#why does it feel so immoral to me

[anthropoetics]

why must we network. isn't my kindness and willingness to try to be better everyday enough?

[snekdood]

The way yall assume the worst about vegans is absolutely tiring. Yeah dude i totally care about inserting my hands into your life and morphing you into the way i think you should be. I totally feel like i need to exert that energy towards you and that you dont have the criticial thinking ability to think about veganism and consider if you truly can or cant. I totally totally care about that dude. Goddamn. Just. so so much.

[sarahreesbrennan]

Are all the themes in “in other lands” supposed to be a commentary on something? Or do you just like writing sex scenes between minors, age gaps, and reverse misogyny?

Genuine question.

Ohhh, my dear anon, I don't believe this is a genuine question.

But it does bring up something I've been meaning to talk about. So I'll take the bait.

Firstly. Yes, my work contains a commentary on the world around us. I wonder what I could be doing with the child soldiers being sexually active in their teens (people hook up right after battles), and the age gap relationship ending in the younger one being too mature for the elder. What could I possibly have been attempting when I said 'how absurd gender roles are, when projected onto people we haven't been accustomed by our own society to see that way'? I wasn't being subtle, that's for sure.

Secondly. Yes I do enjoy writing! I think I should, it's my life's work. Am I titillated by my own writing, no - though I think it's fine to be. The sex scenes of In Other Lands aren't especially titillating, to be honest. It is interesting to me how often people sneer at women for writing romance and sex scenes, having 'book boyfriends,' insinuating women writers fancy their own characters. Women having too much immoral fun! Whereas men clearly write about sex for high literary purposes.

… I have to say from my experience of women and men's writing, I haven't found that to be true.

I’m not in this to have an internet argument. Mostly people use bad faith takes to poke at others from the other side of a screen for kicks. But I do know some truly internalise the attitude that writing certain things is wrong, that anyone who makes mistakes must be shunned as impure, and that is a deeply Victorian and restrictive attitude that guarantees unhappiness.

I've become increasingly troubled by the very binary and extreme ways of thinking I see arising on the internet. They come naturally from people being in echo chambers, becoming hostile to differing opinions, and the age-old conundrum of wanting to be good, fearing you aren't, and making the futile effort to be free of sin. It makes me think of Tennyson, who when travelling through Ireland at the time of the Great Famine, said nobody should talk about the 'Irish distress' to him and insisted the window shades of his carriage be shut as he went from castle to castle. So he wouldn't see the bodies. But that didn't make the bodies cease to be.

In Les Mis, Victor Hugo explores why someone might steal, what that means about them and their circumstances, and who they might be - and explores why someone else is made terribly unhappy, and endangers others, through their own too rigid adherence to judgement and condemnation without pity. The story understands both Jean Valjean the thief and Javert the policeman. Javert’s way of thinking is the one that inevitably leads to tragedy.

Depiction isn't endorsement. Depiction is discussion.

Many of my loved ones have had widely varying relationships to and experience of sex (including 'none'). They've felt all different types of ways about it. If writing about them is not permissible, I close them out. I'd much rather a dialogue be open than closed.

I do understand the urge to write what seems right to others. I've been brain-poisoned that way myself. I used to worry so much about my female characters doing the wrong things, because then they'd be justly hated! Then I noted which of my writer friends had people love their female characters the most - and it was the one who wrote their female characters as screwing up massively, making rash and sometimes wrong decisions. Who wrote them as people. Because that's what people do. That's what feels true to readers.

I want my characters to feel true to readers. I want my characters to react in messy ways to imperfect situations. I love fantasy, I love wild action and I love deep thought, and I want to engage. That's what In Other Lands is about. That's even more what Long Live Evil is about. That sexy lady who sashays in to have sexy sex with the hero - what is her deal? Someone who tricks and lies to others - why are they doing that, how did they get so skilled at it? What makes one person cruelly judgemental, and another ignore all boundaries? What makes Carmen Maria Machado describe ‘fictional queer villains’ as ‘by far the most interesting characters’? What irritates people about women having a great time? What attracts us to power, to fiction, and to transgression?

I don’t know the answers to all those questions, but I know I want to explore them. And I know one more thing.

If the moral thing to do is shut people out and shut people up? Count me among the villains.

[kaznejis]

We're hanging on by a heartbeat- Erik Lehnsherr x Reader

“You’re bringing Hank, right?”  She gritted her teeth, a blush tinging her cheeks as she avoided eye contact, “Yes… not in that way though.”  “I need to borrow him.” “What-” She looked confused at first, but then something clicked; mirth creasing at her eyes and twisting her lips as she cocked her head at you, “Y/N! You want to make Erik jealous.” 

A/N: Thanks for all of the support on my fics!!! every comment, like, reblog and read is GREATLY appreciated. So, enjoy this fun little oneshot I found in my drafts. :)

Word Count: 5,250 / Read it on AO3!

“He’s gonna be there, Y/N,” Raven sighed, swirling her champagne glass as she pursed her lips at you, “Charles practically demanded that he be there despite his refusals, I think he promised him that he’d get you to speak to him.” She accompanied the last words with exaggerated air quotes. 

“Mhm,” You grumbled, fiddling with your outfit in the mirror, “And that means, you are not allowed to leave me unattended. At any point.” 

“Y/N..” 

“Nope,” Turning towards her, splayed out on a chaise in her human form; a gorgeous dress accentuating her figure and her blonde hair flowing down her back in waves; you simply shook your head, face stern as you spoke. “I’m not going down that path again, I’m done with his idiocy.” 

“But… what does that have to do with being left unattended?” A smirk curled at the corners of her lipstick stained lips. You glared right back at her. 

“Because, I can’t-” You exhaled heavily through your nose, clearing the nerves from your chest at the mere thought of speaking to him, “If I speak to him, I will just embarrass myself- he, obviously, does not feel the same way as I feel for him.” 

Raven just sighed, visibly sick of you and Erik’s antics. Behind the guise of being best friends; you and Erik had been playing an erratic, immoral game of cat and mouse, each interaction felt like a step closer to admitting your feelings for him, but then, a subsequent step back at the very same time. He was complicated, to say the least, plagued by the traumas of his past and present. Plagued by the responsibility that he wielded upon his shoulders as a powerful mutant, the expectation of moral compassion; and, the sordid reality of his beliefs. 

You supported him, wholeheartedly, every step of the way. Your own chaotic mutant gene infecting your ability to appear as a normal human being; the green at your irises and the vines that intertwine upon your fingertips only causing fear, despite your god-given purpose being to allow growth. Maybe that’s why the two of you had gotten along so well; both of your powers allow you each to manipulate the foundations of the Earth itself- the ability to shift infrastructure and take lives at the merest of thoughts, at the slightest of movements. the hypothetical extent of what you could do rendered you outcasts, even if you had no desire to inflict pain upon others, they awaited with bated breaths until you would do so. 

Whilst Erik had initially viewed his residence within the school as a prison, you had seen it as a safe haven. The lush meadows and ancient trees that adorned the acres of land called to you, allowing for days spent barefoot amongst the reeds, with only birdsong to accompany you. Erik had paid you little mind at first- having only allowed you fleeting glances at dinner, a nod of the head if he agreed with a point, a slither of a smirk when you amused him. But, soon, he let you in; allowed you into the fortress of his conscience, allowed you to peel back the layers of his anger, and understood his desires for vengeance. You had balanced him out, balanced out the choke of his dark turtlenecks with the flow of your hair; balanced out the harshness of his metal with the brush of petal stems upon your fingertips. 

As your friendship had developed naturally, your feelings had followed. Abrasive, corrosive feelings. Soon enough, Erik plagued your every waking thought; his essence identifiable within the flow of the river, within the dust upon the floorboards, within the quiet of your room upon nightfall. 

He was everywhere, and you couldn’t escape. 

You would find him at breakfast in the morning, laughing obnoxiously at Charles; his teeth glinting in the morning light. You would find him in the classrooms, teaching the children their mandatory mutant history lessons; a transfixing performance of great intelligence, his hands enunciating each and every point. You loved watching him teach, perching upon a desk at the back of his room as he interacted with the children, engaging with their conversations whilst simultaneously wielding the ability to hold the students captivated when delivering a lecture. 

But, most importantly, your favourite place to find him was beside you. He would join you at the lakeside most nights, smiling to himself as you conjured flower after flower, allowing them to flow in the wind, the two of you watching as they found a home upon the tranquil waters. It was there, in the dark and the quiet of nightfall, that you had allowed your feelings to bubble at the surface, allowed your inhibitions to loosen as you had turned to him, studied the sharp features of his side profile; he had turned to you too, an eyebrow raised as he blinked, confused. 

“I was wondering..” You began, fiddling with the petals of a flower within your hands, watching as his loose, plaid shirt fluttered in the wind beside you; a change in his wardrobe that you had inflicted, “Charles is hosting a formal dinner next weekend.” 

Erik huffed, smiling at you; though his lip curled confusedly, “I know, I am the co-head of the school; I signed off on the plan.” 

Idiot, you chastised yourself, of course he knew that. Erik had turned towards you entirely now, his head tilted in intrigue as he stared at you, “Oh- yeah, well I was wondering, if you wanted to-”

“I’m not even sure why Charles would want to host such a thing, I mean, just an opportunity for the kids to drink too much and make a mess of the house.” 

“Yeah, well-” 

“And then one of Charles’ assistants asked me to be her date for it and I-” 

You felt it, in that moment, as your heart splintered within your chest; its foundations shattering and leaving you only able to gape in its wake. Coldness entrapped your body as the remaining petals of the flower within your hand shrivelled and wilted; the once luminescent petals forming a pathetic grey upon your palm. You simply nodded, zoning out and pulling yourself away from Erik’s words as he spoke, unable to hear him any further. You needed to distance yourself, distance yourself from him, from your feelings for him. It would be for the better; allow him to pursue whats-her-face without your claws of envy sinking into his shoulder blades, dragging him away from the semblance of happiness that he deserved. 

“I-I’m sorry Erik,” You stuttered, cutting him off suddenly as his speech screeched to a halt, his eyes widening and form freezing as you halted his words, “I need to go.” You wasted no time in bolting upwards, marching towards the distant lights of the house, not sparing him a single glance backwards. 

“Wait, Y/N-” He called, his voice catching in the breeze as he stumbled into pace behind you, “I’m sorry, did I upset you or-” 

“No, Erik, it’s fine.” You turned them, your hair fluttering before your eyes in the breeze as you watched him as he came to a halt, his face stricken, mouth agape as he stared at you, “You should go with Charles assistant, I bet she’s lovely..” You turned again immediately, sighing in relief as the house grew closer.

“No Y/N, I was actually going to ask if-” 

“Erik.” You snapped, turning once again, for the final time. The levity of your voice brought him to an instant pause, shock prevalent upon his features. “You don’t have to explain yourself to me, you can go with whoever you want to. You don’t owe me anything.” 

“Oh.” Erik was still, his voice low as he watched you, his brows low and his mouth downturned; he seemed, almost, disappointed. Though, his emotional disparity was not your responsibility anymore, “Well, okay, I will then.”

You nodded, a finality; a shallow smile painted itself upon your features, “Good. I look forward to meeting her.” You didn’t wait to see his reaction, making the final journey to the house before swinging open the door and rushing to your room- where you could comfortably wallow in the drawls of your own heartbreak. 

That had been over a week ago; your initial excitement for the formal had dwindled entirely leaving you staring at yourself bleakly as you fiddled with an earring, Raven had continued to watch you; eyebrows raised and mouth curling with mirth. 

“This is ridiculous, Y/N.”

“Raven! He said himself-”

“No, but,” She paused, collecting herself for a moment before leaning towards you, hands clasped upon her lap, “You haven’t seen him.” 

“Of course, I have-” 

“Okay, When was the last time you saw him?” 

You laughed, eyes tight as you refused to make eye contact with her, “I saw him at breakfast this morning.”

“Sure, when was the last time you spoke to him?” 

Pausing, you cleared your throat, she had caught you there. Your own immaturity dawned upon you as you spoke your confession, embarrassment creating a heave in your chest.  “At the lake, last week.” 

“That’s what I thought- I mean, that man is a brooding asshole on the usual day, but since he supposedly professed his feelings for someone else to you? He’s been miserable, wandering the halls like a kicked puppy; if he’s even capable of resembling that.” 

Shaking your head, you huffed, turning to take a hasty swig from your own glass of preparatory champagne, “Maybe she rejected him after all.” 

“Sure, Y/N-” 

Suddenly, as the brevity of the reality which was Erik bringing another woman to the formal, a wicked realisation dawned upon you. “I need a favour.” You blurted, turning to her abruptly. 

“Okay..’

“You’re bringing Hank, right?” 

She gritted her teeth, a blush tinging her cheeks as she avoided eye contact, “Yes… not in that way though.” 

“I need to borrow him.”

“What-” She looked confused at first, but then something clicked; mirth creasing at her eyes and twisting her lips as she cocked her head at you, “Y/N! You want to make Erik jealous.” 

You shrugged, smirking at her; though the sweat at the back of your neck and legs couldn’t be denied, “I just- want to cover my own back, he can’t think that I’m moping and sad over him and another woman-” 

“But, you are.” 

Only sparing Raven a glare as she chortled, you continued, “I just want to let him see that I have my own date, and that… it could’ve been him. To everyone else, we’ll just be going as friends, but- Erik doesn’t need to know that.” 

Before the danger of your plan could pull your mind to a halt, before it could allow your conscience to screech at its own breaks- Raven was up, crossing the span of the dressing room and pulling the door open; telling a nearby student to find and fetch Hank. The young boy nodded obediently, breaking into a sprint down the hallway. Within minutes, Hank appeared in tow; flushed and breathing heavily as he burst into the corridor, half-dressed in his suit as his tie hung loose around his neck. 

“What’s wrong? What’s going on?” Hank panted, a hand planted upon the door frame as he surveyed the room; confusion followed within his features as he surveyed the two of you safe and seated comfortably. Only then, did fear truly grace his features; the dread evident within the tightening of his fingers and grit of his teeth, “What’s…going on?” 

“Sorry, Hank, but you will now be attending the dinner with Y/N.” 

“What?” He spat, his tall frame stalking into the room as he ensured the door was securely closed before truly entering the room, “No offence, Y/N, but I don’t understand- do you want me dead?” 

“What?” You gasped in turn, rubbing a hand against your forehead as you shook your head; Raven had nodded, laughing at his fear as she silently agreed, “Why would you die?” 

The ability to do so being somehow possible, Hank’s voice sunk to a hiss, bowing towards the two of you as sweat formed visibly upon his brow, “Have you seen Erik recently? He would kill me.” 

“Exactly,” Jeering, Raven opened the decanter upon the small table between you, pouring Hank a brimming glass of champagne before refilling her own, he took the drink readily once she offered it to him, taking a gusty swallow as his skin steadily grew paler, or even, bluer. “We need to show him what he’s missing out on-” 

“No, no.” Shaking his head hastily, Hank held his hands up before him, slowly backing towards the closed-door; a supposed attempt to make a fast escape, “I am not being a pawn in your fucked up-” 

“Hank.” Raven whined, cocking her head to the side and moving to expose the skin of her leg; pouting at him endearingly- you could only fake heave at her antics. “Please, for me? Once they’ve sorted their mess out-” 

“Hey-!” 

“We can have a dance together.”

Hank froze, the frost that had covered his cheeks instantly warming with the rush of blood as he blushed, his face taking the features of a dazed fawn as he practically melted beneath Raven’s gaze. He soon recovered though, turning towards you and sighing, scratching at the base of his head, “Fine, I will enter with you and we can have a dance, that is it-” 

“Thank you, thank you.” You interrupted him with a rush of skirts and arms flinging around his neck, peppering kisses to his cheek as you squeezed him, “You are my saviour” 

“Okay, okay-” He laughed, holding you at arms length as to protect the ironed linens of his shirt, a genuine smile lining his cheeks, “I need to finish getting ready, but I’ll meet you outside the entrance at quarter past seven.” 

