#this post is for my own purposes but also if anything on here catches one’s eye I will happily elaborate………….

[pepsinister]

non-exhaustive list of projects I still give a shit about/things I could do instead of sitting around vegetating after work every day:

Grind & bondo & primer the miata now that we’ve welded it back together (🥰) ((this is not so much ‘could do’ as ‘absolutely have to do urgently’))

fix my sewing machine (I have the replacement gears & they’re easy to install, hard part is figuring out how to get the timing right after I do so)

continue building out my suburban for camping (next step is to spend a thousand dollars on a big battery. it’s on sale again 🫣) ((other steps I could take involve buying lumber probably))

keep working on my YM2612 midi interface (my code successfully interfaces with the chip, got hung up on my amplifier circuit not working. I’m genuinely too stupid to just copy the working designs that are already out there because I don’t know how to read schematics)

fix rust on the suburban (fun & fresh & unlike my miata, if I screw it up it just doesn’t mmmmmmatterrrrrrr)

THRONG (no roadblocks)

learnin’ how to make a skin for Trackmania (no roadblocks, also I’m smarter & more knowledgeable & more beautiful than anybody else out there doing this)

Build a shelf above my desk……..

Ummmmmmmmmmmmmm

make a camping spatula

put my old 3DS back together?? I think I remember finally buying a screen like a year ago

maybe that’s it. I feel like I’m forgetting something but I always feel like I’m forgetting something

[changisworld]

Blindfolding with Felix.

->Sexual Blindfolding: Sexual Blindfolding is when one or more partners have something purposely covering their eyes while engaging in sex, used to enhance other senses &/or used for an element of surprise.

Word count:2,231

->Smut warnings: Blindfolding, slightly public sex, PIV, squirting, nipple play & pinching, 3 pussy slaps, pussy eating & fingering (brief), creampie, unprotected sex, voice kink.

©ANY translation, copy & paste, posting of my work is strictly forbidden for ANY posts/ writing i post, 18+ MDNI!!

Kinkober masterlist here

main masterlist here

You've always been a bit of an exhibitionist & you can't deny that, so when you & felix started mixing your kinks together, being blindfolding & risky sex, it's music to your ears.

It first started with Felix blindfolding you & taking you to random areas of the house to change the surroundings for a bit of an extra thrill for you, but that isn't enough for you both anymore, but luckily Felix has the best idea to help this.

That's how you've ended up in the forest.. well actually no, you both actually originally went on a walk since it was a warm day down a common walk trail, mostly used for old people walking their dogs so Felix especially likes it mostly for that reason, never failing to pet all the animals, but little does he know that today, you've came prepared & you're more than excited to see his reaction.

You've both walked slightly off trail into a more dense part of the woods to pick some wild berries but you're a bit more than distracted by this point, not caring about the stupid raspberries, the way his long, shoulder length blonde hair sitting so prettily & his slim fingers decorated with rings grabbing each piece of fruit he is finding, placing it in the clear tub where the sandwiches you both ate originally were & you're too excited with your little plan to keep letting him do this when he could be doing you instead.

You play with Felix's hair in your fingers as you both sit on a fallen tree trunk together & he just yaps away about random things he has learned from tiktok & the new cookie recipe that he hasn't got completely correct yet, but your mind is elsewhere, & Felix catches the hint when you dramatically sigh & your hand rests itself on his thigh.

"Lixieee, you look so pretty right now, y'know that?" you say, smiling t him as your thumb caresses his thigh & you can feel it tense beneath you which makes you giggle.

"Is this just you giving me a compliment or are you after something else?" he replies, his freckled cheeks blushing back at you, his ears showing the same colour.

"It is a compliment don't get me wrong! But i mean since you're suggesting something else, I brought something, but i've hidden it." you tease, getting a bit embarrassed at your own words as you giggle before hiding your face in his shoulder, but he makes you look back at him, a devilish look in his eyes.

"N where's what you've hidden n where is it?" he asks, his hand resting on your very inner thigh & you part your legs on instinct & he smirks.

"It's in my bra." you whisper & he giggles this time before quickly looking around to make sure nobody is around, but obviously there isn't, you're both at least fifteen minutes away from the path & no elderly person is gonna be down a steep hill surrounded by thick trees, but he can never be too sure, he wouldn't care if he was seen but if you were seen by anyone he would probably die of jealousy, which is another perk of him that you love.

Felix reaches onto your shirt & starts to slide his hand under the fabric, but you swat his hand away. "The only way to get it is if you take off my shirt." you double down, your cheeks turning red from not only being flustered but also just embarrassment & he chuckles at your reaction.

Felix doesn't say anything but he doesn't waste any time in doing what you pretty much told him to do & you take off your denim jacket & he tugs at your shirt & puts it beside you on the tree trunk & he doesn't look away from your eyes as he dips his hand into your bra & pulls out a black eye mask & his jaw visibly drops before he bites his bottom lip in anticipation.

"You're insane, y'know that? so hot." he purrs, his voice an octave or two lower as he fiddles with the black satin blindfold, smirking at you cheekily.

"Well show me how hot you think it is, pretty please?" you chirp, sweeping the hair out of his face that was being messed up by the small breezes of the wind.

Felix chuckles before pretending to think about the question before he obviously agrees.

He leans over you & takes the jacket that you had placed beside you & places it on the mucky land with some green leaves decorating it before setting his knees on it as he gets on his knees in front of you, his face looking far too innocent for what you're both about to do, but you love it so much.

You spread your legs more so he can fit himself between them as comfortably as he can, trying his best to ignore the uneven ground digging into his knees, quickly reaching under the jacket to sweep away a stick that was poking him.

"You look so pretty from down here, you know that?" you chuckle as you pretty much just admire him & he gets a bit flustered at your words, giggling like a child who just got the christmas present they'd been begging for.

"Well take it all in because you brought this, remember?" he replies, trying to sound less unbothered than he actually is as he leans up & then secures it on your face, taking away your vision & your excitement doubles.

You hold on tighter to the tree you're sitting on, the flowy black skirt you're wearing giving Felix not much left to imagine as your already wet core is prominent through the thin fabric which is sticking to it & you feel like you're about to die with anticipation as Felix's dainty fingers are dragging painfully slowly along your inner thighs & then over your pubic bone, avoiding the one place where you're literally leaking for him completely.

You're about to beg him to do anything, but your words are cut off as he swiftly pushes your panties to the side & his fingers drag up your soaked folds, before he moves the very same fingers up to his lips, tasting you & he hums in a low voice which makes you clench around nothing.

He doesn’t wanna waste anymore of his own time though, however, as he can see the goosebumps covering all of your skin & he can’t help but feel the tiniest bit bad at the fact you’re cold, so he decides that he will just have to take your mind off it.

He doesn’t waste much more time as he shoves the pudge of your clit into his mouth, suckling on it & humming at the raw taste of you, which obviously shoots the vibration through you & you let out a hiss of pleasure.

“taste good, you’re so wet & i’ve barely done anything.” he murmurs, his voice deep & kinda animalistic & you whimper at the sound before a harsh smack lands on your clit & you let out a squeal that was a bit louder than expected & you have to try shut yourself up, it getting a bit harder to balance on the log but luckily felix holds onto your thighs with a firm grip.

“Lixie!! don’t be a meanie, just fuck me.” you demand & Felix can tell you’re furrowing your eyebrows under the eye mask & he chuckles.

“You’re too desperate, nobody’s gonna find us don’t worry, or is that what you want? i wanna play with you for a bit” he purrs, his voice ringing through your ears as he resumes what he was doing, his lips dragging themselves through your folds, your wetness completely soaking them before they wrap back around your clit & you whimper as you sink into the feeling as he also decides to add two fingers into you & to say you love the feeling of him filling you with anything is an understatement.

“Lixie, so good, lemme cum” you moan, your legs opening that tiny bit extra as a way of trying to convince him but he doesn’t listen, instead he pulls away, smacking your pussy again not once but twice, watching the way you clench & the mixture of his spit & also your slick sticking to his fingers which makes his already hard cock ache.

Felix doesn’t say anything as he stands up off his knees, completely forgetting the jacket that just saved his own pants getting dirty with mud on the knee caps as he grabs you by the hand & walks you just a couple of steps to hold onto a tree & you stick your ass out for him the second you find your balance on the tree now in front of you & felix smirks before giving your ass a spank as he flips your skirt up & you can hear him undoing his belt before pulling them down & guessing by the hiss he lets out, you can guess the cold air just hit his sensitive cock like a train & you’re dying with excitement.

You can feel him aligning himself up with your dripping hole & you could cry from desperation & Felix knows this & laughs at you, which makes you pout.

Felix pulls your bra straps down just enough so he can wiggle the annoying piece of clothing down enough to expose your tits for him & despite him not being able to see it & he cups the left one in his left hand as he slowly enters into you, both of you letting out a groan in unison at the stretch & tightness.

Felix cups your other tit as you then start trying to fuck back into him when you’re ready & he pinches your nipples as a warning. “Stop being so needy, i’m gonna give you what you want, you’re too spoiled by me, always acting out so much” he growls in your ear as his clothed chest is connected with your naked back & you chuckle at his words, butterflies in your stomach.

“You love it so much, it’s why i do it, Lixie please just fuck me, want it so much” you say as you turn your head to the side to speak despite you can’t even see him & you purposely clench around him to let him feel your words along with hear it & his knees buckle slightly behind you at the feeling, so warm & soft.

“i hate how well you speak t’me it’s too much to take, y’know that?” he asks but it’s mostly a rhetorical question as he starts fucking into you at a decent pace, the position working in both his & your favour as the tip of his cock pokes & teases your G-spot meanly & you need to make a conscious effort to hold onto the tree that’s the only real thing holding you up.

Felix keeps pinching your tits meanly but in the way he knows you love, twisting them at the same time & you squeak at the pain & you can feel your orgasm bubbling up & you can also feel that it’s not just gonna be a ‘boring’ in your own words orgasm, but something different & your mind is going numb, your arms shaking.

“Lix-fuck, gonna cum, so g-good” you stammer, your voice raising at the end & your breath heavy & felix lets a low groan in your ear, making you gush & clench around him.

“C-can feel it, cum f’me & i’ll cum f-for you too” he stutters, his own release pending & getting stronger in his stomach & he starts kissing & licking on your neck, making sure to let groans escape his lips just to push you over the edge that tiny bit more & it works.

Your orgasm makes your brain melt as your release squirts out of you & you let out a dragged out squeal & Felix feels it plap against his hard & full balls & the second he feels you cumming, his own orgasm spurts out into you, which just even further boosts your own feeling.

Felix & you share whines & cries as his cum paints your walls white & he pulls out once he starts to soften & he doesn’t waste time in helping you move back to the log where you were both originally sat before taking off the blindfold & you scrunch your eyes to try adjust to the sudden brightness.

“You okay? I didn’t expect you to squirt from a quickly that’s a new thing.” he asks in a soft voice, chuckling as he uses your hair tie to put his hair in a low bun to try get the now damp under part of his hair away from his neck as he fixes your bra for you.

“yeah, was amazing, i’m freezing though but my jacket is now muddy so let’s go home, still horny” you reply, giving him a cheeky smile as you throw your shirt back on & make sure to pick up the tub of berries that you were both picking, your legs shaky & both of your breath still staggered.

->Taglist & anon list are open!

@ionlyeverwantedtobeyourequal @missystay @jisungml @mikaelless @kissesmellow21 @lixies-favorite-cookie @minniesverse @keshet2k

(if your user is NOT in grey, it’s because i couldn’t tag you :( )

[sillygoofyqueer]

Please, oh mighty one, bless us with more jiuyuan crow Yuan content. I'm kicking my feet giggling everytime I read any of your additions. That guy so needs an emotional support animal, no matter what form it comes in.

Do you think crow yuan wld be attracted to the shinies in the bamboo hut? All the uselessly gaudy gifts the sect leader keeps throwing at him are finally coming in handy. But SJ is also super possessive of his items, so I wonder how that interaction will pan out? Would crows be the type to appreciate fine art and pretty colours in paintings, or are they just attracted to things that glow and reflect the light?

Also I'm just imagining crowyuan completely missing the bullying scene, then flying around until something shiny within the bamboo stalks catches his eyes, and he just finds a dangling guanyin there like ???

Does he take it with him? Does he realize it's the protagonist's jade pendant? Or does he just go, huh, how'd this get up here, and off in a nest it goes lol. Man, one of your previous posts talked about crowyuan just scattering his nests all over the peaks, and no one can touch them unless they want the wrath of god (SJ and thusly his enabler) upon them. And I just find it hilarious how inconvenient it could possibly be? Like imagine him setting up nests in the most inconvenient places on An Ding out of spite, and people just have to circle around it and try not to dislodge anything. Like, not all of them are on purpose across the peaks but man can it turn out to be a bit of a pain. And then ofc it can just be endearing the other times, with peak disciples recording the location of new nests and tallying to see which peak has the 2nd most nests (1st ofc always goes to Qing Jing)

I'm squealing over this reaction, I will bestow upon you what you seek. Shen Yuan is literally pulled into the Bamboo Hut after the sun hits the shinies through the window and he notices the glint from where he's politely making a nest nearby (so Shen Jiu won't be lonely!! God!). There is a slight pause of 'oooh, shiny! NO, THAT IS SHEN JIU'S- holy shit was that a ruby-' and then he darts into the hut (conveniently left open because SJ had to rush to deal with a rude visitor) to go poke and prod at the shinies. SJ returns to his hut after booting Liu Qingge (who wants to show SY a cool monster he killed) off his peak, to find the source of his headache holding a random gold trinket close to his mouth (he can test the realness that way, he swears), frozen in place as he stares at SJ. Of course, SY is embarrassed and SJ is confused (and yet pleased - SY entered his house of his own accord). SY awkwardly hands over the shinies he has scooped up into his arms, apologising profusely about the instincts he has while SJ (although he doesn't care about them, they're still his) acts righteously offended by his the little thief and forces him to stay for the night as punishment - no nest equals punishment for the thief teehee. However, Yue Qingyuan sees how much SY likes shiny things and starts offering him little gifts because he wants him to feel comfortable on Cang Qiong Mountain- SJ is of the full mindset that YQY is trying to steal his bird and immediately gets pissed off. As if that loser's bribery gifts are any better than SHEN JIU'S!! He will not stand for such a thing, and starts shoving his gifts into SY's hands almost forcefully. SY has learned to appreciate the finery of things, which is his human side still sliding into his life, but the other crow demons are still working on that aspect. SY does most definitely just sees the fake jade pendant, bites it, and just goes "mmm, fake things <3" and drops it into his nest. Luo Binghe sees it one day and has to physically hold himself back from just snatching it right away, instead finding SY and breaking down into tears as he tries to justify why he should have it back. SY has already handed it back to him, but he feels the need to explain. SJ is super jealous to find SY coddling LBH in his nest like the baby birds he deals with all the time. SY WILL PUT HIS NESTS ANYWHERE, AND HIS NESTS WILL STAY THERE BECAUSE NOBODY CAN DENY THAT DEMON. He makes them everywhere: on paths because then he can still be social while chilling, in An Ding peak storerooms just because..., on the roofs of Wan Jian Peak forges because they're toasty, Bai Zhan Peak fighting grounds because cool entertainment, and Qing Jing Peak because SJ <3

[the-ace-with-spades]

I'll never write it so gonna post the abandoned idea for it here (also as a reminder, all my fic ideas are for grabs unless stated otherwise so if someone wants to pick it up, be my guest)

Red strings of fate/Soulmates AU

You are connected to your soulmate by a red thread only you and your soulmate can see and touch (and cut). When your soulmate dies, the thread solidifies and becomes heavier, as long as the distance between the soulmates was the time one of them died — almost like a chain.

Jake and Bradley find out they're soulmates early on in flight school — it's hard not to when the thread pulls tauter and tauter until they finally meet in the same classroom and they can see the other end of the thread for the first time.

There's fascination, there's the thrill of sneaking around (they should disclaim it, as soon as they learn, so it can be put in their records, but they never do) and everything is new and bright. They start to treasure the string, turning around their fingers and finding joy in noticing the other end twitching and pulling — with time, they notice the motions translate over the tread no matter how far away they are.

They make up a system of pulls and tags, using Morse code and it becomes something else, they become something else — in the air, wordlessly in sync, on the ground, talking to each other whenever they want, during sleepless nights and separate schedules and long-distance deployments.

Until.

Things start getting complicated. Bradley has commitment and abandonment issues, Jake's an all-or-nothing type of guy and just being soulmates isn't enough.

They go their separate ways. Bradley still, sometimes, when he can't sleep and the night makes him feel like nothing has a sense or a purpose, sends little messages down the thread. He never gets replies.

The day they meet again at the Hard Deck, Jake suspects Bradley is coming for the same assignment. The string’s been getting lighter and lighter the whole night, dropping down, no longer stretched to its limit.

They try to ignore the string the whole time the training goes on, but Mav still suspects. He doesn't say anything, but he feels like history is repeating itself.

When Mav and Bradley are arguing in the debriefing room and Warlock comes in, he doesn't say anything but Mav looks down at his own wrist and his face turns white and Bradley knows at that moment.

(Whether Mav and Ice are soulmates and married or they are soulmates but Ice still married Sarah, that's up for discussion).

During the whole funeral, Mav rolls the invisible thread around his wrist, moving onto his arm when it's not enough.

It's at that moment — Bradley decides Jake will never have to do the same.

The minute he turns around for Mav, he makes up a plan in his head.

They find each other in the snow, and argue, but by the end of it, Mav is making up a crazy plan and they'll try to return in one piece. Try being the keyword.

He pulls on the string, the thread between his thumb and index finger.

Mav frowns. "What are you doing?"

"Sending a message before we go."

He repeats it, just in case Jake hasn't realized in time to catch the whole thing at first. And then he starts looking through the pockets of his life vest.

“He’s not walking around with a dead man’s chain, Mav.”

Mav tries to stop him the second he realizes what Bradley is going to do but it's too late — with the same knife he cut his parachute off, he cuts off the thread, close to his wrist, letting it fall limping into the snow, red almost looking like droplets of blood.

It takes Jake a minute to realize that the tagging is a physical feeling, not just wishful thinking formed by his imagination.

The carrier deck is a mess, the foxtrot teams returned, Phoenix is now arguing with the admirals about Rooster's position — he might not be dead, sir — and the ringing in Jake's ears doesn't stop until he looks down at his wrist, and sees the string moving, the pulling a rhythmic, well-known motion.

Aloud, breaking up the vivid discussion about Maverick and Rooster's status, he says, “Rooster is alive, he’s—he’s talking,” and it almost feels like it's someone else using his voice.

“What do you mean, Hangman? His comm is silent.”

“Can feel it on the string, it’s still red and he’s— he’s tugging in Morse code,” he says. He closes his eyes and lets himself be pulled by the wrist. “S-O-R-R—Sorry, he’s—sorry and—and—I-L—Shit, no.”

I-L-Y

The string flops down, loose. “No—”

He cut it. He cut it because it's still red and not gray but still too limp and he knows it. His wrist feels too light, too free.

When Bradley lands on the carrier, his wrist is bare and the thread pools around Jake's feet. It doesn't magically reconnect when they touch, when they shake hands.

Jake tries to desperately find the other end, carrying rolls and piles of it with him as he follows Bradley to the med bay.

“Jake, just—just cut it,” he tells him. “It’s going to connect you again in a day or two.”

Jake ignores him, pulling miles and miles of the thread into circled piles next to Bradley's bed. He can't see the floor — it's just red and red and nothing else.

“No,” is all Jake says. “Not to you.”

It'll find him a new match, connect the thread to someone else, to someone who isn't Bradley.

"Bring me some scissors," Bradley says. He almost feels bad, when Jake's gaze turns up to him, glaring with shiny eyes. "Just do as I say for once."

Wordlessly, looking like it pains him, Jake brings him disposable scissors.

Bradley grabs his hand before he can move away, pulls about three feet of the thread from the pile, and cuts off the excess on the floor.

He wraps it around his own wrist, the string thin and soft, and a little clumsily ties it into a loop over his arm. When he leans away again, the thread takes a second, taut, and then stretches with the distance, like it has always done.

Jake stares at it, too focused and too absent. "That's the shittiest knot I've ever seen."

Bradley huffs. "Well, you gotta learn to live with it."

[dirtnapdreamfactory]

Sweetest Sin [Part One]

Content Warnings: Priest Kink, Breeding Kink, Corruption Kink, Loss of Virginity, Vaginal Fingering, Oral Sex (Female Receiving), Female masturbation, Breaking Vows, Abandoned Celibacy, Etc. Etc.

Please let me know if I missed anything.

Word Count: 5.5K

[If this work looks familiar to you, it probably is. I originally had it posted to my old account that has since been deleted, so I am reposting it here.]

The grand archway of the cathedral framed Father Astarion Ancunin, his tall figure casting a shadow against the golden light that spilled from within. Despite being a creature of darkness, he had become an integral part of the town of Emberwood, serving as their shepherd of light. His vampiric nature had initially drawn cautious glances, but the townspeople's faith in him seemed to outweigh their fear. They flocked to the cathedral and found solace in his words, a paradox that the elf would have scoffed at decades ago—a vampire spawn preaching salvation.

"Good evening, Father Astarion," Mr. Tiller called out, his voice warm as he passed by with his family. "Your sermon today was truly moving."

"Thank you," Astarion replied, his smile genuine but unable to reach the depths of his crimson eyes. "Peace be with you."

For a quiet moment, the pale elf held up the silver band on his finger to catch the light, marveling at the small miracle that allowed him to walk under the sun. This ring symbolized not just his commitment to his vows, but also to a life he never thought possible. Each day, the weight of his past sins grew lighter as he embraced his newfound purpose with tentative gratitude.

"Father?" A timid voice broke through his reverie.

"Ah, Mr. and Mrs. Silverleaf." He recognized the couple instantly, their devoutness etched into every line on their faces. "What can I do for you?"

"Your words—they're a balm to our community," The man began, wringing his hat between his work-worn hands. "And…we hate to ask but…well, we've come to ask a favor, if you're willing."

"Of course. Speak freely," The priest encouraged, folding his hands before him in a gesture of openness. 

"It’s our daughter... She strays further each day from the path of righteousness," Mrs. Silverleaf confided, her voice laced with worry. "She has no care for piety or decency."

"Her soul, we fear, is in peril," her husband added, his gaze pleading.

"Would you speak with her, Father?" The woman asked. "Perhaps guide her back to the ways of the faithful?"

The couple's words hung heavy in the air, a weight that Astarion couldn't quite shake off. He knew his duty was to guide and correct those who strayed from the path of righteousness, but the thought of speaking with you, their fierce and free-spirited daughter, filled him with conflicting emotions.

On one hand, he felt a sense of obligation and responsibility towards your soul, which they clearly feared was in jeopardy. But on the other hand, the memory of you tore through his mind like a stormy sea, tempting him with desires he had vowed to renounce.

The request coiled tightly around his heart. The memory of that first night that he had laid eyes upon you surged forward, unbidden and wild. It had been a chance encounter at the tavern, where he had gone to seek solitude among the clamor of tankards and low-burning hearths. You had burst through the door, a vision of ferocious vitality, your presence so startling that even the rowdy din of the establishment had hushed for a brief moment. There you had stood, cloaked in the glory of your conquest—a deer, by the looks of your spoils—and had commanded attention with the ease of one who knew their own power.

"Talia, go fetch Lorrick! And tell the cook to get his shit together, yeah? We're having fuckin' venison tonight!" you’d declared, voice rich with triumph.

