#he can like. corrupt parts of reality sometimes if he wants to.

[evanpeterswhoresblog]

Innocence (pt. 2)

Remus Lupin x f!reader

warnings: smut, protected p in v, oral (female receiving), fingering, loss of virginity, making out, underage smoking, underage drinking, slight innocence/ corruption kink, lmk if i missed any :)

summary: remus’s obsession with your purity ring gets worse, even after he finally gets it off your finger…

word count: 3.6k

a/n: ok so for anyone wondering when i wrote this i was thinking of the remus drawn by likeafunerall because omggg they draw him so good. let me know what you guys think ofc sorry if it’s not as good as the first part, i sorta rushed to get this out smh. but i’m so in love with remus hahaha

~~~

“Remus we shouldn’t be doing this...”

“Then tell me to stop.”

“I... fuck.”

Remus couldn’t help the smirk that took over his face. He finally had you in a spot he’d fantasized about countless times, he wasn’t going to let it go so easily. It was simple really. You were pressed against a wall, and he was on his knees in front of you. He wished he could see the look on your face, you must’ve been blushing hard, your soft eyes squeezed shut as you tried to deny yourself the pleasure your body craved. Unfortunately, your skirt was over his head and prevented him from seeing your pretty face as he ate you out.

It had been a few weeks since the first time you let him touch you, and it would be an understatement to say he enjoyed it. He was obsessed with it. He was obsessed with you. With every encounter the two of you shared it was like a part of your innocence was taken away and given to him. You were still far more innocent than anyone else in the year, without a doubt. But ever so slowly you were losing that innocence, and it drove Remus mad.

What else drove him mad was just how needy you became. You’d seek him out almost daily for some sort of touch. Whether it was for you, for him, or both of you, you wanted it. And you wanted it badly. Though the two of you agreed to keep what went on a secret from the rest of your friends, you sometimes were not the best at subtle hints. You would whisper to him how much you needed him and that was it. Who was he to deny you anyway? A lot changed in a short time, except for one thing.

The ring.

That stupid gold band remained on your finger through all of it. However, Remus would never say anything about it. He would never pressure you to go further, no matter how much he wished to. Because, despite the circumstances that brought the two of you together, he really did care about you. You were funny, sweet, and incredibly kind. What was there not to like? Your beauty spoke for itself, as did your inexperience. He would wait for you however long, or if you decided you never wanted to go all the way he wouldn’t care. You had more control over him than you knew.

“Rem...”

Your voice brought him back to reality. He hadn’t realized how through his thoughts he kept going. You were practically dripping; your arousal covered his chin. Without a second thought, he wet two of his fingers and gently thrust them inside you, only adding to the shakiness of your legs.

When you were done, he was quick to pull his head from under your skirt and look up at you. As he imagined, your face was bright red. But instead of your eyes being shut as they typically were, you looked down at him. There was a wildness in your eyes that he hadn’t seen before, like a mixture of confidence and something else he couldn’t name. It entranced him.

“You’re mad,” you mumbled as you began to fix your skirt and panties.

Remus chuckled. “Yeah, a bit.” He stood, not looking away from you for even a second. “But a lot for you.”

You smiled and looked away, your shyness returning. “Sure. So do you want to go back first or shall I?”

“You can, I have to go to the library anyway,” he answered. He also had to wait a few minutes for his boner to go away, but he wasn’t going to tell you that.

“Alright.” You ran your fingers through your hair and smoothened your uniform. “Do I look normal?”

“You look beautiful,” he said. He tucked a piece of hair behind your ear. “You are beautiful.”

You were clearly flustered at his compliment, it was adorable. “Um thank you, I’ll um see you later then yeah?”

“Yeah, see you later,” he replied.

You gave him one last smile before exiting the closet, checking both ways before doing so. Remus leaned against the wall and sighed. He really was starting to like you, and he didn’t know if that was a good thing. Relationships were never of much interest to him, he always thought they took too much effort and time away from things that actually mattered. You already consumed most of his thoughts, and you took up a decent amount of his time. For once, he didn’t know what to make of the situation. Except for one thing.

The closer the two of you got, the closer he was to getting that ring off your finger.

A smile formed on his lips.