“Quarter past? Hank it starts at seven.” You pursed your lips in confusion as he only grinned at you, a twinkle shining in his eye. 

“Exactly.” He grinned as Raven gasped, breaking into applause beside you, bravoing Hank humorously as you pulled away from him, to which Hank bowed sarcastically, hand before his stomach like a true guardsman. “We need to ensure that he sees Y/N- so, we enter late; put on a little show.” He wiggled his hips as he spoke, grinning at you fake-enticingly; to which you could only fake-vomit, sticking a finger in your mouth and gagging exaggeratedly as Raven laughed beside you. 

Hank departed then, a wave of a hand to you and a cheesy smile at Raven; that is when the plan jumped into action. Raven surged from her lounged position instantly, moving to check you over; your outfit, your hair, the words you would procure upon entering the formal. With a kiss on the cheek and a wink, she left at exactly 6:55; the door slamming behind the trails of her gorgeous dress. 

Thus, leaving you with a harrowing twenty minutes to stew on your decisions. 

Would Erik even care? Or, would he be too occupied with his supposed date? Gazing at the beauty of her dress and the delicacy of her skin instead of your own, honoured that he could serve as her date instead of wishing he could be yours. You forced yourself to break eye contact with your own reflection; disgusted at the pathetic twist of your features as nerves flooded your guts. Taking a deep breath, you shook your head; if anything, Erik would come to the realisation that you didn’t have feelings for him anymore and this sordid affair would end- you would go back to being best friends, you would swallow the bitter taste of rejection and smile through the burning fires of jealousy as he inevitably grew closer with his date for the night. Maybe the two of you would replace each other entirely, after all. 

At exactly 7:10, you left the room; bridled with nerves as you could do nothing but stare at the same features of the room you had been preparing yourself in for hours. Breath in, breath out- the sound of your heels clicking against the empty hallway resounded upon the halls as the inhabitants of the house were located within the main hall- the sound of conversation and light acoustical music a distant mirage. 

As you walked, you surveyed the walls of the buildings you called home- the murals upon the walls and the gorgeous art-pieces that the residents had collected throughout the years lining the walls. In the rotten depths of your mind, you wondered if this would be it- if you would have to leave, unable to sleep only doors down from Erik and the woman he would soon call his lover. The thought of it made you nauseous, made your knees beg to buckle from the strain of exasperated grief. Grief of what could have been if you had just stayed quiet, content; if you could have just been comfortable within the throes of friendship. 

At the end of it all, you missed him. You missed everything about him- his inherent goods and bads. His anger and his joy; his technicolour darks and lights. You missed the sharp lines of his face, the way his hair curled without the harnessing of a pomade, the prickles of the hairs upon his forearms and the curve of amusement within his lips. 

It took everything within you to not detour to the comforts of your bed, to crawl under the covers and hide for the foreseeable- wait for the inevitable to blow over, for Erik to enter your room and laugh at your sad state, just as a friend would; with no romantic-baggage whatsoever. 

However, before your jailbreak attempt could successfully be enacted; Hank emerged from the adjoining hallway, hands in his pocket and a meagre smile upon his face, “Thought I’d meet you here before you decided to run away.” 

Nodding, you sighed; managing a grateful smile his way as he removed his hands from his pockets and offered his arm to you, to which you took it and began to walk towards the hall’s entrance, “I was just working up the courage to do that.” 

Hank laughed, the motion jostling you slightly as you stopped in front of the entrance, the door was closed; the event readily in motion behind it, “We can back out if you want, you can go in now alone and I’ll come down in a few minutes?”

Shaking your head, you tightened your grip upon his elbow; smiling tightly, your voice cracked slightly as you began to speak, the thought of facing Erik and his date alone the most terrifying imagery in that moment, “I can’t go in there alone.” 

Hank turned to you then, concerned evident within the downturn of his mouth, his hands moved to your shoulders; the weight of them comforting as he sighed, “If anything happens I- we will be there, okay?” 

Nodding, you smiled almost-tearfully up at your friend, your lips curling with emotion as he jostled you; attempting to squeeze some semblance of humour from your state. He beckoned you forward then, one hand upon the door handle and the other curling to rest upon the curve of your waste; that is how you greeted the entire room.  

Due to the old-age of the building, the door creaked almost obnoxiously, the sound ostentatious despite the constant hum of the room. Immediately, you made eye contact with Raven; snorting into her glass as she failed to hide her amusement. Then Charles, his hands hanging in mid-air as if he was performing a speech to the group before him; though his face changed during the moment of eye contact, his eyebrows instantly raising and his lips curling into a smile as he looked into your mind, then to the hand upon your waist and finally to a point across the room. 

You followed his gaze, and you could swear your heart skipped a beat as it landed. 

There, stood Erik; the object of all of your desires, and your afflictions. His demeanour differed greatly from the others in the room, his face was blank; impassive as he met your eye; his hair was neatly slicked back and he adorned a clean, striking black suit. Charming. However, his body language told a different story- the grip at which he held his glass was ironclad, his lips were tight and cheeks haggard; an exact juxtaposition to the sharp cut lines of his suit. 

But, as you searched the space beside, behind and above him; the only thing that you could notice was that he was completely alone. 

Stood at the corner of the room, in his gorgeous suit with his exhaust-tinged eyes; he was alone. Not a date, of any shape or size or form, in sight. 

Your mind only allowed a halting, record-scratch oh fuck before you were herded towards the dancefloor- Charles welcoming the ‘happy couple’ to the crowd, sheer amusement threatening to crumple his confident form as he practically tittered. Hank only rolled his eyes, grinning at you amusedly as he tugged you into the entourage that was beginning to form. You couldn’t bring yourself to smile back. Your breath was quickening, panic flooding your chest as you realised that maybe, possibly you had read this whole situation entirely wrong. As you were whisked upon the dancefloor, a drink shoved into your palm and the waltz of fast-paced conversation already hastily beginning- you used every last essence of your will to build a somewhat passable facade, to not crumple in front of the crowd, to not run towards Erik and beg for his forgiveness, for his attention. 

But, oh, you had thought far too soon. Because, after all, you had garnered his attention the moment your heels resounded throughout the shocked quiet of the room. 

As you surveyed the crowd, Hank’s arm an all-encompassing weight upon your waist- you failed to stop your eyes from passing Erik’s form. He remained in that very same spot, as if he belonged nowhere else, as if he was sculpted upon the very walls of the building. His eyes were fixed upon your form; no matter the step, position or pose you took- his eyes never faltered from you, never wandered; even when Charles came to stand beside him, amusement towards his best friend tinted the rise in his cheeks. The two of them began to converse, the topic being of considerable tension; seeing as though Charles continued to look ever-amused, whilst Erik’s eyes finally dropped from yours- his face visibly swelling in anger as he glared at his shoes. 

“-Y/N? Sorry, Y/N?” 

Shocked, you blinked, turning back towards the conversation before you; two older women stared expectantly at you, you dug your mind for any recollection as to who exactly they were- maybe some form of charitable donors? After a series of agonising seconds, to which it felt like the entire room had gone silent; each participant waiting to see what was plaguing your mind, you spoke- smile cringing as you tilted your gaze towards the air just beside the woman, “Sorry, what was-?” 

“We were asking how long you and Professor. McCoy have been together?” Obnoxiously red-lipped woman-potential-rich-donor spoke, her lips stretching grotesquely as she smiled. 

“Oh, well-” 

“We’ve been dating casually for a few months.” 

“What-” 

“Oh, that is wonderful!” The woman spoke, clapping her satin-gloved hands together and bouncing on her heels. 

“Yeah..” Smiling airily, you ensured that oxygen was correctly being executed from your lungs; that you were definitely awake, alive and breathing. 

“It’s been a whirlwind,” Hank smiled, jostling you with the hand gripping your hip, “Between me and you, things are really starting to heat up-” 

Through the excited gasps of the women you realised with abject horror that Charles and Erik were edging towards your circle; Charles leading Erik with a clutch upon his elbow, to which Erik seemed to be fighting unapologetically. 

As if firing the perfect shot, at the perfect time and place, the red-lipped woman squealed at an obscene volume just as Erik entered perfect earshot, “Oh, just imagine, Y/N McCoy. It’s perfect-”

The sound of a glass shattering splintered throughout the room, halting the conversation and what felt like the very air you were breathing. Blood instantly began pouring from Erik’s hand as the surrounding partygoers jumped back in fear, the entire room watching with wide, halted eyes as he shuck the glass from his grip.

“Erik-” Trembling, you swallowed; feeling your heart hammer within your chest as you watched him, the loosening of Hank’s hand pulling and wrenching at the pit within your stomach. You had well and truly done it this time. 

Erik seemed to ignore you, shrugging off the onlookers that attempted to come to his aid; allowing the air beside your head one last scathing glance before he departed from the crowd, from the room entirely. Wasting no time in following him, you dumped your purse and drink into Hank’s arms before breaking into a full sprint; throwing any sense of formality to the wind as you shoved through the crowd whilst simultaneously calling to his retreating back. 

“Erik, please-” You called as you finally emerged from the crowd, the main doors slamming behind you as you stopped before him. His back was turned, feet poised as if ready to retreat, though he had stopped. Droplets of blood resounded against the linoleum, a steady flow of red dribbling from the cuts upon his hands, “Erik, you need to-” 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Erik’s tone was demanding, his back clenching as he resolutely refused to turn, to face you. 

“What-”

Finally, he turned; spinning on his polished heel and stalking towards you- face practically carved from stone, his gaze bleeding into yours, “Why didn’t you tell me about you and McCoy?” He practically spat Hank’s name, the name convulsing from his lips. 

Scowling, you straightened your back; standing strong as you grit your teeth at him, “Why would that have been any of your business, Erik?” 

Scoffing, he backed away; scrubbing his non-injured hand upon the stubble upon his jaw, almost in disbelief, “Of course- why would it be?” He laughed sardonically, throwing his hands in the air and shrugging his shoulders. 

“What is your problem?” 

He seemed to still, to quiet; his throat bobbling heavily as his eyes bore into you- eventually, he looked away, lip clutched beneath his teeth, “You know what, nothing-” 

“Okay,” You nodded, feigning deep thought, “Let me rephrase then, why do you care?” 

Erik blinked, almost in disbelief, “Come on Y/N- you know exactly-” 

“-Because last I heard, you had a date for this-” 

“-Who told you that?!” 

“You!” You were shouting now, chest heaving at the patchworked conversation presented before you, “You did, Erik!” 

He was truly in disbelief now, shaking his head and struggling to find the words; eventually he settled for one, insignificant word. He practically drawled it, set up a board and sketched out the word at agonising speed, “What?”

Laughing, mostly to yourself, you gestured towards him, “You told me.” At his silence, you opted to continue speaking, “At the lake, you told me you were going on a date with Charles’ assistant.”

“I never-” Erik groaned, hand moving to pinch the bridge of his nose as he sighed; visibly exhausted, “I know for a fact that I did not say that because-,” He was the one to laugh then, hacking at his chest as he forged his words, “-Because, you interrupted me, left and then haven’t looked at me since!” He seemed to check off the series of events on the fingers of his uninjured hand before waving his clenched fist in your direction, “So, I am assured in the knowledge that I did not say that, because I haven’t spoken to you in two weeks!” 

“Okay, well, I have looked at you-” 

“-No, you haven’t.” 

Slamming your mouth shut, you scowled, crossing your arms petulantly; he simply watched you, the turn of his mouth pulling in its usual smug fashion. “Y/N-” 

“Your hand is covered in blood.”

Smiling, he looked down at it, flexing his fingers before turning his gaze back towards you, “I know.” 

“So who did you come with then?” You shrugged, completely disregarding your worries regarding his hand, “Shouldn’t you be with her instead of-” 

“Y/N, you are completely missing the point… I didn’t come with anyone.” 

“Oh,” You breathed, desperately attempting to hide the relief evident within your exhale, “Why?”

“Because that night at the lake,” He exhaled through his nose; his eyes flitting in between your face and the wall as he breathed, he seemed to be trembling slightly as he conjured the words adjacent to his evidently racing thoughts, “I was going to ask if you wanted to accompany me.”

“Oh.” You repeated dumbly, utterly gobsmacked at his words. 

“But, it’s now evident that McCoy beat me to it, so-” 

“Me and Hank aren’t together.” The words left you in a rush, you knew that your wide eyes mirrored Erik’s own perfectly; shock evident within both of your features. 

“Okay-” 

“I completely jumped to conclusions and I thought you were bringing a date, so I- I didn’t want to show up alone so I borrowed Hank…for the night.” 

“You borrowed Hank.”

“...Yes.” 

Erik suddenly burst into laughter; his face morphing to accustom the sudden change in emotion as he outrightly laughed at you. You could only stand there; slightly offended, slightly relieved at the upbringing of events. 

Erik had wanted to ask you to be his date. 

Did Erik have feelings for you?

“Okay, just to be clear, you weren’t asking me to the dinner as f-” Your words were abruptly cut off as Erik suddenly broke into a stride, marching up to you before placing his hands upon your cheeks and pressing his lips to yours completely, inhaling heavily as if he wanted to ingest you, taste you. You immediately kissed back with the same fervour, intertwining your fingers with the short hair upon his head and accustoming your senses to the scent of blood that was now smeared upon your cheeks. 

Eventually, unfortunately, he pulled away; gazing down at you with hooded eyes. You watched as he bit his tongue, the motion tightening his jaw as he stared down at you, vision unguarded; almost unsure. You knew you looked like something straight out of a horror story, blood smeared upon your cheek and the bridge of your nose- you could only sigh blissfully as he ran his fingers through the mess he had created, spreading it until his finger reached your lips. 

You both stilled; breaths catching in your chests. 

After a long moment, you nodded, your eyes soon fluttering closed as he began to spread the liquid upon your lips- the copper tang of his blood immediately permeating your senses. His eyes were practically drooping now; his irises blown out in pleasure. Keeping your eyes upon his; you gauged his every movement as you sucked his finger into your mouth, effectively cleaning it and your lips of his blood.  You knew in that moment that this was forever; this connection that had been forged between your souls, intertwined at each end and tightened right in the middle. Forged entirely from his very own metal.

[vexwerewolf]

why is it that we only have like two licenses from any mech producer that’s a good guy? For a game where like there are clear good and bad guys (even if who you play isn’t necessarily linked to that) it seems strange to me that the only loot and XP you get is… more benefits from the bad guys

I can tell you the answer, but to do so, we're gonna have to talk about a completely different TTRPG.

If you've read @makapatag's truly excellent Filipino martial arts TTRPG Gubat Banwa (and if you haven't, here it is), you may notice that every single character class description (with one notable exception) ends with one of these babies:

I am not Makapatag, and I cannot write with quite as much grace and eloquence as he can, but I will try:

If you choose to become a Lancer, ask yourself why you mock the name of peace with these weapons of war. You call yourself a saviour, but your steed was forged from the murder of a world. You stride across the sky in a colossus built in your own image, so why are you too cowardly to give it your face? Why do you believe these machines of death can preserve life?

It is important to note that the admonitions in Gubat Banwa are not just there to make you feel bad; they are there as legitimate questions. The Sword Isles have seen so much blood, death and tragedy. Wars are not glorious and killing is not a game. So, knowing all of that, why have you taken up this discipline - no matter how noble and virtuous it might claim to be - to shed more blood, to bring more death, to write more tragedy? What could possibly drive you to this? What need is so great that you must kill?