Astarion couldn't help but watch you, his eyes tracing the line of sweat that made a glistening path down the column of your neck. Each droplet reflected the light from the hearth, casting a warm glow on your skin. Your soft hair cascaded messily down your back and beckoned his fingers to explore its texture. The sight of you- so raw and vibrant - was like a sharp blade to his senses, breaking through the protective walls he had built around his chastity.

"Father, will you not try?" 

The distant echo of Mrs. Silverleaf's voice pulled Father Astarion back to the present, interrupting his thoughts. He nodded absently, his mind still consumed by the image of your mischievous smirk. Despite his inner turmoil, he affirmed to the couple that he would speak with their daughter, a wave of heat flushing his cheeks at the thought.

"God bless you," Mrs. Silverleaf and her husband intoned together, their sincerity in stark contrast to the hunger gnawing at Astarion's resolve.

"Peace be with you," he replied hollowly, his own words drowned out by the cacophony of conflicting emotions within him.

As the couple disappeared from view, Father Astarion turned back to face the sacred confines of the cathedral. Its cool silence offered no refuge from the heat that still coursed through him, memories of his struggle against temptation flashing through his mind. He had whispered fervent prayers and battled against his desires for flesh and sinew that night at the tavern.

"Forgive me," he muttered to the empty pews, unsure if his words were meant for his deity or for himself. His duty was clear - to meet with the girl and guide her towards the light. But as the sunset painted the stained glass windows in fiery shades of red and gold, Astarion couldn't shake the feeling that he was about to enter a battle for which he may never be fully prepared.

Taking a deep breath, he steeled himself and called upon every ounce of divine strength to fortify his spirit. He would offer counsel to this wayward lamb and do his best to protect her from darkness. But as he locked up the church and began to trudge his way towards your home, nestled at the far edge of town, he couldn't deny the thrill of forbidden excitement coursing through his veins, like a fire burning just beneath his skin. Though he knew that this could prove to be a rather dangerous task, one that could potentially lead him down a path of temptation and ruin...for the sake of your immortal soul, he was willing to take the risk.

The dying embers of the day cast a warm, orange hue over the town as Astarion tread softly along the dirt trail, his boots pressing into the uneven ground scattered with pebbles and twigs. The outskirts where you resided was tranquil, the only sounds were his solitary footsteps and the distant chirping of crickets. He could see your home now, a quaint cottage that seemed to be in a perpetual embrace with the encroaching forest. The air was scented with damp earth and the sweet tang of herbs that hung from an overhang, swaying gently in the evening breeze.

"Ms. Silverleaf, it's Father Astarion," he called with measured calmness, rapping knuckles against the wooden door. His voice felt strangely intrusive in the stillness. "Your mother and father bid me to speak with you."

Silence greeted him, thick and unyielding. He knocked again, a little louder, allowing authority to lace his tone. "Ms. Silverleaf, please. This is a rather important matter."

The quiet persisted, and a frown teased at the edge of his lips. 'Perhaps she is out,' he thought, but something about the soft glow from within your home suggested otherwise. He reached for the doorknob, finding it unlocked. A moment's hesitation lingered like a warning. With a breath to steady himself, he pushed open the door and stepped into the muted warmth of the interior.

"Y/N?" he ventured again, voice barely above a whisper as he closed the door behind him.

Before him, the small fire in the hearth crackled its last dance, casting flickering shadows across the room. Astarion scanned the space, noting the absence of any presence. His gaze fell on the simple furnishings, the homely touches that bespoke a life lived simply yet fully. In that moment, he felt like an intruder in your world, privy to a privacy not his own.

His ears, sharper than most, caught the faintest sound—a rustle, a breath hitched in distress. His dead heart sank. 'Might the girl have injured herself?' The concern edged his thoughts as he moved silently, his steps practiced and light. The noises grew clearer, more defined, and his pace quickened with a mix of worry and something less definable.

"Y/N," he called out softly, reaching the slightly ajar door from behind which the sounds emanated. With the utmost care, he nudged it further open, just enough to allow his eyes to seek out the source of the commotion.

He stood motionless, his hand still resting on the door, as the scene within unfolded before him.

His eyes widened, the crimson depths reflecting a scene of forbidden desire. There in the dimly lit chamber, the air thick with the scent of sweat and desperation, you writhed upon your simple bed—a vision of unbridled sensuality.

"Gods above," he murmured under his breath, unable to tear his gaze from the sight. His voice was a mere whisper, lost amidst the symphony of your pleasure.

Your small fingers danced along the slick folds of your sex, each movement deliberate and hungry. Lustful whines escaped your lips in ragged sighs and your moans pierced Astarion's heart like an arrow. You were yet unaware of his presence, lost in your own world of ecstasy.

"Y/N," he finally managed to say, louder this time, but the plea in his voice was drowned by your cries. You did not hear him, or if you did, you gave no indication, consumed as you were by your own touch.

'Stop,' he thought desperately, 'you mustn't witness this.' But his body betrayed him, rooted to the spot, drinking in the sight of you. The heat that had been kindling within him since he'd first laid eyes on you now blazed uncontrollably.

He watched, transfixed, as your back arched, your breasts rising and falling with each labored breath. The soft mounds were flushed with arousal, your nipples taut and begging for attention. Your other hand alternated between caressing your breast and pinching your rose-colored nipple, sending ripples of pleasure through your body.

"Please," you gasped, the word a prayer for release. "I need... I can't..."

Father Astarion felt a surge of protectiveness, intermingled with a darker, hungrier sensation. He knew that he, a man of the cloth, should not be standing there, should not be watching this intimate act of self-pleasure, yet he found himself entranced by your uninhibited display.

"Is this what you seek?" he asked silently, the question for himself more than you. "To be the one to push her over that edge?"

His blood roared in his ears, drowning out the remnants of piety that screamed for him to leave. There was a battle raging within him, between his vows and the yearning to step forward—to replace your hands with his own, to taste the salt on your skin, to hear his name on your lips instead of the silent gods you seemed to be reaching for.

Another whimper, more tortured than the last, pulled him from his daze. He took a half-step backward, the creak of the wooden floorboard underfoot sounding like thunder in the quiet room. Astarion’s throat was dry, his body tense with longing.

"Forgive me," he whispered, turning his face away, though his eyes betrayed him, sliding back for another glimpse that lasted far too long. "Forgive me..."

His breath hitched, a silent witness to the carnal symphony playing out before him. Shadows clung to the corners of the dimly lit chamber as the fading light of day bathed your writhing form in an ethereal glow. Your fingers, slick and unyielding, danced fervently within yourself, your movements both desperate and deliberate. The decadent chorus of your pleasure—a blend of wet, rhythmic sounds—sent involuntary tremors through his body.

"Gods... yes, just like that, please..." Your voice was broken and full of lust, a prayer for release that echoed off the walls.

He swallowed thickly, the taste of his restraint bitter on his tongue. His hands, traitorous and curious, sought the heat beneath his breeches, and he winced at the contact – a touch both foreign and achingly familiar. The sensation clawed at his resolve, tearing at the fabric of his vows.

"Ah... A-Astarion..." you moaned, your voice slowly morphing into a sinful incantation - a desperate plea to the heavens, or perhaps to the depths below. His name rolled off your lips like a sacrilegious mantra, stoking that fire within him into something unbearable.

"Gods above…," he whispered under his breath, a ghost of words lost amid the melody of your solitary passion. Envy gnawed at him, its sharp teeth sinking into his heart as you envisioned another, even if that other bore his visage.

"Please... Fuck - ruin me..." you begged the illusion, your back arching, your body tightly stretched like a bowstring. The priest within him recoiled, but the man, the primal creature lurking beneath the clerical collar, stirred from its slumber.

"Enough," He hissed to himself, his conviction giving way to carnal desire. He could no longer be a mere observer, a passive guardian of sanctity. As you called out for him, in flesh or fantasy, he felt that familiar longing within him awaken. With a growl, he shed his clerical collar and entered the room with purpose. This was no longer a soft tread of uncertainty, but the confident steps of a man who knew what he wanted. You needed him, craved him, and he... he needed this. Gods above, he needed this.

"Ms. Silverleaf," he said louder now, his voice cutting through the haze of your ecstasy.

Your eyes snapped open, bright and piercing, locking onto his deep, vermillion gaze. Your silky hair cascaded around your face as you stilled, your body drawn with anticipation. In that moment, your eyes were a tangle of fire and gold, two stars colliding and igniting a blaze that consumed you both. Your stillness was a bird poised on the edge of a branch, ready to take flight at the slightest movement. And in that moment, the question hung in the air like a forbidden fruit, tempting and dangerous: Which would it be? Salvation or damnation?

"F-Father Astarion," you breathed, a mixture of surprise, embarrassment, and something...darker. Something hungry .

The pale elf stood tall and imposing in the dimly lit room, his pastoral leash discarded and forgotten on the floor. The light streamed through the window, catching the soft curls of his silver hair and casting an intimidating glow in his intense eyes. You laid bare before him, a true vision of ethereal beauty - your pleading eyes and wild hair fanned out around you, nearly forming a halo around your glistening, desperate form.

"Tell me, my child," He began, his voice low and steady, "What manner of evil has reduced you to this? A whimpering, sodden mess baring yourself so shamelessly before a man of God?"

"Please, Father...I-I’m so sorry. Please…p-please help me," You whimpered, your voice soft as velvet.

"Of course, child," His voice was a soothing balm, yet it was wrought with an undercurrent of something depraved. "Would you have me guide you in prayer, to cleanse these wicked ideations from your soul?"

Your head shook, a silent bell tolling 'no'. His gaze never left you, sharp and probing as he began to unfasten his shirt, each button relinquishing its hold with deliberate slowness. The pale flesh beneath his priestly attire came into view - his lean, muscular body sending a sharp jolt to your needy cunt.

"Or perhaps," he continued, his tone laced with concern, "you'd prefer I summon the physician? They might concoct a remedy for your... afflictions ."

As he circled the bed, the air around you charged with unsaid words, he grazed your cheek with his knuckles, the touch feather-light yet scorching. Your skin burned under his caress, your heat evident to his discerning touch.

"Ah, you are quite warm," he murmured, almost to himself. He leaned closer, his breath fanning your face as he tenderly pushed away strands of hair that had clung to your dampened forehead. "What then, my dear, do you seek from me?"

You swallowed thickly, your body betraying your desires with a soft whimper. "I don't need a doctor, Father," you managed, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Then what?" Astarion whispered back, his proximity intoxicating.

Your breath hitched; you bit down on your lower lip, trapping it between your teeth. In a voice suffused with shame and longing, you uttered the words, "Touch me."

Astarion clicked his tongue, a reprimand and a tease all at once. "You know that is not possible. My vows..." He let the sentence hang, unfinished, yet heavy with implication.

But desire was a siren's call, relentless and seductive. As your fingers resumed their salacious dance, the soft wet sounds that they made reached his ears, sending a bolt of raw need through him. He watched, transfixed, his body responding despite his resolve.

"Is this a habit of yours?" he asked, his voice husky with restrained passion.

"No," you breathed out, your movements unabated.

"Has another taught you such pleasures?" His inquiry was both invasive and achingly tender.

"N-no. Never," you admitted, your voice tinged with innocence and discovery.

He hummed, acknowledging your confession. "There is much to learn about one's own flesh... to understand what brings pleasure, what stirs the soul."

"Please," you gasped, your plea floating between you like a fragile leaf caught in a tempest. "Help me, Father... Show me how to feel good..."

"Perhaps," he whispered, his voice a thread of silk amidst the tension, "a slight... guidance would not be deemed sacrilegious." The words felt foreign on his tongue, like a dark incantation that could unravel the very fabric of his being.

Your eyes fluttered closed for a moment, as if absorbing the gravity of what he proposed. Your lips parted in a silent plea, your desire an unspoken prayer that beckoned him closer.

With reverent trepidation, he extended his hand, the silhouette of his fingers ghosting over the valley of your chest before descending. The heat of your skin seared his palm as he cupped your heavy breast, feeling its softness yield beneath his touch. Your sharp intake of breath was both a torment and a balm to his conflicted soul.

"Ah..." you sighed, a delicate sound that underscored the urgency of this illicit communion.

Astarion allowed himself a moment to marvel at the responsiveness of your body, the way your flesh puckered against the chilled air, inviting his thumb to graze over the tight peak of your nipple. To him, it was the first transgression – a tactile whisper that spoke volumes of forbidden pleasures yet explored.

His hand trailed lower, a painstaking journey across the landscape of your ribcage, the undulating terrain of your belly, each movement deliberate, a testament to the restraint he fought to maintain. It was an artist's touch, painting strokes of fire upon your canvas of anticipation.

"May I?" The question hung between you, laden with consequences yet to unfold. His eyes sought yours, seeking absolution in their depths. Your gaze held his, fierce and unyielding—a mirror reflecting your shared hunger.

"Please," you breathed, the single word a key turning in the lock of his resolve.

His fingers, cold and steady, grazed the small of your waist, drawing your attention away from his eyes to the point of contact. You shuddered as his touch met the sensitive skin just above your hips. His fingers traced the delicate curve of your pelvis, kneading it gently, exploring your body with the reverence of a man discovering the wonders of the world for the first time.

"You are beautiful," he whispered, his fingers tracing the delicate lines of your hip. "Sinfully so, darling. But your wants, your needs... they are only human."

Astarion's eyes lingered on the curve of your hips, tracing the silhouette of your form with his gaze. The desire within him threatened to consume him whole, promising to both destroy and purify. He knew that once he crossed this line, there would be no going back. You were both aware of the weight of your transgression, heavy like a shroud about your limbs.

But your voice broke the silence, another soft plea that cracked the veneer of control he had so meticulously constructed. "Please," you begged, your voice trembling.

His fingers found you, hesitant at first, exploring the soft folds that lay between your legs. The air was heavy with the scent of arousal and anticipation, a heady cocktail that intoxicated you both. Astarion was no stranger to the touch of a woman, but this was different. This was sacrilegious. He could feel the weight of his vows bearing down upon him, threatening to suffocate him, but he persisted.

Your body tensed at his touch, the resistance only serving to heighten his desire. As he continued to explore you, he whispered softly into your ear, "You are allowed to feel pleasure, sweet girl. It's alright..."

Your breath hitched as his fingers delved deeper, your body arching against him in response. He could feel the heat radiating from your core, the pulsing life within you behind the delicate tissue that covered your being. He had never felt anything so alive, so vital, so right.

His fingers continued their exploration, sliding gently against your skin, tracing the pathways of your desire. Every touch was a caress, a promise, a confirmation that you were real, that you were there, and that he was not alone in this sin.

As his fingers continued their journey, he felt a surge of pure lust wash over him. He knew that he could not resist any longer. He needed to feel you, to possess you. He needed to experience the fullness of your passion and the sinful pleasures that awaited him.

He could feel your heart racing, your breaths becoming short and ragged as he touched you. Every touch, every brush of his fingers against your skin sent electricity coursing through his veins.

"Gods," you keened, your voice a desperate plea for release as he slowly sunk his middle and ring finger into your tight channel. Your body trembled, and you pressed yourself against him, urging him to continue.

Astarion released a long, shuddering breath. This was madness, this transgression. But the need was far too strong, too powerful.

His pale skin almost seemed to shimmer as he shifted his position on the bed. His scarlet eyes, usually so intense and piercing when preaching from the pulpit, were now dark with lust as they focused on your form laid out before him. The contrast between you was stark—him, the embodiment of forbidden restraint, and you, the very image of uninhibited desire.

"Father," you panted, your voice a sultry melody that tugged at the most carnal parts of him, "please..."

He slid his fingers deeper, eliciting a sharp intake of breath from you. The sight of your pleasure, the way you arched beneath his touch, drew a low groan from Astarion's throat. He was no longer the vampiric preacher who had given his life to God and vowed celibacy; he was a man, flesh and blood, driven by primal urges he could no longer deny. Your scent filled his senses, intoxicatingly sweet, and it sparked a curiosity that overshadowed all rational thought.

"Gods, I shouldn't..." He murmured, more to himself than to you, but the words died in his mouth as his tongue dared to taste the honeyed sweetness of your center. The flavor burst upon his senses—a delectable mix of sin and innocence—and his groan vibrated against your sensitive skin. It was a sound of pure, unadulterated need.

"M-more...please..don't stop," You encouraged breathlessly, your eyes half-closed, hands finding their way into his silver curls, urging him closer.

Astarion complied, his once-hesitant licks becoming more insistent, delving into your folds with fervor. The holy man within him screamed for repentance, for restraint, but he was drowned out by the carnal beast that had been awakened. With each stroke of his tongue and curl of his fingers, he mapped out every contour of your dripping cunt, committing your responses to memory like sacred scripture.

"Ah, Astarion," you moaned, a symphony to his ears.

"Y/N," he whispered against you, his voice husky with passion, "you taste positively divine ."

As he continued to worship at the altar of your body, the church bells of propriety and oath rang distant, irrelevant. In this moment, there was only you and the undeniable truth that you were bound by something far stronger than doctrine. The friction of his fingers inside of you, coupled with the relentless pursuit of his tongue, stoked a flame within you that threatened to consume you both.

"Father," you gasped, your plea a beautiful litany, "Aah - Gods, yes.."

Your hips bucked beneath him, the fierce desire in your eyes melting into a tempest of ecstasy. The supple flesh of your sex clenched around his fingers, and the sight of it, the feel of it, sent a shiver down his spine. The moments of hesitation were a blur in the past, all that remained was the hunger between you, the natural dance of bodies, the silent pleas for release.

He felt that familiar throb of anticipation, the prelude to a world of pleasure and sin. It would be a fall from grace, a transgression of the utmost magnitude. But he knew, deep down, that his heart would break if he denied you the satisfaction you so desperately craved.

He could feel the tension within your body, the resistance slowly fading away as you came closer to the edge. Your breaths, once short and gasping, now deep and labored as you allowed yourself to fully succumb to sinful bliss.

His fingers, still buried inside of you, crescendoed their rhythm, matching the tempo of your heartbeat. He traced the swell of your clitoris with his thumb and lapped at the nectar that spilled from you, staining his lips with its sweetness.

"Astarion," you whispered, your voice a low, sultry moan. "Please, I need more."

He understood. He needed more, too. He plunged his fingers deep within you once more, eliciting a scream of unadulterated pleasure. The supple flesh of your sex clenched and spasmed around him, and the sight of it, the feel of it, drew a deep growl from within his chest.

His breath was a harsh rasp, his every sense alight with the raw scent of desire that rose from your flushed skin. Withdrawing his hand and mouth from your quivering, wet warmth, he couldn't help but admire the sheen of arousal that coated him, a decadent gloss that marked his sin as much as it did his yearning. He gazed upon you, reclined and panting, through eyes hazed with lust, finding you all the more enchanting for the sweat that painted your delicious curves.

"Look at you," he murmured, voice laced with both reproof and undeniable affection, "such a greedy little thing."

His fingers, still trembling with the remnants of your pleasure, worked at the ties of his breeches with a deftness born of necessity—this shedding of his final vestment felt like the peeling away of his last vow. The fabric fell away, pooling around his knees before he kicked them off, discarding the cloth and constraint alike into a forgotten pile on the floor.

Bare now before you, the dying light cast shadows across his lean form, playing over the muscles that tensed with anticipation. His heavy, aching cock stood proud, a testament to their forbidden ardor, twitching as though it had a life of its own, the tip shining with evidence of his need.

"Can you handle more?" he asked, his voice a low growl that vibrated in the charged air between you. It wasn't just a question of your endurance; it was a challenge to his self-control, a plea for absolution for the hot sin you were about to commit.

Your response was caught in your throat, your eyes wide as you drank in the sight of him. In your gaze, Astarion saw the war between lust and trepidation—yet when you swallowed, it not only discarded your fears but also his lingering doubts.

"Please," you whispered, your voice thick with want. "Take me... I want to be yours."

The words crashed into him like a wave, sweeping away the last of his restraint. A part of him—the man who had clung to his faith amidst a sea of past temptations—whispered that this was the point of no return. But another part, deeper, more primal, rejoiced in the offering you presented.

"Then mine you shall be," he vowed, his mind afire with images of your union, of how he would fill you, stretch you, consume your essence until there was no distinguishing where one ended and the other began.

As he positioned himself at your entrance, the head of his cock nudging against your slick heat, he felt the weight of years of celibacy poised on the brink of oblivion. His heavy balls tightened, aching with the promise of release, the need to claim and be claimed overwhelming him.

"Are you ready?" he asked, his voice rough.

"Yes," came your breathless reply.

And with that single word, Astarion surrendered, gently pushing forward and guiding himself into your tight warmth with a slow, deliberate thrust.

You gasped as his girth split your virgin pussy, your body writhing beneath him, a silent plea for more. Astarion pushed in deeper, sinking slowly into you…inch by agonizing inch until you felt his balls press against the tender flesh of your ass. The sensation was unlike anything you had ever experienced, a divine mix of pain and pleasure that sent shivers down your spine.

"Ohh, Gods above ...you're so tight, little one" he whispered, pulling back just enough to tease your entrance and admire the pink ring of your ruined maidenhood around his shaft before plunging himself into your core once more.

You moaned, your hands clawing at his back, urging him on. “Mmf! Ahh…d-don't stop, please..."

Astarion groaned, his hips bucking urgently against you. He wanted to savor this moment, to take his time, but the beast within him demanded satisfaction. He shifted his angle, his cock rubbing at that sweetest spot inside of you just right as his crown pressed rough kisses against your cervix over and over again, and you cried out in pleasure and pain.

"Ahhh - fuck ," you cried, your voice a mixture of ecstasy and anguish, "Gods, it's too much...I can't-”

"Yes you can," Astarion whispered reassuringly, his breath hot against your ear. He thrust faster, harder, his cock sliding in and out of you with a wet, slapping sound. "You're taking me so well, sweet girl. Being so very good for me..."

Your body arched beneath him, your nails digging into his back as you climaxed hard, your orgasm hitting you like a whirlwind of bliss and agony.

Astarion felt your muscles clench around him, a vice-like grip that threatened to pull him under. His release was imminent, and he knew that once it came, there would be no turning back.

His thrusts became more frantic, the need to conquer your petite body overtaking him. Each movement was a battle, each thrust a plea, each twitch of his manhood a promise. He could feel the sweat dripping from his forehead.

"Forgive me," he grunted, his voice strained, his voice echoing your pleas from earlier. "I just can't control myself around you..."

You let out a needy, lustful whimper as your overstimulated body trembled beneath him, matching his rhythm as you reached once more for the edge of a new kind of bliss you had never known.

"I don't want you to control yourself," you huffed. "I want to feel every bit of you inside me."

Astarion groaned, his eyes rolling back as he plunged into you with reckless abandon, his cock twitching and pulsing within your snug hole. He felt your walls tighten around him, milking him for everything he had to offer. This was it; this was the moment. He knew that once he emptied himself inside of you, he would be lost in you forever. With a desperate cry, he buried himself to the hilt inside of your molten core, stuffing you completely with his thick, neglected manhood as his seed flooded and filled you, a substantial overflow seeping from where you remained joined - a testament to your sinful union.

As he collapsed onto you, his breathing came in ragged gasps. You lay beneath him, your eyes closed, face flushed with the afterglow of your lovemaking. You felt his cock twitching inside of you, still wrapped around him in a tight grip from your shared ecstasy.

He could feel your heart racing beneath him. This was not merely sex or desire; this was something forever altered, indelible in your souls. As your bodies calmed from their fervor, he found himself still nestled within your warmth, where he belonged.