~~~

One afternoon as the two of you sat in History of Magic together listening to Professor Binns’s long lecture about one of the Giant wars, Remus decided to test your limits.

You shared a desk in the back, Lily and Mary were in front of you. Remus glanced around the room to make sure no one was paying attention. As he expected, half the class was almost asleep, and the other half was doodling on their notes or whispering with their partners. He then looked at you. Your head was perched up on your hand, your eyes fighting to stay open. It made his chest fill with excitement.

Casually, as if he were doing nothing wrong, he placed one of his hands on your knee. Instantly your eyes opened and turned to him. He pretended not to notice, though he watched your posture change from his peripheral vision. He kept his head forward as he began to slowly creep his hand up your thigh. He moved his hand under your skirt, the feeling of your warm skin a familiar comfort.

“Remus,” you whispered his name like a warning.

As his fingertips brushed against your panties, he turned to you and lifted a finger to his lips, silently telling you to be quiet. Much to his surprise, you didn’t push him away. You only nodded your head and pretended to turn your attention back to the lecture. He slipped his fingers under your panties and found you were already wet.

Dirty girl, he thought as he began to touch you.

~~~

The fateful day came not too long after that day. Truthfully, though he had been trying to build up to it for at least a month or two, he didn’t expect it. When you first told him about what the ring symbolized, you were set on following the rules. Other guys had tried to fuck you before, he knew that, and you told him about that. So, what was different about him? Was it because the two of you had been friends since first year? Or was it because he was simply the first boy who truly tried? You were more of a mystery than he expected.

On the special day or night, Remus snuck you up to his dorm. It was during the celebration of Gryffindor winning the quidditch cup which meant no one would be in the dorm until very late, if ever. The two of you had a few drinks, but not enough to make either of you drunk. He had even convinced you to take a hit from his cigarette. Though you coughed terribly, he still thought you looked very attractive. The air that night felt different, even to him, perhaps that’s why you finally decided you wanted to go all the way.

“Did you see Sirius?” You laughed after the two of you entered the dorm. “He was starting to pour body shots.”

“He’s celebrating, let him live,” he replied with a smile.

You fell back onto his bed, and your laughter continued. He made sure to cast an extra locking spell on the door before he moved to the bed and laid down next to you. You instantly turned on your side, propped yourself up on your elbow, and stared down at him, that wild look back in your eyes.

“What’s your game then Lupin,” you said.

He looked at you confused. “What do you mean?”

“With me. I mean, we’ve known each other since we were eleven, we’ve hung around the same people, but we were never that close. Then suddenly like two months ago, you offered to have sex with me. What’s the reason?” You looked away for a few seconds. “I just... I don’t understand where it came from that’s all.”

Remus Lupin was never one who typically got stumped on a question, but at that moment he was. What was he supposed to say exactly? That he had always wondered why you wore that ring and when he found out what it was for, he wanted to see if he could get it from you? That he had become obsessed with your innocence? Neither would work, he knew that. So, he settled on the third option.

“I dunno, honestly. Why did you take me up on the offer? Or well, part of the offer.”

Once he said the words aloud, he realized how awful they sounded. He observed your face, waiting for a frown to form to indicate that you were upset. But it never came. You only gently smiled and shrugged.

“I dunno either.” You placed your hand on his chest, your left one. He watched you drag your fingers up and down his body, the ring like a painful reminder of what hadn’t happened. “But I think... I think I’m ready to take you up on the full offer.”

His eyes widened. “What?”

“I know I said I didn’t plan on doing that and I’m completely contradicting myself, and I’m going against my family and my religion but I... As you said, people do it all the time and it’s normal. If you don’t want to, I understand,” you answered. Even through the dark, he could see your blush. Merlin how he loved it.

“Why would I not want to? I should be asking you that,” he replied, trying his best to keep a neutral face despite how excited he was.

“It can be intimidating, right? To be someone's first. I don’t want you to think it has to be some special big thing because it’s not. In my head, I used to think it was supposed to be all that but after starting this with you I sorta realized I don’t care for special I just you know... want it to be with you. And don’t feel pressured or anything, I’m not going to ask to be your girlfriend or any of that. I- sorry, I’m saying too much again, aren’t I?”