The thing with Gubat Banwa is that there are legitimate answers to these questions! There are bad people doing bad things, and some of them will not be stopped with words or kindness. Sometimes, as sorrowful as it is, killing is the correct choice to prevent greater suffering and deeper tragedy - but adding less misery and death to the world is still adding some amount of it. Even the most necessary wars will drench the ground in the blood of the innocent.

A sword is a tool meant to kill humans; while it can be used for other things, it is not well-suited to anything other than this. A mech is, in its most basic essence, just a very complicated sword: it's usually used on things larger than a person, but it's still a tool built to kill.

So why have you taken up this path? Humanity was saved from the brink of extinction and has created wondrous technologies like printers, cold fusion and mind-machine interface, and yet you use them to play soldier in a giant metal man. Why do you choose to take up this machine of death, built by the greedy and pitiless? Why do you think these machines can ever make things right?

Because sometimes, despite everything, they can.

Warhammer 40K shows an awful world full of monsters and monstrosity, and in the darkest moments of its history, Lancer's world looked just as bleak, but Lancer's world differs in one crucial way. Warhammer's world has long given up trying to be better, but Lancer's world never did. Lancer's world kept insisting a better world is possible, and it used what tools it had to make it so.

Sometimes the correct choice, no matter how bitter it may seem, is to kill someone. When you need to do this, a sword is a perfectly good choice for the job.

If you find yourself discomforted by the fact that all the people you can buy mechs from are corrupt and immoral - good! You have correctly engaged with the text. You have understood that the sort of people who would make giant walking death machines and sell them for profit are not good people. But you still have a job to do, and you need the correct tools, and those people have them.

Lancer is not a game about a perfect world - it is a game about a deeply flawed and imperfect one that does not let its imperfection stop it from trying. You have to try to make a better world, even with imperfect tools made by unpleasant people.

[save-the-villainous-cat]

What about a sub!villain who tries to play the part of the suave, dominant villain cause they’re afraid of vulnerability… and an actually dominant hero who sees through it and flips the script. Could it also be spicy please?

Also, your writing is amazing and it makes my day better! Thank you so much for sharing it! I send you hugs!

"You may think you're deceptive. But you are not." The end of the villain's dagger nearly buried its way into their own skin. Although the villain couldn't recall when the hero had gotten a hold of it during the fight, they were quite pleased with the result. (The result being the hero on top of them, still panting from the fight.) "Your effort is quite delightful, though."

The villain cracked a smile.

"Oh, you want to ravage me so bad..."

"Your imagination doesn't even come close to how bad I truly want that," the hero answered.

There was something in their presence that stirred the villain in an exciting way. Was it their body? Their personality? Their morals and their desires? Usually, the villain considered themselves to be talented when it came to reading people and analyzing the relationships they had with them.

For better or worse, it was different with the hero. More confusing. More dangerous.

At this point, the villain was playing with fire - they didn't know exactly what their relationship with the hero was nor where they stood.

"I loathe you for being my only weakness." The hero let the blade dig into the villain's chin until they looked up. "And destroying you would probably bring me some peace."

"Oh." The villain had never heard such a blunt statement coming from the hero. At least not something this personal and...open. It nearly made the villain sick to their stomach how casually the hero had mentioned it.

Slowly, the hand which wasn't holding onto the dagger travelled up the villain's arm until those cursed fingertips found a shaking wrist and grabbed it.

"But what am I without you? What is Orpheus without his muse?"

"You're so charming today..." The villain tried to sound as flirty as they could but their voice was inexplicably trembling.

When had the hero decided to be so horrible and seduce the villain? And why on earth was it working?

"How does that make you feel?" the hero asked, their voice nothing more than a whisper. They freed their index finger from their grip around the villain's wrist and slowly, agonizingly, let it travel upwards. The villain took in a sharp breath, surprised by the hero's actions.

It felt a little too intimate. Nearly immoral.

The villain felt quite stupid for blushing, after all, it was just the hero's finger rubbing against their palm and their breath on the villain's neck.

"I'm..." The villain tried to concentrate but it wasn't that easy anymore. They closed their eyes, close to defeat already. "Sorry, what do you mean?"

Did the hero have to level their weight on the villain's hips? Did they have to say these things? Startle the villain like that? Couldn't they just flirt, try to kill each other and go home after?

Did the hero have to whisper something this close to a confession into the villain's ear?

"How does it feel to be my only weakness?" the hero murmured. Their grip loosened and slowly, their hand began their conquest towards the villain's fingers. "How does it feel to mean so much to me? To occupy my thoughts during the day? And my dreams during the night?"

Hell, the hero was dreaming about them?

"What are you doing...?" Suddenly, the hero let their fingers entwine, squeezing gently and for whatever reason, the villain took in a quick breath.

"I believe we both know you crave a superficial relationship. Something that makes you feel superior and secure. But I can tell you from personal experience that those relationships don't work out in the long run. They will make you feel miserable. They will make you feel worthless. If I want you, I will want you bare. And there is nothing I desire more." Their lips were close to the villain's. "In your own time, of course. You strip. Figuratively and literally, obviously."

"I- You-"

"I am always willing to help, though." The hero smirked lazily and squeezed the villain's hand. "There is no reason to feel ashamed. Or to feel weak. After all, you have me in your hand."

The villain couldn't say anything.

It had started as a normal fight. With the usual flirting.

And now, the villain was actually thinking about opening up to someone. To talk about all their horrible fears and the self-doubt. About all their mistakes and regrets.

This had to be some new weapon or master plan to turn the villain into a good person. Whatever it was, the villain feared they would think about this encounter for the months to come.

"I will keep this, though," the hero announced. They held up the villain's dagger and pushed themselves off the villain. "Everyone needs a memento of their beloved, don't they?"

All the villain could do was stare as the hero blew them a kiss and vanished into the night.

[seattlesellie]

don’t cross the line

pairing: ellie williams x reader

warnings: smut (mdni), cheating, angst, mutual masturbation, just morally wrong, mentions of alcohol

Parties in Jackson fucking suck.

It’s not like youve ever been at a different party, but still. You’ve read about them in the little magazines from the old days you found on patrols. Small blurbs about meaningless celebrities, a concept you barely even understood, drinking themselves to oblivion. Paparazzi pictures of young starlets in black limousines, rappers getting coked up in dark bathrooms. You never really got it. Parties in Jackson were like a parallel universe.

“They must have made that up” you told Dina, your best friend and trusty patrol partner. “Nope” she shrugged. “Heard that Paris Hilton girl was really like that.”

Paris hilton would have hated Jackson parties. A bunch of old people, and a handful of young ones, dancing around to the beat of an old country song, if you could even call that a beat.

You could have responded with a simple “No thanks” when Jesse had invited you to tonights party. You could have told him you were tired, busy, sick, he would have left you alone - But you didn’t, alas, this is how you found yourself here. Alone, in an old barn, listening to the batshit insane, drunk ramblings of an old fart named Seth.

“Ripped that fella’s throat with just one move” Seth mumbled, laughing stupidly at his own words.

“Go — got him real good n’dirty, I tell ya”

Whoever said “respect the elderly” clearly never met Seth. His breath reeked of whiskey and cigarettes that he traded for food and supplies, and my god, he was standing so close you could see the veins in his yellow tinted eyeballs. You really were too polite for your own good, you thought to yourself, because Ellie would have shoved him away already.

Ellie.

You felt like slapping yourself in the face. What the hell does she have to do with this? Why can’t you just let it fucking go already? It truly was desperate, and pathetic, and borderline immoral, the amount you spent thinking about that girl.

So what if she used to be your best friend. So what if she was the first girl who ever made you feel something, even if it was too late. She has a girlfriend, and she’s not thinking about you, she doesn’t care, maybe never has, probably never will. She left you for her, with that useless excuse of “Cat doesn’t like it when we hang out” followed by a pathetic “We can do it in secret, though.”, when she saw your eyes turn glossy and your breath hitch up. Fuck her, and fuck those memories. Fuck all the nights you spent together telling each other your deepest and darkest desires, and especially fuck that time you almost-

“Hey”

You'd recognize that voice anywhere.

A royal blue flannel button up shirt appeared at the corner of your eye.

“Mind if I steal her for a sec, Seth?”

She sounded raspy, laced with that velvety layer her voice had adorned whenever she had a sip or more of Whiskey. When you drank together for the first time, at the ripe age of sixteen, next to a big bonfire and the ever so familiar scent of pine lacing your sense of smell, you told her that she sounds different when she’s drunk. More mature, somehow. Less fidgety, slower, sultrier. She replayed that sentence over and over again in her head. “Sultry”, she whispered to herself. “I sound sultry.”

Seth cleared his throat, a deep cough escaping his lungs.

“Of course, pretty girl like her shouldn’t be around me for too long, might start acting all wild!” The old man threw his hands in the air, and disappeared somewhere in the scarce crowd.

Your heartbeat was faster than normal, but that’s not new. Not when she was around, anyways.

Ellie stood by your side, hands crossed over her chest. She had a glass of Rum in her hand, not Whiskey. Funny.

“You’re a Rum type of girl now?” you questioned, never meeting her gaze. If you bothered to look to your side, you would have noticed she was staring.

“Fame’s changed me, I guess” She responded, mixing the fluid in her glass.

One week ago, Ellie went on patrol. One week ago, Ellie killed more infected in one go than anyone else had in years. She was the town’s hero, the infected slayer. Cat even made her a badge. She wasn’t wearing it now.

“Cat or fame?” you quietly mumbled under your breath.

You weren’t spectacularly brave with your words, but one glass of presumably expired white wine made a simple girl go very far.

“Hah. Funny” she scoffed dryly, earning her Rum another pointless swirl.

“You’re the towns hero, I’m the towns comedian, we’re both pretty famous, i’d say.”

Ellie’s gaze was fixed on the wall. She squinted her eyebrows slightly, humming in response. You looked over at her, for just a second, noticing the dim light reflecting in her eyes. She was a sight to behold, the most beautiful girl you’ve ever seen. You wish she knew that. You wish you could be the one to tell her.

You inhaled deeply, and it came out so shaky that when you exhaled you were terrified she heard the tremor in your body.

“Thank’s for the save, by the way” you said quietly, apologetic. You even smiled politely, which was absolutely for nothing, because she wasn’t looking at you, avoiding your gaze like the plague.

It’s not like Ellie and you didn’t talk since that night she told you she couldn’t see you anymore. It’s been two whole years. You had to talk, you had to communicate somehow, even if it was through polite smiles and dry conversations during shared patrols. Hell, you even went to Cat’s birthday party you somehow were invited to. Dina was practically on her knees begging you to come with her, and who could say no to Dina when she looked at them with those puppy eyes that could tug at a monsters heartstrings?

“Yeah, no problem. That man’s a fucking dickhead” Ellie scoffed, leaned against the bar and crossed her legs.

“Where’s Cat?” you questioned. Are you sure you only had one glass of wine?

“She’s not here” Ellie responded dryly, seemingly annoyed at your question. She almost tsk’d when you asked. She didn’t look surprised by your rude antics, maybe you got like this more often than you thought. How about that time you told her you’re surprised Cat didn’t pack her a sandwich with a sticker on it’s wrapper during patrol?

“I can tell… why?” you inquired. Your own voice was deeper too, it almost matched hers.

“Didn’t wanna come” Ellie said, stuffing a hand inside her pocket. She was uncomfortable, clearly, and wanted, needed, to make you shut up. It’s not because your presence annoyed her, It’s because she knew she was wrong. She knew she fucked up when she ditched you, and if only you knew how it was eating her alive every day. She had to do it, because in her eyes, she would have done something much worse if she hadn’t.

Being around you when she wasn’t with Cat was hard enough, because she knew she could never have you, that you’d never want her. Not if you knew. You were too smart, and too good, to ever want to be with her. Cat was easy, she didn’t ask too many questions. She’d lay there for Ellie when Ellie told her to, and she would agree to stop a conversation when it got too personal. When Ellie cried at night, and woke up sweating, she didn’t ask why. She let it go, and Ellie knew you never would have. You’d fucking hate her if you knew. She could have saved the world — and she didn’t. He didn’t let her. The wounds she had were too deep, they were clawing and tugging at her skin from the inside. Ellie was a tortured soul, and you didn’t deserve that. That’s why she left, and maybe, that’s why she was here right now.

“That’s too bad” you mumbled quietly. You did your best to make it sound genuine, and you failed miserably.

Ellie scoffed.

“Yeah”

You shifted slightly, and walked over to stand right in front of her. You met her eyes for the first time. Those stupid, beautiful emerald eyes.

Ellie looked down, and looked up at you. She swallowed deeply.

“Anyways” you sighed. “Think I’m gonna go”

“Already?” she questioned, slamming her Rum filled glass on the bar counter.

“Yeah, I’m cold and it sucks in here, so” you said, and smiled politely. It really was freezing, and talking to her like this was painful enough.

“Let me walk you” she blurted.

What?

“Huh?” walk you where? the door? you knew where it was.

She tugged at the loose string on the bottom of her button up. It was ironed, where did Ellie find and iron? Did Maria do it for her? Town hero perks?

“Let me walk you home” she repeated, her voice carrying a touch of insistence. Once again, you found yourself captivated by her burning gaze, those eyes that seemed to hold secrets yet to be unveiled.

“I can walk home alone, Ellie” You huffed, ever the stubborn.

“No” she exclaimed.

“Maria said it’s been pretty dangerous”

“I can have my own back, you know, I’m not an idiot” You scoffed. You knew she didn’t think you were an idiot, why did she have to walk you home?

“I know that — Just wanna make sure you’re safe”

“Gosh, Ellie thank you! thank you!” You said in the most high pitched voice you could fathom. “The town’s hero is at it again, everybody!” You exclaimed, slightly raising your voice, earning both of you a few curious looks from the townspeople.

Ellie wasn’t embarrassed. She was just annoyed. And she wanted to slap you in the face for being so stubborn.

She grasped your arm with an unexpected forcefulness, pulling you along as she swiftly guided you outside. In the process, you accidentally bumped into a few people, hastily muttering a string of apologetic "sorry" and "excuse me" as you hurriedly tried to navigate through the crowd. You attempted to resist her firm grip, trying to free yourself with a burst of strength, but you found yourself overpowered by her determination.

Once she managed to pull you outside, she finally released her grip on your arm, allowing you a brief respite from her firm hold.

“You are not walking me anywhere, Williams” you scoffed. What made her think you needed her help?

“You’ve always been so fucking stubborn” she turned to face you. Her hands were on her hips. Her face wore the same expression she did when you went on your first patrol together, when you insisted on going left, even though she knew you had to go right.

“I’m walking now” you stepped away, and started walking. “And if you followed me — you wouldn’t be walking me home, you’d be stalking me” you exclaimed as you backed away.

Ellie quickly followed your pace, her boots stomping on the snow covered ground.

“You are”

Step

“So fucking annoying”

This was the longest conversation you’ve had with Ellie in two whole years. It felt like nothing’s changed, except for everything.

The following ten minutes were torturous. You were walking fast, Ellie right behind you. No words were exchanged between you, the silence enveloping the crisp air as you both walked in silence. Your attention turned inward, focusing on the sensation of the cold air filling your lungs with each breath, and the soft sound of Ellie's boots pressing against the creaking snow beneath her.

You finally arrived at your place. It’s grey exterior blanketed in a pristine layer of snow. Every inch of its structure was adorned with a delicate coat of white.

You turned around to face her.

Ellie’s skin appeared slightly flushed, with a rosy tinge highlighting her cheeks, and her nose bore a noticeable reddish hue, hinting at the crisp winter air. She didn’t say a word.

You took a deep breath. She looked cold.