He knew that to stay burrowed within you would be to invite temptation's final caress, but he could not make himself retreat. Not now, not ever. You were his now, and he was yours; there was no turning back...

[pharawee]

It's Friday Sunday, and that means it's time for more omegaverse shenanigans. 🥳

Sadly, this will be my last Pit Babe novel commentary post for a while because the main story only has 25 chapters. But worry not! Apparently there's a few extra chapters and if anything significant happens you'll be the first to know (but don't be surprised if it's just chapter upon chapter of kinky sex - that's just how Daddy and Papa Charlie and Babe roll).

If you want to catch up, you can find parts 1, 2, 3 & 4 here.

As for this part - expect major spoilers, shenanigans (both omegaverse and not), family reunions, family reunions... and fun card games. But more on that later.

For now, let's get back to Babe, who's apparently rich enough to own a white Ferrari. Show-off. He's currently on his way back to Khun Tony, and he's such a brat about it that he fools the guards into letting him through. Things escalate from there. Babe threatens to bring Tony to justice once and for all, to which Tony reacts with mild bemusement. He's no longer interested in Babe since he's lost his powers, and he even taunts him with Charlie's (supposed) death. No, Tony didn't want Charlie dead. He merely wanted to incapacitate him in order to bring him back home (because car accidents are such a precise science...). It's a pity that Charlie died but, really, at least he's free now. Or something.

This man must have stupid amounts of money to throw at all of his plans because, quite honestly, they're shit. Oh well, at least we know where Way learned his... well, unnecessarily long-winded (TEN YEARS!!) ways.

Babe has heard enough but sadly Kenta steps in before he can get his hands on Tony. This leads to more taunting and the appearance of Way, who casually slings Babe over his shoulder and forcibly removes him from the premises. Which leaves the guards like, "who tf even was that weirdo?" Oh, to be a guard in Khun Tony's employment...

(photoshop is my passion)

Meanwhile, Charlie (alive and, uh, relatively well) is still busy having his stolen powers exorcised by Babe's long-lost dad (the real one this time). The more he uses a particular ability, the longer it takes to meditate out of him. No, seriously, Reval and Charlie are basically just sitting in a room mind-palacing the powers away. Apparently it's very draining.

They also talk about Charlie's guilt, and how he believes it's best to stay away from Babe as not to hurt him again. Sure, he could leave the final decision to Babe but even that, he fears, might be selfish of him as that leaves Babe with the burden of having to decide in the first place. No matter what he does, it will cause Babe both happiness and pain - just like when Charlie's initial selfishness brought him closer to Babe and then almost drove him away entirely. Charlie's mind is going in circles. He's so protective of Babe that he doesn't realise - no matter his intentions, no matter his inaction - he can't untangle himself from the hurt he's already caused and will cause going forward.

Oh, and by the way? That moment when Charlie "died" in the hospital and Babe thought he was getting his powers back and had to listen in on every excruciating detail of Charlie's body shutting down? Yeah, turns out that was Charlie causing (mass) hallucinations and slowing down his body functions. Poor Alan had to go identify Charlie's body in the morgue while Babe was in such a bad way that he basically stopped functioning.

I've said this before and I'll say it again: what the hell, Charlie, you positively traumatised the poor boy. Could you maybe have kicked the bucket a little less dramatically? Did you really have to enact all of Babe's worst nightmares to make it more convincing? Just because you mean well (and didn't do it over the span of TEN YEARS for weird omegaverse breeding purposes) doesn't make it all right.

But more on that later.

Babe has made his way to a safe house. There, he meets Pete - the oldest of Tony's sons and currently AWOL, same as Babe. Pete is adorable, all sunshine and puppies and right-hand man of a local mafia boss. Or something. Because, you see, Pete figured out early on that the only way to leave Tony was to seek the protection of someone even worse. So he started working with the mafia, as you do. Apparently, he's so good at his job that he's convinced them all to go straight. Now he's studying to become a doctor. Oh, and also planning Tony's demise by preparing a really effective presentation.

That's where Babe comes in. Him visiting Tony's mansion was all a distraction - a sleight of hand, if you will. Even though he complains about Way manhandling him (Pete offers to get him a masseuse for the pain) it was all part of their plan:

While Babe distracted the guards by making a big stink, Way snuck into Tony's evil room of plotting (or something) and stole all of his evil data. When he later dragged Babe outside, he used the opportunity to slip the data stick into his pocket. On it there's evidence of all of Tony's evil business transactions. It would be easy to give it to the police, but Pete cautions against it. The evidence would simply vanish - something that has apparently happened many times before. Instead, Pete plans to reveal all of Tony's evil deeds in a way that makes it impossible for anyone to ignore.

We cut to Charlie and Babe sharing a cute moment. Wait, what?

"I've never loved anyone this much before." Babe's voice was soft, as if he didn't really want to accept reality, but he couldn't help but share those feelings with [Charlie]. "I'm afraid that if I love you too much, it will make you uncomfortable. [...] I'm afraid I can't love you as well as you love me."

Is it a dream? A memory? A (shared) vision? Whatever it is, before Babe wakes up from it, he and Charlie share some fundamental truths about themselves. About how Babe doesn't really know how to act now that he's in a relationship because he's never been allowed to be in love. About how he feels vulnerable and unsure, afraid of taking too much instead of giving back. But Charlie reassures him that he likes Babe just the way he is. He feels very loved, and anyway, he's also never loved anyone before so it's not like he has any grounds for comparison.

Meanwhile, Charlie also just woke up. He's given away the last of his powers and he's very exhausted. Jeff is with him to keep him company. Outside, it's just stopped raining. The rain makes Charlie think of Babe because it accompanied them throughout their relationship: when they argued, when they fought, and when they first became boyfriends.

"And the first day you became a normal person, it also rained," Jeff added with a small smile [...]. "But you couldn't see it in time. Only I saw." "Yes, when I woke up, the rain had already stopped." "Maybe that's a good sign." "A good sign?" "Yes," the young man nodded lightly. "Because the rain has stopped. [...] The sky is clear now."

What is this? Allegory? In my omegaverse novel??

There's always been a shadow hanging over Charlie and Babe's relationship - heavy and dark like a rain cloud, constantly reminding them of their past, their powers and the lies it took for them to even meet. Charlie has worked hard to rid them of their powers, and Babe is busy taking action against Tony. Maybe honesty and trust are all that stand in the way of them getting their happily ever after...

Until then, all they have is last night's dream, because as it turns out Charlie shared Babe's vivid memory. Babe's powers were the last to get exorcised and perhaps it created a momentary psychic bond between them. You never know with these omegaverse x-men.

What follows is the moment we've all been waiting for: the grand finale. The Ides of... whatever month this is but I hope Khun Tony gets stabbed to death by all of his adopted children. Et tu Way!

Meanwhile, Khun Tony is throwing a party. And by party I mean a human trafficking auction where he sells off some of his beloved children to fellow rich people. Charming. Why bother with a plan at all? Why not set everything on fire?

Right, because Pete really, really wants everyone to see his presentation.

Currently, Babe is disguising himself as a waiter. We all know waiting (and retail) staff are invisible to most people so no one recognises him except for one lone guard who's so smitten that he asks Babe out on a date.

Pete is also in disguise while Way pretends to be a good son and accompanies Tony for some good old-fashioned evil mingling. Their plan is to disrupt the auction and reveal all of Tony's illegal machinations.

This is a very questionable idea because I don't know about you but if I was at an auction trying to buy a child I'd probably not care if the auctioneer was evil. I'd probably ask for a slice of the evil pie.

Just as Babe is about to set their plan in motion, he's interrupted by Kenta. Uh-oh.

But, much like Pete and Way, Kenta too has had enough of Tony and was just waiting for the perfect moment to act. He assures Babe that he won't interfere. In fact, it was him who let Way into Tony's evil room of plotting to gather all of the incriminating info on him. Et tu Kenta!

"About helping you guys, this is a personal matter. [...] I have a brain, I can think for myself, and I know what to do. [...] But not everyone has many choices. Especially me. I can't make the same choice as you. [...] So, this is the best I can do. [...] You can handle the rest yourself, right?"

And so, Kenta leaves this story (presumably with some of Tony's financial assets) never to be seen again. What a shame. Kim's existence in the series will hopefully fix this.

Meanwhile, the auction is about to begin. I mean, the... uh, fundraising for poor, underprivileged children who also happen to have powers. Everyone's delighted - except for the poor kids who are led on stage one by one and then sold off like priced cattle. The thought alone makes Babe sick. Would the same have happened to him if he hadn't run away that day (no Babe, I thought we had established that you'd have been part of the breeding program...)?

And now, after having watched episode 5 of the tv series, I wonder if this is where the plot will lead us in lieu of the omegaverse plot. Tony mentioned an auction. I wonder if his goal is to sell Babe (and any other of his adopted children) for profit.

Anyway.

Babe's thoughts are cut short by a guard patrolling in front of Pete and his hiding place. Babe decides to check things out but he's quickly overwhelmed by the much stronger guard. He starts choking Babe and things almost go from bad to worse until someone unexpected comes to Babe's rescue.

That someone is Charlie - and there's a short, sweet and intense reunion between them that proves all of his fears wrong:

"I'm sorry." "It's okay," Babe let go of the hug and immediately responded without stopping for a second, his palms framed the other man's cheeks, before kissing his entire face: his forehead, nose, cheeks and lips. "It's okay, Charlie. Really, it's okay." The beautiful alpha hugged the tall young man again while repeating "It's okay" over and over again until the listener felt guilty.

Well, that was easy. But more on that later.

Charlie, Babe and Pete quickly catch up and then join forces. Pete is amazed that Charlie gave up his powers to escape Tony's clutches, going so far as to even fake his death to protect his loved ones. He's also amazed that he'd even dare come here - powerless and without a nifty presentation.

(And also, how does this whole having no powers thing even work? Did Reval - and in turn Charlie when he stole Babe's powers - rewrite Charlie's whole dna? Because how else would that even affect Tony's evil breeding program? And why am I so concerned about the specifics of omegaverse shenanigans? For all I know none of these characters even know or care about dna.)

It's quickly decided - probably due to Charlie's lack of nifty presentations - that they'll continue following Pete's plan. But wait, where is Jeff? There's no way he'd have let Charlie come here on his own!

Back at the auction, another child is led onto the stage to be sold. It's none other than Jeff. The auction grinds to a halt while Tony attempts to save face. This leaves Jeff with enough time to introduce himself and his powers. His name is Jeff, he's a 20-year-old omega and he can see the future.

"In no more than ten minutes, everyone in this room will have the same future." Jeff looked around the room with a bright smile before saying his next sentence which made the entire meeting room fall silent. "That is, death." The little Omega smiled broadly as if his own prediction was very pleasant.

I love Jeff so much. Make them suffer!

He then adds that there's a bomb hidden in the building and it will go off if even one person attempts to leave. Who even needs nifty presentations when you've got... Oracle Omega (no seriously, this is what the novel - or rather, the machine translation - calls him. Maybe it's his code name).

Everyone is then forced to watch Pete's presentation. I really, really hope it looks something like this:

I'm not joking, it has talking cartoon dogs. Interactive talking cartoon dogs overlaid with incriminating voice files of Tony.

Turns out Tony's guests are okay with human trafficking and buying children but they draw the line at violence and murder embezzlement. Everyone is all shocked and clutching their pearls and secretly very glad that their names don't come up in this weird cartoon dog powerpoint presentation.

Tony's acting all cool until the cartoon dogs reveal that this presentation is broadcast live and for everyone to see - this includes live footage of the auction.

But it's never too late to fix your past mistakes so Tony draws his gun on Jeff because he would have gotten away with it too if it weren't for you meddling kids!

Luckily, Way quickly intervenes before Tony can fire his gun, but even though Tony's many guards are somewhat suspicious of a little guy with a bomb and someone who hypnotises people for a living, they're quickly overpowered. In the control room above, Charlie, Babe and Pete don't fare much better.

Everything seems lost until there's a loud crash.

It's Alan in a black supercar and he's crashed through the doors leading to the auction hall.

They're on the second floor (it is sadly later revealed that Alan didn't drive up the stairs - the car was already parked in front of the doors because this is what rich people do to impress other rich people, I guess).

But Alan isn't alone. He's brought several other racers, among them Six (Babe's old rival who was probably turned into either Kim or Winner in the series). Six is a powerful alpha who can cause mass hallucinations that are so strong that they're banned by law.

Yeah.

Tony's guards are going down!

Meanwhile, Tony has had enough. He locks down the whole mansion so no one can escape. Charlie, Babe and Pete make their way up to the roof because there might be a skylight without security doors. They have guns, the many guards have guns, but it's okay because this is where Pete enigma powers come in.

You see, Pete has super control over his whole body, meaning that he never misses a shot.

I guess this explains this bit in the series (except for the part where the arrows are all over the place). But also congrats to Way for his future boyfriend with amazing body control.

While Pete is busy being awesome, Charlie and Babe lament the fact that they're probably going to die here when there's so much sex still to be had. :((((

Things are looking dire indeed. They're surrounded and out of bullets. One of the guards takes aim at Babe but before the bullet can hit him Charlie intervenes by jumping into its path. Miraculously, he's okay.

But that's because a few steps away Way has also jumped into the bullet's path and it's hit him instead. Babe is in shock. He hates Way for what he's done but in a way he's still his best friend. While Alan unsuccessfully tries to stop the bleeding Babe comes closer:

"Babe…" Way's dry voice called out his name as soon as he knelt beside him. "This is all I can do." Babe was silent, he just stared at his former best friend's face, tears flowing silently, without him even realizing it. "I know whatever price I pay, it probably won't be enough. But this is all I can do." Way's voice is very soft, as light as his breath. "…. I'm sorry for being a friend like this.."

And then he dies. Babe is inconsolable, sobbing and tightly hugging Way's lifeless body. He's still angry with Way, and he'll never forgive him for what he's done, but he didn't want him to die.

They better change this whole part in the series or I'll riot. I watched Nut Supanut die once in Something in my Room and I still haven't recovered.

Their victory is overshadowed by Way's death. Tony is apprehended alive and taken into custody. His evil alpha trafficking and breeding program is no more.

A little while later, Charlie finds Babe sitting alone in the mansion's garden. They talk, and Charlie apologises once more for letting Babe believe that he was dead. If Babe wants him to, he will disappear from his life and even stop racing cars so that they'll never have to meet again. This is all he can do: give Babe the freedom to decide for himself. But Babe only asks him if he truly wants to leave, and of course Charlie doesn't. And that's that. Babe has made his choice. He has decided long ago that he wants Charlie in his life.

Their long-lasting painful lives ended in the garden of the mansion that raised them to grow up like caged animals, allowing them to meet and fall in love. Today, everything has ended. It ended with the falling rain washing away their blood stains, sweat and tears, as well as a sweet kiss that he had been thinking about for a long time, making him feel able to stand in the rain without feeling afraid.

Oh, the rain allegory (and also oh, the bad machine translation)!

The novel ends quietly with Way's funeral, eerily similar to Charlie's fake funeral a few weeks prior. It's attended by the same handful of people. Even the clothes they wear are the same (which is convenient, I guess, but also... ouch!). Despite his many wrongdoings, people loved Way - and this includes Babe. And as it turns out, it was Way who got rid of whoever caused Babe's racing accident. He never told anyone about it.

Babe stays behind with Charlie and mourns his friend. He recognises that his feelings of friendship and betrayal are both valid and important (and later on it's established that Babe actively works on processing his traumatic experiences with the help of medication and therapy - and you know, I really appreciate the novel's nuanced approach to a character's mental health. It's an incredibly rare thing to see in Thai BL and an even rarer thing in most kinky stories). He won't forgive Way but...

"In the next life, please be kind to me. Don't deceive me again [...] Be a good friend, idiot!"

Which is as much of a peace-offering as anyone can hope for - wishing to meet each other again in the next life under better circumstances. Negl, I teared up because it's such a bittersweet thing to say. 😭

Meanwhile, Alan and Jeff have gone ahead and are talking in the car. Their ending is vaguely romantic (with their growing relationship hopefully developing further in the bonus chapters) but for now, all Alan asks of Jeff is to accept him in his heart as his brother. Please, don't phi nong me, novel!

And because this is Pit Babe the novel, we get one last drawn out sex scene that consists of Charlie trying to cheer Babe up by suggesting a game of naughty cards. A bit like strip uno, I guess. Naturally, Babe wins, but Charlie is allowed to leave his glasses on - and wear nothing but an apron while he gives Babe the bestest and longest and absolutely mindblowing (yes, there's a lot of blowing too) dicking of his life. Babe, my man, enjoy. You truly deserve it.

The End.

No wait, the novel actually ends with Babe and Charlie racing again for this year's title of King of the Hollow. Charlie is very skilled now, and it's very close but I'm relieved to say that Babe's experience and talent isn't all for nothing and OF COURSE HE FUCKING WINS.

The End.

Hold on, wait. I forgot about the part where Charlie takes Babe to see Reval - his real father. And of course Babe forgives him and it's all very sweet and they live happily ever after.

THE END. For real this time. Except for the bonus chapters. And unless the mpreg happens there (I mean, Jeff and North are technically available...), that's it for the omegaverse shenanigans.

When I first started writing these commentary posts I never thought they'd become so detailed and long - or that people would actually be interested in reading them. Thank you so much to everyone who left replies and tags. Sharing the insanity and reading everyone's reactions was honestly the best part of it all. May Pit Babe the series treat us kindly, and may none of us ever pop up in a cartoon dog powerpoint presentation. 🙏

[fumifooms]

Thistle & Falin

Just my narrative of Thistle & Falin, collection of shippy thoughts and dynamic analysis. Creating some imagery and threads, etc. What if we both made devotion to our loved ones our purpose, what if we both hadn’t lived for ourselves in a long, long time. Who are we? Beyond who we love and our powers, what are we?

Background info: a short Falin analysis touching on Faligon and Thistle + an old thistlin post, compiling most of their moments. Here I delve into further thoughts but for base analysis of what they have in canon and in potential those are good starts. If you want I also have a full Falin analysis.

Disclaimer: Beyond the nebulous 1000 years I place Thistle as a young adult, and though I agree Falin mothers him to some degree I don’t think it’s unsimilar to the way that Marcille is a mom friend that sometimes mothers Falin and Izutsumi especially. Their relationship has layers like every other one in Dunmeshi, reducing it to being incestuously motherly or age discoursy to justify it being problematic is so funny to me, hello did you miss the mind control. Ah yes I love the 1090 yo with godlike powers being groomed by his chicken slave. You can have your own interpretation but canon is ambiguous enough, and dare I say intentionally ambiguous, that I have no qualms with not infantilizing Thistle, same with Yaad at the end of canon. I do ship Thistle and Falin, and although it’s in a nebulous qpr-or-other third secret thing situationship instead of conventionally romantic way, like, I puke on anything giving them a parental framing so don’t come shitting on my doorstep, kid-Thistle truthers be warned. Only nuance enjoyers allowed on this post. It’s valid if you’re uncomfortable with the ship!! Don’t make your issue others’ problem.

I thankfully finished my Falin analysis before posting this, but besides that I also have an analysis coming on the whole Thistle age thing which I think is interesting, beyond the well being poisoned there are things to explore there, idk in how long that’ll be done though. That’s all for plans that are relevant to this, now let’s get into it.

Part 1

So my favorite Falin things are Faligon + her sense of being like a pawn/misplaced, going on autopilot to follow the wishes of others, a feeling of identity being a burden and sort of fleeing from that, and her not really caring in the way/with the intensity that she’s "supposed" to (as per the points I go over in my Falin analysis). Meanwhile, Thistle has a lot of shit going on already but then there’s also how being a dungeon lord is highly wearing on his mind. As Faligon and as dungeon lord Thistle, the way they’re both so out of touch with reality in different ways holy shit?? They have power imbalance between them and it very much comes from mind control lol, but it’s also not something Thistle is fully aware of himself, because the powers are driving him unstable and he’s not even aware there’s someone in front of him really. He’s so out of it that he can’t even recognize that the dragon has been fused with a human and she’s so out of it we can’t even tell how conscious of her actions she is.

And then the interesting thing is that they’re kind of in it together… Mostly from Falin’s standpoint. We see that he does rely on the dragon increasingly so, hanging out with it, being saved by it and embraced by her etc. When he lets them both fall after breaking the web they were hanging from, he automatically, fully and wordlessly trusts her to catch him, instead of relying on magic or anything, and she does. Falin devotes herself to him but he’s devoted to The Cause which is just chasing ghosts at this point. But despite it all there’s a weird comfort here too… From the guy who in his last moment of lucidity reached out for someone, anyone’s hand, from the guy who hasn’t felt companionship in hundreds of years probably, hasn’t taken it slow and slept and eaten in who knows how long, from the girl who feels compelled to care after him like she’s always done with others… And the beast-ness allows her to have some freedom to figure herself out in a weird way, to simply enjoy being beside someone and doing anything her own whims tell her to.

It’s very destructive and weird and layered but like…. I can see the sliver where it works out. Where her kindness reaches him and he has a moment of lucidity where he sees her and it’s like, wait, who are you, you’re not the dragon?? Where finding someone else who feels just as messed up and devoted as them, like they’re just trudging along life like it’s a dream following their loved one, heals them a bit. Where caring for the other becomes a way to care for themselves too, a dark mirror of each other that shows you, oh, this is how bad it can get and I want to choose something else for myself actually. To grow to see the person standing in front of you, instead of only searching with your eyes in what way they’ll reflect on you. In helping each other, finding some companionship that’s weirdly vulnerable and self-healing. He gets her in touch with herself and her own needs again through the arc and conflict they have, and she gets him in touch with the world and his surroundings again. They have clashing ways to be selfless, very self-sacrificial from Falin meanwhike self-centered with Thistle (he ‘knows best’, ‘everything needs to be left to him’, etc etc, he needs the control, but he does it all for others, meanwhile Falin leaves that control to others and only grabs it for herself in exceptional cases like sacrificing herself to the dragon for Laios).

Like just let yourself be, damn!!! So then them being like, zombie mentally stunted babies kind of enhances that theme in a way too lol. The way they communicate together is very… Instinctive and basic, and I’d love to see how it could develop into a functional dynamic. They’re in ‘learning to be your own person’ kindergarten together to me. Thistle looking at her coloring wildly outside the lines and being like "you’re doing it wrong" and then you look at his and he colored everything a weird color. The precision is scary but then his crayon goes 1 mm out of the lines and he blows up into tears. Ok the metaphor has run its course

So yeah like the ship/brotp is very, them being isolated and against the world together and like… Slowly regaining their minds together. Getting their sense of identity grounded into them again. In my mind they have a 50k words adventure where they hang out and he slowly realizes there’s more to her than just dragon and she encourages him to dawdle around and eventually just play in water and shit and it’s like, starting to see life again beyond the laser focus you limited yourself to… And she’s allowed to just chill out and do whatever she wants besides the whole searching for Delgal thing. You can’t tie down a dragon! They are a duo they are an unit‼️ He’d have been fucked without her and at this point in time he sort of made her and he’s her world. Traumabonded kittens do not separate but it’s onesided in different ways haha. Honestly it’s sort of reflavored mickuro wait fuck…

If nothing else, they’re a very interesting dynamic to ponder. The depths of it all… I want to use them as a social experiment. I want them to stop to smell at the flowers and learn to work together… They’re master and servant they’re owner and pet they’re mothering and mothered (in a guardian hound way, in a mom friend way) they’re both incredibly (emotionally and physically) vulnerable in different ways…… Master and monster if you will. Mostly I see them as guardian & leader. Like I said I ship them but it’s not really romantic atp I think but it’s not quite qpr either it’s truly a weird secret third thing… What if we were sort of coworkers but also ?!!!>??????! You should hate me but you fiercely protect me I should appreciate you but I only see you as a tool WHAT IS GOING ONNN IN THERE

He wants to be protected even if he can’t really admit it. Here the catalyst was emotional distress moreso than physical threat. Notice how he lays there under her wing for a bit as he (refuses to) processes what Mithrun told him about Delgal dying and betraying him. She’s becoming his safety net, his comfort hound. Somehow, the both of them find they’re soothed in each other’s presence.