Remus gave you a gentle smile and took your hand in his. “No, you’re not saying too much. Actually, you’re saying about the right amount. If that’s all what you truly feel, then I’d be more than happy to oblige. But I need to know, you’re positive. What we’ve been doing is wonderful and I enjoy it very much, but if that’s all you want, we can keep it that way. I know it was special to you to wait for marriage and if that’s not the case anymore great, but I need to know you’re sure of it.”

“I am sure, I promise. I’ve been wanting to for a while, but I wanted to be sure and now I am, do you want to?” You asked shyly.

“Very much,” he said with a laugh.

“Then um... we should... right?”

“You want to right now?”

You bit down on your lip for a few seconds and nodded. “Yeah... unless you want to wait.”

“I think we’ve waited long enough,” he replied.

He was quick to kiss you. He was quick to climb over you. He was quick to undress you. But he took his time pleasing you. Despite what you said, he wanted it to be at least a bit special. So, he took his time, making you finish at least twice with his tongue and fingers before even beginning to move on to the other part.

As he slipped a rubber on, he couldn’t help but feel a bit guilty. If you knew the only reason, he started all of this was some sort of challenge, would you have still let him do what he was about to do? Probably not. He had feelings for you then, of course. But it would be a lie to say he did the entire time. His eyes searched your face. You were so sweet, so delicate, so innocent. And he was about to take it away.

“You’re still sure?” He asked as he moved between your legs again. His question had a far deeper meaning than you would ever know.

“Yes,” you answered, your breath still heavy from your last orgasm. “I want you.”

He positioned himself so his tip was touching your entrance. “Alright, but if it’s too much tell me.”

“I will.”

He connected your lips and ever so slowly began to push himself inside you. Even though you were very wet, you were still very tight. Remus’s breath caught in his throat as he entered you. You felt better than any girl he’d ever been with, and he was sure of it. Despite just how good it felt, he paused halfway to make sure you were still all right. Your face was scrunched up, a telltale sign that you were in pain, but you told him to keep going. Still, he double-checked before continuing.

After checking once more when he was fully in, he truly began to shag you. From the moans and whispers that left your lips, he knew you enjoyed it. It made him glad; he didn’t want you to be in pain. You wrapped your legs around his waist and dragged one of your hands down his back, your nails reassuring him just how much you were enjoying it. He laced his hand through your other one and held it against the mattress, the cold feeling of your ring making his lips turn up into a smirk.

What good was it doing then?

“Rem,” you whimpered. “God Rem.”

He looked down at you and noticed you had tears in your eyes. “Do you... want me to slow down?”

“No, please don’t, please don’t,” you replied. “It’s so good.”

“Anything for you love,” he whispered, his breathing hard.

He rested his forehead on yours and continued as long as he could, which wasn’t as long as he would’ve wanted. How was he supposed to last long though? You were so warm, so soft, and extremely tight. The second you began pulsating around him, it was over. He came so hard he lost control of himself, his body collapsed on yours. For a few seconds he swore he couldn’t breathe, his eyes were squeezed shut. But he composed himself as best as he could and moved off you to throw the condom away.

When it was done, he laid back down next to you and pulled his sheets over your naked bodies. The realization hit him. You were no longer a virgin, and he was the reason. A sense of pride filled his chest, but along with that was a feeling of compassion. He wrapped an arm around you and pulled you close.

“How do you feel?” He asked.

“Aside from sore, nothing. It’s so strange, I always thought it would be a monumental moment in my life but it’s not. I’m still the same,” you answered.

He nodded. “I’m glad. So, you don’t feel any regret or anything?”

“No, do you?”

“Of course not, why would I ever regret shagging you?” He laughed.

You softly chuckled and looked up at him, your face red. “Sorry, that was stupid.”

“The sex or what I said?”

“What you said,” you replied. You turned your head and lifted your hands, a strange look on your face. “I suppose it’s time to take this off.”

“Oh, right,” he said, pretending to not care.

You pulled the ring off your finger and turned back to him, a smile on your face. “This belongs to you now, though I think I should take it home with me once summer comes. You know, so my parents don’t freak out.”

Remus took the ring from you, an indescribable feeling forming inside him. After everything, it was finally his. He’d imagined this moment many times, but never did he imagine just how victorious it would feel. The ring belonged to him now, his eyes shifted, and so did you. He placed it on his nightstand and smiled.

“I’m honored, thank you.”

You pressed yourself closer to him. “Out of every boy here Remus you’re the only one who deserves it, thank you.”

He placed a kiss on your head before falling back on the mattress, his eyes finding the ring once again.

He won.