“Want me to make you some tea?” you questioned. You didn’t mean to let her in, and she didn’t expect you to ask. She looked surprised, her eyebrows turned slightly upwards.

“M’fine” Ellie insisted, her voice resolute despite the chill in the air. She sought warmth by tucking her hands deep into the pockets of her dark green coat.

“Jesus, Ellie — Just come inside” you urged, the concern evident in your voice.

“If walking you was stalking wouldn’t coming in be breaking and entering?” she inquired, a sarcastic tone lacing her words.

“Just —“ you uttered, your voice trailing off as you reached for the doorknob, slowly opening the door.

“Come inside”

"Fine," Ellie relented, her resolve wavering as she decided to follow in your footsteps.

The house welcomed you with its cozy warmth, though slightly disorganized in its appearance. Yet, amidst the subtle chaos, it remained a comforting sanctuary, always your safe space. Being there brought a sense of solace, as if the troubles of the outside world faded away. And with Ellie's presence by your side, an inexplicable tingling sensation spread through your being.

You proceeded to heat up some water, carefully attending to the task of preparing tea, a familiar ritual.

Ellie never knew where to sit, or where to stand, so there she was, examining every single one of your movements. The air felt thick, like you could cut the tension with a switchblade.

"Your house looks different," she murmured in a low voice, leaning against the cream-colored wall.

“Bad different?” You questioned, taking out two mugs from the cupboard.

“No, just… more stuff” she murmured.

"Well," you uttered as you gently placed the teabag into the awaiting mug. “You haven’t been here in a while, so”

Ellie hummed in response, and bit her lower lip.

“You’ve kind of changed too.” you murmured.

“Tattoos looking bigger. And you look more tired. Plus, your shirt looks ironed, so maybe you even… showered? Woah.” you teased.

“Fuck, you really are funny huh?” she said, crossing her arms.

“Always were a sucker for my jokes” you responded with a sly smile.

She didn’t mean to say what she said next, because that was like opening a pandora’s box. Or, more like, the gates to hell.

“This is the longest conversation we’ve had in years” Ellie murmured. You handed her the green colored mug, your finger brushing her’s for a second. You both flinched.

“Mhm” you took a sip from your tea. It was still so hot, it burned your tongue.

“And who’s fault is that?” You questioned, raising your eyes to meet her burning gaze. It was incredibly impulsive.

Ellie rolled her eyes. She looked baffled.

“You still don’t get it, do you? She questioned.

“Get what? that your girlfriend doesn’t like me? trust me Ellie, I get that, crystal clear.” You smiled, as you slammed your mug on the counter.

“I’m not doing this right now” she declared, her tone firm and resolute.

Oh, did that sentence burn through you.

“I think you are” you stepped forward to face her. She looked terrified, like a lost puppy. Not so “town’s hero” now. Thank god she wasn’t wearing Cat’s badge, because she would have looked ridiculous.

“I’m not” she said quietly, looking at the floor beneath her.

You felt the ever so familiar lump forming in your throat. She owed you.

“Tell me what it is exactly that I don’t get” you spat. The pent up anger from all these years finally just fucking bursted. She left you. She left you for her, your best fucking friend.

“It’s just funny how she didn’t give a shit about Jesse, or Dina, or anybody! Just fucking me, right? I’m the fucking problem?” you blurted. Your voice was shaky, filled with rage. The tears in your eyes started forming. You didn’t even know how much you were holding it inside of you, it all overflowed, at 2AM, right in your kitchen. Right where she told you she couldn’t see you anymore.

Ellie was frozen, her mouth parted slightly. She was flushed, and it showed. It wasn’t the cold weather anymore, it was you. She didn’t expect this to happen so fast. She came inside for some fucking tea.

That’s when you shoved her. And she didn’t even fucking move.

“Don’t fucking do this to me” she begged. Her voice was desperate, and shaky, and what the fuck was she hiding?

You found yourselves standing uncomfortably close to each other, the proximity palpable. The warmth of her breath gently grazed your forehead, creating a tantalizing sensation that sent a shiver down your spine.

She took a deep breath.

“What I did was bad. But — fuck, Jesse and Dina never slept over, you know that?”

The room fell quiet.

“So?” you whispered. You couldn’t even look at her.

“Don’t do this” she begged. Her eyes were glossy. She looked as if she was about to cry, too. Her chest was pressed up against yours.

“I’m not doing anything” you mumbled quietly. Her body was so warm. You felt like you were about to have a heart attack, and Ellie felt like she already did.

“If I would have stayed… I would have done something… so much worse” she whispered. Her hands were trembling.

“What would you have done?” you whispered against her. Dangerously close now. You could feel her unsteady heartbeat.

“You know” she whispered back. You saw the vein on her neck, how beautifully spattered the freckles on her skin were, like a constellation.

“Please” you begged.

That’s all it took.

Almost.

"No," she whispered, her voice barely audible. The proximity between your lips was almost intimate, an agonizingly close distance.

“Please” you begged.

Her eyes were dark, breaths unsteady and fast, like she just ran a marathon. Her chest was rising up and down. She’s dreamt of this moment, for so fucking long. But she couldn’t. She couldn’t fuck more people up. She’s done more than enough.

“You don’t know what you fucking do to me” She whispered against your skin. Her eyes were shut closed. If she didn’t see, maybe it would’ve been less wrong. If she didn’t see, maybe Cat wouldn’t either. She could go home, kiss her girlfriend good night. Walk away. But there you were, pressed up against her, making her head spin like a carousel, fogging her brain with your scent, and your lips, and all of the times she pictured you like this, helpless and begging. She never looked at Cat how she looked at you. Cat never made her feel like she could faint at any given moment. Cat was safe, she was a sunny day. You were a thunderstorm, a cloud, soaking her up. When Ellie said she would have done something so much worse, she meant that.

Cat was right when she told her to stay away, she always was. When Ellie begged Cat to stop her ramblings, Cat told her she looks at you like she’s hungry. That it’s disgusting, that she wishes it was her. She was crying, and begging, and she was right. That’s why Ellie knocked on your door that way. One person she could save.

Ellie’s hands were firmly pressed up against the wall, locking you in.

“You dont know…” she whispered.

You whimpered silently at her words. You were aching everywhere, you just needed her to do something.

“Show me” you said, and it came out more as a plead. You were begging her.

Ellie leaned in, drawing her face closer to yours, and your lips delicately brushed against each other. The electrifying touch sent a shiver down your spine, evoking a soft, involuntary moan that escaped your lips. It went straight to her heart, and then slipped right to her cunt.

Her lips were plump against yours. Just barely touching.

She delicately brushed her lips against yours, causing a gentle collision that sent a jolt of electricity through both of you. A shaky breath escaped her mouth.

“Ellie…” you whispered. Ellie, just do it. you can’t take it anymore.

She abruptly slammed her hands against the wall, causing it to tremor ever so slightly. The suddenness of the action startled you, making you jump in response.

“Shit” she huffed.

And her lips weren’t against yours anymore, neither was she.

Ellie backed away. She couldn’t.

Your lips quivered, and there it was. Her precious thunderstorm erupting.

The tears came out hot, and sticky. They ran all over your cheeks. You let out a quiet sob. Ellie was staring, her breaths uneven and her mouth agape. She almost did what shes been dreaming of doing since the moment she saw you. Almost.

your legs betrayed you, giving out completely. You crumbled down onto the floor, unable to stand any longer. With tears welling up in your eyes, you instinctively curled up, bringing your head between your legs as you tried to suppress the sobs that threatened to consume you.

It was a truly pathetic sight, Ellie towering over your quivering body. It’s been two whole years, and you missed her every single day that passed. It was gnawing at you. Seeing them hand in hand, kissing on the street, making out behind the dumpster. Thinking of Ellie hugging her at night, caressing her skin, touching her everywhere, telling her she loves her, fucking her, tasting her and not you. It should have been you. But it couldn’t be.

If only you knew that when Ellie was between her thighs, you were the only one she thought of. If only you knew Ellie had to bite her lip till it bled to stop from screaming your name. That’s why Ellie always turned off the lights, That’s why Ellie shoved Cat’s face down on the bed with her entire palm when she took her from behind. That’s why she always closed her eyes.

Her body gave up on her, too.

She sat on the cold concrete floor, trying to steady her breaths.

“Look at me” she commanded. It was breathy, and shaky, more of a plea than a real command.

You wiped your tears.

“I can’t” you whispered.

“Please” she begged.

You mustered the strength to lift your face, raising your gaze to meet hers.

“I think about you all the time” you blurted.

She huffed in response. Your soft voice was killing her. She couldn’t even respond. She just watched.

“Ellie…” you whined. The distance between you was torturous. There was so much space, and at the same time, no space at all. You could still feel her lips brushing against yours. You wished you could taste her. She yearned for that even more. She felt like something was chaining her down to the floor, holding her captive.

What you did next, is something Ellie had buried deep inside her darkest fantasies.

You delicately caressed your smooth neckline, doe eyes burning through her’s.

Ellie swallowed deeply.

“What are you doing?” she mumbled, lower than a whisper. Her voice was raspy, and her pupils were blown out. She was imagining, for sure, hallucinating, intoxicated by the picture of you being pressed up against her. It couldn’t be real.

“I need you” you whimpered.

She almost crawled right to you right then and there. Her knees were spread open in front of you. Her breath hitched in her throat. Her heart felt like it was leaping out of her chest.

“You cant” she insisted. It felt like she tried to convince herself, and not you. You couldn’t. There’s no way.

“I want you” you whispered, lowering your hand to caress your breasts.

Something took over you. Being pent up with frustration for years birthed such a desperate sight, she couldn’t fathom it.

She grunted in response. Do that again and she’d lose her fucking mind.

You cupped your breast.

Ellie threw her head against the wall. She forgot how to breathe. Her nostrils were flared, and she almost slapped herself in order to convince her that this was real. This was happening.

“Holy shit” she wheezed.

“Please” you begged, and squeezed your breast forcefully. Your nippled hardened against the material, so you gave them a twist, sending a bolt of electricity right through your clothed cunt.

Ellie’s mouth was agape. She was transfixed, mesmerized. Her cheeks grew more red by the second. It was so fucking wrong, she almost told you to stop, but she couldn’t. Her voice felt dry and her brain was buzzing. Her ex best friend was so desperate for her she couldn’t even help herself.

The image of Cat went through her head. Cat seeing, walking in. Cat trembling and crying, telling her she told her so. Cat screaming at her that she’s an awful person, that she hurt her, That she should burn in hell.

Then, you took your shirt off.

And Cat was gone.

Her eyes were darting from your tits to your needy eyes. You were giving her that look she only saw in her dreams. That desperate, pathetic twinkle in your eye. She saw a girl look like that in an old porno she found. Ever since, that picture of your face replacing the actresses burned through her memory. She knew it was for her, you were showing her, but she looked like she wasn’t supposed to see, a peeping tom, a pervert. Her cunt twitched inside her tight black boxers. Cat never made her cunt feel like this.

The dainty lace bra adorned your body. you looked like an angel, eyes red from crying, cheeks still wet, chest rising up and down. She wanted to ruin you.

You stopped for a second, looked for a sign to keep going.

The room was silent, the only noises that muttered were your soft whimpers and Ellie’s harsh, uneven breaths.

“Take it off” she whispered. You almost couldn’t believe she said that. You nodded pathetically. She always knew you’d be like this. She imagined you nodding your head frantically, kneeling beneath her and undoing her belt, way too many times she wouldn’t dare to admit. Her heavy breaths were a confession to all of her sins.

You unclasped your bra, your tits spilling out of it with a sigh of relief.

Ellie was hypnotized, fully staring. She remembered the first tine she saw you in a bikini. Jesse noticed she was staring, and he gave her some advice. “Look at the ground or the sky, pretend there’s something super interesting going on there”

She didn’t need to pretend now.

“Fuck” she grunted, feeling her cunt twitch inside her briefs. Her mouth was agape, she wanted those nipples between her teeth. Her tongue slightly moved involuntarily inside her mouth, imitating the kitten licks she’d give your tits if she could. It was truly pathetic. Thank god you couldn’t see. Her fists were clenched, and she was forcing her feet onto the ground. If she pretended something was pulling her in, she wouldn’t crawl towards you and take you like she always wanted.

You toyed with your nipples, rolling them between your fingers, almost as if you read her mind.

“Spit on ‘em” Ellie demanded desperately.

“Ellie…” You whimpered, her voice was making you grow wetter by the second. If you took your pants off, she could see the wet patch that soaked through your panties, making them almost sheer. You were almost embarrassed, but it was too late now.

“Do it” she commanded.

“Do it for me” Ellie begged. She brought a hand up to cup at her perky clothed breast. She imagined it was you, your tits between her fingers. She wanted to squeeze the fat, take it in, spit on it, latch her mouth onto your nipples, slap them as you ride her thigh, or her face, or her whatever the fuck you wanted.

The saliva ran down your chest, droplets flowing at an incredibly slow pace, each and every one of them teasing Ellie, mocking her. Almost there, almost reaching your sensitive nipples. When it finally did, Ellie was breathing so heavy she almost wheezed.

You rubbed the spit all over your tits, glazing your nipples with the liquid, coating them shiny with your saliva - all for her. You were staring at ellie with your mouth open. You moaned at the sensation, making Ellie shift and slightly slide off the wall. She was gone.

“Feels so good” you whined.

“Fucking shit” She huffed. She bucked her hips, searching for that friction. She didn’t do it yet, but oh she will.

“Mhhm” you hummed, a high pitched moan escaping your lips.

Ellie almost went cross eyed.

“Need you, please” You whispered while massaging your breasts. You were squeezing the fat harshly, almost punishing yourself for being such a dirty, desperate girl.

“Show me” She begged, in between breaths.

“Show me how bad - shit”

You cupped your cunt, your hand feeling warm over it. Your clit twitched. Ellie let out a moan so deep, you almost came right then and there, all over your panties.

You circled your clit through your pants, teasing Ellie without even realizing. I can do it, and you can’t! It felt like you were mocking her.

“Take that shit off — fuck” she huffed. Her hand was resting on her thigh, pinching it. Stay down. Don’t crawl, don’t fuck, don’t cheat.

In a matter of six seconds, your pants were on the floor. You crossed your legs together in embarrassment. What if she saw how wet you were?

“Spread” She commanded.

You looked at her stupidity.

“Spread ‘em, please” Ellie begged.

You spread your legs slowly, revealing your soaked white cotton panties to Ellie. Her eyes rolled back at the sight.

“Fucking shit” she grunted.

Her hand met her own cunt and gave it a stinging slap, followed by a desperate grunt. She moved her veiny hand up and down, almost grabbing her pussy. She felt perverted, and sickly, and so, so good. The friction of her hand on her cunt was followed by a string of deep moans, chanting your name like a prayer. She didn’t even know how bad she needed it.

“Wider” She commanded.

You spread your legs so wide your thighs almost hurt. When Ellie saw that wet spot, she lost it.

“So wet” she whispered in disbelief.

“Show me that pussy” She whimpered.

“Show me that fucking pussy”

You moved your panties to the side, the cold air hitting your clit making you flinch. You swore you could cum just from clenching in and out, listening to the obscenities leaving her mouth.

“Holy shit” She moaned, and cupped her cunt forcefully.

“So pretty” she whispered. It was even prettier than she thought, glistening folds and a little puffy button poking out. She needed to see inside, everywhere.

“Spread it with your fingers” She grunted. You parted your lips with your pointer finger and your thumb, wide open for her. She saw how bad you were clenching, begging for something inside. Your puffy clit moved with every pull.

“Wanna fuck you so bad” she groaned, it was killing her.

“Need to see you Ellie, please, please” you begged.

With that whine leaving your mouth, Ellie unzipped her jeans, and pulled down her boxers slowly, revealing you of the most beautiful sight youve ever seen in your life.