It kills me. Them being so toxic at the start of it, then somehow ambiguously just hinting towards how things could have went on to be better, could have been headed somewhere nice and healing and healthier, she dies and he dies everyone fucking dies and they forget each other and it ends there they never speak of each other again. Canon wanted me dead specifically. Like remember too that I was there when the last chapters where being released, my ass really was like "Oh I wonder how Falin will react seeing Thistle after being revived!" 🤡 But yess at least that means there’s a lot of Unsaid, a lot of space for speculation, and I want to see what could have been. I want to see it so so bad. It’s so interesting

Post-canon is also so interesting, where they’re sort of recovered but not fully not really, them actually getting to know each other… And she doesn’t remember him but he doesn’t remember her either, in a way they’ve never met even though they have, even though she was the first one on his side since so long, the first hint of companionship he’s had, companionship that he’s so unused to getting that he can’t even recognize it for what it is. He couldn’t even recognize a human standing in front of him!! He is so disconnected from others and the world!! He spoke to ghosts like they had no worries in the world and everyone was ok!! He’s out of touch, tone-deaf af!! Has always been tone-deaf!! Being tone-deaf when he was younger, a stick in the mud, caused him to be more isolated than he already was… Autism4autism, anyways—

It’s them not knowing why or how to express it but being drawn together, a bond forged together by the fire of circumstances and coincidences— or is it only that? No one can know for certain but there’s a grip they have on each other there somehow. Weird distant caring thing. I dont know who you are but I feel like I should know you

It’s like my headcanon that she doesn’t know why, but on her travels she feels something when she comes across wild thistle flowers… There are just faint remnants, whispers of feelings like ghosts.

They should be remnants in each other’s lives. A deja vu of a person in the way Falin hugs small dolls to her chest, or how Thistle reminisces of something when he sees bird feathers discarded on the ground. < This paragraph courtesy of @cabinette’s huge brain

He canonically writes poems btw… Poems would be such a good way for him to get in touch with himself again post-canon, find desires in again and get creative fulfillment. He should make poems about her. To explore and vent and express all the vague feelings and memories he has, both those of during canon and after canon. He doesn’t remember her but he remembers her, slivers of kind eyes and warm gentle hands and healing magic like a blanket…

Yaad, an unlicensed therapist but the best you're gonna get in fantasy land: Maybe you should try journaling.

And too the thing is their relationship with each other in a way is ONLY about themselves, even when Falin is being self-sacrifical it’s less about him and more about how she generally is, that sort of instinct to latch onto someone and just follow along with whatever they do and ask, meanwhile to Thistle she’s only ever been a factor in his plans. Idk idk them getting to that point where they see and know each other, stumbling into that through canon or actively working towards it post-canon, there’s weird beauty in that Like. Thistle cares about her because he’ll take anyone as long as they fit the job description well enough, he’s desperate to find Delgal and will grasp at straws to find him. In a similar way that he’ll reach for someone, anyone’s hand on the verge of death, she seeks to protect someone, anyone. That’s how she centers herself, makes someone her compass and her world. Falin wants to protect someone and Thistle would use anyone, pushed to the states they were in they would latch onto anyone for comfort (caring for him, grabbing Marcille’s hand).

Mirrors truly truly. And Thistle likes to shatter those, and silence anyone who tries to talk to him about reality, so then the option left is to be by him quietly and subtly gradually, gently (her specialty) nudge him in the right direction … Nooo but actually why did he shatter those mirrors. Very interesting to think about. Would seeing himself in others anger him?

I like to call him a ghost of who he was sometimes, a ghost of the past, he’s so haunted, and I think there’s fun imagery there too. The care she offers Thistle somewhat reminds me of the one she offers ghosts. I wonder if part of it is that she sees herself in ghosts, that she wants to offer them freedom and peace of mind she can’t get for herself.

And of course meanwhile on her end, the thistlin arc is also about growing self-respect. I don’t want to see Thistle as a lost cause in saying that her efforts are wasted on him, but being so permissive and invested in him is obviously not healthy for her. She needs to learn when to put her foot down

Oooh, just realized that choosing to eat in this scene was a big character moment all things considered. By eating she faltered in her task, stood up for herself and her needs, was selfish for once (/positive go get your damn food girl). She chose to eat. Anyways

I bet he’s the one who healed her wounds after the Shuro party fight. And on that note— it’s interesting he could change her form from Falin to Faligon without touching her isn’t it? Healing by everyone else like Marcille and Falin always required touch, physical contact between the healer and healee, which some like Chilchuck say is a negative, but… The dungeon lord not needing to touch to heal makes a nice metaphor for how isolating the powers are I think. Truly clinical instead of warm. Theme of community and freely offering affection in Dungeon Meshi etc etc. Like I said, Thistle is out of touch.

The way that he has the powers to change her form and heal and like soo much magic power but he can’t even realize when he’s hurting himself and she’s the one who has to heal him. He’s so fully devoted to the cause even when he acts selfishly that he neglects himself too, and she has to remind him to take care of himself, to eat, etc. That she feeds him. Eating is an act of love to yourself and to life. The berries, the curry, the soup that Thistle refuses to eat—

Do you see the vision. Do you see all the narrative relevance and themes and parallels of their dynamic. To chase ghosts, to cling onto them so they stay with you no matter how warped and ugly they get, and to soothe souls, purifying them and helping them depart for the afterlife… Both magic prodigies whose lives revolve around protecting and caring after their loved ones more than anything else. A family member who looks elsewhere while they are their whole world. They can flee their emotional issues together 🤝 Who are we? Beyond who we love and our power, what are we? I think about the way she cradled him in her arms just before they fell down into the dungeon all the time idk idk

^ End notes from the one fic I wrote about them so far: Slivers, on AO3. For a moment, they were both slivers of themselves, bound together.

Thistle feverishly holding onto ghosts of the past and his source of power, meanwhile Falin cradles the people she can protect in the now with the powers that reside in her… Him cradling his book, her cradling her master……… Parallels

Interlude

And yess it’s important to remember too, Thistle became a mage only after delgal asked… He had innate talent, but moreso than Falin it’s through studies that he learned to actually harness his magic etc. Idk I think it’s an interesting parallel that could have interesting stuff be done on it. People often characterize him as predominantly bratty but. He’s smart and composed he’s mainly smart and composed… He’s unstable and everything during canon was happening all at once with the winged lion being freed and Laios’ party and the canaries and agh </3 He can have a meltdown as a treat he’s smart and cool-headed if it wasn’t for the dungeon wearing on his mind ok… Obvi I love my chars with anger issues but saying he’s overly childish is having tunnel vision I think

Ok so the elephant in the room… First of all how present is Falin in Falugon exactly…… We have no clue. The end sequence does show her in purgatory with a dragon foot holding her down, which can easily be read as it suppressing her personality- with how it’s shown though it feels like she’d be fully suppressed by that? And we know that’s not the case, since not only does she recognize Laios and calls out to him, she hesitates to hurt Kuro because of the dog association, she’s excessively kind towards Thistle, the latter which her Adventurer’s Bible profile confirm to be "her kind nature remaining as the chimera". Maybe it’s a dream-like state? Maybe the dragon is the driving force with the instincts, and it’s only bits of Falin and her personality that show through? A state of mind very primal and not very think-y, even if Falin has enough brains to think of sharing the berries, gesturing and oh- of course, casting magic. No issues with controlling the human half of her body as well. To some degree, her and the dragon are working in tandem. My own preferred interpretation is the driven by instincts one, a state of mind like an actual dragon’s, which in my Falin analysis I delve into the significance of it for other parts of Dunmeshi too. So yeah, dreamlike mindless autopilot… I think exploring her pov as Faligon would go super hard. Aware of her surroundings but sort of disconnected with it, and disconnected from herself too, entirely living in the present… And like with her talking to Laios— the only time she speaks in her chimera form, a simple observation, "Laios, brother", sometimes her human thoughts peek through more sharply, short moments of lucidity… I think it’d be interesting to see an arc where as the chimera, she learns to share the "brainspace" more with the dragon.

It’s also unclear if Thistle had a say in how much of ‘Falin the human’ is in control? He very well might have suppressed her somehow when he changed her form to be more dragonlike. That might also be due to just getting back the dragon meat though— and the dragon meat itself might be why/how the brainspace is shared. There is a lot less of Falin’s body in the chimera than there is of the dragon, body mass wise. Dungeon Meshi is a lot about physicality so I wouldn’t be surprised with this reasoning. But there’s the whole mind control soul bond situation too…

The mind bond is another thing that’s left mostly to interpretation when it comes to the details. She feels compelled to listen to the dungeon lord’s orders as a monster created and owned by it, like the dragons Thistle summoned during the fight at his house, but again like we see with the dragons, if the monster has a "strong will" it can disobey to some level without being punished by the bind or anything. The eyes of the magician, the small wyverns, level-of-control wise can’t be accurate examples because they’re sort of like familiars, Thistle can see through their eyes in real time no matter where they are but it’s only this species as far as we know. So otherwise the mind bond is more subtle… There’s also the question of how much the control is shared between the dungeon lord and the demon, which again Thistle’s situation is exceptional because he managed to seal his demon in a book, presumably all the power goes through Thistle without the intermediate of the winged lion, though we do see he has some reach since he reaches Laios through his dreams. ANYWAYS all that to say. I do really ponder about how a dungeon lord's monsters get their orders, like... For the fight on the first floor, did Falin just feel Thistle's agony in her bones and came clawing and barging her way in desperately and angrily to protect him because of his distress, or did he more directly demand she come, consciously or not?! Idk, since Falin is actively protective of him unlike the dragons who reluctantly listen to him, her being very fast and intense about it doesn’t have to be forced… It’d be interesting if she can sense his feelings, wants or thoughts, bc I don’t think it’s as conscious as like, telepathically communicating "hey you, do this"…? Pondering, pondering. Mind bond <3 Soulbound <3

They’re both very trapped in the past… I wonder if as Faligon a lot of her mind goes back to memories of Laios and such, if she’s in a dreamlike state and not just sort of absent, where would her mind retreat... I don’t think so like I said I think she’s mostly driven by dragonlike mindlessness, but still… Thistle stuck in the search of Delgal, thinking back to everything they’ve shared and where it all went wrong obsessively, and Falin, sort of larping that she’s still beside Laios, not unlike how Thistle treats having the corpses of the royal family at his house like them being safe. Delusions. Idk I just want more character studies.

The metaphors in this truly… It’s not literal, like def not something that happens during canon at no point are they or could be ever atop a mountain of frames and paintings of the Golden Kingdom’s royal family and fine art lmaoo, so then like the meaning behind it all… She offers him reprieve, an outsider from all the Golden Kingdom expectations and drama, just someone warm to lean on, someone who’ll stay…….. I love Faligon pushing him to rest and nap so much. Man has first nap in a thousand years. Feather duvet like a nice warm pillow. The peace she offers him man……. Live in the present bbygirl Unfortunately it doesn't help. Look at them eyebags… Man needs to sleep!!

Part 2

^ This panels drives me crazy It’s the possessivity. It’s the "my". It’s the "stealing".

What if you have fear of abandonment and think you have to prove your worth for people to stay by your side. What if belonging to someone makes you feel like you belong and you feel loved and soothed by it lowkey, feel like it makes things easy. What if I was bought as a slave and servant but I was adopted into a pretty loving family. What if ownership is what love looks like to me. What if that’s why I have no problem rationalizing keeping people against their will in a glorified kingdom-prison, because that’s just what someone with the power who Knows Better does, and… Did he always call her his dragon hello? Feelings

He is not letting it go damn He hates when people mess with what's his. Or Delgal’s.

But imagine. The dragon is like, the last thing he has. The Golden Kingdom has moved on from him, everything is shit, but his dragon is the last thing he still has some realm of like. Ownership over. But that ownership is kinda just his sense of belonging. His role, his duty.  So it’s like "Don’t steal the last thing I have" especially if post-canon… It’s thinking from his time as a jester bought into a loving family that ownership is natural in love and care. It’s thinking that’s the way you get to belong beside someone, beside earning that through achievements and being useful and capable. Everything is being stolen away from him. Control and things and people and even the importance he has to the Golden Kingdom as he becomes part of the background & past history and the kingdom switches into new hands aka Laios’…

My dragon, not the dragon. I do like to imagine especially after the berries he’s starting to feel differently about her. He keeps being like "you’re acting odd, dragon". His dragon is special. She’s not just another regular monster npc to easily replace, there’s human contact in there. His dragon just for him. <3

I do think Falin has some issues with like, asking to be with the people she loves, feeling safe in asking for that, that she’s worth that. She follows them and is quiet and just takes the crumbs of love that they offer, she doesn’t ask Marcille at the academy to spend lunches with her, doesn’t ask anything of her distant busy father and ill anxious mother… The person she did ask things of, Laios, who she always asked to go travel the world with him and whatnot, left her behind. Like how Delgal left Thistle. Theme of leaving </3 theme of family and abandonment issues </3 So she just follows and cares after them and makes herself useful and is grateful she gets to be beside them at all. So yeah what I’m saying is being owned/belonging to someone might feel yeah like, belonging. Being One Person's. He’s seen her at her worst and most bloody and raw, and still wants her? Very comforting And especially post-canon he doesn’t need her to be witty or useful or such, he just needs her love and that’s what she has lots to give.

Do you think Falin wants to be needed… Do you think she’s a little restless if she doesn’t feel like she is, like she thinks just like Laios people might leave you behind and you never see them again.  It’s also because of what she said, that she put others before herself, that she just followed/imprinted on her parents/Laios/Marcille. She avoided conflict, she wanted to be liked and live in peace. The only times she was selfish, she hurt people (left school for Laios, sacrificed herself for them, teleported them out despite possibly hurting people on the surface), so she chooses to be selfless instead. "One of the most selfish things i've ever done was barely even for the sake of myself" - Falin and Toshiro both hah Falin is often told she doesn’t care the right way or not enough, you’re cutting classes Falin, I’m upset you left me and you don’t even seem to think it’s a big deal Falin, you shouldn’t have sacrificed yourself to save me (her not noticing her ostracization in her village wasn’t told to her but I’m including it also). And with Toshiro when considering her proposal, she was worried to accept because yeah it’s have been convenient but she wouldn’t be reciprocating his feelings in the way he wants and expected her to with what he asked of her… And she’s worried it wouldn’t be right… Bc she doesn’t care about the proposal on the same level he does….. I just think that’s neat I think that Falin caring both too little and too much, with laser focus on Laios & Marcille neglecting even herself, is a big part of her. She focuses on others and their emotional needs so so much always, babygirl be selfish for a while…

Thistle’s interaction with Laios is interesting too, especiaoly when Kaios heals him. How he looks at his shoulder, surprised and confused… Guy who's used to not having his personal needs met because he's so busy doing everything for the people he cares about receives care??? Woah that’s crazy Something something being so unused to human contact and affection that you don’t know how to process it and don’t recognize it when it happens/stares you right in the face. Thistle the Toudens are gonna make you open up ur heart to humans again on god…

What if… He doesn’t want to admit she’s not the dragon. If he admits it’s not the dragon that means giving up some control… This was not in his plan, he doesn’t know how well he can control a chimera rather than a dragon, it’s weakness it’s vulnerability it’s feeling like he’s losing his grip on everything again and thus losing his place and purpose. Hmm…

Finding yourself through someone else… Because defining yourself through others is what you’ve always done… Yeah. Yeah.

I do love it tying into Falin’s arc of finding herself. Like, she doesn’t remember her time as a chimera, she just remembers this guy she has conflicted but fond feelings of for some reason, so say if they travel post-canon, traveling with him would also be a way to figure out more how she’s feeling, and then there’s how when looking at him she gets the feeling that it’s been a long time he hasn’t lived for himself either… And like for him traveling is about seeing the world a bit too. Seeing it not as something to control or always dangerous but something to explore, and just enjoy the little things instead of worrying about the court. And just. Aghhhh. He hasn’t had someone on his side for centuries. Sighs. Of course Yaad also becomes that largely but traveling post-canon with Falin… Would love to see that in fancontent

Them growing to SEE each other, with the film in front of their eyes slowly fading away. Both of them coming out of it more genuine than they’d been even before meeting, before becoming warped, growing more comfortable in their skin and with the thought of connecting with others. It’s the mutual care <33 it’s having been on each other’s side at both your ugliest <3 Unconventional caring...

Toshiro saying "you can’t tie down a dragon" is always so good… Someone should so do stuff with that. "But you can tame it" / "I tried to once" / "but she chose to stay with me anyways"… Musical theme of How to Train your Dragon starts playing in the distance

When/after they get together, I feel like their relationship isn’t something they like to label… If anything it’s like. Partner. Or calling each other by name… Him calling her my dragon, except now it’s warm and personal would be so. Aughh <3 But then that just also makes the first time he calls her by name so huge.

Conclusion

They and their relationship is weird and unusual but that’s just how they are, and how they need to accept themselves (again: as they are) and roll with it! And make a place in the world for them anyways!

Magic forced them to be vulnerable in front of each other but it’s them who have to like… Be pushed out of their passivity and do something with that vulnerability.

BROTHERSSS THEY’RE BOTH ALL ABOUT BROTHERS. LEAVING. OUT OF TOUCH WITH REALITY. OUT OF TOUCH WITH THEMSELVES AND THEIR OWN IDENTITY. In a twisted way only the other would understand what it’s like.

Thistlin is so crazy, in humanizing you it humanizes me, in recognizing you for what you are I get more back in touch with the world again.

Flighted birds have hollow bones. With freedom there are risks and drawbacks. Thistle was Falin’s.

It’s not everyday you can have a ship where both characters are out of touch with reality and others and themselves and have this weird almost innate bond of her being compelled to protect him and care for him and him holding onto that unknowingly… Even if he didn’t need to, keeping her by himself and sitting on her while he plans and has a panic attack….. And also he owns her and robbed her of her freedom & body & full mind but she still wuvs him. Weird intimacy with the guy who horrifically changed you into something else, and yet is not even aware he has done it.

Falin loves nature and Thistle is named after a flower… Her post-canon coming across wild thistles and feeling a rush of fondness and she doesn’t know why… Thistles have thorns, but they taste sweet. Just gotta peel them off and enjoys the sweet taste of it once it’s open <3 Eat it like them honeysuckles

Slice of life 40k words thistlin sitcom I need you. Don’t make me write it myself. Sob

You are so so close sweetie…

wutiwant

I don't know what I want But I know it's not this These words don't mean nothing Once they left my lips More awake inside of my dreams Was that really you, next to me? Give me what I want, who am I supposed to please? Who am I supposed to please? Who am I? Who am I? I? Give me what I want Give me what I want

Some links, since the pair is small enough that finding stuff for them can be hard: Falin & Thistle search on pixiv Falin & Thistle search on danbooru Ao3: Thistle x Falin, Thistle & Falin Ship names: ファリシス / シスファリ. Thistlin

My own spotify playlists: Thistle & Falin, Thistle, Falin

source v

[bettyfrommars]

I'm on Fire

biker!Eddie x fem!artist!reader

Part 4

🚨MDNI, 18+Only, implied smut, eventual smut, angst, sexual tension, adult themes, alcohol consumption, cheating (not on reader), biker!Eddie, biker!Steve, mutual pining, slow burn, mention of violence, brief use of Y/N (again, sorry).

Word count: 6.8K

Series Masterlist

In part 4, you meet another one of Eddie's dear friends, Robin Buckley, and get invited to a barbecue. Eddie tries to cut ties with a messy part of his life as his feelings for you grow. Your time with Eddie gets cut short again when the darker elements of his lifestyle comes calling. I've purposely left out physical details about your roommate Katie, so that you can picture her however you want.

A/N: I am so honored by the enthusiasm some of you have shown for this, and please know I think about you all the time as I write it. Also, I've barely been posting here a month, and I'm always open to any tips or suggestions. Love to hear what you thought and what you'd like to see happen 👀

It’s a good thing Eddie left with Charlene because he didn’t have to see how tipsy you got, stumbling out to the car at the end of the night, shoes catching in the gravel, babbling to Jeff how much you loved him and how glad you were that he was your friend.

“Girl, you better tell me everything that went down,” Jeffery said as he got in behind the steering wheel and helped you snap your seat belt together, because your aim was awful. “What did Charlene say to you?”

In the 8 months that he’d known you, Jeff had never seen you like this. Sure, you had a bit of that eccentric, scatterbrained artist way about you, but you were always professional and, if something someone said ever got to you, you never let it show.

“Charlene WHO?” You asked, and then you laughed hysterically, tossing your head back against the seat, as if what you’d just said was the most hilarious thing ever.

Jeff coughed out a laugh, looking over at you, wishing he had a tape recorder to play this conversation back for you on Monday.

You took a drink from the water bottle in the console, swallowed a few times, and then told him the story, as best as you could remember it, as Jeff maneuvered the car out of the long country road and back to the freeway.

-----------

“Who was that girl you were talking to?” Charlene asked Eddie as they drove off into the night. They were in a sleek, black utility vehicle this time, complete with heated leather seats.

“A friend,” Eddie told her. Not to minimize the crush he had on you, but he didn’t know what else to call you. If you were someone he was dating, he would’ve said that, but whatever the two of you had barely qualified as anything yet.

She reached over to squeeze his leg right above the knee, and tried to slid her hand further up his thigh, but he pushed her away. “I’m not in the mood,” he grumbled.

“Well, I didn’t mean to break up your little romantic moment, or whatever it was,” Charlene shrugged and looked out her window to the cars passing by on the freeway. “I just didn’t want you to make a fool out of me in front of my friends.”

Eddie had his wrist high resting on the steering wheel and he looked over his arm at her. “You don’t own me, you know that, right?”

Charlene adjusted her skin tight dress and began to fidget with one of her gold bracelets. “I own the things I pay for, and you were supposed to be mine for the evening.”

Eddie worked his jaw in silence, realizing in at that exact moment that he was done being her little bitch. Her attention and the money had been flattering, and the sex had been exciting the first couple times, but he could barely stand to look at her anymore, no matter how gorgeous she was. The radio was on low (Head Like a Hole by NIN) and he wondered about what you’d asked him earlier, about why he never called. He should’ve called to thank you for the painting, that was true, but the days of the week started to blur together, and he never saw Steve to ask him for your digits. Plus, what would he say to you? He was admittedly more of a hands-on type of guy, and not great over the phone, but he was willing to step out of his comfort zone for you, if you needed him to.

“You’re coming in, right?” Charlene cooed, noticing that he wasn’t following her into the house after he parked the car in the garage.

Eddie shook his head, lighting a cigarette, about to head over to hop on his chopper that was hidden along the side of the house. “I told you, we’re not doing that anymore.”

In response, Charlene rolled her eyes and gave an exaggerated groan, digging in her purse to pull out a wad of cash. “Well, here then,” she shook the handful of hundreds at him. “Take your money. That’s all you care about, right?”

Eddie had to scoff. Money was all he cared about? Her manipulation techniques were first rate, he had to give her that.