~~~

The next day, despite still having agreed to keep things secret and unofficial, Remus did something that said the opposite of your relationship. He got ready for the day like normal, except for two aspects. One, he had to hold Sirius’s hair back as he threw up in the toilet from his hangover. And two, he wore a chain over his shirt and tie. It wasn’t just a chain though. No. It was a chain that had your ring dangling on it. He wore it like a prize, one for everyone to see.

He made his way down to the great hall for breakfast with a swing in his step and a small smile on his lips despite Sirius’s nagging to go back to bed. When he entered the great hall, he kept a straight face. Even when he caught your wide eyes, even when he heard Mary and Lily’s loud gasps, and even when James started to question him.

“You shagged y/n?” He questioned. “I didn’t even know the two of you were close. When did this happen?”

Remus only shrugged. “I dunno what you mean.”

It wasn’t until later in the day during History of Magic that he finally got a chance to speak to you. He felt a bit off as it was noticeable how uncomfortable you were sitting next to him. Lily and Mary gave him odd looks, almost as if they were disappointed in him. He didn’t care for their opinions though, yours was the only one that mattered.

“Hey,” he said after a minute or two. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine,” you replied, not turning your head in his direction.

“Are you still sore?” He asked, his voice quieter. He glanced around the room, a few pairs of eyes were on the two of you, but none that had any real value. Still, he found it strange they were looking.

“Yeah, but it’s nothing I can’t handle,” you answered.

He didn’t exactly know what to say. “Great.”

“Yeah.”

An awkward silence filled the air, Remus didn’t know what to make of it. You were acting differently. Were you regretting what happened? He didn’t think you did, at least, you hadn’t made any specific indicators that you did. Suddenly, his eyes fell to the chain around his neck and the realization hit him. You were uncomfortable because of the ring being on display. He felt terrible. Without another thought on it, he tucked the chain under his shirt, the cold temperature of it comforting in a way against his warm chest. Then, he looked back at you.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his words genuine.

You bit down on your lip, your eyes still locked on the front of the classroom. “I- I don’t know what you’d have to be sorry for.”

“The ring I... I should’ve asked first before wearing it like this. I’m an idiot. I’m sorry for springing it on you like I did, really y/n I’m sorry for making you feel uncomfortable,” he explained.

“It’s fine.” You shifted. “But now... not everyone knows. And I... I don’t know.”

“Yes, you do. You can tell me how you feel y/n, I would never tell anyone or judge you.” And it was true, he never would. He cared about you, more than he initially thought.

You finally turned your head to look at him. Your expression spoke for itself. You were hurt. It made something in his chest twist. “I suppose that I liked this being just... ours.”

“It still can be.”

“Can it? I mean, it feels like everyone knows now. Lily and Mary know, I assume James, Sirius, and Peter do as well. I hate the attention.” You fumbled with your fingers. “Did you... tell them anything?”

“No, nothing,” he answered. “Have you?”

“I just told Lily and Mary that nothing happened and that it was a coincidence. But... I don’t think they believe me,” you mumbled in a tone they couldn’t possibly have heard.