Her thighs were creamy, a mound of soft, dark hair adorning her pubis. Her slick was shining on her milky inner thighs from the boxer briefs she took off slightly brushing on them. She was so wet, it almost glistened like a far away star, deep in the galaxy. Her mouth was parted and she looked famished.

Tiny droplets of sweat were shining on her forehead, making her hair stick to her face. She was a panting, desperate mess.

You couldn’t help but slide your hand up your thigh, and started running your fingers through your glistening folds. Finally. “Oh god, Ellie” you moaned. You wished those were her fingers, if you could, if you only could.

Ellie moaned like a porn star at the sight. You thought she might tease herself, might play with her cunt before doing something. She proved you wrong.

She slid two long fingers inside her aching hole, squelching sounds filling the air. She pumped them in and out, fucking herself like a madwoman. Her hungry eyes were fixated on your fingers caressing your needy cunt. Her mouth was watering, borderline drooling, soft “ah!”s escaping her lips.

You circled your clit slowly, and felt your lower stomach leap at the contact. You lapped your slick with your middle finger, and sucked on it. It was obscene. Ellie’s cunt twitched. She almost came.

“Good girl” She groaned at the sight.

“Faster” She commanded, a deep moan escaping her lips.

You fastened your pace, and she was looking you directly in the eyes while pumping her fingers inside her cunt. With every pump, you could see a milky cream coating her fingers, the sight alone made your puffy clit ache with pleasure.

It was so wrong, and obscene, and pathetic, and you almost came.

“Fucking shit — fuck yourself, show me, fuck yourself” She whimpered, fastening her pace as well. The moans that left her mouth were deep, bursting from the inside of her soul.

Her fucking ex best friend.

“E — Ellie m’close” you whined, inserting a finger inside your soaking hole.

“Can see how fucking tight you are - fuck”

“Faster, do it f’me baby faster” She groaned.

The harmony of your moans intertwined, creating an intoxicating symphony.

“Ellie — gonna cum, fuck” You babbled, drool running down your chin. You were so close, eyes rolling to the back of your Ellie filled brain.

“Please fuck me, please fuck me”

“Cu — Fuck, shit, m’cuming” Ellie grunted.

“Say my fucking name” She demanded, her words coming out so sloppy and ridiculous.

“Ellie — Ellie! Please!”

Ellie almost screamed. She wanted to tell you to come for her, wanted to hear the noises youd make, see your face twist and the screams of her name, but she couldn’t help herself, the sight of your desperate cunt and the look on your face, so stupid, so cumdrunk, so pathetic, begging her to fuck you - brought her to the edge. It errupted inside of her like a volcano, pumping and squeezing on her fingers. She rode her orgasm until it tickled and hurt.

When you came, Ellie almost shed a tear.

This wasn’t just wrong.

This was vile.

She pulled up her pants up and left without saying a word, too embarrassed to look you in the face.

When she got home, Cat was sound asleep on her bed. She gave her a delicate kiss on the cheek, and whispered;

“I’m so sorry”

[fairyhaos]

what "morally [x]" are seventeen?

notes: like morally ambiguous, morally grey, morally good, etc. this is quite possibly the weirdest brainrot ive had but this was soo fun to write :>

disclaimer: this is just for fun and im not trying to analyse their "real self". this is kinda ab their game personas yk !!

masterlist

seungcheol

morally flexible. for him it's less about following his morals and more about winning. morals are just human conceptions, and anyway, people can and do change their morals all the time!! but on the other hand, success and victory lasts forever

jeonghan

morally curious. he recognises what things are morally correct, understands why it's moral to do something, and then sits there for a moment and thinks about whether he wants to do that or if he wants to ignore morals completely. sometimes it's fun to do the wrong thing.

joshua

morally ambiguous. like a grey sky that looks like it'll rain any second, no one knows which way joshua will turn bc he's just so unpredictable. it's not even a matter of being bored. sometimes he does the wrong thing Just Because He Can

junhui

morally clairvoyant (maybe). no one quite understands why he's sticking so fiercely to this one principle, but as the game progresses, it soon becomes clear that it's actually the right thing to do. it's like he knew what to do all along. or he's just lucky.

hoshi

morally chaotic. he's like if morally grey was more colourful and more vivid. he's neither good, nor bad, nor that secret third thing—he's actually the fourth option. the one with flamingo feathers and sequins that hide a truly crazy mind with the most unhinged morals ever

wonwoo

morally neutral. he's just too tired for this, man. also it's funny to look at the side of the morally ambiguous people and watch the weird things they do, even if he doesn't want to be a part of it. he likes observing the side of the angels and the side of the devils.

woozi

morally grey. woozi is peak morally grey bc he does things which can be seen as good and he also does things which can be seen as immoral. but at the end of the day, he's neither truly good nor truly bad. he's just woozi.

minghao

morally secure. he knows what his morals are, and he sticks to them, no matter what. everyone else can do what they like, just so long as they don't try to make him do anything that goes against his own morals. literally the embodiment of "you can kill someone, it's okay, just don't tell me where you hid the body"

mingyu

morally targeted. it doesn't matter what his morals are bc they always end up getting questioned into oblivion bc his hyungs like (affectionately) bullying him like that. are his morals good? are they bad? it doesn't even matter. they're getting targeted no matter what

dokyeom

morally good. he could not be immoral if he tried. even if yoon jeonghan is turning the world on its head during a game of mafia, there's still a part of him that feels like something isn't quite right. his mind may not know what's happening but his heart is still on the side of the angels

seungkwan

morally vocal. veryy noisy when it comes to voicing his morals and his opinions on how things should be done. purely because he gets theeee most upset when jihan play tricks during games bc there!!!! are!!!! rules!!!!!!! and his hyungs aren't following them >:(((

vernon

morally rigid. vernon is just a Really Good Guy, and i feel like that's often overlooked bc his opinions r sometimes really really crazy. doesn't mean he isn't good, though, and he's sticking to what he believes in literally no matter what happens. the world could tell him he Has to do something else and my man will be like "thanks but no thanks ✌"

chan

morally exhausted. he doesn't know what the most moral thing is anymore and honestly he's too tired to figure out what it is. everything is too noisy and too confusing bc up is down and left is right and what good is now bad, and he's just looking forward to going home and leaving the chaos of his friends behind

request guidelines

reactions tags: @weird-bookworm @minhui896 @slytherinshua @haowrld @belladaises @newgirlygirl @moonlitskiiies @mirxzii @wonranghaeee @yonabutnotyuna @crackedpumpkin @wqnwoos @kthstrawberryshortcake-main @kawennote09 @a-wandering-stay @icyminghao @valenhui @sweet-like-caramel @odxrilove @kyeomyun @chansburgah @pepperonijem @jeonride @kellesvt @kikohao @astrozuya @eightlightstar @onlyyjeonghan @aaniag @starshuas @all-american-fangirl @f1uffyjun @sea-moon-star @nonononranghaee @isabellah29 @mcu-incorrect @hrts4hanniehae @suraandsugar @pan-de-seungcheol @dokyeomkyeom @melodicrabbit @bananabubble

[waterkittywriting]

BSD Men Stepcest Headcannons <3

Warnings: Stepcest, nsfw, this is just generally immoral don't do this, reader has gn pronouns but female anatomy, bondage, noncon + dubcon, for akutagawa it's incest, kinda self inserted in Ranpo's 🥱

Characters: Ranpo, & Akutagawa

A/N: I've wanted to write this for so long but never had that patience to sit down and write so many characters, finally doing it thoughhh,

Ryūnosuke Akutagawa (incest)

- you're his adorable little sibling!! How cute!!

- On the outside, it appears he doesn't like you much, never wanting to converse, touch you, or even be near you

- But when you two are home alone.. it's very different

- He'll pull you onto his lap despite your playful resistance, claiming it's just to keep you safe from any enemies

- You know he's just making up excuses, but who cares? You get to feel your hot older brother getting hard under you.

- He'll rest his hands on your shoulders and his face in your neck as you cook, resisting the urge to bite and lick and kiss and suck.

- When he eventually does start to do all these things, you can't help but tease him for his ' brotherly ' love .

- Slowly rocks your hips back and forth while you're sitting on his lap, so little movement it would barely be noticeable, but you felt it, and you know he knew what he was doing, and you loved it.

You wake up to dark, tight tendrils around all your limbs, spreading your legs open and keeping your hands above your head, the cold air conditioning hits your cold pussy and makes you whimper, squirming around. This is something that you had to deal with quite often, and if you'd ever confront him about it, he'd deny it, look at you disgusted and say you had a wet dream, even though you both know what happened had been very real.

All your squirming earned you was a 'tsk, tsk..' and a small slap on your bare thigh. You slowly open your eyes, looking at your older brother standing in front of you. "R-ryūnosuke- why always while I'm sleeping..? Let me rest.." you whine.

"Shut up and let me enjoy my meal." He grumbles, positioning himself between your legs, you feel his tongue press against you and you arch your back, a moan falling from your soft lips.. this was going to be another long night.

Edogawa Ranpo (Stepcest)

( im so bad at writing ranpo please forgive me )

- His mother and your father had married recently..

- You did not like him, one bit. He was creepy! You're freshly eighteen and he's twenty six.. yet he's still so touchy.

- He would grab your hands and your shoulders, tilt your chin up to look at him, put a hand on your bare thigh, etc

- your father claimed "Its just brotherly love! You can ignore it."

- But what you couldn't ignore was the growing arousal in your core everytime he touched you. You thought you were keeping it a pretty good secret from your parents.. but..

- Ranpo had always been, really, really, smart, you weren't sure where he worked but you knew it must have been something to do with his intelligence.

- You knew he knew. And you hated it, you hated seeing his stupid smirk or his shit eating grin everytime you'd excuse yourself to the bathroom to go plunge your fingers deep into your pussy and pretend it was his dick.

You were in your room, getting dressed, face to the wall when you heard him. "Hey, sugar." You can't see him, but you know damn well he has that stupid smile on his face.

"Adults are gone for the night. Nobody has to know!" He smiles, gripping your wrists in his hands and shoving them away from your chest, against the wall. "*You're* an adult!" You groan, embarrassed at having your chest exposed to someone so... So..

"Get out, Ranpo. I'm changing." You say through gritted teeth, trying so hard not to rub your thighs together at the thought of him seeing you completely naked. "Oh please, don't act like you don't want me here." He laughs, walking towards you and spinning you around so he can see your bare chest. You immediately gasp and cross your arms over your chest. "Ranpo! Get out..!" You whine, taking a step back and bumping into your wall, standing on your bra and shirt that sat on the floor.

You gasp at the sudden feeling of his mouth touching your nipple, he looks up at you with that stupid smirk on his face before giving it another kitten lick. "So are you." He grins.

[pheenixbabe]

elephant in the room 🐘

rant about the state of online shifting; "get-it-off my chest" moment

part 1. scripting trauma/ being a bad person in a dr how many people are really doing "bad things" or scripting in trauma in their dr? lets be so fucking for real here. why is it that everytime someone "morally corrupt" it gets exposed months apart and the "culprit" is some small ass account with like ten followers? its not common. and im not saying it never happens. but shiftok is always on about these people and im like...who tf are yall talking about? they find one bad apple and then decide the whole community needs to be reminded how fucked up it is to do xyz.

i mean lets be realistic, how many people are going out of their way to script something traumatic or harmful? the majority of the online community (reddit, tumblr, tiktok) always talks about shifting for their s/o, adventure, frienships, family or a better life in some way. how many people are deliberately scripting to harm themselves or others? and is the number really so much that we need thinkpiece after thinkpiece about it?

aand when others behave immorally or get traumatized in their dr they will experience it. they will see the effects of any bad things they do to others. they will feel the trauma first hand and suffer from what theyve scripted in many ways. we dont need to punish these people. their dr will do it for them.

P. S what about when you shift to a dr like the walking dead? or even mha and keep in the war arc? thats traumatic. hell, even an idol / fame dr can be traumatic and those are hella common! yet nobody bats an eye or reprimands it...odd...

part 2. racebending race doesnt exist. i saw a shiftoker (a white one too??) act like someone was crazy for saying it! the whole concept was created by europeans! white mans burden, race based social classes, and eugenics all seems natural to yall? i mean logically its not odd to anyone that modern racial concepts were made by the same group of people in the same time period...? the time period people needed excuses to kill, rape, steal from and enslave other groups... search up "who created race" and then report back to me..anyways..

name one good thing that splitting people up and assigning them identities based on their background does for us? its caused mocking of those that dont fit the mold their race gives them, harmful views of other because of their racial group(s) and low self esteem from outside perceptions of your race. oh and division among groups on top of everything. so what is the point of holding on to race? abandon it! shift to be white, asian, black, indigenous, do what you want! youre not "changing your race" until you shift to become a different species (and theyres obvi nothing wrong w that!).

and some people say "if you script your another race your downplaying the racism poc face" but not every country has the same type of racism the states has. not every country is even as racist as the states. for example if im shifting to be fully south korean born & raised, and live full time in south korea, its not likely ill experience racism. and even so you can just...script out racism? like what...some people literally hate shifters who dont script out racism and expect everyone to script it out, but then turn to say that they cant change their race because of racism...huh? genuinely dont get that.

P. S im only really preaching abandonment of race so flippantly in regard to shifting. in this reality we're kinda stuck with it at this point lol.

P.S.S and it seems shifters from the usa hate racebending the most! as an american, i wonder how much of that is being intimidated that the concept of a racial hierarchy, that our nation has been built upon for centuries, can be shattered so easily...and therefore obviously proves it as obsolete. food for thought. (half joking here teehee)

[just-pug-things]

Tips for artist learning?

Draw. And have fun doing it.

To elaborate.

Many people who ask and answer this kind of question are thinking about tutorials, guides, and courses to improve their artistic skills. You will hear things like, "You need to work on your fundamentals," and be pointed in the direction of guides like DrawABox or Proko or Ethan Becker's Youtube channel or the many, many other resources that exist. Beginners need to build their skills, right?

This is the incorrect starting point. And why is that?

Before I started drawing Just PUG Things, I drew very irregularly. Every time I tried to draw something, I was struck by my own inadequacy, my amateurish lines, scribblings that failed to transform into beautiful, elaborate illustrations. Drawing was an uphill struggle as I tried to draw faces that weren't disproportionate, taking hours to draw something that always looked so, so wrong.

I was discouraged from drawing by people around me. My drawings were scrutinised, labelled as weird (I couldn't draw faces), innapropriate (I was trying to draw people) and immoral (I was trying to express the pain I felt).

Everywhere on social media I was surrounded by the beautiful art made by incredible artists. And instead of admiring them, all I could do was peer down into that endless valley between our skills and despair. I was jealous of their ability, devoid of joy in my own. Why was I struggling so much when someone on the internet could do something better, faster?

Every time I picked up my pen, it was like fist fighting an active anthill; painful pointless punching that results in nothing. It was like this for years, but I couldn't give up making art nevertheless. I felt like I'd shoved myself into an iron maiden and was unable to leave.

Does any of that resonate? Does any of that feel familiar? Does any of that make you think, "That's me!"

Then first and foremost what needs to be repaired is your relationship with art. To rekindle the love for art that will keep the flame of your candle burning bright. To make it a part of your life routine so you make art because that's just what you do. Lynda Barry's book, Making Comics, was my inspiration when things got hard. It will not matter how many guides you read, art courses you complete, Youtube videos and TikToks you watch if you never make any art.

After that? The art learning gets easier.

Get a personal project (like, oh, I dunno, a weekly comic about a game you love) where you encounter art problems and think, "I don't know how to do that," and then start looking online (or in libraries) for what other people did to solve that problem.