He hollowed his cheeks to take a long pull off his smoke. “Nah, keep it,” he said on the exhale, a plume of white smoke exiting pursed lips, turning his back on her and flipping his collar up on his leather jacket. “Save it for your next bodyguard. I’m done.”

One of the garage doors was still open, but Charlene seemed to forget and raised her voice. “Eddie, wait! I’m sorry!”

Her voice seemed to echo through the entire street, but Eddie kept walking until he disappeared around the corner of the building.

“You can’t just walk away from me like this!” She added, but he was already revving his bike and shifting into gear.

----------

You’ve had a couple doozy hangovers in your day, but a red wine hangover? They were the god awful worst. You got up to hydrate and eat something early in the morning, and then you went back to bed.

Later on, you sat on the couch with some tea and your eyes half open and the hood to your sweatshirt over your head like a shroud while Katie told you how expertly Steve had rocked her world the night before. Apparently, before he fucked her 8 ways to Sunday, he took her to one of the new bars on the outskirts of town where a band was playing, and there were two of her old students there who recognized her.

After the show, she gave Steve road head, and then they ended up doing the dirty in the back seat of his car like teenagers.

“What is happening to me?” She asked you, feeling all sorts of sore and stretched out. “This is not how I saw myself acting at this age, but I can’t say I hate it. How was your night?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” you said with a shake of your head, the movement making your temples throb. “Tell me more about Steve. What’s his deal? Does he have family here or?”

Your mind kept flashing back to the look on Charlene’s face, and how sloppy you’d been in the car with Jeff, and it made you want to cringe and bury your face in your hands.

“He didn’t mention his parents, but he’s got a little kid. A son named Oliver,” she used the remote to change the channel on the TV, but the sound was on mute. “The mom isn’t in the picture anymore, though, I guess she split when he was just a baby.”

Your eyes snapped open to full awareness, recalling that Steve had similar eyes and hair coloring to Eddie, and you pictured the photo of that doe-eyed toddler taped to the dash of his tow truck.

“How old is he? Steve’s son, I mean?” You asked, the opportunity to put new pieces to the Eddie puzzle together snapping you out of your malaise.

“He just turned 5 last month,” Katie said through a yawn. “And you will never guess who Steve lives with,” she held her breath there for a few beats, suspended, waiting for you to pull a name out of the air without any hints. You couldn’t even begin to try; your brain was about as active as smashed peas.

After reading your vacant stare, Katie continued, bobbing her chin with each word, “Robin Fucking Buckley.”

Katie had been interested in both men and women since you’d known her, and Robin was a woman she’d met when she first moved to Hawkins after college, and had an instant crush on. The crush never went anywhere, though, because Robin was in a relationship at the time, and Katie had not yet come out as bisexual, so she wasn’t sure what to do about the feelings she was having, but you vividly remembered hearing how she gushed over her.

“They’ve been raising Oliver together,” she continued. “He told me about Robin after he and I had sex though, so then it made me feel weird and I didn’t tell him that I used to daydream about being with her.”

“I can’t believe what a small world it is here,” you mused, suddenly wishing the phone would ring, and that it would be Eddie, and he’d say, “I can’t stop thinking about you.” But, that didn’t sound like Eddie, did it? It was more likely for him to bring a spare tire by and mow your lawn while you were at work. Superficial words of adoration? You weren’t sure that was his thing.

“Are you planning on seeing Steve again?” You were curious for selfish reasons, because Steve was your only current link to Eddie.

“We talked about the fact that we’d rather this be a fuck buddy thing than something serious, but he did invite both of us to a barbecue they’re having at their house on Sunday.” She smoothed her lips together and stared at the carpet, her eyes getting glossy from not blinking. “I’m not sure how weird it would be for me to see Robin again, though. I really had it bad for her.”

Sunday was a day away, and you hoped that your hangover would be gone by then, because it didn’t feel like it was dissipating any time soon.

---------

The little boy with the thick head of wavy, golden brown hair screeched, “uncle Eddie!” as he ran toward him at full tilt, and then dove at his shin and wrapped is arms around his legs.

Eddie bent down to latch his hands under the tiny monster’s arms and swung him up in the air. “What’s going on, big man?” He adjusted the kid at his hip like it was second nature, like he was born to be Uncle Eddie.

Robin Buckley was just shutting the door to her car in the parking lot of Munson’s Garage and following behind Oliver at a stroll, grinning as she watched the two of them together. She pushed her sunglasses up into her blue-streaked hair, and the hoop piercings on her eyebrow and lip glinted in the sun. Eddie had just dismounted his bike and was taking his helmet off to hook it on one of the handlebars.

“Can you watch him for a bit?” Robin asked, her hands in her back pockets. She had on a Bikini Kill t-shirt on under a red and black flannel and holes in the knees of her jeans. “I have to run some errands, but Steve can pick him up in two hours.”

Eddie was actually just in the middle of rushing to several different places trying to get a project finished, and had a billion things on his mind, but Steve and Robin and Oliver always came first; they were his family.

“Oh I think I can manage that,” Eddie turned to Oliver, and Oliver put his hands on Eddie’s cheeks, smooshing them in a little. “What do you think, Ollie, wanna have some beers and play some poker with me?”

Oliver nodded, ecstatic, his mouth open.

“Ha ha,” Robin bent forward to brush some hair out of Oliver’s eyes and planted a kiss on his cheek before stepping back. “Maybe Uncle Eddie will make you some of those butter noodles you like.”

Oliver said, “airplane,” and Eddie scooped him on his belly with both arms so he was horizontal, and spun around in a circle a few times. Uncle Wayne saw them from the office window and was already headed over with his arms out.

Eddie lowered Oliver to his feet and said, “go say hi to uncle Wayne,” to which the boy took off as fast as his legs could carry him across the pavement. Eddie reveled at the joy on Wayne’s face as he bent down to hug the kid tight, and then took his hand to walk him back to the office. There was a TV in there with a bunch of cartoons on VHS just for Oliver, and some of the building blocks and toys he liked to play with.

“How is he?” Robin asked. Wayne was too far away to hear them, but she waved.

“Same,” Eddie cleared his throat, trying to get rid of the lump he felt there. “I don’t think the chemo is doing jack shit, but what the fuck do I know.”

Robin knew how much of a toll Wayne’s illness was taking on Eddie, but it made him uncomfortable to talk about it, so she didn’t push him.

“So, when are you coming to the barbecue tomorrow?” She asked as they made their way over to the shade of the awning just under Eddie’s apartment.

“Shit, that’s tomorrow?” Eddie frowned like he was working out a math problem, scratching the stubble on his jaw. “Why did I think it was next week?”

“Because dingus probably didn’t remind you like I told him to,” Robin dropped down into one of the plastic chairs with an ‘omph’. “There will be plenty of food, just bring some beer, or whatever alcohol you want to drink.”

Eddie sat down on the picnic table bench across from her, elbows on his knees. “I’ll bring beer and burgers, but I can’t drink that much for a couple days, Fight Night is next weekend.”

Robin dropped her shoulders and gave him a look. “Please tell me you’re not getting in the ring this time?”

“I have to,” Eddie shrugged, leaning back to plant his forearms onto the top of the picnic table, stretching his chest out. “I won the last one, remember? Winner always gets challenged.” He brushed something invisible off of the front of this work shirt. “But this will be my last fight for a while, Rob, I’ll forfeit if I have to.”

“Good,” she snorted her approval. “You and Steve are getting too old for this shit. We’re all getting too old for recreational activities that could possibly end up in broken bones and hospitalization.”

“No one is putting me in the hospital, I promise you,” he raised his eyebrow at her, confidentially.

Changing the subject, Robin shifted in her seat and narrowed her eyes. “What do you know about this chick that Steve has been talking to lately? You met her, right? Her name is Katie something.”

Eddie’s heart raced at the mention of Katie, but for other reasons. “Yeah, her and her friend saved our asses that night that we almost got pinched by the cops.”

“Okay,” Robin nodded. “What else do you know? Steve said you’d met her before?”

“What’s with all the questions? I don’t they’re as serious as---”

“Because, Edward, he went ahead and invited her to the barbecue, a complete stranger, without running it by me first. You know I don’t like Oliver to be exposed to every transient piece of ass he has a fling with, especially if they’re just another bar fly who tries to sneak a line of coke off the tank on our toilet like last time.”

Eddie knew she had a point; although Oliver wasn’t biologically hers, Robin had been helping to raise him since he was 7 months old, and she had turned into a fierce momma bear. He lost his train of thought for a second because if Katie was coming to the barbecue...then maybe….

“Earth to Eddie?” Robin clapped her hands together once.

“Yeah, sorry,” he shook his head as if to clear it. “First of all, she’s employed, she’s a teacher at the high school. English or Geometry or something.”

Alright, Robin liked the details so far. Dating a woman who had gainful employment was an improvement for Steve.

“I guess I sold her weed years ago, before I moved away, but I must’ve blacked a lot of that time out because I don’t remember her. I knew her brother Danny though, and he was a nice kid.”

Robin was biting her lip, drumming her fingers on the arm rest, taking in the information, and then she decided to change the subject, cocking her head. “What about you? Seeing any one special these days? Anyone you’d want to bring with you tomorrow?”

Eddie ran his fingers through his hair a couple times, pondering if he should tell her about you, but then decided against it. He didn’t want to answer a bunch of questions and, more importantly, he didn’t want to jinx anything.

--------------

It was one of those picture perfect days for a barbecue; the sun was out, but the temperature was mild, and all of the cherry blossom trees along the street were blooming. Steve and Robin’s house was located in a neighborhood that had a reputation for being a sketchy, but the yards were all well kept with little gardens. The house itself was Easter egg blue with white trim, a front square of lawn that was neatly edged and mowed, and then a driveway along the side that led to the back patio. There were three motorcycles parked on the street among the other cars, as well as that black Chevelle you saw at the garage.

“He’s here,” you breathed, balancing three dishes of food in your lap as Katie turned the car off and you both looked around. “I know he’s here. Wait, please take me back home.”

“Forget it,” Katie laughed. “We talked about this. The safe word is ‘pineapple’ if one of us is having a really awful or uncomfortable time.”

You tilted your head so that you could look up at the house. “What if he brought that Charlene lady?”

“Eddie might be a little oblivious at times, but I don’t think he’s an idiot,” Katie assured you. “Besides, that bitch does not want to catch these hands.”

“How well did you say you knew Robin?” You asked, stalling.

“We worked together when I had that warehouse job back in ‘89 or ‘90. We barely spoke ten sentences to each other, and exchanged a few goofy looks. I doubt she’ll even remember me.”

Oh, Robin remembered her, alright. You could tell by her face when she caught site of the two of you walking up the driveway from the living room window.

Robin gasped and ducked behind the curtain, pressing her back against the wall next to the bookshelf, out of sight.

“Steve!” She hissed, trying to get his attention in the kitchen, waving him over. He was bending down to grab another beer out of the refrigerator, talking to one of his buddies from the bar he bounced at from time to time.

He stopped what he was doing and came over with a look of concern on his face, his eyes scanning around for what might be bothering her.

“What is Katherine Clayton doing here?” She asked in a tense whisper.

Steve peeked around the curtain to catch a quick glimpse of who she was talking about, just as the two of you disappeared up the driveway around the corner of the house.

He was shaking is head, confused. “That’s Katie. What are you talking about?”

Robin’s eyes widened. “You had sex with Kathrine Clayton?” And then, as the realization sank in that Steve had done the deed with one of her long-standing secret crushes, she groaned and headed for the bathroom so that she could sit on the floor in there for a few minutes and regroup.

“Wait!” Steve whispered after her. “Please tell me you didn’t fuck her too?”

“I wish!” Robin yelled, just as she shut the bathroom door and he heard it lock.

----------

Eddie was at the grill cleaning it off, his back to you, and your eyes locked on those unmistakable broad shoulders in a black t-shirt that had Megadeth tour dates half covered by his long hair, dark wash jeans cuffed at his boots, and a blue handkerchief hanging out of his back pocket. One knee bent out to the side; wallet chain draped over his thigh. Muscular triceps flexing under various colors of tattoo ink.

“Pineapple,” you said under your breath. A tape deck and two speakers were on the steps as music by Soundgarden blessed the event. You scanned the other 10 or so people there and didn’t see Steve, but another guest in one of the lawn chairs greeted you with a tilt of her beer.

The sound of the greeting made Eddie turn his head nonchalantly, but then once he saw it was you, he dropped what he was doing and spun around, wiping his hands on a rag as he went.

“Where should I put these?” You asked, referring to the stack of side dishes in your hands.

“Here, let me take them,” Eddie came over and bent down a bit to get his hands under what you were carrying, and his fingers fumbled on top of yours for a few seconds before the pass was complete, hard edges of his rings grazing the underside of your palm, both of you letting out a few goofy laughs. You had a low cut shirt on and you were delighted to find his gaze hovering on your cleavage more than once.

“This way,” he inclined his head for you to follow him over to a long table by the fence, his mouth kicking up on one side in a grin.

Steve’s head was still reeling over the fact that he accidentally slept with a girl that Robin had a crush on when he came out to welcome Katie with a hug and ask her what she wanted to drink. Steve was in full biker attire with his leather cut on over his t-shirt, leather pants, and his sunglasses on with his hair slicked back.

“Whatever you’re having,” Katie shrugged. “I’m easy. But, you already know that.” It was a joke, but under the circumstances, it made Steve feel worse. There were very few women on the earth that Robin admitted to having crushes on, and he managed to bury his cock inside of one. The sex had been fucking amazing, too, but he tried not to think about that.

Steve and Robin crossed paths as she was coming out and he was going in to get Katie a beer, and then Robin made her way over to greet her, trying not to let the disappointment read on her face.

“Long time no see,” Robin quipped, sliding a hand into the front pocket of her distressed, baggy denim.

“I can’t believe you remember me,” Katie balked, sincerely shocked.

“Whatever,” Robin looked down at the ground shyly and flexed her toes inside her Converse. “I used to use the water fountain on the other side of the warehouse just so I could get a glimpse of you in those daisy duke shorts you used to wear.”

Wait, Katie’s brain raced, was Robin insinuating that she used to have a crush on her too? That whole time??

“I know it’s been 6 years, but I still have the shorts,” Katie assured her, winking as she took a sip of her beer.

You were about to walk over to grab one of the folded chairs leaning up against the house, but Eddie told one of the guys to get up so that you could have his chair. You were about to protest, but the young dude with a full sleeve of tattoos popped to his feet and went to find another seat before you could get the words out of your mouth. Eddie wanted you to sit next to him, and that was that.

Eddie was still standing, about to ask you what he could get you to drink, when the screen door slammed open and a little dark haired boy came down the steps with Steve. “I’ll push you on the swings until uncle Wayne gets here,” Steve cooed in a very daddy voice.

“I owe Wayne big time for watching him tonight so that I could get drunk,” Robin said across the patio to Eddie.

“Are you kidding?” Eddie put his hand on your shoulder as he talked, casually showing ownership to everyone else at the party. “He loves hanging out with little big man.” You peeked at his ring-clad fingers that cupped your shoulder out of the corner of your eye and your stomach exploded with butterflies.

Oliver went over and hid behind Robin’s legs, and she introduced him to you and Katie. “He’s really shy around new people,” she said, tousling his hair. “But once he gets to know you, he’s a chatterbox.”

The little boy locked eyes with you curiously from behind Robin’s pant leg and continued to keep a silent watch on you until for the next 30 minutes until Wayne picked him up.

Everyone sat in an informal circle, and you were introduced to each person at the party, most of their names you forgot as soon as they were said to you. You found out that Steve was a tattoo artist, as well as being bouncer at a bar, and a couple of the guests worked with him and brought their significant others. One of the women was Robin’s ex, who she was still good friends with, and a woman she knew from the coffee shop she worked at. You also met one of Eddie’s bandmates Gareth, the only other original member, and his wife. You drank your first beer on an empty stomach and Steve encouraged you to tell your version of what happened that first night you all met at the Hideout. Eddie discouraged it, wanting to forget most of that night ever happened, but you continued. A few things you said made everyone laugh, and Eddie clapped his hand on top of yours at one point to squeeze it, giving you a wink and a little bitten-lip half-smile as he did so. You turned and met his eyes, the chemistry of your cosmic pull sparking little glints at the corners of your mouths; the unspoken hope of something new, something special.

When it was time to eat, Eddie asked you how you liked your burger, and when you told him you were a vegetarian, he startled you by clutching at his chest dramatically, pretending that you shot him in the heart, dropping his shoulder back. “Burgers are one of the things I do really, really well though,” you were sitting in the chair closest to him as he worked on the patties for everyone else.

“What are the other things you do well?” You were being coy, feeling a slight buzz as you sipped your second beer.

He looked at you over his shoulder and playfully raised his eyebrows a few times. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

Eddie was having a hard time restraining himself from not bending down to kiss you with how adorable and flirty you were being. The only thing stopping him, besides not being sure you even wanted him to kiss you, was the fact that every single relationship he’d had with a woman for many years had been purely sexual, and things always escalated quickly. He was tired of sticking his cock in warm bodies he barely knew. Or worse yet, warm bodies he had grown to despise, like Charlene. He was tired of riding this hardcore persona every minute of every day. He wanted you to see the geeky side of him, the devoted, adoring side of him that he never let out of the bag because he didn’t trust himself to be vulnerable.

“Will you look at that,” Robin whispered to Katie who was in the chair to her. Her eyes were trained across the way at how close in proximity Eddie and you were. You were both making each other laugh, sneaking in whatever opportunity you could to touch each other, if only a brush of the elbows. “Did you know about this?”

Katie leaned over in her chair, putting her head to her shoulder. “It’s been brewing for a couple weeks now,” she told Robin. “Y/N has had a really rough couple years. She hasn’t shown interest in anyone since she moved here.”

“How come I’m always the last to know these things?” Robin asked, indulging herself with a deep inhale of the cinnamon spice smell of Katie’s hair, and then she turned to look at her, and the two of them shared this moment when their faces were extremely close in proximity for a heartbeat before they both jumped apart.

Just as the sun was starting to set, they lit the scattered tiki torches and the hard alcohol came out. Robin was the first one to throw back a shot, followed by Steve and Katie. The crowd thinned out by half, and you walked over to talk to Katie and grab a can of beer. He came over as you were about to pull the tab open and he stopped you, holding out his hand.

“Shotgun one with me?” He asked, his cheeks rosy, and his full pink lips inviting.

“Yasssss,” Robin overheard and stood up to get her own can with a hop in her step. “Steve! Shotgun with me!” Robin was definitely feeling the alcohol, and it was a happy sight for Steve because his best friend worked tirelessly every day to take care of him and Oliver and to keep their lives organized. He’d be running around like a chicken with its head cut off trying to raise Oliver and work two jobs if not for her.

You looked around, and then down at Katie, who shrugged her shoulders.

“I’ve never...I don’t know how,” you laughed, hoping he wouldn’t think you were super lame.

Eddie winked, “I’ll teach you, Princess,” and then he held up the beer in his hand and explained how to hold it as he used the metal teeth from one of his keys to punch a small hole in the aluminum, and some of the beer misted his neck.

You watched how Steve shotgunned his, and you hoped it didn’t activate your gag reflex in some embarrassing way.

Standing in the grass behind where Robin and Katie’s chairs were, Eddie kept eye contact with you as he brought the punctured hole in the can to his mouth, lips wrapping around, and then he tilted his head back and flipped the tab so that the liquid went shooting down into his throat. You watched his Adam’s apple jerk up and down as he swallowed, some beer seeping out the corner of his mouth.

He made a refreshing ‘Ahhhhhh’ sound when he was done, and then he took your beer can to puncture it in the same way.

“Ready?” He asked. You weren’t, but you said yes anyway, liking the way his mouth kinda hung open, waiting for your answer.

He took hold of the back of your neck as he brought the can to your mouth, careful not to spill any of it on you. After a preemptive, nervous swallow, your hand replaced his on the can and you closed your eyes tight just as you flipped the tab and it hissed, shooting the cool liquid right over the back of your tongue and into your throat.

Some of it came out of your nose as you bent over to cough, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, snorting at how it tickled in your nostrils. With his hand still clutching the back of your neck, Eddie pulled you close and said, “good girl,” in your ear in a low octave that made your pussy twitch.

Once your coughing spasm was over, you tilted your head up, and suddenly his fingers were cupping under your chin, his thumb swiping from the corner of your mouth over your bottom lip to catch a drop of beer left there.

It hadn’t meant to be a sexual gesture, one that made the blood run to his cock, but it became so in the time it took for his thumb to make it from one side of your mouth to the other, and one of your hands went to rest on his waist.

A few feet away from you, Steve screamed, “bullshit!” and the group broke into laughter at something Robin said.

Stolen from his reverie by the jolt of reality, Eddie lowered his hand from your face and dropped his chin to his chest. “I’m sorry about the other night,” he said, gnawing a few tiny bites on his lower lip. “The whole thing that happened at the art show.”

“You don’t have to be sorry,” you told him, sincerely, moving your hand from his waist to crook your finger into one of his front belt loops.

When his eyes lifted to yours, it was from under his lashes and his heart swelled up a bit at the way you were looking at him, like he really hadn’t done anything wrong. He felt like maybe, if you could forgive him for some of the things he’d done, then perhaps he could forgive himself.

“I don’t work for her anymore,” he confessed, crushing his can flat on his leg with a violent crunch, and then taking yours to do the same, before tossing them in a pile with the others. “I quit.”

The joy it made you feel probably widened your eyes a bit, but you tried to contain any visual tells as best you could. “It’s probably for the best.”

Inside, the phone started ringing. Robin had to turn the music down to make sure it wasn’t her mind playing tricks on her. Normally, they’d just let it ring, but with Oliver at Wayne’s, Steve ran inside to pick it up.

“So,” Eddie took a deep breath and took hold of your forearm, working along with finger stokes you might use on a guitar. “Have you ever been on a motorcycle before?”

You were hanging on his every word, but just then Steve leaned out from the screen door. “Eddie! Phone for you.”

Eddie made a face. “Is it Wayne?”

Steve shook his head. “I have no idea who it is, man. She just said it was urgent.”

She.

“I’ll be right back, okay?” Eddie gave your arm one final squeeze. “Don’t disappear on me.”

You watched him go into the house, and then you turned to look at Katie who was taking another shot with Robin and another guest, and you realized that you needed to keep your wits about you because you would be the one driving Katie’s car home, and it had been a while since you’d operated a stick shift.

There was an open window to the kitchen on the side of the house, and you made sure no one was looking before you made your way over there to creep up beneath it and see if you could eavesdrop on what the phone call was about.

“How did you get this number?” Eddie barked into the receiver after he picked it up and found out who it was. The person on the other end said a few things, and then he added. “Don’t ever call here again.”

Robin turned the music up and some of what he was saying was drowned out, but you kept getting bits and piece as you strained with your ear just below the window. “….you need to stop….stop acting like it was more than fucking….go spend time with your husband….”

But then he was in the middle of saying something else when he got cut off abruptly, as if the other person hung up. Eddie slammed the phone onto the cradle of the receiver with a curse and it made you jump. After only a couple seconds, the phone shrilled again, and he picked it up before the first ring could finish.

“WHAT DID I TELL YOU?” he growled through gritted teeth, frustration burning in his chest.

But then, his tone changed, “oh, hey, sorry Bones. I thought you were someone else. What’s up? Yeah, Steve’s here he’s busy….this is Eddie…..how much…..yeah I’ll be there….”

You heard the phone click back onto the receiver again, gentle this time, and you came around to find Robin and her friends belting out the lyrics to Jealousy by Gin Blossoms as it played on the stereo.

