem to pull Arthurs heart further down as he was sure John was talking about you.

"Y/n?" "Yea! That girl."

Now Artbur wasn't sure how to feel. Sure he was happy you were back but why? And would you like to see him again?

The women between the 3 now understood what was going on as she starts to feel excitement fill her body for Arthur. She knew how much of an affect you had on her tall friend.

"Arthur! Get your best clothes ready!!" Abigail yells as she hurries away to search for stuff.

Not long after, she came back to the two boys who just stared at her while she held a bar of soap and a shaving knife.

____________________________________________

3 hours passed as Abigail has scolded Arthur to wash himself clean. A little later, Artbur was forced to trim his beard atleast and meanwhile, John was laughing at his friend. Little Jack came by as well to sit and watch Arthur shave and question what was going on, Abigail only explained it, saying 'he's getting ready to meet someone important again'.

Now ready, he made his way to the horses and saddled up his own horse.

____________________________________________

Arriving in Valentine, he got off his horse and tied it to a pole.

He made his way to the Saloon that John told him, you'd be waiting in.

'It doesn't feel right just yet...' Arthur thought as he secretly ripped a flower from the side of the ground and walked further to the Saloon.

'Much better'

Walking through the doors, he looked around, seeing people sitting and standing everywhere. It was packed with people. Rich people as well. But Arthur Morgan completely forgot about that part of his life as his eyes only searched for you amongst the crowd.

His eyes stopped at what he thought to be the most beautiful girl.

You were finally here again, for him!

"Miss, I've heard you've been askin' around for me?"

The voice behind you scared you and made you jump just slightly. You realized who it belonged to and instantly shoot up from your chair to hug him.

He was so shocked by the sudden hug but couldn't help but use his roughed up hand, to pull you closer to him.

Parting from the hug, Arthur gave you a pretty flower and you felt like you could finally say what you've been wanting to say for so long now,

"I've found you again Arthur."

The smile you showed his was the one you shower him the first time he has met you.

'Just as beautiful as I remember'

Both of you took a seat and began talking, knowing that neither of you wanted the night to end by still being just friends.

[ghostieyanyan]

I’m the anon who requested the Yandere overblot Jamil. Other than him, I think Floyd has the most potential to be a yandere. The guy’s just unhinged. Maybe a bit too insane. So I thought what if he was too dangerous and insane that Floyd was locked away at a mental facility but managed to escape and kidnaps MC. Or maybe Floyd would be more unhinged as a yandere when he overblots. Either one is a great idea. Floyd would just destroy anyone who touches his Shrimpy

thank you for requesting again ^^ <3

this reminds me of @merakiui serial killer floyd (im one of her biggest fans) she wrote something about floyd in a prison on death row and mc/yuu is an journalist that interview him so that's what it reminds me of and i might be a little inspired by her work but i do want to try to have my original put on it too. so i hope that's okay.

~Crazy for you~

Patient!Floyd x caretaker!mc

Warnings: yandere, stalking, kidnapping,

~~~~~

Floyd

yes. the boy is crazy. like off the hinges crazy, but he's actually really smart too. Sly, slimy, cold hearted eel. even when he got caught, he didn't even seem remorseful. But with his family that has connection everywhere, he was put into a mental facility for his "troubles."

you weren't anything special in that the facility, you just help with medication records, paper works, and if there was low staffs, you'll help give out the medication. but that rarely happened.

but this was a rare scenario, Floyd with his mood swings and violent behavioral issues made him a ticking time bomb for some people or like an eel waiting quietly in the cracks of the coral waiting for them to put their guard down.

it was a really busy day and a lot of the workers had to take care of other patients who has going through sever side affects with their medication. So this was going to be the first time you'll meet the famous Floyd Leech.

Since Floyd was so problematic, his has to be placed in a different room from the rest and when he takes medicate, you have to have a guard with you.

When you walked into the room, the room was a mess, even with the limited things that he had. Floyd was looking at you with his blanket over his head.

you had to lore him out like a kid... or better described, a monster..

it took a few minutes to get him out but when he did, a smile grew on his face. He gave you the nickname Shrimpy, because how small you are to him. He took his medicate and was really enjoying the "conversation" you two were having. more like he asked question and you just answered. i mean, they were simple questions, "what's your favorite color?", "your favorite food?" , "do you like the ocean?" , "if you can go anywhere you wanna go, where?"

after you finish, you were about to leave when Floyd sudden lunges at you. holding you against him.

"nooo... don't leave shrimpyy"

more guards has to come in and hold him down to get you out. you take a last look at him when you left. his eye were locked onto you...

The next few days, Floyd would act hostie with another workers, demanding that he wanted to see you. Its gotten so bad that the facility just gave you the role to take care of him until something changes in him.

you didn't know why or how you've won this eel man's heart but i guess you did. lucky you.

Your presents helped his mood so much that the facility thought that he was sane to leave. Frankly you think they just want to get rid of him, for good.

The day Floyd left, he didn't whine, he didn't scream or lunged at anyone. he was tamed as a house pet.

For his finally request, he asked to see his Shrimpy, when you approached, he gave you one tight hug and said something that sent a shiver down your spine.

He lets you go, sent a big smile and waved everyone good bye.

You vanish the next day, people thought that you tired of the crazy, like Floyd.

Or you could have been drugged in your home and dragged out to who knows where.

But when you do wake up you'll see the unsettling smiling face of an eel...

"welcome home shrimpy~"

~~~~~

sorry for misspellings qwq