Get interested in the craft so the studying and learning isn't merely a chore but something fun and exciting so you're actually motivated to draw hundreds of boxes and cylinders and enjoy it.

Get really obsessed with a character and draw them so many times that their essence gets directly injected into your bloodstream.

Get time to enjoy other forms of art that does not immediately appeal to you and try to understand what is so captivating about it to others who love it.

(Get friends like mine, who encouraged me to to start drawing Just PUG Things, which started as a 'ha ha wouldn't it be funny if I drew the tomfoolery in duty finder idk how to draw any of the stuff but-' 'you should do it' and now here we are. They kept my spirits up during times where I couldn't do it myself.)

But first and foremost: Draw. And have fun doing it.

[queenendless]

CRIMSON

A/n: I legit don't know how to title this piece. Inspired by @xo-romiiarts and their artwork.

Also Guns for Hire by Woodkid fits this piece so listen to it while reading this or any song that gives dark!GoGe vibes.

CW ⚠️ : 4.7k worded piece with DARK MATURE themes/depictions of murder/genocide, teen dropouts/runaways, angst, hurt/comfort, romance/fluff, already established poly!teen!GoGe x fem!teen!curse seer!reader, set in an AU where the guys did go through with it ... you have been warned. ⚠️

Cause #261 and fanarts of Gojo saying yes to Geto have given me the push to finally get this out. I have been working on this since September of LAST YEAR SO I hope yall enjoy this.

And I'm working on a pt 2 to this set a few months to a year later of the aftermath. Cause Lord, Clan Head Gojo x Cult Leader Geto x Reader but they're dark now kinda I wanna explore in my own way. With them kids. Their kids. And scene.

*DO NOT REPOST, TRANSLATE, COPY, EDIT, PLAGARIZE, AND OR STEAL MY FANFIC WORK. Rather if you enjoy my fan work, then reblog, like, comment, n follow pls n thnx u.

"You're late, Suguru."

Indeed he was.

"No … I guess you got here fast. There are several Star Religious Group facilities in the city, after all."

Something felt seriously off the moment the snowy-haired sorcerer raised his head.

"Satoru? Is that you?"

The look in his eyes … practically radiating their potent rebirth … a stark contrast to the fading scuffs of blood running down the left half of his face, down both sides of his mouth, weariness evident.

"What happened?"

This was not his Satoru. This one … had seen hell first hand. In a twisted way, they both have today. Literally at death's door.

"I see you already saw Shoko."

"Yeah, she healed me. I'm fine now."

And yet, a long sleeved uniform arm slipped out from under the sheet, swaying a bit til staying still as a lifeless corpse would be.

"No … me being safe doesn't help anything here."

Not when he failed to keep their promise to Riko-chan. She was ready to walk away from the merger with him. Choosing to live for herself rather than follow her pre-chosen fate. Yet, fate had other plans. A cruel one, at that.

"I screwed up. You're not at fault." Gojo sounded so blunt, so calm … willing to accept all the blame for their greatest failure yet.

"Let's head back."

An eerie ringing began penetrating Geto's hearing as the clapping kept going. He chalked that up as an explanation as to why he thought he misheard Gojo's next words.

"Suguru, should we kill these guys? The way I feel right now, I doubt I'd feel anything about it."

As the form of Gojo carrying Amanai's draped body was being overshadowed by the pure white radiance of the smiling clapping cultists, Geto's morality dilemma prodded his mind, unable to meet Gojo's gaze.

"No. There's no point. It looks like there are only common believers here. The masterminds who know about our world have probably fled already. And unlike with the bounty, they won't be able to talk their way out of this. The organization had problems to begin with. It'll be dissolved soon enough."

Geto, standing in the pure white room of morality, starkly contrasted Gojo as he brushed past him and stood in the crimson room of immorality.

"No point, huh? Does there really need to be any point to it?"

Does there need to be a rhyme or reason for them to act on this? Ideally yes. They may be above the laws in most cases, but even sorcerers can't enact vengeance on regular humans. Unless they were curse users or even like the Sorcerer Killer, they couldn't lay a hand on them.

Realistically?

Right now?

The clapping grew louder, mocking him. Antagonizing him.

Gleefully celebrating her death and their own damaged, traumatizing failure.

Geto's left hand curled into a fist.

His morals were conflicting with his personal feelings; his fist shaking in restrained emotion.

His almond eyes, weariness tainting his eyebags, finally looked up.

Out at the clapping, smiling crowd.

"It's very important that there is. Especially for a jujutsu sorcerer."

Even the cruelest scum of the Earth get away scot free, never facing retribution. Darkness grew underneath him, outstretched to reach their seemingly untouchable light, as his fractured moral code made way for his true inner self to finally show its true colors.

"But not us …"

Gojo stiffened. Slightly looking back over his shoulder, peering inside the open doorway, his radiating Six Eyes turned on at the darkened gaze of Geto's eyes slightly looking back in return.

"Not today."

Rage and distraught guides him.

He would right this wrong.

To the bloody damn end.

Now triggered by those firm, final words, Gojo's heightened state strengthened as he set Amanai's body down gently on the hallway floor, the anger he didn't feel on her behalf in his rematch against the fallen Zen'in man was finally making its appearance, intertwining with an unhinged drive for chaos in his blood as a twisted gleam overtook his lips.

Survival of the weakest. Discouragement of the strong. That's how society should be; one where jujutsu sorcerers protect non-sorcerers. That's what he always strived to uphold despite his inner demons. But now… they as sorcerers still failed in the end.

Riko-chan, Kuroi-san, the weak but good ones, now dead by the orchestration of these unforgivable heinous —

"Monkeys." Having seen that monkey assassin's standing corpse himself on his way inside; decimated and dripping with bloodied spilled guts, made Geto wish he could deal the killing blow himself back in Tengen's domain.

This would have to do, feeling ready to puke when he uttered the same word as that scarred mouthed bastard, wincing as the shadowed hole he summoned released his newest curse.

The same cursed worm draped over his shoulder, opening its mouth to pop out the handle of a cursed tool, one Geto pulled out as swiftly as Gojo began ascending to heights unbound, slicing the cursed energized blade through the air as tears sprung from his unforgiving dark eyes.

"DIE!"

Those monkeys' glee changed to confusion then bursting out in waves of panic as the blade grew in length the more Geto spread his cursed energy into it.

Several heads got sliced sideways, splattering blood over some's prime white apparel, kicking off the shrill hysterics.

In an instant, Gojo blips out of sight only to plow through a row of them scurrying ants in his way like the cursed speedster he had become.

Blown off head chunks.

Fists jutted right through their torsos right and outta their spines.

Setting off carnage filled piñatas left and right.

Trained on every weakling in his sight, Gojo's uniform grew darker as more blood seeped further in with each blow.

Reappearing as he grabbed a randomly chosen neck, snapping it in two with ease, before blocking a panicking one that tried socking him from behind, glowing eyes narrowed in as he clenched their fist before ripping their arm right off with swift ease. Their tortured screech is heard one moment, the sound of bones crunching in Gojo's other hand the next.

Through hatred fueled adrenaline, Geto cleaved in them guts to match the mutilated limbs that rolled across the crimson spreaded floor.

Those attempting to flee were squandered as the force field of Limitless smooshed them, splattering the now cracked dented walls; minced red.

Many more sunken noggins soared in the air, sprinkling red from on high.

Screams and splatters became the symphony of Pandemonium.

Flinging the chain around the neck of one, Geto swung them like a chain and ball, crushing many others against the walls.

Those petrified hideous faces get their brains ruptured out; globby chunks vomiting out by mere cursed thought.

Many rammed right into the glass window ceiling, sending cracks racing in its wake, the pure white sunlight becoming a neon red.

Shards of glass rained down, deflected by Limitless as the pair found themselves back to back, watching with callousness as many were skewered like porcupines.

Limbless lumps of lifeless flesh plastered every inch of the once pristine interior from every wall, crevice, and even the ceiling had scarlet drenching it.

Their haggard breaths and sweaty burning faces aside, their dark craving for retribution still lingered in them both.

It wouldn't be enough.

Not until every last member was eviscerated.

Dismissing the worm, Geto scanned the room, trembling at the grotesque aftermath.

His cerise painted hands hung limply at his sides.

Amiss the madness, their residuals were there.

Fortunately they knew to an extent how to hide them. However long those held out, they couldn't waste a moment. Any longer than that spent here meant capture followed by immediate execution.

Feeling himself moving by a firm grasp tugging on his hand, his light headed state transitioned to a frigged one over what they had just committed. The solid squeeze of Gojo's sizzling hand helped pull him further out of his own unsteady mindset.

"Satoru …" He internally felt revolted at having those monkeys wretched blood covering his skin.

"Suguru."

Through the path of red, his closest friend – his ally in genocide – turned to him with cherry-red streaking his unbuttoned jacket and the collared white undershirt, for his glowing – exhausted – eyes were scarred with the brutal truth. Reaching his stained, steadfast hands out for that stained lost face, Gojo rested his forehead against Geto’s, staring into those stricken eyes of one of his most greatest treasures.

"Come with me. Let's get away.”

Blood trickled down from the ceiling, spilling along their hair, staining their faces, but both couldn't care less as they sealed it with a kiss. Lost in the bloody euphoria, relishing in one another's warmth.

The new taste of searing iron overtook the repelling flavor of cursed spirits, overwhelming the pair as Geto clawed at Gojo's back and the latter's hands massaged the former's supple cheeks, bringing muffled moans outta them both.

It feels right … anywhere … as long as it's with each other. It's just right.

Wherever they end up, whatever it may be, may it be nowhere near here whenever whichever sorcerers would be sent to investigate this now scene of massacre.

Once partners in sorcery.

Now partners in crime.

What a send off for them, the newly dropouts.

The clapping halted.

The ringing faded.

Their hearts felt lighter.

But something still felt off.

Someone was missing.

"Y/n." Geto's eyes opened to stare into Gojo's as they parted lips. "We can't leave her behind … we can't …"

Knowing their cursed seer partner probably foresaw the bloody chain of events that had recently just transpired in the last few hours. But knowing how abrupt they can be, maintaining and willing them into your mind’s eye was still a burdening struggle, ergo you being left behind at school for tiring training.

The heavy fog of bloodlust and tension between them lifted for now Geto's eyes lightened at sensing that familiar presence. He knew Gojo sensed it as well, for his glowing eyes followed his lead, taking Riko back in his arms, the duo raced to the surface outside.

You had ran outta the car that dropped you off down the street. You gulped to stifle back the bile at the gory sight of the fallen Zen’in still standing; the bloody puddle reaching for you now.

Your gaze averted once you spotted them coming out, hurrying over, your stomach churning at how scrapped up and red they appeared, but your empathy outweighed the disgust as Geto caught you in his heavy weighted grasp.

The fear in Geto's eyes mingled with confusion and concern. "Y/n … I … we –!”

Gojo’s eyes slanted as you kept your face hidden. "Did you get a vision?”

Your shaky nod against Geto’s chest paired with your ashamed tone. “I was too late … I,” An anxious pause of silence stretched between you three. “Shoko told me where you were headed after healing you … then came another one … of course you two would get Riko’s body back …”

They waited for the heart shattering blow. The final nail in the coffin. You shunning them away, cutting ties immediately. Rejecting them for their heinous act. Fleeing away in horror to Jujutsu High, reporting their sorry asses and ousting them as traitors. All the above — !

“The system would have let these zealots slip through the cracks. They … their assassin … they all deserve to rot in hell for what they've done … all because of Tengen … Kuroi and Amanai have been avenged.” Your callous tone kinda threw them off a tad bit.

Geto gulped. “You … You're okay with it?”

Your head finally rose up, the glossy layer to those e/c eyes sparkled from the sliver of sunset. "I know I can't make up for letting you all down … and no amount of apologies can redeem my blunder … but I can do this at least. I'll bring her back to the school, back to Kuroi-san. They deserve to be laid to rest together.”

You reluctantly pull away from Geto’s warmth; uncaring about the red stains smearing your clothes now, to take the wrapped up body as Gojo gently passes her into your arms, melancholy heavy on your face but the strength of resolve aiding you in carrying her. “My place is with you two. Always. Now more than ever.”

Geto’s eyes pricked with burning warmth; your willingness to stay despite everything, as he kissed your temple. “We should be apologizing to you.”

“There's still more of those facilities in the city left standing. We're not finished just yet.” Gojo's voice spoke doom for their upcoming targets, a stark contrast to his own kiss to your forehead being so sweet.

“They all need to go. Every single one of them.” Geto clenched his veiny hands, determined to see this through to the end. “We will return for you. If you wouldn't mind packing our things for us by the time we show up …”

You nodded, sadly smiling. "Don't keep me waiting too long.”

Their brisk nods to you paired with smooches to your cheeks were all you were given before you watched them holding hands then warping away.

The driver stayed silent as they drove your contemplative self, keeping her cold self close to your warmth, back to school for the last time.

°•○•°•○•°°•○•°•○•°°•○•°•○•°°•○•°•○•°°•○•

The sun had set.

Crimson painted the sky.

A young girl's life ended by a gunshot to the head.

Two young teens, forced to face the cruel reality of their lives through near death.

The Star Religious Group Headquarters.

House of the Children of the Star.

Their monotheistic religion spent worshiping their absolute God; Tengen.

Crossing the wrong sorcerers, nearly costing them their lives in the process at the hands of their hired assassin; the Zen'in clan failure.

Their facilities left as ruins scattered in ruble, collapsed craters layering the grounds, red painting the toppled stone and marble.

The trauma of near death, failing to keep their promises to protect their friends' lives, and losing to a physically gifted human … their pride as the strongest duo now tarnished.

Retribution.

Selfish desires made to fruition.

With Riko-chan now gone, the assimilation was now void.

Tengen-sama had evolved.

The barrier hiding the school's location was weakened and easily spotted by the Six Eyes.

You solo carried Riko to the morgue, spotting your senpai and fellow kouhai watching you from the distance, ignoring your driver hurriedly running to inform Yaga-sensei of the turn of events, but only making eye contact with Shoko as she was standing out front by the entrance, already expecting you, prepared for the worst.

You two stayed silent, understanding exactly just from seeing the acceptance in your gaze.

Seeing the covered bodies laying side by side on the tables, you prayed over the mother daughter pair, believing the guys would stop by to do the same, hopefully.

As you just finished zipping up one of three duffle bags meant for each of you in your room, you felt the ripples through the Force that is cursed energy.

The fuse was lit. The air pricked with sparks as those two set off a chain reaction.

You could visualize the facilities up in flames.

“You really are idiots.” Shoko leaned against the open doorway, smoke in her disapproving frown. “To think they'd go this far … and you're bailing with them.”

“My whole world ended when I lost my mom. My dad was a broke ass deadbeat. Then I was discovered, brought here and met you all. You became the family I needed … so I thought that was enough. But those two … they're my everything. We ride or die together. You can join us or stay here. That goes for you two as well, ya know.”

You felt Haibara and Nanami hiding behind the wall before joining Shoko in the sliding doorway. By the looks on their faces, the news spread like wildfire.

“If I go with you guys, then the higher ups will force my sister to take my place.” Haibara frowned at the guilty truth.

“Rules and regulations keep us in line, as much as they suck.” Nanami sulked.

“Those old cods view us all as disposable tools. We're not heroes. We have our own ideals, desires, lives even. And if it means I may die down the line because I choose to walk away, then I'd rather die with freedom than serve them as their obedient lapdog.” You spoke devotedly.

“I don't get it.” The blunt tone and her aversion to eye contact made you realize how left out Shoko still felt that her two crazy guy friends were willing to leave them – leave her – behind.

“It'd be nice to have you by our side Ieiri … but I know you still have Utahime to consider.” You grinned at seeing the tiny pink tinted rise to her cheeks.