“Tomorrow we can drive around this town and let the cops chase us around...

the past is gone, but something might be found to take its place….”

What the fuck happened to this night? Eddie wondered to himself as he stood just inside the kitchen with his back to the door, clenching his fingers into white knuckled fists, trying to calm himself down. He had finally worked up the nerve to ask you on a proper date and every single ghost from his past had to come back to bite him in the ass. First Charlene, who was threatening to show up at his place, and now a favor for the Coffin Kings. Not a favor out of the goodness of his heart, of course, he would be getting paid a decent amount, but still---horrible timing. He snatched his leather jacket off the hook in the alcove near the back door and puffed his cheeks out on a heavy exhale loaded with emotional exhaustion.

“Bones just called,” Eddie told Steve as he jumped down from the porch stairs and started punching his arms into the sleeves of his leather. “They need some last minute extra protection for that run they’re doing tonight, and I told him I would.”

“Shit, I’ll go too,” Steve told him, putting his half empty beer down on his chair. “Are they paying the same as last time?”

Eddie was buttoning his cuff, but his eyes shifted to Robin form under the curtain of his bangs; she was standing behind Steve shaking her head. “It’s just me tonight, man. You stay here with your family.” Also, Steve was clearly inebriated, and these runs with the Coffin Kings always had the potential to be dangerous work. Eddie promised Robin a few months ago that he’d keep him from taking part in them as much as he could. Not only did Eddie need the money, but he needed to blow some steam off.

After the interlude with Steve, Eddie’s eyes roamed until they landed on you, standing there talking to Robin’s ex, Stephanie. You felt the heat-seeking missiles of his warm wood stare and turned your head.

You blinked both of your eyes in a double wink, an endearing, bashful wink, and ….god...he wanted to rush over and pick you up, to feel you wrap your arms and legs around him, to nuzzle his face in your neck and carry you off somewhere.

Eddie flipped his collar as he walked over to where you were, standing half in the darkness of the driveway and half in the glow of the tiki torches around the lawn.

“Walk with me?” He asked, and then he stretched his fingers down, crawling across your palm to intertwine them with yours, watching your face the whole time to make sure it was okay.

He had long strides, so you had to trot down the pavement after him on the balls of your feet, clinging to his arm as you went. You could hear the party continue on behind you as you sucked the crisp air into your lungs and took in the leather and Old Spice and tobacco vanilla of Eddie’s scent. You felt so safe with him, the safest you’d felt in a long time.

Nothing could worry you except all of his little secrets, and wherever he was sneaking off to this late at night.

He let go of your hand so he could swing his leg over and mount his bike, and then he pulled his helmet from the handlebars, his eyes never leaving you. “I’m sorry to bail like this,” he shifted on his feet so that that the huge black bike with the airbrushed bats on the gas tank rocked the other way, enabling him to boot the heavy kick stand out of the way. “I’ll have to make it up to you one of these days.”

“I’d like that,” you said, watching him strap his matte black, bare bones helmet on. You didn’t know what he was about to go do but something compelled you to say, “be careful,” just as he revved the chopper to life, spitting out its fierce grumble like a mechanical dragon.

He thought about kissing you. If something happened to him on this run and he met his fate living on the knifes edge, he didn’t want to go with any regrets. But he lost his nerve and the moment slipped away, and then he was twisting his fists on the handlebars and backing the bike up into the shadows of the unlit street.

He lifted his fingers to you in one last wave as he went, sailing into the darkness, and eventually becoming it.

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Part 5

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[lalal-99]

of dirty cheats {h.j.} | track 6

©July 2023, June 2024 by lalal-99

Han Jisung x afab!reader | trope: slice of life, coming of age | word count: 5.8k

Synopsis: The one where you're hungover and visit home.

Check Chapter Overview for complete list of warnings

Note: Aaaand, I'm back! I'm sorry for the long wait, but if you've kept up with my life, there's been so many things going on... Anyway, this chapter concludes the overwork of previously posted chapters, and the next one will be brand new. I hope you enjoy this. If you do, please leave comments and reblogs. They always encourage me so much!!!

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You woke up the following day with the sun shining in your face and your head spinning.

Nausea overtook you within seconds, so you rushed one hand to your temple in an attempt to massage the pain away. It lifted some of the discomfort while also shielding your irises from the light, but it was hardly enough. Every effort to get up got cut short when you noticed Jisung’s arm snug around your waist, holding you close. It took you a couple of seconds to untangle one arm and reach for your alarm on the bedside table.

7 am. You shouldn’t have gone out yesterday.

Five more minutes of dozing and some careful wriggling later, you sat up, taking a moment to asses your state. The initial urge to throw up subsided once you came to a standing, although you still moved with care. It wouldn’t have been the first time, your initial assessment was completely off.

Your whole body was in a state of freezing, even once you had gotten dressed. Slipping yesterday’s clothes back on, you snatched one of your boyfriend’s hoodies, so you wouldn’t catch a cold on your way to your place. Also, your mini-skirt was too mini to be considered everyday attire. The length of the hoodie would shield most unwanted attention to your exposed legs.

Worry spread in your veins when you noticed Felix’s empty bed while gathering your belongings.

After the party Jisung and you had decided to sleep over at his place for convenience. It was distinctly closer, and you needed to get him into bed sooner rather than later. Which turned out to be tougher than expected. He had quite a lot to drink as the night progressed, so you stayed with him. Felix hadn’t made it home after your run-in in the bedroom back at the frat house, and his absence filled you with concern. He couldn’t have been avoiding you on purpose, could he?

“Baby?”

You turned to your hoarse boyfriend, whose eyes remained shut as he searched for your body next to him.

“I’m here. You alright?”

“I don’t know. Ask me in two hours when I’m all caught up on sleep.” After about 4 hours of actual rest, you weren’t doing much better than him on the tiredness scale. Still, you were up, and he— wasn’t.

“You’re not going to your class this morning?”

A sarcastic chuckle and Jisung rolled over, pulling the blanket deeper into his face.

“Can you close the blinds before you leave?”

You did so after slipping into your shoes. It annoyed you that Jisung was skipping class—this habit being one reason his grades had suffered back in High School. Yet, there was nothing you could truly do about it. He was in no state to tend to anything but his sleep deprivation, and you knew how he could get when overtired. After all, you were driving back home later today. You figured he would be less annoying once he had caught up on at least some of his sleep.

“I’ll be back at 10 to pick you up. Can you be ready by then?”

“Sure.” You knew there wouldn’t be a further answer, his mind already dozing off again. You left the room to be on time for your own morning lecture. One of you had to be responsible, after all.

The morning progressed so slowly, it was painful.

By the time you reached your class, you had somewhat woken up. A very intended goal, achieved by two double shots of espresso and a cold shower. Although your headache never truly left you, you made it through the first two hours of the day. Turned out, Jisung wasn’t the only one skipping morning classes today. About a third of the chairs in the lecture hall remained empty, thanks to Jackson and his gift of throwing amazing parties.

Unfortunately, that third also included Yuqi. Without her and her endless chatter about the latest trends or her latest crush, it was harder to stay awake. You must have dozed off half a dozen times, so you might as well have stayed in bed after all.

The anticipation of home was the one things that helped you power through. It had only been about two weeks since your move, though you already missed your family like crazy. This, by far, was the longest time you had been away from them. Ever. The thought of walking your hometown streets again was the light at the end of the tunnel— in this case Macroeconomics 101.

You must have mentioned your excitement about visiting home countless times to Jisung. So, why was it that when you reentered his dorm three hours after leaving, he hadn’t moved at all?

“Dang it, Jisung, you said you’d be ready by 10.”

“Why are you mad? I’m perfectly on time.”

“It’s 10:05, and you are still in bed. Unshowered.”

“I’m getting up already.” Your annoyance rubbed off on him, his tone raspy from alcohol, lack of sleep and irritation. “Don’t get your panties in a bunch.”

Said panties, mind you, the same ones he couldn’t wait to get into the night before. He definitely hadn’t sounded so frustrated at you then.

You suppressed a scolding reply, aware of how it held power to start a full-on fight, making you even less on time. It took a lot of willpower to push the urge to confront your boyfriend about his choice of words down.

Stumbling out of bed, Jisung picked up some fresh clothes and his shower gel, before leaving with mumbled sounds of disapproval. A heavy reek of sleep and alcohol veiled the room despite the open window, so you moved closer to it. The nausea, yet again, vanished.

You ran your hand down your tired face, letting your bag fall onto his sheets.

“Is he always in a mood when he’s hungover?”

You sighed, “It’s really frustrating.”

Felix nodded, letting his phone fall onto his pillow. You could feel his eyes lingering on you, lip caught between his teeth and his leg bouncing, restless. It didn’t take more than a glimpse from your peripheral vision to identify his mood. Tired, nervous. Anxious. Of course, you knew what he was biting his tongue about. Remembering his shock and angst when you had walked in on him yesterday, it surprised you, he even spoke to you. And you were even more surprised when he was the first to mention it.

“Y/N?” You met his glances with a kind smile, leaning up against the wall. “I wanted to talk to you about something. About what happened— yesterday, actually.”

“You mean when I walked in on you?” His earrings dangled along to his nod. You swore you heard his heart pounding through his chest.

“I was wondering... If you— whether you saw—” He struggled to find the right words to voice his question before giving himself a push. “Exactly how much did you see?”

“Well,” you started, getting up and walking over to his bed to join him. Having this conversation with him called for physical proximity. “I saw you in bed. Naked, and with someone. With—” You cut yourself off, sending him a comforting smile. Felix’s face was about as white as fresh snow. By the time you ended your sentence, fear clouded his irises, “A boy.”

A tear slipped out of his eye and into his lap as he stared at his hands. He was avoiding your gaze, so you brought your hand to his back, rubbing him through his shirt. Hopefully consoling him. You could feel his shallow breaths become steadier, so your comfort must have worked in some ways.

It took him a few more deep breaths to speak up, your silence helping him voice his thoughts.

“I haven’t really told anyone. Ever.”

When he turned to face you, you saw a hint of dread in his eyes. As though he was expecting a negative reaction to his revelation. Or that you’d out him to everyone. Had it been anyone else, that assumption would have hurt you. Though you figured this reaction was only fair, coming from him. He barely knew you. He couldn’t have known how unreasonable his fear was.

“How long have you known?” you questioned, trying your best to not overstep the boundaries. To help him understand how you wouldn’t feel any different about him because of what you saw. What you now knew about him, as apparently the only person on earth. Well, apart from that guy he had been with the night prior. He must have figured from contextual clues.

“Honestly, I always sorta knew. But I only started accepting it a few months ago. I tried dating girls for years, but it never felt right. The guy from yesterday... He was kind of—” Felix stopped again, trying to find the right words. “He was my first guy.”

“Oh, honey!” You pulled him into your chest, your hands wrapping around his body. Felix soon hugged you back, holding on so tight your shirt wrinkled. As though he had needed this hug more than anything. It lasted for a couple of seconds, maybe even a minute, tears hitting your shoulder and drying on your shirt. “Thank you for telling me,” you mumbled against his skin. The burden of keeping his secret hidden fell from his shoulders with every tear.

“Thank you. For accepting me.”

“Of course.” As you drew away, he wiped the tears from his cheeks, eventually calming down. “And don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone.”

“I appreciate that. I don’t think I’m ready yet. I should tell my family first, but I’m afraid they won’t take it as well. They don’t really— believe in this stuff.”

“Well, you can always come to me when you need someone to talk to.” You shared a moment of eye contact, smiling at each other. “Now to the important stuff. Who was the guy?”

Chuckling at your question, Felix took a tissue from his nightstand, blowing his nose. When he met your gaze, you saw a spark behind the watery curtains. “It’s this guy from my Psychology class. We never talked before yesterday. But then we shared a moment and somehow— I don’t even know how, but one thing led to another. Kinda like in the movies.”

“Damn, that sounds like straight from Hollywood. Was he any good?” Judging from Felix’s suggestive expression, eyebrows raising and eyes gleaming, you could tell his answer. “I take that as a yes. Well, I’m very happy for you.”

“Thank you.”

You wouldn’t have minded some further details on last night. Whether Felix would be seeing the guy again outside of classes. Or whether he even wanted to or rather explore his options, now that he had the opportunity. Felix, too, seemed eager to finally have someone to talk to about this.

It was the creak of the door thrown open that stopped your conversation. Jisung rushed in, hair wet from his shower, fresh clothes clinging to his moist skin.

When he noticed your proximity, Felix’s eyes reddened, Jisung’s eyebrow quirked. “Did I miss something?”

“Nothing,” you replied, sending Felix a wink as you rose from his bed. “Are you ready?”

“Two more minutes. I need to pack some things.”

“Are you kidding me? I told you to pack your stuff two days ago.”

And just like that, your mood suffered another hit, although you tried to not let it affect you too much. When Jisung started throwing random items onto his bed, you sent Felix a sarcastic eye-roll. He couldn’t help a relieved grin from spreading, the Mount-Rushmore sized rock finally lifted from his shoulders.

“Well, since you’re already pissed, I might as well tell you now.” What an awful way to start a sentence. “I’m not sober enough to drive yet. So, you’re gonna have to get us home.”

Not the easiest task with your brain still thumping against your skull, but at least Jisung could help you stay awake.

When you were younger, you used to be embarrassed by where you lived.

You had always felt bad for your privilege. Guilty even, seeing none of your friends lived a life close to the one you had. Most of your friends lived in small and run-down apartment-complexes, confined to little space and sometimes even sharing a bedroom with several siblings. Blame the recession that had taken its toll on their parent’s income.

It mostly seemed like they had made due with it, finding their content in it. It was still uncomfortable whenever you invited anyone over to your place.

You felt the worst about growing up rich when you met Jisung.

His dad had left the family when he was seven. His mother stranded alone in an apartment she couldn’t pay for and with two children she hardly had the money to feed.

She already worked one full-time job when his piece-of-shit father left. She needed to pick up another part-time one just so they could afford their most basic needs.

By age ten, Jisung supported his mother’s second job, cleaning the houses of the rich and wealthy on weekends. With his sister in a time-consuming gifted program—paid for by a scholarship—he had no other choice. Jisung needed to put his own interests behind if he wanted to keep the roof over their heads. Being the sweet son he was, he did exactly that. Without a single complaint about the afternoons his friends spent hanging out at the mall or enjoying their hobbies.

When you invited Jisung over the first time, your friendship only weeks old, you felt ashamed. He lost control over his facial muscles, his jaw slacking when he saw the entrance of your house. He almost passed out when you showed him your new Nintendo in your room. Jisung forgot all about the expensive gaming console once he realised you didn’t have to share it. Neither your toys nor your room, which already took up the space of his whole apartment. A Queen sized bed occupied the middle of your room, and still left enough room for a motherland of games.

It wasn’t until Jisung invited you to his apartment, that you fully understood his mesmerisation with the simplest things in your house. Like the fridge, which was taller and broader than the two of you combined. Or your couches—plural, not singular.

You tried hard not to let your pity show while meeting his mother and sister. You feared you’d say something to offend them, making them feel bad or appearing like a snob. Needless to say, you didn’t talk much that afternoon.

Jisung never once gave you any reason to feel any more guilty than you already did. He assured you time and time again that you had nothing to be ashamed of. You had your own hardships, your own problems. And his family was doing fine. He couldn’t remember a time not sharing all their meals at a tiny table or sleeping in the same room.

Nothing about that changed when you fell in love at 14, two years after meeting.

Still, that same guilt knocked down your self-esteem whenever you passed the mansions of your street in Jisung’s rusty, old car.

Your boyfriend had slept through the whole two-hour drive from campus to your home. It had annoyed you in the beginning as you had hoped to get some time to talk. As your carefully crafted playlist progressed, all annoyance faded into the air. Plus, speeding down highways and crawling through neighbouring villages made you nostalgic. By the time you arrived home, Jisung had caught up on his sleep and you were beaming in excitement.

Your dad was already waiting for you, ever so happily smiling as he hugged you.

“I’m happy you’re home,” he mumbled against you as he pulled you in. His statement wasn’t needed with how visibly content he was, having his only daughter and future son-in-law back.

“I’m glad to be back. I missed you.”

“We,” Jisung corrected, nodding to your dad. “We missed you.”

“Well, I’m happy you’re here. Brunch is ready as soon as you are.”

At the mention of food Jisung’s stomach rumbled, sending him into a laugh.

“He’s ready, too,” your boyfriend translated the sounds as you placed your bag beside the door.

The TV played in the living room, overshadowed by the juicer-sounds in the kitchen. The smell of fresh oranges filled your nostrils, your mouth watering as you stepped through the doorway.

“Is that orange juice I smell?”

“Y/N!” The young woman jogged around the island, pulling you into a bone-crashing hug. “I missed you!”

“I missed you, too, Jia.”

“What about me?” Jisung questioned, taking over your space once Jia let you out of your hug.

“I missed you too, but a little less.”

“Wow. Thanks, sis.”

“So, how’s university? Tell me everything.”

Jisung did. He told his sister all about his dorm, new friends and courses he visited. All the while, you only had one ear with them. The other was searching the attached dining and living area. Soon enough, your eyes joined as you wandered the lower floor of your house. You identified a pair of tiny dinosaur-themed socks discarded on the coffee table. The couch stood buried under plastic toys and books, a children’s show playing on the flatscreen.

When you found the rest of the room empty, you exited the living area altogether. As soon as you set foot into the hallway, you finally heard a familiar voice call out to you. Your head turned and you found a small figure running towards you. Quick reflexes came into play when he all but jumped into your arms, making your heart jump through your chest.

“Mama!” Tiny arms wrapped around your neck and tears immediately filled your eyes.

“Hi, baby.” His breath hit your neck as your heartbeat accelerated. “I missed you.”

“Me too,” he answered as you picked him up, giving him a small peck on his cheek.

“He couldn’t stop talking about seeing you again. He barely slept tonight.”

With your dad by your side and your baby in your arms, you reentered the kitchen. When he saw Jisung, your son’s eyes reshaped into hearts.

“Papa!” You couldn’t set him down quick enough before he began sprinting towards his father.

Jisung picked him up and spun him around once before hugging him tightly against himself. “Hi, Ki. You miss me?”

“Yes,” the boy agreed, his smile reaching from one ear to the other. Seeing him so joyful made your heart swell and you swiftly wiped your tears away. For the first time in two weeks, you felt at home.

“Should we eat?”

Your dad was already one step ahead, carrying the pan filled with pancakes from the stove to the table. Four sets of tableware were set up neatly as fresh-cut flowers decorated the scene. Food from all sectors of the food-pyramid occupied the dark wood, making your mouth water.

“Did you set the table, Dad?”

He laughed at your assumption, “I wish. It was this wonderful lady right here.” He pointed at Jia. “Remember, you can move in whenever.”

“You might say that now,” Jisung interrupted, taking the seat between Ki and his sister, “but wait ’til you actually live with her. She’s a slob. A big-brain slob, but a slob.”

“Says the boy who uses his dirty underwear as parquet flooring.”

Ki giggled at that mental image, munching away on the food his grandfather had set on his plate.

“We haven’t lived in the same room for 3 years. I’ve changed.”

“Y/N, back me up here.” You looked at Jia while filling the fresh orange juice into the glasses by everyone’s plate. “You’ve lived with him for the past 3 years. Does he still keep his dirty clothes anywhere but in the hamper?”

After he had moved from his childhood room into yours a few years back, you remembered this habit of his. Vividly. It had been the main reasons fights would break out between you. Other than the constant debate on how to raise a baby, of course. Over the years, it had gotten better; his clothes landed closer and closer to the laundry basket each week.

“He tries, but he never mastered reaching into the hamper. I don’t know how someone’s aim can be so off.”

Jia laughed, Ki joining in once he understood your words to be of the joking kind. He was at that age where he tried mimicking the people around him. That included emotional reactions from the ones closest to him. And to think you were missing this crucial part of his childhood.

“Complain as much as you want. Ever since we moved to campus, I’ve been very diligent about keeping things clean.” Your expression told him that you had seen his room and didn’t quite agree. “At least Felix never complains.”

“This Felix guy sounds like a catch.” That you couldn’t disagree with. “Glad you got a decent roommate.”

“He’s alright. Although—” Setting his fork and knife beside his plate, Jisung took a sip from his glass. “What were you two hugging about before? You seemed… close.”

There was no undertone to his question other than wanting to know the content of your talk. Still, you couldn’t shake the feeling that Jisung was hinting at something.

“Nothing. Just small-talk.” Not a lie, but not the truth either. Though you figured a little white lie couldn’t hurt, knowing all it did was hide the secret Felix had shared with you. Jisung wouldn’t have judged Felix if you had told him, but you didn’t believe it was your right to out him. Especially after promising you wouldn’t tell anyone.

“Really? I could swear he was crying or something.”

“Oh, that? He was going through some personal things.” A little closer to the truth but still not revealing the whole story. Jisung seemed to believe you, and why wouldn’t he have? Had it been something that concerned your boyfriend, you would have told him. Didn’t have a reason not to. “Nothing to worry about, though.”

“Alright.” Your boyfriend picked his cutlery back up, slicing some of his son’s food for easier eating. “You’d tell me if it was serious, though. Right?”

“Of course,” you agreed as you beamed at your son. His mouth was stuck in a grin while he shoved spoons full of pancake into his mouth. “Everything’s alright.”

Brunch continued with little distraction. The topics reached from your future sister-in-law’s studies, which she was about to finish, to your son’s upcoming birthday. Still over a month away, but you could never start planning too early. It almost felt like you had never left. Your family, spending the late morning like you had any other weekend before moving to live on campus.

Your son’s lack of sleep showed right after he finished his plate. Despite his best efforts to keep himself awake, his eyes fell shut every few seconds. After missing you so much the past weeks, he wanted to spend any minute with his parents. It broke your heart. Of course, you knew it was better this way— staying close to campus and concentrating on your studies while your son stayed with your dad. Providing him the childhood he deserved. Still, it hurt you, knowing Ki missed you so much. Your own pain played a critical role in that feeling as well.

“I’ll take him to bed,” Jisung explained as he lifted his son from the high chair. Ki waved at you, already half asleep, as his father carried him out of the room.

Your dad had left a minute or two earlier, telling you about a discovery he had made while cleaning the attic. Thus, Jia and you were left to clean up the table, which you didn’t mind. It gave you a chance to catch up, something you had wanted the past few weeks but had never found the time for.

“So? How’s Uni for you? Did you make a ton of friends already?”

“I don’t know about a ton. But I did meet some people already,” you told her as you filled the sink with soap and water. “There’s this girl, Yuqi. She’s in my marketing classes, and she’s very nice. We get along great. And then, there’s Felix.”

“Sungie’s roommate?”

“Yes. He’s also very nice. I can see us becoming close.”

“That’s good. You never know when you’ll meet those people, but some of them will stick forever.” You nodded at her words, feeling like you had found two of these forever people in Yuqi and Felix. You had hardly met anyone you could open up to like you could to them, not even your High School friends. “How’s my baby bro doing on the friendship front? Is he adapting?”

“Surprisingly so. Jisung found a group of boys he’s been hanging out with. They seem cool; down to earth. They’re having a positive impact on him already.”

Had Jisung overheard your conversation, he would have most likely confronted you. Why would you talk about him behind his back like this? As though he was a social outcast you had to chaperone in his endeavours to make friends? However, he would have had to agree with you in the end.