He licked his lips and sighed. “Then we’ll just both deny it, they can’t prove anything. I’ll keep the ring hidden and we don’t have to keep doing anything.”

Your face changed. “Oh. You don’t... you don’t want to anymore?”

“No, I do, but I thought you didn’t want to. Do you still want to?” There was hope in his voice. He assumed you wanted to be done, based on your body language at least. But the way you looked at him then spoke otherwise.

“I mean... yeah if that’s okay,” you said shyly, your cheeks turning red.

Ah, right again.

He couldn’t help the smile that formed on his lips. “So, we will, it’s settled.”

“It is.”

Victory was a good feeling. You were finally his. His to taint, his to please, his to use. He touched a hand to his chest and felt the ring through the fabric of his shirt. It felt good. Very good. And who knows, perhaps one day you'd be his girlfriend.

He looked down at you.

You probably would be his girlfriend.

He smiled again.

~~~

@misacc08 @whotfskai

#fanfiction #remus lupin smut #remus lupin #james & peter & remus & sirius #remus x reader #i love smut #smut #marauders fandom #marauders smut #marauders fanfiction #marauders era #marauders #remus being remus #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter fandom #harry potter #harry potter smut #sirius black #purity ring #smutty #i love this so much #hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry #gryffindor #innocence #lovers #james potter #lily evans #fanfictions #mary macdonald #cigarette

[myojinn-boo]

Kewpie Mayo - Toge Inumaki

Kewpie Mayo ... Oneshot fanfic Inumaki Toge (JJK) x reader Tags: fluffy fluff, friends to lovers, JJK au Summary: Toge has so much he wants to say, but his sushi ingredients can only do so much. So you help him expand his vocabulary. a/n: My first ever fic! Got this little idea with Toge and I wanted to flesh it out. Feedback would be appreciated <3

. ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ You were incredibly optimistic before entering Jujutsu Tech. You envisioned yourself going out on daring missions, doing crazy things with your fellow sorcerer friends, learning powerful moves, and so on. You romanticized the hell out of it even before you sat in your first lecture. But reality often disappoints. The missions were dangerous, sure, but you were naive to think they would send you out to fight a special grade like it would be a walk in the park for you. And sure, you go out with the other first years, but you never felt like you fit in. Yuji and Nobara had this chaotic dynamic going on and you could never seem to keep up with. Megumi... well... he just makes you feel like you're a bother, so you'd rather not hang out with him one-on-one. But, at the very least, there was this second year student at Jujutsu Tech that you got along with quite well.

You thought it was weird at first—how he couldn't speak like the rest of you. Maki explained it all to you when you decided to hang out with the second years while they trained together. She told you how he was from a well-known clan with a signature cursed technique. And as you watched him spar with the talking panda (which you also thought was weird), one thing plagued your mind. It must be tough not being able to express yourself normally. You don't know if it was just a natural thing or if you actually felt pity for the guy, but you went up to him. A part of you was also hoping that maybe you'd find 'that' friend in him—the one that isn't too overwhelming and the one that doesn't make you feel like a pain in the ass. "Toge?" You called out to him from behind as he drank from his water bottle. It was a hot day and his sparring session with Panda was intense. You could see the sweat trickle down his temples when he turned to look at you. "Kelp?" So it was true that he speaks in sushi ingredients. You didn't think Maki would make such a strange and elaborate lie about it anyway. You introduced yourself to him with the pretense of wanting to get to know your seniors better.

On that same day, you learned all of the sushi ingredients he used in his daily conversations. And the more you spent your time with him, you could even distinguish the nuances in his tone—the rise and fall of his pitch, how he stresses certain letters, and so on. Sometimes, all you had to do was look at his facial expression and you'd know what he was trying to tell you. Of course, a few days after you introduced yourself to him, you managed to snag his number. Anyone who asked for Toge's number never seemed suspicious at all. No one thinks that asking for his number had any romantic context. Everyone just asked for it so they could talk to him without deciphering his ridiculous language. But once you got that number, oh boy. You two never went a day without talking. When he could freely express