“You're our classmates! To have you and our senpai be branded as curse users, I don't want to have to fight you guys!” Haibara's angry tears made your heart waver. Your own eyes burned with cursed energy.

The static film reel of seeing your guys getting savagely brutalized, Riko and Kuroi's murders, even further down the line … glimpsing Haibara scarred and pale and so damn still —

“You're still our friends. Always.”

Even with glistening chibi eyes and stubbornly pursed lips, Haibara realized you had made up your mind, reaching Nanami's hand to squeeze and be his anchor.

“It's not a crime to be a kid, but the accumulation of life's little despairs make you become an adult. Remember that.” Nanami understood that much, knowing the guys are capable of setting the world on fire when pushed too far. Like so.

Blinking back tears yourself, you nodded. “If you ever need us or change your mind, you know how to reach us.”

Throwing the duffle bags outta the window before jumping out yourself took them all by surprise. Jutting their heads out, they were relieved yet anxious spotting Geto's manta ray cursed spirit flying away, the bags and you safe across his lap and wrapped up in his arms.

His crestfallen gaze back at them was the last sight of him they received when they also spotted Gojo floating on high, gazing at them with melancholy, the living example of Nanami's parting words to you.

Knowing deep in your intuition they snuck into the morgue to pay their final respects to Riko and Kuroi before retrieving you, you kept quiet about it, trusting them wholly to catch you as well.

On that day, everything changed.

On that night, there was no turning back.

But to both yours and Geto's surprise, the boldness of Gojo as he landed right by you both on the manta ray and grasped Geto's shoulder, his suggestion for a hideaway took your breaths away.

The empty private home – one of quite many – belonging to his family's clan; this one gifted solely to him. Even as fugitives, making such a bold choice to hide there, Gojo sure is a wild child.

Wading in the waters of the giant tub to wash away the blood, flushing the pink tinted liquid down the drain, then filling up the tub once more made way for some scented oil that helped elevate the tranquil vibes.

“You're certain?” Geto scrubbed his shoulder length sudsy hair, brushing his wet locks.

“The clan has too many spots all over Japan. We crash here tonight, take what we can to sell for cash in case the geezers fry our bank accounts, then high tail someplace new. Like say, I don't know, overseas?” Gojo's lax assurance transformed him into a chibi in Geto's point of view; resting his head and arms back against the tub's rim.

Almond eyes darkened, catching the scar stretching from Gojo's lithe neck, across that toned chest, and stopping by his hip poking out of the bubbly water.

Exhaustion smeared with piqued intrigue and guilt in those blue eyes spotting the X shaped scar on Geto's sculpted chest.

Red tints colored their faces as pleased sighs left their lips at the warm water loosening up their stiff muscles, fingers weaving through each other's slick hair, bringing their faces closer, brown meeting blue as they stared longingly at each other.

The unique connection ergo magnetic attraction was evident. From clashing freshmen to still bickering but budding sophomores. And now, as fresh genocidal dropouts, they both looked like they aged a lot.

The contrasts, the similarities, their yin yang dynamic.

That and the fuzzy warmth was getting to them.

“I'm really glad you're alive.” Geto nuzzled his nose against Gojo's.

“RCT for the win.” That albino pecked the corner mouth of his raven.

Their tired giggles relieved the tension.

Brushing their bare dripping shoulders together, lips connected, initiating timid soft touches. Drool connected their heated tongues, their heated breath fanning one another's face, oh so close, wanting more.

Your hums of content grabbed their attention as you waded over to them, watching your round cheeks blowing soapy bubbles into their faces.

Running your hands down their scars made your lips tremble at the agony they went through. Entrapped in their arms, you hummed as their lithe hands caressed your supple smooth skin for they were touched by your gingerly layered kisses along their tender marked flesh.

Toru's yawning broke out, worrying you and Sugu who suggested you all start drying up. Toru was the most exhausted being actively awake using Six Eyes for 3 days straight.

But you all were, mentally and emotionally.

The electric dryer rumbled as your wet uniforms swirled within. The AC hummed in the backdrop.

Duffle bags left open as you three laid in the enormous bed, you three snuggled in close on the center.

Setting up a small simple altar in honor of Riko and Kuroi in the room gave you all some peace of mind, especially when burning some smoky incense to cleanse the place. To pray and hope that their souls were in a better place than the hell they're stuck on called Earth.

“I detest humanity. Swallowing cursed spirits made from the worst parts of their very existence for so long confirms that. Killing those cultists put my mind at ease … as horrible as that must be to you.” Suguru's weary gaze shifted to meet Satoru's now unsettlingly calm ones as they laid atop the bed beside each other, clad in just boxers, with you splayed across Satoru wearing just a large tee you all shared just cause.

“You've been feeling this way for a long time, then.” Suguru flushed as Satoru weaved his hand through those silky obsidian strands, free from the metaphorical shackles of his usual restrained bun. “I'm sorry I didn't realize it.”

Suguru's cheek nuzzled his wrist, breathing in Satoru’s cozy scent. “I never wanted you to. Or anyone for that matter. These are my own feelings to grapple with.”

Satoru's messy cat hair shook, tickling Suguru's face, closing his stinging eyes to let them rest for the moment as their foreheads touched. “Well, now, we'll carry that burden together.”

“We're branded as curse users now … we're on our own from here … and you're fine with that?” Sugu was skeptical for the most part.

“I never held hatred for anybody before … not even over Amanai's death … but I always knew my life would be spent as a living weapon for jujutsu society … a monster. And now that I've crossed the line … there's no coming back from that … but I'd do it all again …if it mended the pain you felt inside. I just … I don't want you suffering in silence anymore. I never want to leave you behind.” That soothing voice of his cracked.

Suguru was breathless seeing red in those reopened agonized eyes.

“Still … I took advantage of your heightened state and let my emotions cloud my judgment. I'm supposed to be the moral compass … yet I'm no better than those monkeys … and you nearly died because of them … I'm sorry Satoru … I'm so sorry.” Water hit Toru’s skin as the choked up weeping of his best friend smothered his shoulder.

“Hey, hey. I'm here, aren't I?” Keeping an arm wrapped around his partner, Satoru smooched the crown of Suguru's precious noggin, being tickled by those loose bangs in the face, shushing him and kissing that pierced ear of his. “And even you need to cut yourself some slack and lean on others too, ya know. And realize … you can't get rid of me that easily. You're stuck with this monster for a long time, Suguru~”

That possessive, enamored voice compelled Suguru to peak out and witness those lovesick eyes; the polar opposite to the tunnel vision of the reawakened Satoru Gojo that approached him with Riko-chan in his arms, struck right at his core.

The soft warm lamp on the side table paired with the sliver of moonlight between the curtains transformed their eyes into mini galaxies. Their own universe even to dwell in and share together.

“Hmm.” He brushed back Satoru's locks to spot the scar on his forehead and kiss that booboo. “You've never been a monster to me. Just a goofy idiot.”

Elated chuckles hit his giant lobed ears as his resident goofball pecked his blushing nose. “Your goofy idiot, smart ass.”

“Awwww~”

Flinching at that familiar voice, the guys directed their flushed gazes to you; your cheek mushed against Toru's pillow chest, fawning over them with your e/c eyes, round with sparkles and hearts set a glow in ‘em.

“I agree with all the above. Don't mind me. Just get it on with the yaoi goodness.”

“How subtle.” Suguru's eyes crinkled with mirth.

“She's got good taste, though.” Satoru's feline grin followed, rolling you both over to smush you in between them, pecking your forehead. “Period.”

You frowned. “All the apologies in the world can't make up for me letting you two down today.”

“Nonsense.” Suguru disagreed as the back of your head cushioned in between his plush pecs. “Having you here with us makes this shitty day much better.”

“We all screwed up.” Gojo griped before it became a longer deeper yawn.

Your eyes glowed a moment before dying down, alerting them and reminding you. “Time for you to sleep. Cause we got a lot of shit to think over on how to move forward. For all of us.” His exasperated sigh was met by your chaste lips as you leaned up to kiss him; him returning it to suck them up.

“Yes ma'am.” His pouting turned to a dopey grin; growing wider when Suguru kissed him goodnight too. That finally conked him out, breathing softly, when Suguru's hand wrapped around your side, turning you to lay on your back so he could see you properly; eyes clad in guilt of his own.

“Y/n, in no way should you feel responsible for what happened. That assassin would have killed you too if you had gotten involved. If we lost you as well …” His forehead met yours, letting you kiss him slowly, pulling him in to relish your personal taste. “My hope is that they're in a better place now.”

“Me too … My visions are just as much an omen as they are an aid. In this world there are no guarantees for a peaceful living … but I believe in you two … no matter what … and I know in my heart this is worth it, risks and all.”

Your honest smile made him grateful for accepting him, despite all that's happened, his tears hitting your face in response so you kissed his tears away.

“Thank you, Y/n.” His whispers met your lips as you two got caught up in another kiss when you two grunted in surprise as Satoru flipped you both over, smothering you two under his precious heat.

“‘M love you both, mmh so much.” He mewled, sleepy eyes peeking open to drowsily smile down at you two.

“Satoru, we can't breathe.” A red faced Suguru wheezed out.

Satoru languidly laughed, “My bad.”

Thankfully, you three were able to get some shuteye that night.

They're your whole world now.

Deep down inside, they know they're both monsters, for that day brought the truth to light of their dark potential.

But they're your monsters.

Your empathetic, devious, passionate monsters.

And as far as the truth goes, you too are just the same.

Three of a kind, indeed.

[lishens]

ʚɞ ⁺ ˖ ⸝⸝ ꒰⠀THE APPLE OF HIS EYE⠀꒱

He leans forward, resting his forehead against hers and breathes in what she breathes out. Caleb can be content with just this, he thinks. But even the snake was never content with just watching Eve frolic in the garden. What more of a mere man like him?

pseudo-incest. fem!reader is a virgin. dubious consent. caleb has an obvious thing for being the big brother in this dynamic. slight guilt. overuse of endearments and the term "girl" when it comes to describing reader. mild nipple play. fingering. pussydrunk!caleb. praise. slight mean!caleb.

“Why do you look at me like that?” It is a question that comes softly, almost sweetly from the girl perched above his lap. Caleb feels his heart swell, almost to the point of aching. She is his entire world, has been upon first sight as nothing more than children, but in this closeness where the space between them is almost nonexistent? Caleb can barely resist the urge to press his lips all over her face, leaving a mark on her in the same way she did with him.

All he does is smile, arms around her waist tightening like he cannot bear to part. In the silence inside his mind, he can admit freely that he will never survive without her. Everyone would say that it is a given, after all, they are siblings.

With their grandmother now gone, they only have each other to rely on. Family is where one must draw strength, their love and support the energy necessary to keep an individual going. But not like this, Caleb knows that much. Brothers do not lust after their sisters, should not want them in the way a man wants a woman. But he does. By all the stars above, he does.

A sharp inhale, letting the scent of her fill his lungs, then a whisper, “you’re just the prettiest thing I have ever seen.” An understatement, if there ever is one. Even goddesses in the heavens cannot compare.

The love that he has for his little sister is an immoral thing that would be sickening to any other. Caleb knows and understands, but he would rather sink into depravity than let go of her, of his feelings, and the hold that he has on her. It is only by small mercies, fate looking upon him kindly, that she never pushes him away.

He leans forward, resting his forehead against hers and breathes in what she breathes out.

Caleb can be content with just this, he thinks. But even the snake was never content with just watching Eve frolic in the garden. What more of a mere man like him?

The sound of her small exhalation laced with far too much affection fills him with life, it makes him move closer, their breaths mingling until they are breathing the same air — like he is a man drawn to her by some inexplicable thread. He is, and he always will be. “Am I?” She dares to ask, like she is not the most beautiful thing in his world, the only thing that lightens his days. She dares to ask, like the answer is not in the way his eyes can never be far from where she is, like it is not obvious how he gets tongue-tied in her presence, like his devotion can ever be questioned when it comes to her.

“Of course,” he whispers, lips curving into a smile. Warmth floods his very marrows, like liquid light and liquid love combined. A hand travels from her waist, to the side of her ribs, then to her jaw. He stares at her, the sun of his universe, and dares to caress the skin beneath her eye.

They are so close that Caleb feels like weeping, it has been so long since they have been this intimate, the only kind of intimacy he will ever get from his sister. It is enough, it has to be enough.

It is not enough.

They have always been a ticking time bomb, one wrong spark and they explode like a house of cards, of false families and relation threads that they never agreed to, crumbling down to ashes.

“Sweet enough to make my head spin,” comes the soft murmur, leaning in to press a kiss on the corner of her lips. Caleb wants to say more and do more, to confess how he truly feels, but something holds him back — society, expectations, the rules he created to keep himself in check. But his restraint is rapidly fraying, a noose choking his neck. “My darling girl, my pretty girl.”

His heart beats like the fluttering of a hummingbird’s wings, each throb echoing the truth of his words. He loves her like he loved no other, like he will love no other. It is her or no one at all.

A muffled noise, the sound of pure delight. Caleb hears her laugh and wants to bottle the sound, keep it safe forever. “Yours?” She asks in a small voice, hesitance in the way she looks at him, and something in him just shatters.

She can doubt the rest of the world, but she must never doubt his feelings.

It is a question that does not require an answer, his constant presence beside her speaking for itself, but he needed her to understand how much she means to him. “You are,” Caleb confirms, voice low and almost stern. He captures her chin between his thumb and forefinger, tilting it upwards so they can stare into each other’s eyes and she sees the truth of his words. There is no room for doubt in his heart, his mind, and his soul.

“Really?” She asks, like she cannot believe that she is so precious to her big brother. Her eyes are wide, almost in awe at the mere thought of his need to possess her.

The lines begin to blur, brother and sister, man and woman — a yearning heart to another heart that wants. But maybe, they have been blurred since the very beginning. Maybe, they have always been doomed, their fates written in a way that they will be made to devour each other one way or another.

“Really,” he insists, a hint of frustration seeping into the tone. Caleb leans forwards, having to take a deep breath to calm himself. “Foolish girl, you have to understand,” he trails off, the words not rising, struggling to find the correct ones — the ones that will speak the truth of the enormity of his feelings. How can he ever dare speak of what he feels without scaring her? How can he ever convey them in a way that is enough, that encompasses all that he feels when no words seem suitable? A long pause, having to take a deep breath that sounds loud as a bang in the tension between them. “You have always been mine, not my sister, never as my sister. You have always been the sun in my universe, the bright star in which I revolve around. I’m nothing without you, the life inside of me cannot exist without your presence. I am yours, just as much as you are mine.”

Silence ensues, his eyes desperate to see anything from her features — it can be hatred, disgust, anger. Anything, anything at all. He dares not to hope, not when his feelings do not require to be returned.

“Caleb,” she begins, tone soft and gentle like soothing a spooked animal, and he feels his breath get caught in his lungs. “Caleb, I love you. I have always loved you and it scared me sometimes.”

A sigh of disbelief comes falling, then joy. An overwhelming sense of relief soon washes over him at the admission as it finally sinks into his mind what she just said. Hope surges upwards, overtaking all of his sense of reason. He holds her cheeks between gentle palms, thumbs rubbing gently on the warm skin.

“Hush, it’s okay to be scared,” he coos, tucking a stray strand behind her ear, keeping his touch soft and careful. “But you have to trust in me, in us. Can you do that for me, sweet girl?”

Sharp gaze tracks the way she bites on her bottom lip, considering his request. It is obvious how terrified she is by this change, but also incredibly tempted. It is new territory, but not only for her, also for Caleb. Her trust in him wins out in the end, her head nodding once then twice, shaky hands reaching to hold on to his shoulders. “Yeah, I think— I think I can, b-but I don’t know how.”