Since you met him, Jisung hadn’t had the easiest time meeting new people. He was often awkward in social situations, and the lack of a filter caused him more problems than it fixed. You for one, loved him for it, as you always knew what was going on in his mind. Other people, not so much. In the past, Jisung had gotten himself in trouble due to saying the wrong things in tense situations. His social anxiety had only worsened the older he got. Having made friends already—without much effort—was a big deal.

Jia, being his older sister, knew about his issues.

“I’m glad he’s doing alright. It sounds harsh, but I wasn’t expecting him to make friends. Or worse.” She placed the dishes in the dishwasher as her eyes met yours. “He could have made the wrong friends.” You could tell where she was going with this. Her transition felt rather forced, but who could blame her? You, for one, had expected her to ask even earlier. “Speaking of—” And there it was. “Did you run into him already?”

Sighing at her words, you started scrubbing the pan below the soapy surface of the sink.

“We did.” Jia nodded, eyebrows furrowing in thought. “Seems like Jisung and him kept in contact. He invited us to this party at his fraternity yesterday.”

“So you talked to him?”

“Yup.” From her reaction you knew that she wasn’t satisfied with that. Jia was trying not to get too caught up in how you had talked to the one person she never wanted to think about again. After all, she couldn’t control who you ran into and chose to spend your time with. That went for both you and Jisung. Although, you were a bit more reserved about your relationship with the one who shan’t be named.

“I’ll regret asking later, but—” Again, you knew exactly what she was about to ask. “Did you meet— her?”

You placed the clean pan onto the rack to dry, taking off the cleaning gloves to hang them over the tap. You had thought a lot about how to approach this, but couldn’t come up with a painless explanation. So, the truth it was.

“I think so. I’m not 100 percent sure, but I believe she might be my roommate.”

A huff escaped Jia’s lips at the irony. “Of-fucking-course, she’s your roommate. And let me guess. She’s super nice and not at all a bitch who stole my boyfriend.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault. You didn’t cheat on me and break my heart. That was all him.”

The glimmer of hurt in Jia’s eyes reminded you of that afternoon you found her crying on your doorstep. Her makeup smeared over her face and body trembling in your embrace. The pain wasn’t the same depth as three years ago, but you could tell it had left a scar. How couldn’t it have?

Jackson and Jia had been together for three years when she discovered his infidelity. There had been talks of marriage already, when he decided to throw it all out the window. And the worst thing, Jackson even tried to deny it when she confronted him. What he didn’t know was that Jia had seem them together. Two hours she had driven to campus to surprise him one weekend, and all to see him hugging and kissing some hot piece of ass. That’s how Jia had described her boyfriend’s affair after spotting them together. It had taken her around a minute to realise what was happening, then she up and left again.

A surprise phone call later that weekend Jackson answered with shock and denial. Not five minutes later, Jia decided she couldn’t hear it anymore. Like that, three years ended in what you could only describe as the second most heartbroken you had ever seen a person.

So, yes. The woman was still hurt. She was still in pain. Although that pain had morphed into hatred along the way.

“If it’s any comfort, she doesn’t seem to know you existed. And—” The next part was a shot in the dark. Hopefully, Jia would understand the humour in it all. “She started dating a woman immediately after Jackson. Said he made her realise she’d be better off without a man.”

That, Hwasa had told you in confidence. But seeing as it lightened the mood, you didn’t regret telling Jia. “Okay, that does make me feel better.” The atmosphere lightened up after that, though Jia needed to get one last thing off her mind. “But, you should keep track of that friendship between Jackson and Sungie.”

“You think?”

“Jackson himself might not be the problem. As hard as it is for me to say, he has a good heart. But that hardly goes for those friends of his. They’re some sketchy people.” Jia’s eyes showed honest concern. So much so that it worried you a little. “To this day, I believe he wouldn’t have done what he did, had his friends not had as much impact on him. They kept telling him he was too hot to let opportunities for hookups with random girls pass by. That our relationship was holding him back from reaching his full potential. And that’s a literal quote I overheard one of them telling him over the phone.”

“What? That’s crazy. Why did Jackson let them talk like this about you?”

“Who knows? But the matter of fact is that Jackson is a confident man. Always was. My brother, however...”

You understood she was hinting, again, at his social introversion.

“Since Dad left us, he’s been searching for a father figure in the older men around him. Do you remember that guy, Wonho, he hung out with in High School?”

“Do I? The dude was the personification of steroids.”

“Exactly. And Sungie had the biggest man crush on him. You do recall how that ended, right?”

“He broke his wrist trying to lift double his weight.”

“I love Sungie to the moon and back, but he has serious daddy issues. Not that it’s any his fault.” Jia had a point in everything she said. Even though you hoped Jisung couldn’t be manipulated, you understood it wasn’t impossible. “That Wonho-guy was his hero for months, and he wasn’t even trying to be. Imagine what could happen if some seriously sketchy guys meet him and see a trainable puppy.”

There was a moment of consideration as you imagined what Jia had described. Jackson and she had been happy before they went to university. Much like you and Jisung, they had been together a long time. Still, something inside you told you that Jisung wouldn’t hurt you like this. Jackson was a good guy, and they had been good together. But they also had their fair share of issues. Jisung and you, that was a whole other thing. You were soulmates. You had a son. Other than sweeping them under the rug, you talked about your relationship problems.

You wanted to voice those thoughts to Jia, but before you could do so, your dad and Jisung entered the room. Your dad carried a thick book, showing it to your boyfriend, who laughed at whatever he saw on the page.

“Baby, how were you so cute as a baby? I could eat you up.”

Your confusion resolved when your dad explained the situation. “I was showing an old photo album to Jisung. I found a stack of them in the attic.” Flipping the page, another chuckle escaped your dad’s lips. “Look! It’s you and your father. Gosh, I haven’t seen this picture in ages.”

At those words, a smile spread over your face as you made your way to his side of the book. And sure enough, there you were. Sitting in a flowerpot as your father held you up, smiling into the camera. The unfamiliar image warmed your heart, despite the tinge of sadness that appeared whenever you saw a picture of him.

“Your father was so handsome,” Jia said as she caught a glimpse.

“The most handsome,” your dad agreed, looking up from the page. “He did some modelling work while we attended law school and was good at it, too. Even made it into some magazines. He was so handsome even, it took me months to finally muster the courage and ask him out. And thank God, I did.” With those words, his eyes met you, still completely captured by the picture. “He would have been so proud of you, honey.”

A single tear rolled down your cheek as a smile plastered your face. Oh, what you’d give to have the chance and talk to him one last time. You would have told him so many things. Most importantly, you would have told him about the family you had found between all the grief and loss. The ones surrounding you, being the closest to you. And, of course, Ki. The love of your life.

No doubt, he would have loved your father as much as you did.

Next Chapter >>> coming soon

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[misc-obeyme]

Okay back on my human!au ideas. I'm gonna do a compilation post or something because the others are just rambles and they aren't exactly easy to find... I don't even have it in the masterlist anywhere... mostly 'cause these are just ideas that I have no idea what I'm gonna do with. asldfj anyway! Feel free to use them if you feel so inclined!

(For reference: Beel, Belphie, Satan, & Asmo, more Asmo & Mammon - you can also check the tag #misc human au)

Okay so I've talked about all the brothers except for Lucifer and Levi, but here's what I'm thinking.

Basically, I can't really imagine any of the brothers living fully alone, so while Beel & Belphie are both living on the farm (though possibly in different buildings) and Satan & Asmo are sharing a place in the city (probably in one side of a duplex because I think an apartment would be too small for them lol), I've decided the three older brothers live together, too.

BUT. Levi is a marine biologist. He has his own boat for research purposes (his research is likely also funded by the university where Satan teaches) and sometimes he goes out on his boat for weeks at a time. His main focus for his research is whales or maybe manatees or something, but everybody knows he's secretly trying to find evidence of sea serpents.

Still completely obsessed with anime & manga, I don't think you could ever take the otaku out of Levi lol. So when he goes out on his boat, he brings piles of manga and anime to catch up on while he's out there.

He has a lot of high tech equipment on his boat that he's especially good at maintaining. Other researchers often ask him for help with this.

When he's home, he spends his time holed up in his room playing video games, occasionally emerging for food and what have you. He also spends a decent amount of time working through what he learned on his expeditions and writing research papers good enough to continue getting grants. Satan helps with those, taking Levi's data and making it sound good. Sometimes Belphie helps out too.

All the other brothers seek out Levi when they need help with tech and sometimes he takes them out on his boat for rides or even if they just wanna get away for a couple days. Belphie especially likes to do this because you get some amazing views of the stars out on the ocean.

Lucifer owns a vineyard. It's not far from Beel's farm, but unlike Beel Lucifer doesn't live there. His house is in the city proper and as mentioned, he shares it with Levi and Mammon.

Lucifer spends a lot of time at the vineyard, though, perfecting the various methods of wine production to create a superior product. He's the real money maker of this family. While everybody else makes money from their various jobs, Lucifer's personal wine label makes the most. We all know that Lucifer would take care of all of his brothers if any of them needed anything. He gives them money regularly and doesn't ask for it back.

Human!Lucifer is much softer than demon!Lucifer in general. There is some angsty family history that I will write about in a different post, but basically he's been through a lot. Basically raised all his brothers himself and they mean everything to him. He isn't about to let them stumble through life because they didn't have enough money. Especially not if he has it to give them.

He's more indulgent, probably middle aged, tired. He was perhaps more intense when he was younger, but he's mellowed out at this point.

He and Mammon are both very business minded, so together they kinda keep everybody else on track. They help with the business side of Beel's farm, allowing Beel to focus on things like crop quality. And if for some reason Levi or Belphie don't get the funds they need from the university, Lucifer and Mammon come up with ways to supplement their income. Satan does all right as a professor and Asmo is a successful therapist, so they don't need as much help. But they will come to their older brothers for advice. Together, Lucifer and Mammon are especially good at helping their brothers plan for retirement lol. They're like, listen we know you're young and don't care, but you gotta start saving with that 401k!!

Lucifer thinks Mammon is a little too wild with his fancy cars, but he also admits that Mammon is good at what he does. Levi worries Lucifer when he's locked up in his room for too long or when he's gone on his boat for too long without checking in.

Lucifer is proud of Satan and Asmo, how they're doing well on their own together, how successful and well balanced they both turned out. He worries a little bit about Belphie, spending a lot of time alone staring at the stars, but he's also aware that Belphie is doing what he loves. Lucifer is also proud of Beel for pursuing something as difficult as farming.

I still like the idea of MC being the only non human in this scenario lol. The one pink sheep on Beel's farm. But of course there could be a situation in which they all meet an MC character...

Buuuut I also think I'm getting ahead of myself. We still got the tragic family backstory and the side characters to consider.

Anyway, this is just me rambling about my thoughts. More likely to come 'cause I can't stop thinking about them.

[amatorygirls]

GtN and HtN spoilers!! CW: talk of not having control over your body

just randomly thought of this now so excuse my incoherentness or possible ignorance or if anyone has said this before (this is also my first ever tumblr post so sorry for formatting errors), but i was looking at fanart of cytherea the first and just loving it. i realized there’s just something so baroque about her, and i think that’s on purpose. because she’s of the 7th house yes, the emperor’s joy and all that, but also because she’s a woman, and also because she’s dying. she’s expected to be beautiful because of her affiliation and her gender, all while she’s decaying from a disease that she was doomed to be born with and could never escape until it ultimately killed her. wilting away infront of everyone. and the ENTIRE time, she was given roses. roses, the pinnacle of beauty. every single rose she was given had a meaning, a life. and every single rose died. inevitably, wilting away infront of her. reminding her of her own fragile, ‘beautiful’ self. and even after she was dead, she was laid to rest drowned in roses that were modified to stay perpetually fresh, along with her body (i think) ((which of course john would do, after reading nona i’m not surprised)). not even eternally asleep could she catch a break. i think tamsyn muir was saying something here about how the ‘ideal woman is a dead one’. she is silent, still, and malleable. that’s what she pretended to be in canaan house. but i don’t think she ever could truly be. she was too angry. too enraged. also the fact that she became a lyctor in hopes she could be cured but just ended up suffering in a stagnant state of sickness for thousands of years, the fact that she was purposely given this disease. the fact that john LIED. lied to everyone. lied to HER. before her life, during her life, and after her life, things were done to her body without her informed consent. her cancer being almost prophetic, her unknowing improper lyctoral ascension, and the possesion of her empty shell of a body. (also it being used as a medium for pyrrha and wake is a whole other thing) she IS the rage of not having control over your own body. i think, ultimatley, that’s what her character is about. i mean, i’m pretty sure harrow stabbing The Sword™️ INSIDE her unwilling corpse was probably a metaphor or something…

“we take so much. i’m so sorry.”

(again i just thought of this thirty minutes ago so feel free to add anything 🙏) ((i also wonder how this parallels dulcinea and her life but it’s 1 am and i don’t feel like thinking anymore. but i think we’ll learn more about her in alecto.))

the art that inspired this was a beautiful cytherea and harrow drawing by pygmypouter on tumblr!

[trensu]

So this was originally a little ficlet i added to @gyroshrike's EXCELLENT angel dust fanart. You should check it out IMMEDIATELY. Anyway, I ended up writing it out into a proper fic so I could post it to ao3 here. and i thought i might as well make it its own tumblr post as well since the fic is done already. Enjoy!

“What do you mean no?” Cherri asks, annoyed. “This is the fifth fucking outfit you’ve shot down.”

Angel doesn’t know why he thought Cherri would be helpful on this shopping trip. He forgot that Cherri’s idea of fashion involves singed tops and torn up bottoms. He snatches the clothes from Cherri’s hands and throws them back on the rack.

“Ya keep pickin’ slutty clothes!” Angel replies, also annoyed. 

“That’s because you are a slut, bitch.”

Angel gives her a two fingered salute because he’s fucking cultured. Cherri cackles and flips him off in return. Angel marches to the other end of the store to the rack full of boring colors like navy, gray, and black. They don’t go with his coloring at all. It’s the only rack left he hasn’t looked through in the entire store, though. Cherri follows behind him, purposely shoving racks and mannequins to make a mess as they go.

“Well, I ain’t tryin’ ta look slutty this time,” Angel says as he aggressively inspects the rack of clothing.

“Good luck getting that cat in bed after your date,” Cherri snorts.

“It’s a first date! Husk ain’t like that,” Angel says, feeling a bit offended on Husk’s behalf. “He’s a gentleman.”

“Yeah, the drunk arsehole is a total gentleman,” Cherri rolls her eye. 

“He is about this kinda thing. He’s a classy guy, okay? So I’m givin’ classy a try,” Angel insists. He reaches the end of the rack with nothing to show for it. He growls. “Fuck this place, it ain’t got shit. Let’s go.”

“Fuck yes! About fucking time,” Cherri cheers.

After blowing off steam with Cherri, Angel sneaks back into the hotel. Not that he’d done anything wrong; he just doesn’t want to bump into Husker at the bar after the spectacular failure of a shopping trip. He’s stressed because he was running out of time to get an outfit together. He knows he gets catty under pressure. (Ha. Catty.) He doesn’t want to risk getting catty with Husker.

Once inside, Angel wanders the upper levels for a bit until he is absolutely sure that Charlie was nowhere around. He knows Charlie would be overjoyed to help but she's about as subtle as machine gunfire when she's happy. Angel wants his future upscale look to be a surprise for Husk.

Since Charlie can’t be considered, Angel is left with one last option. With extreme reluctance, he makes his way to Charlie’s room. He makes sure not to show anything but confidence and charm when he knocks on the door.

Vaggie opens it with a scowl.

“Angel. What do you want?” Vaggie asks in that flat yet annoyed tone she was so good at doing.

“Heyyy, Vaggie. Ya know that redemption thing Charlie always yaps about?” Angel starts. Vaggie’s scowl deepens, so Angel continues before she could say anything. “I was thinkin’ I should change up my look, so I ain’t so sexy and tempting. Looking like a prude is a virtue, ain’t it? You’re the biggest prude I know! Wanna help a fella out? For redemption and sh–uh, stuff?”

Angel bats his eyes at Vaggie, channeling his ‘I’m a sweet, naive virgin, please take advantage of me’ character. It’s a very popular character in his line of work. He is much better at that than at looking innocent but he figures it’s basically the same thing. Vaggie glares at him. Okay, slight miscalculation on Angel’s part, then.

“No,” she says, and tries to close the door. Angel catches it with two hands before it shuts completely.

“Wait!”

“I’m not helping you with whatever porno you’re doing,” Vaggie says. 

“It ain’t for porn!” Angel says. He’s not exactly insulted that Vaggie assumed it was a porn thing, but he’s not not insulted either. He’s got a life outside of porn, sometimes!

Vaggie stares at him. It’s an expectant stare. It’s a stare that clearly says Angel has to give her a reason to not harpoon him with that spear she carries everywhere. (It’s also super judgemental but that doesn’t offend Angel since Vaggie looks at everyone except Charlie judgmentally).

A small jolt of embarrassment hits him. He wishes it was a porn thing now. 

He doesn’t want to say it out loud, this tiny frail chance Husk gave him by asking him out. If he says it out loud, Vaggie will scoff. She’d roll her eyes and ask him why he’s even bothering to try. Does he really think anyone would seriously want to date a cokehead pornstar? This is a pipe dream and Husker will get fed up with him so fast.

(Vaggie wouldn’t say any of that, a part of Angel knows. Those were Valentino’s words, but he’s so sure that Vaggie must have thought it at least once. Everybody must think that about him at least once).

The longer he stays quiet the more Vaggie’s glare softens until she starts to look genuinely concerned. And, fuck, Angel can’t have that. He’d die (again) if Vaggie felt sorry enough to be nice to him. He pastes on his smile and keeps his tone girlfriend-ly.

“I got a hot date, Vaggie, that’s all,” Angel says. “Wanna try somethin’ a little different for it.”

Vaggie is not convinced by his nonchalance which makes Angel wonder if he’s losing his touch. His acting skills are second to none! She should be eating out of the palm of his hand with this performance! Instead, she marches out of the room and waves him along.

“Follow me,” Vaggie says in her drill sergeant voice that makes everyone who hears it straighten their spine and find themselves already halfway to a salute.

Angel learns that Vaggie approaches clothes shopping with the same tactical focus and determination she approaches any mission, which is weird but whatever. She stealthily leads him to the nicer side of town into a more upscale shop than Angel is used to. She marches through the shop without bothering to ask Angel for his input on anything. Still she manages to pick out a few outfits that went well with his coloring and in his size. Angel has never appreciated her observational skills more.

“Try these on and show me,” she demands, piling her pickings into both sets of Angel’s arms and shoving him into a dressing room.

Angel complies without protest. He sashays out of the dressing room like a supermodel four times before Vaggie nods in satisfaction on the last option. She actually smiles at him.

“This one. You’ll impress your date with this one,” Vaggie says without a hint of irony.

Angel smiles back and thanks her enthusiastically. He ignores how he hadn’t recognized himself in the mirror in any of the outfits. He ignores how uncomfortable the clothes feel on his body. The clothes are classy, just like Husker prefers. That’s what matters.

–

When Husker shows up at his door for their date, he does a double take.

“What the hell are you wearing?” Husk asks, confused.

Angel starts to lean flirtatiously into his space, a salacious come on right on the tip of his tongue. He catches himself halfway and quickly straightens himself with an awkward laugh.

“Just somethin’ I found in the back of the closet,” he lies through his teeth.

He’d devoted time to doing his makeup just right and making sure the clothes were crisp and clean. He still feels uncomfortable in them but all things considered, Angel thinks the final product came out pretty good. The way Husker looks at him now makes him wonder if he overestimated his looks for once.

Husk’s eyes narrow as he studies Angel. His gaze trails Angel top to bottom. It doesn’t feel very sexy but Angel supposes the point is to not look like a whore so this means he succeeded, right? 

“Sure,” Husk says, notes of confusion still in his tone. “You ready to go?”

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, of course!” Angel stutters like a moron.

“Alright,” Husker says after a beat.

Husk gives Angel another suspicious look, shoulders tense and wings pulled close. Something shifts in his expression that Angel can’t read. He’s afraid it might be disappointment. Husker shakes out his wings and offers Angel his arm, which Angel accepts with relief.

“So, where ya takin’ me, Huskie?”

Husker tells him about a little place with good food, better drinks, and a live jazz band. As they walk out of the hotel, Angel almost cozies up against Husk, so tempted to rub his cheek against Husker’s furry ear. He catches himself again and over-corrects by pulling away from Husk until their linked arms are the only point of contact. Husk stumbles a bit with the weight shift. He shoots him another indecipherable look. Husker opens his mouth to say something but appears to change his mind and snaps it shut.

That’s okay, though, right? Husker wasn’t much of a talker anyway! Angel fills the silence between them with nervous babble. Angel is normally very good at conversation but tonight he keeps having to stop and restart mid-sentence when his stories get crass. Being crass is not good first date behavior. Husker grunts every now and then but it’s clear he’s only listening with half an ear. It doesn’t help Angel’s nerves at all.

The date goes downhill from there.

Husker finds them a booth when they arrive at their destination and helps Angel order their food and drinks. He points out several he thinks Angel will like.

Usually, he and Husker can pound back alcohol like nobody’s business. They sometimes make a game of it and those nights are some of the best Angel has because he gets to see Husker soften and relax in his company. However, Angel is an affectionate drunk and Husk has had to nudge Angel away more than once those nights. Husker is always sweet about it now, with gentle hands and amusement in his eyes. Husker always helps him back to his room afterwards like a perfect gentlemanly escort. Despite that, Angel can’t help feeling a bit stung at the rejection each time.

Tonight, he only orders one drink. He knows he can’t be getting too handsy with Husk on their date. He’s sure it would annoy him. He doesn’t want Husker to regret asking him out. With his focus strictly on keeping up his good behavior and watching his alcohol intake, Angel barely touches the food Husker recommended to him. 

Husker keeps shooting him these looks that make Angel anxious. With each glance, Husker slinks deeper into his taciturn demeanor. Of course, Angel overcompensates with his babbling. At one point, Husk has to shush him during the jazz show. Angel clacks his jaws shut in shame, because he knows how much Husker likes jazz and here he is ruining the experience for him. At least Husk is nice enough to hold Angel’s hands throughout the rest of the show, though he probably only does it to keep Angel from fidgeting too much.

When they leave the joint, Husker doesn’t offer his arm again. He doesn’t even walk very close to him. Angel's stomach churns so much, he’s afraid if he opens his mouth to speak, he’ll puke the two bites of food he ate earlier.

They’re halfway back to the hotel when Husk clears his throat. His hands are in his pockets as he trudges on, keeping his eyes on the crumbling sidewalk.

“You didn’t have to say yes,” Husk says, not even glancing at Angel or faltering in his steps as he speaks. Angel, on the other hand, halts in confusion.

“What?” Angel asks, not sure what Husker was talking about but the tone of voice made his stomach drop. Husk sighs, stopping in his tracks to finally look up at Angel. His face was closed off in his standard apathetic frown.

“When I asked you out,” Husker says, his tone going to his usual bored gruffness. He hasn’t used that tone towards Angel in a long time. Hints of panic start crawling up Angel’s veins. “You didn’t have to say yes.”

“What?” Angel asks again like a fucking idiot. He hopes he doesn’t sound as shaky and pathetic as he feels.

Husker’s voice goes flatter though his tail has started to twitch uneasily.

“You should’ve said no if you didn’t want to…be with me. We woulda been fine.”

“Huskie–”

And at last some of that soft, hidden sincerity crept back into Husker’s voice. Only a little bit, but it’s there.

“I’d still be your friend, Legs,” Husker says, gazing into Angel’s eyes and sounding painfully honest. “I wouldn’t abandon you over that.”