Relieved, he leans in much closer until their lips are barely a hair's breadth from one another. “Just follow my lead, okay?” The tone of his voice is low, reassuring. Palm moving from her cheek down to her throat, trapping it in his grip in a gentle hold. Caleb presses his thumb right above her pulse, just to feel her heartbeat against his skin. It is not even a want, it is a need.

He soon tilts her head upwards, letting their lips meet in a tender press.

The world turns quiet, and he can almost weep from the joy just one kiss can bring him. The guilt exists in the periphery, but it is easily ignored in favour of her skin against his.

How can he ever think of anything else when he has her on his lap like this?

Caleb pours all of his love, his desires, into the kiss in hopes that she can feel the depths of his feelings. His teeth scrape the plush brim, tugging on it just to hear her whine, and whine she does. A low groan comes in response, his hand moving even further downwards to pull her even closer, a bruising grip on her hips.

He wants to devour her, to consume her entirely, but this is new for the both of them and he does not want to overwhelm her.

Fraying control makes Caleb move gentler, more coaxing than demanding. A sensual rhythm that cares not for her inexperience, just wanting her to enjoy the act of kissing him, of feeling all his love.

Breaking the kiss just enough to catch his breath, he pulls away from her mouth to look at her with hunger, pupils dilated as he marvels at how she responds. “Pretty fucking thing,” he hisses, more to himself than to her. The hardness of his arousal pressing insistently between her legs, evidence of his growing need.

“You make me feel things,” she trails off, looking away from Caleb as she struggles to find the right words, “things I never felt before.”

The heat on her cheeks seems to further warm from embarrassment at how wanton she appears. It makes him warm inside, even more when she does not dare pull away, does not dare break the intimate connection of their bodies. “I know what you mean, it’s nothing I’ve ever felt before either.”

His hands start to wander, slipping beneath the hem of her shirt to caress the skin of her lower back. Caleb marvels at her softness, the warmth of her flesh. Slowly, and with utmost care, he begins to move his hands higher to map the contours of her body; lips trail hot, open-mouthed kisses along the column of her throat. When she squirms, he makes shushing noises, “it’s okay, we can take our time.” But he still tugs her shirt off, exposing the bare expanse of her torso.

The sight of the swell of her breasts, peeking above the neckline of her bra, makes his mouth turn dry and he has to swallow hard.

“Gods,” he croaks out, instinctively leaning forward to mouth at her collarbone. “You’re so gorgeous, prettiest fucking thing I’ve ever seen.”  Caleb’s palm moves to cup her breast, sliding underneath the pad of her bra to brush his thumb over her nipple, watching with delight as she twitches in response.

Impatient, he pushes her bra down until it bunches around her waist. Surging forward, he takes a nipple into his mouth without care for her squirming. He suckles on it gently, teasing the bud with his tongue at the same time his fingers pinch and twist the other. Free hand travels down her stomach, dipping into the waistband of her shorts to explore the dripping folds of her core.

He can already tell how wet she is, how ready she is to take him.

“Oh, baby,” he coos. “You’re so messy.”

It is a mockery, and Caleb can feel how much she likes his words by the way she practically flutters around his fingers. Dirty girl, he thinks to himself. The digits trace the slit, moving them back and forth until his fingertips are soaked with her arousal before rubbing tight circles on her sensitive little nub just to hear her sing.

“Just let go, baby. Feel everything for me, hm? Don’t think, let me take care of you.”

He slides a finger, just one, curling it to hit that spot that makes her see stars. When she wails, tears pricking her pretty eyes, Caleb cannot resist the urge to grin. “Found it,” and it is with relentless attention that he moves his hand back and forth, never letting more than two knuckles be free from her heat.

She thrashes above his lap, trembling from the overwhelming sensation assaulting all her senses. A sharp cry echoes in their living room, salty wetness dripping down her cheeks as she struggles to breathe through the intensity. Every single time Caleb pulls his finger back, he watches as she gasps and shakes her head. “It’s too much,” she weeps. “I can’t— I can’t!”

Instead of stopping, Caleb only laughs meanly. All his vows of treating her gently had flown out of the window the moment he felt her tight cunt around his finger.

“No, baby,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to the corner of her eye, tasting her tears. “It’s not too much. Trust me, okay? Trust your big brother to take care of you.” It is those words that send her falling over the edge, soaking his lap with her release as she cums with a strangled cry.

Coaxing her gently through the aftershocks, he soon brings his fingers to his mouth. Caleb smiles sweetly, before licking her arousal clean off of his fingers.

“Delicious.”

He cannot wait to feel her cunt wrap around his cock. This is his reward for being patient, it is what he deserves, and Caleb will never let her go.

© lishens ( 2024 ): do not claim, modify, copy or repost my works without permission. minors do not interact.

[simp4konig]

Extension of @itsagrimm ’s post and conversation which we had 😇✨✨💖

Some additional Nikto headcanons

Word Count: 653

Tag List: ♡ @simpforkonig ♡ @rustic-guitar-notes ♡ @best-soup ☆ @lotionlamp ☆ @luci4theminorannoyance ☆ @happy-mushrooms ♡ @nightlyvoids ♡ @skeletalgoats ♡ @aethelwyneleigh27 ☆ @arrozyfrijoles23 ♡ @dobaddo ♡ @the-second-sage ☆ @wil-xyz ☆ @revnatheshadow ☆ @feelya

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Nikto is extremely bitter, and spiteful. His childhood was stolen from him from the moment he became an officer. In addition to this, his torture left him scarred — physically and mentally — and he is conscious of a childhood which he could have had, yet is unconscious of what the childhood which he did have was like. He either does not remember, or the memories have been repressed; either way, he recognises what he has lost, for he is met with the naively mischievous glint in the eyes of the boyish rookies that arrive with the optimism of a young, hopeful lad, and he is cursing under his breath in Russian, resenting the happiness and zest which they give off, contrasting the spite and bitterness which festers within him.

Perhaps he displays said “boyish” behaviour in order to reclaim some of the innocence which he had when he was a young boy; again, either it is intentional, and he behaves in such a way as to I personally believe that he doesn't even realise that he behaves in such a way: in Nikto's eyes, he has prematurely matured and aged, making him see through the lens of a damaged man; yet, that same lens may be making him blind to the boyish behaviour which he unintentionally displays, evident in the scraps of content that we are fed of him 😓

Maybe Nikto has two boys inside of him which define him, both the same age, yet different: one is the child which was robbed of its innocence and forced to endure atrocities unimaginable; the other is the child, innocent, which has been locked away, wondering why it cannot be let out. Neither is aware of the other, and it's all the more tragic.

Exploring this point further, Nikto being 28–29 is surprising, as he acts far older than his age. It's as if the experiences which he has experienced have aged him mentally, and he genuinely feels the pain of it all straining his psyche. It's tragic that someone so young was subjected to such torture so soon, and be forced to wear a mask 😟…

Given how the wiki states that “he has an uncanny ability… to hide his true identity”, it is ironic. What if from his perspective he has hidden his identity so well that there is none to be found anymore? What if he perceives himself as an actual nobody after having been done so immorally wrong? What if as a result of his torture and lasting trauma he has had his personality and identity stolen, just like his childhood, and is therefore unable to rediscover it?

…Maybe the mask is his subconscious way of protecting the remains of the innocent child, wanting to preserve the past purity of his child self (before being inevitably forced to mature as a result of his environment, and consequently his other experiences?*)

*Note, I can imagine that Nikto's childhood was robbed at some point as an adolescent, but he was still innocent and did not grasp what it was. After his torture, the truth behind his childhood may have come to light, and shed darkness on what was otherwise something positive. Furthermore, he could be clinging on to what little remains of that innocent child.

In addition to own personal headcanon (where he is blunt), he probably spouts the darkest jokes and has a morbid sense of humour. I don't necessarily believe that he would use humour to cope with his circumstances, as in all honesty, he does not strike me as man who indulges in idle banter like “haha i got tortured guys 😎,, sooo anyways 0/10 would not recommend 😰😰 — my other voices wouldnt either, trust 💪🙏” 💀,,

,,but, I certainly believe that due to how desensitised he has become to morbid matters, he has reached a point in his life where the horror amuses him, and doesn't affect him.

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A/N Finished writing this yesterday at 23:11 instead of actually fucking SLEEPING 🥱😫😫,, my priorities are notbthe ones that i should be prioritising lmfao 💀

Surprisingly posted something else 😱😱❓⁉️⁉️❗ this is VERY uncharacteristic of me!!??? I was supposed to post one post and disappear for ~3 months?? 🤔🤔🫡🤨🧐🧐🤨

Been reading Metro 2033 rn and its [Redacted, as the rant was two paragraphs] 😍😍

Not much else to say lmao — been existing i suppose 🤯

[dadsbongos]

I love the way you write kabru, could you write some of the general headcanons for him?

super all over the place. i got maybe a bit too into the nsfw headcanons cuz i need to destroy him ~~~ general headcanons:

The type to imagine oc battle amvs in his head to their medieval music but pretends he’s just smoldering chill cool guy

Outside of general note-taking or journaling, I fully believe he’s had dreams of being a novelist as a kid

Probably avoids interacting one-on-one with Falin without Marcille or Laios as buffers because of her stubbornly remaining monster traits, as well as like… “hey girl you killed me!!”

But as time goes on n he gets used to her, he probably ends up just seeing her as a cutie pie like everyone else does

Would thrive coming up with criminal punishments, maybe not watching some of them because excessive gore icks him out but theorizing is always fun to him

Would similarly thrive in a court setting, and would jump at the opportunity to be the angel and devil on laios’ shoulders through the whole thing

I think he’s the type of man to bare a heavy conscious about things he considers immoral or rude, like having a hard time forgiving himself for mistakes or even just generally “bad” things in his past

Likes the idea of being a family man but gets scared shitless at the actual effort it would take to raise children and maintain a marriage

Would be a total reality TV junkie and anime lameoid in modern era - he loves the melodrama

if/when Mickbell ever gave him permission to refer to him by “mick” (or just any half-foots say he can call them by first name alone) he’d squeal and kick his feet for dayssss knowing what it means in a cultural context for half-foots

Tries not to be That Guy, but feels a little complimented when people tease at what a smooth talker he is. Loves getting to have his redditor “heh… just my natural charisma…” moment

Strikes me specifically as bisexual btw i dunno why but its just jumping at me

Not in love with Rin, but likes her? But doesn’t? But doesn’t NOT like her? He’s trying to maintain distance because sometimes he feels a spark, but then goes back to thinking of her as just a childhood friend. Feels very guilty and selfish if he thinks about her feelings for him for too long, especially since he’s kind of a known charmer. Earnestly hopes she moves on from him no matter the state of his feelings though

Nsfw headcanons:

Likes foreplay wayyyy more than sex because he gets off seeing how crazy he can drive his partners before they just start begging with zero shame

Would enjoy group sex or two-party affairs, his only iffy stance is being watched by someone else. Unless he knows the voyeur VERY well it just feels uncomfortable to be the one getting observed. Down to be the voyeur though hehe

Has a stupid lil whispy laugh he does when he’s getting teased im gonna get feral

Could never play a brat, you tell him shut up and he salutes you with sweaty hands

Could do hate sex! If he realllllllly doesn’t fuck with your vibe, but he’d have to know you personally. Hate sex feels weirdly more intimate to him because he has to expose real feelings he has, so in a way his ass doesn’t even hate you he’s just annoyed you keep bickering with him

If he’s supposed to be submissive, I think he’d like to get a couple light slaps. Maybe choke him a wee bit.

Can’t take humiliation unless its in a sandwich where the degradation is hidden between 2+ praises

Idk if its because its me or if this is real, but I can see him blurting out a “mommy” if he’s super delirious with pleasure

Circling back to the voyeur thing, I think his other hardcore no is somnophilia. Either way, he just can’t get into it. But he’s not the type to shame people for their goons

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

hello hello!! :D

So, I was just re-reading book 7 (especially the parts where Maleonor appeared) and something really irked me abt this part. We all know Yuu is not afraid to say when someone does/says something wrong, so why didn't they do anything abt her huge hatred against humans? Obviosuly not every human is bad and I feel like they would try to atleast explain that to her.

Especially Yuu just excusing/ignoring her rude behaviour towards HER OWN GUARDS seemed unrealistic to me. I know that the princess is a huge deal, but back in book 1 Riddle was a huge deal too and they still didn't back down.

I might sound silly here but I would like to know your thoughts !! :D

Mmmm 🤔 I think we're remembering very different portrayals of Yuu, if that makes sense?? The way you're describing Yuu's behavior in the main story, it makes them sound a lot more outspoken, rash, and Ace-like than they actually are. Allow me, if you will, to explain how I see it.

Rather than Yuu saying something when someone does/says something wrong, I think it's more accurate to say Yuu often comments on the things going on around them without being strongly opinionated about them. Instead, they often sound resigned or like they expect chaos to unfold. I would say their most common reaction is just sighing and shrugging while jokingly going, "not this again!" This is especially true in EN, where many of Yuu's localized lines are more self-aware.

In my eyes, Ace is the one who more actively calls out people doing/saying bad things. For example, it is Ace who holds Malleus accountable for his prank in Endless Halloween Night (whereas Yuu was complicit in it). It is also Ace who tells Riddle off for insulting Yuu's parents and how they raised their child, not Yuu standing up for themselves to Riddle. Yuu does also tell Riddle his behavior is out of line and too restrictive, but rarely is this attitude replicated outside of book 1. Yuu might point out the things the Disney villains do in their dreams as "wrong", but that's all in their head. They never actually confront their peers, point at them, and tell them their behavior is immoral. In fact, Yuu doesn't even really call Sebek out for being so loudly anti-human; that responsibility often falls to Lilia or Silver. In book 5, Yuu doesn't strongly question Vil's training methods; it's Deuce who tells Vil he's being too harsh on Epel, and the other VDC Tribe members who complain about Vil changing their diets and lifestyles. Time and time again, it's other characters who are the most brazen and outspoken, not Yuu.

About Maleanor specifically! I actually don't think it's weird or out of character for Yuu to not go out of their way to call out her rudeness. Firstly, as I have already mentioned, Yuu is generally more reserved in their opinions. Secondly, Yuu is presented as a strategist. They are supposed to be more tactful and intelligent than your average student. Now, let's think about this. Maleanor is an extremely long-lived fae, so it is likely that he has held her negative opinions on humans for a while. This princess is dealing with a foreign invasion, humans stealing her land's resources and threatening her and her child's life. She is also known as a powerful and easily angered mage. Presently, she has been shown to be capable of forcing her will upon your body, making you kneel before her. Not only that, but this is a dream. It is not the REAL Maleanor. Do you think, in this very moment, it would be wise for Yuu to talk back to Maleanor? Especially knowing that dying in the dream means Yuu also dies in real life? Do you think lecturing her would realistically get her to reconsider her opinion of humans? I think the answer would be no. Yuu, being the rational strategist of the group, would know better and that it's better for them to be quiet and obey the very scary dragon lady. And, again, they would be aware it is a dream, so telling Maleanor off for her behavior won’t make a significant change irl.

The truth of the matter is that Yuu can't... do or say much??? They're powerless in a school where basically everyone has power over them, so they need to play their cards carefully and watch whose toes they step on. This extends to situations beyond the school too. No matter how "wrong" something is, Yuu would be reckless to throw their life away just to get in a few lines about how racism is bad to someone who wouldn't even spare them an ear. Weighing risk and reward, Yuu gains nothing and loses almost everything by giving their (uncalled for) two cents to Maleanor.

If Ace were there, sure. He might just say something stupid to get them all killed. He had a track record of stating his mind even to highly influential and powerful people. Yuu? No way. They usually play things safe.