“No! I-I–”

Husker looks away with a bitter grin. Angel’s heart cracked at the sight.

“I’d need a day or two to lick my wounds, but I knew it was a long shot anyway. I woulda come back,” Husker shrugs when he finishes going for nonchalance, but his wings are once again curled protective and close, making his usual slouch look less like carelessness and more like defeat. Husker doesn’t wait for Angel’s response, instead choosing to continue walking back to the hotel.

Angel stands in place, floored by how badly he fucked up. He notices his breathing becoming erratic. He does his best to do the calming breathing thing Charlie taught them all. It works well enough to get him running to Husker again though Angel still feels unsteady and insecure. Most of him is screaming to fucking book it in the other direction because fuck, fuck, Angel hates feelings. But Husker also hates feelings and he basically threw up his guts at Angel despite it. The least Angel can do is return the gesture, right? He owes Husker that much.

“Husker, wait!” he shouts. 

Husker’s posture becomes more guarded but he doesn’t acknowledge Angel’s call. Angel catches up quickly (Husk can’t go too far too fast with those short legs, Angel thinks, helplessly fond despite the anxiety). Dodging around Husker’s wings that quiver with tension, Angel grabs the crook of his arm to bring him to a stop and place himself in Husk’s way. He lets go quickly at Husk’s glare but somehow manages to stand his ground.

“I did want! Husk, I wanted ta say yes, I wanted ta go on this date so much,” Angel says desperately, feeling a telltale burning around his eyes and hating himself for it.

The tension in Husker’s body breaks free as his patience caves to his temper. His wings flare open and his tail whips side to side aggressively.

“Then why are you acting so fucking fake? With the clothes and you treating me like I got the fucking plague! I thought we were done with that bullshit,” Husker snaps furiously.

“Cuz I wanted ta…I wanted ta be good for ya, Husk,” Angel chokes out, shoulders slumped in defeat. “You like classy. I wanted ta be a good, classy sorta guy for ya. I-I fucked up. I always fuck this shit up. I don’t mean ta do it.”

Angel stares at the poor excuse of a sidewalk they’re on, blinking back tears. Husker doesn’t say anything for a long time. Angel nearly loses his nerve and turns tail when Husker speaks again.

“You fucking dumbass,” Husk says. 

His voice is deep and warm and fond, the way it is on their drinking nights together. Angel’s head snaps to Husk at his words. That cocky little smirk– the one Angel first saw after Husk had pulled him out of his self-destructive spiral at the club and realized that if he wasn't careful he'd lose his heart to the guy–has replaced the angry slant of Husk’s mouth.

“Hey!” Angel protests with a cautious smile. Husk rolls his eyes.

“Don’t expect compliments if you’re gonna act stupid,” Husk says and offers his arm to Angel. “You’re already classy enough for me, Legs.”

Angel takes his arm and looks down at him slyly.

“But not good, huh?” Angel tries to tease but Husker doesn’t take it.

Instead, Husk looks at him intensely and says firmly, “If this redemption shit the princess keeps talking about ain’t total bullshit, you’d be the one to make it.”

“Oh,” Angel says, stunned, then adds to cover how hard it made his heart beat, “Husker, ya big ol’ flirt. I betcha say that ta all the pretty boys.”

“Fuck you,” Husk grins at him. Angel bats his eyes and lets his voice go all breathy.

“Oh, yes! Please, daddy,” Angel simpers. He adds a loud moan for good measure. Husker throws his head back with a rough, loud laugh. Angel knows immediately he wants to hear it again forever.

By the time Husk drops Angel off at the door of his room, the pair of them have relaxed significantly. Angel opens the door slightly to peek in on Fat Nuggets. After he makes sure his Nugs is sleeping soundly, Angel catches Husk’s sleeve before he could make a sneaky escape.

“Hey, Husk, can we get a do-over? A new first date? I want ta do it right next time.” Angel asks shyly. The corner of Husk’s mouth quirks up, making his golden eyes crinkle in a way that makes Angel’s heart melt.

“Depends,” Husker says with that charming smirk. “You gonna wear that stupid outfit next time?”

“Oh baby,” Angel says, plastering himself against the door frame in one of his sexiest poses. “I’m gonna wear my sluttiest dress for my handsome kitty. Everyone’s gonna wish they were you when they see us togetha.”

Husk snorts.

“When you put it like that…”

“You can put it wherever ya want, daddy,” Angel flirts. He’s only half-joking but he keeps his hands to himself to keep things light. Husker rolls his eyes in good humor.

“A do-over sounds good.”

Angel drops the pose instantly, beaming at Husk.

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

Angel’s heart flutters at the small smile that accompanies Husk’s assurance.

“Next week?”

Husker nods in agreement.

“Great!” Angel said, probably a little too enthusiastically.

Before Angel canlose his nerve, he dips down and presses a light, meek kiss on Husker’s cheek. When he pulls back, Husker’s eyes are as wide as saucers and his wings have puffed up in a way Angel hadn’t seen before. If Angel didn’t know any better, he’d say Husker was downright flustered. And oh god, Angel wanted to make him blush all over. Husker would be so cute in bed.

“G‘night, Huskie!” Angel says quickly and slams the door closed behind him.

After nearly tearing himself out of the uncomfortable clothes, Angel crawls into bed wearing only his boxer briefs. Next time, he thinks to himself in joy and disbelief. I get a next time.

He knows it will be perfect because next time he’ll be himself. Angel. Because that’s all Husker wanted. Just Angel.

He curls up around Fat Nuggets and allows himself one quiet, happy squeal.

[struggling-jpg]

Yanqing and Yunli Appreciation Post

Keep Reading cut due to 2.4 spoilers~ (also relatively long-ish post)

These two bounce off each other so well! As a writer, it feels so satisfying to see their characters shine through the quest and the event in the way their interactions highlight them. So I'm gonna use this space to ramble about it!

My previous post pretty much talked about it already, but Yanqing!!! My son!!! I was quite worried that any potential arc for him would be shoved down the road or to the side due to the scale HSR has, but the game's been actually holding up to his ongoing arc. As a result, at least to me, he's come through as one of the best written/developed characters on the Xianzhou so far.

The nature of the length of the updates lets what we get in previous quests settle in for a long while, and considering the mentioned of flow of time in-game, Yanqing's had the time to think and develop as a person. The fact that so many players have had their view and opinion of him finally turn around in this quest is a testament to that. We get to see more facets of him, as in, doing his job and the responsibilities of doing so, and how his insecurities are mentioned in a main quest for all to see. He's constantly referencing others and his past encounters. You can tell that Jing Yuan raised him with his manner and approach to things, which is highlighted by the contrast to Yunli (will get to that soon).

His position as a child soldier has made him mature faster, be quiet even when he's been wronged (filial piety/saving face (aka thank you person on Reddit who makes the banger character Yanqing (and other characters in general) appreciation posts)), take a step back and have to be able to read the room (though, reasonably, he doesn't catch on all the time), and much, much more. The fact that other official content has described him as being more worried about diplomacy and all that. He doesn't have the luxury to be as carefree or brash for someone his age.

There's a lot to unpack there still, even with the development he's had now and that's good! If the Hoyo writing team was wild enough, it'd be cool to see them address the grayness of his role and Jing Yuan's mindset in raising him as he did (We love Dad-Yuan and he loves his son dearly no question, but it'd be so interesting to explore his flaws/mistakes in this perspective!).

Now onto Yunli.

I'm saying straight off the bat, I'm irritated by her!

And that's a good thing!

Her being annoying or bratty or irritating doesn't automatically make her a badly written character! She only would become one if they don't do anything with her, and HSR most probably will, and she should be given the same room to develop in her own arc.

She acts like her age, and she doesn't have the same pressures as Yanqing does. Just like how you can see Jing Yuan in Yanqing, you can see Huaiyan in Yunli, if anything he says is to go by. She's tempremental and outspoken to a fault, and based on the way how quickly Huaiyan relented when she talked back, you can tell that Huaiyan isn't as strict/stern with her to give her a sense of being humble.

I had this thought that she's technically what the general fandom viewed Yanqing as initially, and I'm not saying that as a 100% thing, by the way. But like by some traits and the vibes. She, of course, has a lot more nuance that will be explored at one point or another.

But back on topic, she's a foil. They represent two different approaches and lifestyles and can clearly learn from each other. Her inconsideration of the fact that she's on the Luofu but enforcing Zhuming practices (which I noticed people were upset by, and same; which I imagine is the point), her bluntness to no matter who she's talking to—there's a lot to work with here.

Just like with their swordplay, Yanqing could learn from her mental strength while Yunli can learn from his focused speed and defense. He can learn to regain a more firm grasp of his recently found purpose while she can learn to mature and take in her surroundings and be more thoughtful in that front.

Another interesting note is that where we are with Yanqing currently is in the middle of his arc, we've had the time to see him take a long route of struggle to get to this point, exacerbated by irl players views of him. He's in the middle of his growth and we've had since 1.0 to get to know him. But with Yunli, she was introduced very recently, so we're technically at the "beginning" of her character arc. In a way, Yunli now highlights how far Yanqing has come and changed, and in a way Yanqing now is a potential show for the arc that Yunli can have (not being the exact same as him of course).

I think the idea with these two is that they develop to be more balanced. Balance is such an important thing, especially in Chinese culture (Daoism (Yin-Yang), etc.), and 2.4 has shown how much potential they have to make for amazing character arcs.

It's cool that while they have such similar base traits, they're so different from each other. Calling Yunli a female Yanqing or Yanqing a male Yunli is simply outright incorrect. Their backgrounds, upbringings, ideals, swordstyles, perspectives, and positions in life are so distinct. I'm looking forward to their futures!

[intervalart]

Shorthand AU Masterpost

So my brainrot has gotten so bad that I currently I have 5 AUs for The Idiot Cowboys. At this point they might as well be OCs because this is....... Ridiculous. I have never had this happen with any other series I've been into.

All of them are still WIPs, and anything is subject to change because I have no idea what I'm doing. (pic to break up the cut)

-Vampire/Werewolf (this one you already know); I use BBFF for short when referring to this. BBFF is short for Bark Bark Flap Flap, because I am garbage at naming things, lol (Masterpost here, and I will also post a short and simple summary comic I made for it when I get the chance)

This only happened cuz of the amount of research I've had to do to scientifically justify the supernatural elements in my mind. (there is a lot of science nonsense in here, ESPECIALLY around the vampire mechanics, believe me)

This is also a slowburn from hell, cuz they are both Very Bad at dying, to the point where they through the decades up to Near Future (for those not in the fandom, it's a wacky setting with robots and psychic powers and basically a kaiju fight. Y'know, just how the people in 1994 imagined 2014 would be) and they both are intended to have unique designs for that era too. (only MD is designed for that so far, will post later.)

---

-Fae AU; (I call it Lil Guys AU cuz again, awful with names) still set in the wild west, but it's kinda borrowercore with somewhat darker pepperings of Home Safety Hotline in terms of lore.

I'm working on a summary for that that I will post when it's ready, but it also has a lot of magic mechanics to it. However at this point it's mostly ramblings and whatever bullshit I doodled (and there is A LOT OF IT at this point, because this is the main one i have been scared of posting), and a lot of fic that I've not posted anywhere because I am TERRIFIED of sharing my writing, lmao.

Their relationship moves a lot faster in this one, probably because they're both facing The Horrors™ together that are under the surface of the fantasy facade, and they have to trust each other to survive. (Mostly because they are both silly little rat guys) This one is very much high risk, high return in terms of their relationship.

---

-Duende AU; This one, I literally stuck them in my own OG setting with my OCs (for all 5 of you who know it, it's Yukure's series, which i do need to post more of the lore for, sorry lol)

Essentially, Sundown is a normal guy/former sheriff due to being a suspect in an Unfortunate Event that befell his town in 2012 (The year which the main catalyst occurs in the series), but he was acquitted and sorta "honorably discharged" since he couldn't ever really face his job again (the investigation and trial dragged on for 5 years up to 2017, where the series takes place)

And here, MD is his "Duende" (sorta like being haunted by a ghost/having a Familiar, but they're also functionally a parasite on a host)

They have a similarly antagonistic relationship here, but it's a bit different here because Mad Dog thinks he's pretty much a normal, charming, handsome, witty, suave bounty hunter, who's not sure why he got stuck with some guy with ptsd and depression, and why he suddenly has weird cool powers, and now he's coping with essentially being a ghost/incorporeal.

---

-Vaudeville AU; this is not so much an AU as it is a continuation of canon

Essentially, MD finally catches Sunny after years of goin' at it, collects the bounty money, feels aimless and and horrible because he has no purpose in life. (a core factor here being a sense of loss because he knows he couldn't beat Sunny at his prime, he had to wait til age caught up with him, and he's realizing how much of his own life he spent on it and is Going Through It)

So he breaks Sunny out of jail, talk out their problems, and live the rest of their lives with the bounty money hiding from the law. (fake names, new aliases, everything)

The Vaudeville part comes in cuz MD eventually buys a theater with the reward money, and the setting takes place in the early 1930s as a LAL fan chapter which I keep meaning to write. (These two are really just minor characters in that setting but it's fun anyway lol)

They're in their 70s at this point, but they're still kickin!

---

-Roleswap; this is pretty much just what it says on the tin. If Mad Dog was the outlaw and Sundown was the bounty hunter.

I think MD is wanted for (allegedly) burning down a theater that he was performing in (in truth, the owner needed insurance money and blamed it on him)

This one in particular is fascinating, mostly because Sundown isn't dead inside.

He still has light in his eyes and people to protect. They survived the attack, but he still left town to draw attention away from them, and hunts bounties to survive. (he sends the money to them)

This one is probably the least developed, but still open ended for shenanigans. (I REALLY wanna make the designs for it too...)

[ryuichirou]

Replies

Replies replies! Some shirt ones + one pretty old ask about tops and bottoms.

Anonymous asked:

Floyd/Idia comic?! Noooo, i would love to see that! What a shame DD:

I'm hoping you'll get your Twitter/X Account back. 🙏🏻

Yeah, it really sucks :( There is so much stuff we want to post in general, I hope we’ll be able to do it soon.

Thank you for your support, Anon! Maybe the fact that I keep refusing to call it X is the real issue here lol

Anonymous asked:

get this, idia as public breeding property in a cow bikini (could be female or male idia)

Ah yes. His true and final form… Both versions, please. A boy and a girl. 😔

How many people are going to comment on him not having much milk when they see him like that and why is it everyone… It’s okay, this cow is for other purposes.

Anonymous asked:

raincheck, Ortho and Octavinelle gangbang Idia together because we both love and want to make Idia suffer in this household

Why not add Lilia and Sebek to this mix as well? I’m not driving. 😎

Just kidding; honestly, you’re very right, there is something absolutely special about the Octa+Igni combination, I really really want this entire group to have more interactions… and for Ortho and the Octa-trio to gangbang Idia together!

Idia should’ve known that these fuckers are bad influence on Ortho, but jokes on him: this whole thing is Ortho’s idea lol

Anonymous asked:

Heyy Ryuichi, do you know there's different types of tops/bottoms? like service tops, stone tops, pleasure bottoms, gentle tops, pillow princess/prince, and so on... Which category do you think does the twist cast fall into?

Bc i was thinking, and i think Service Top fits Jade/Rook the most.

Sorry for the late reply, Anon! I am aware that there are different types, but I didn’t really know the names for them.

I think we have a bias when it comes to these things, so a lot of the characters that we see as tops would be classified as stone tops/aggressive tops masquerading as service tops whenever it fits them LOL But there is still nuance and difference to them, even though technically it’s the same category!

For example, both Jade and Rook could absolutely aim to present themselves as service tops, but they’re actually more selfish than that; Rook is closer to being a genuine service top (his demeanor helps this image too), but he still has his own desires that he ultimately ends up prioritising. And Jade, well, Jade loves being the best at any type of customer service activity that he does, but there is always a catch with him…

I would call Sebek (with Malleus) and Trey service tops, but to be completely fair, these two aren’t 100% genuine service tops either…

And if by “stone tops” we generally mean touch-me-nots, those who prefer to do everything and want total control over the situation, I think Azul and Lilia are the biggest ones at that.

When it comes to bottoms, hmmm…

Bossy bottoms and power-bottoms are two different categories, but we don’t have a lot of them either way; I would say that Vil and Malleus are the biggest examples of that. Whenever they don’t feel like being pillow-princesses, of course. Riddle, however, despite being super bossy all the time, is very timid when it comes to sex, and he is one of the biggest pillow-princesses out there. Idia is one too, and also Leona (he lazy).

Malleus is also one of the brattiest ones, but the second brattiest is Epel, and also sometimes Idia… but Idia just talks too much and doesn’t know when to shut up :(

When it comes to service bottoms, Silver is the absolute king of that. He is very obedient and I guess sexually submissive overall.

Anyways, these are my thoughts! I haven’t named every single character this time, but it’s because the rest didn’t give me strong enough vibe to label them as anything… I was thinking about Jamil a lot, but I guess Jamil’s just out there trying to survive, that poor guy lol

[lonelybiscuits]

I wrote you a little sequel to your fic about Duman messing with Ogron by speaking French! I sent it into your inbox so it’s together with the original fic on your blog, but if it’s too long in this format, just let me know and I’ll post it over on my blog instead. Enjoy!

Ogron knew when he was being messed with. Okay, he didn’t; he’d been left oblivious after about ninety-percent of Duman’s pranks, the shapeshifter in hysterics at having pulled one over his put-together leader. But still! This time…this time he knew he was being messed with. He had to be, right? Or else he’d gone well and truly mad… He’d worked himself to exhaustion before, but he’d never heard voices… But if he was imagining the voices, then he must also be imagining the hidden snickers from his team. Well, Gantlos didn’t snicker so much as look vaguely less stoic than usual, but each to their own. ‘Oh, to hell with this,’ Ogron muttered, shoving off the blanket and swinging his legs over the side of the bed. He didn’t need to rest! (Well, he actually did, but that is a concern for another time.) He needed to get even. This positively reeked of a Duman prank, but he had no proof. He was convinced Duman didn’t speak French, but he just knew he wasn’t hearing voices. Or being haunted by some French ghost. ‘I need a plan here…’ he murmured, pacing back and forth. Of course, he could just tell Duman he knew this was him, and that it was over, but he knew Duman. He’d just shrug with that irritating look of confusion and say he didn’t even speak French, and that maybe Ogron needed some rest. No, this called for some tact and cunning. Fortunately, those were two things Ogron excelled at. Ogron had never met a problem he couldn’t solve with a few hours of hard thinking (except for the Winx; they were a bit trickier, but he wasn’t thinking about them right now), and after sitting at his desk for most of the morning, scribbling pointlessly on scraps of paper, he was finally hit with an idea. A trick. A rather brilliant trick, if he did say so himself. Now all he needed was a French dictionary. And a good few hours to dedicate to his plan.

‘Hey, aren’t you supposed to be resting?’ Gantlos asked, glancing up as Ogron walked down the stairs and into the living room. ‘Yeah,’ Anagan agreed. ‘What with all the…French?’ Ogron caught the twitch of a smile on his friend’s face, the expression only solidifying his certainty that this was all a prank. ‘I’m going for a walk,’ he replied coolly. He didn’t want to give anything away. Granted, Gantlos would almost certainly admit that it was a prank if pushed, but by this point, he wanted to catch Duman out. Nobody messed with him. Nobody. He heard another of the whispers, frowning and whipping his gaze around. His resolve faltered as he saw neither hide nor hair of Duman, making him question his theory, until he caught a glimpse of a small grey shape scurrying under the couch. So that’s how he’s been doing it… Refusing to dignify Duman’s latest whatever the bloody hell he was saying with a response, Ogron turned on his heel and walked out of the house, striding towards his destination with all the purpose of a prideful wizard who truly did not appreciate being screwed with.

About three hours later, surrounded with every book on French that the Gardenia library had possessed and rapidly deteriorating towards just falling asleep at the table, Ogron finally completed his work, copying across the last word into his notebook. He had to admit, his life would probably have been made easier had he possessed a phone, and simply used a translation programme, but a: he did not own a phone, and b: he had got along just fine with books for centuries, and he didn’t need any technological nonsense messing with his devious planning. ‘Nobody makes me think I’m losing my mind,’ Ogron muttered, closing the book he’d been reading/resting his head on for the past half an hour. ‘Nobody.’

‘I’m back!’ he called, practically shivering with excitement as he walked inside. ‘Well that was quite the lengthy walk,’ Gantlos remarked, looking up from the book he was reading. ‘Feeling better?’ Duman asked, looking up from where he was trying to get Gantlos to forget his book and make out with him. ‘Oh, much.’ Ogron sat on the couch, beckoning Anagan to sit too. ‘Now, I have some things I would like to discuss, if we’re all amenable?’ ‘Sure.’ Duman sat up straight, a smirk tugging at his lips. ‘But you sure you shouldn’t get some more rest? I mean, you’ve been hearing French ghosts. You don’t think maybe you should go back to bed?’ Ogron smiled internally at the perfect lead-in Duman had given him. ‘I had been meaning to talk to you about that, actually. You’re quite certain you didn’t hear it?’ Duman shook his head. ‘Nah.’ ‘I wish I knew what was being said.’ ‘I’d help you out, but I don’t speak French.’ Duman shrugged apologetically, laughter dancing in his golden eyes. ‘Sorry.’ Ogron’s lips quirked. ‘Oh, that’s perfectly fine. Now, let’s discuss team strategy.’ Duman groaned, flopping dramatically against Gantlos. ‘Seriously? You’re hearing voices, and your answer is boring team strategy sessions?’ Oh, that’s not my strategy at all, Duman… ‘Yes. Now, I wanted to talk about why we’ve been failing lately.’ ‘Maybe because you’ve been asking the Winx if they hear the French?’ Duman teased. Ogron ignored him, pushing on. ‘Well, we’ve been failing in a number of areas recently, but I think our biggest drawback is fairly obvious.’ He paused, waiting for someone to jump on the statement. After a moment, and a few exchanged glances, Anagan did. ‘…What is it?’ This was his moment. Keeping his tone as calm and level as possible, Ogron spoke the words he’d repeated roughly seven hundred times until they were carved into his brain. ‘Eh bien, je dirais que nous devons nos récents échecs au changement de forme décevant de Duman. Peut-être que s’il avait été plus créatif, nous aurions gagné.’ ‘What?!’ Duman exclaimed, his expression wide-eyed with indignation. ‘No way this is my fault! And I’ll have you know that I’m plenty creative!’ Ogron smirked, raising an eyebrow. ‘Thought you didn’t speak French.’ Duman froze, realising what he’d just done. ‘I…’ Ogron’s grin widened. ‘I think the ‘French ghost’ has just tripped himself up.’ Duman flushed bright red. ‘How the hell did you do that?! You don’t speak French!’ ‘You’d be surprised what one can get done with a dictionary.’ At the look on Duman’s face, Ogron burst out laughing. Duman sagged with disappointment, and Gantlos patted him on the shoulder. ‘In all fairness, Duman, what were you expecting? Ogron doesn’t take being messed with well.’ Ogron pulled himself together, storing away the image of the blushing shapeshifter to enjoy at a later date. ‘Now, I think perhaps we need to have a discussion about pranking me in the middle of battle. And that goes for you two too.’ He gestured to Gantlos and Anagan, who both looked away awkwardly. ‘I shall have to think of some way you can all learn a little lesson here…’ The other three wizards exchanged nervous glances, and Duman grimaced awkwardly. ‘…Désolé?’

I loved this @calissarowan