himself without the restrictions of his cursed technique, your view of him slowly changed. You realized he had a sense of humor. Truthfully, it was as braindead as it could get, but you couldn't deny laughing at 2 AM at his antics. Toge was a bit of a crackhead as well. He'd say the most out of pocket things as if it was the most normal thing in the world. You picked up on this habit too, and part of him feels proud that he was the one who corrupted you like that. Then one night, after sending your 'good nights' to each other, you had this thought. It was a relentless thought that refused to get out of your head. You wanted to hear Toge speak all the words he'd tell you through your phone screen. But you knew it was impossible. You've heard his voice briefly whenever he'd activate his cursed technique... and you've also heard how he'd violently cough out blood after using a particularly powerful move. Then he'd say that it was no big deal—through text, of course. You only put yourself to sleep when you convinced your stupid brain that forcing Toge to speak and hurt himself wasn't worth it. You hated to see him hurt. After that thought, a whole bunch of other things swarmed your brain—and they were all about your white-haired purple-eyed friend. You were falling for him and you were falling hard. In fact, those same thoughts were running through your head right now and— "Tuna mayo." Right, you were sitting beside him right now—cooling off after training. You have no business to be thinking about such things right now, especially since he's just a couple of inches away. You've also gotten into a habit of just texting each other even though you're face-to-face. He started typing on his phone while your gaze was still on him. Your phone dinged a specific tone. Actually, you had set a special tone for Toge's texts. He didn't let you hear the end of it once he figured it out. He made sure to let everyone know that you liked him. He was right. You liked him very much. But you'd never admit that. You kept the tone the same despite his teasing just so he wouldn't get the satisfaction of watching you get flustered. But deep down, you were dying. You whipped your phone out and saw that he had texted. Toge: Spacing out? Did Panda knock your head a little too hard? You're drooling a bit actually. You: No. I was just thinking. ALSO, my mouth is very dry thank you very much.

Toge: Oh fr? Lemme see how dry it is. Imma check with my mouth too ofc 🫦🥵 You felt all the butterflies on earth suddenly flutter in your stomach. This wasn't new. As your friendship went on—it wasn't unusual for him to pull something silly like this. He thinks it's all fun and games, but his words had you thinking otherwise. But again, you'll never admit you like him. You: Sometimes I'm glad you can only speak sushi ingredients. You stare at the chat bubbles appearing and disappearing on the screen. Then it disappears for quite a while which prompts you to look up at him. There was a slight frown. You'd let off pretty hurtful jabs at each other before, but maybe this one just hit a chord. "Hey... you know I didn't mean that, right?" Your expression softened as you studied his features. "I mean, honestly, I always wished you could speak normally... I love talking to you." You immediately shut yourself up. It's okay. It's okay. You just said that in a friendly way, you thought. It doesn't necessarily mean you LOVED him. You could never say that to him. "Salmon roe?" His face perked up at your admission. You nodded at him. "At some point I even thought about telling you to just make a language with me, you know? I mean, you'd still be speaking in ingredients, but at least you get more out of it." He listens intently before tapping away at his phone again. Toge: That's actually a wonderful idea coming from a dumbo like you. You chuckled and playfully punched his shoulder at the nickname he used for you. He laughed softly back at you and you couldn't help but smile at this little moment you had going on. God, you loved him, but you couldn't tell him that. "Hmm, so what's our word for today? There are still so many sushi ingredients out there that are still unused." Toge nodded enthusiastically. He sent messages as you spoke to him in real time. Toge: Sooo... what's your favorite sushi ingredient? "Rice," you replied without a second thought which earned a sigh from Toge. He sounded disappointed almost.

Toge: That's so basic.

Toge: Putting rice as 'basic bitch' in Toge's dicktionary. You furrowed your brows at him. "And when would this word be useful to you? I don't see you using it frequently." And by true Toge fashion, he flashes that shit-eating grin at you. "Rice." It felt weird hearing him say a different ingredient. Despite what the word meant to the both of you—you just smiled at him. "Okay, then what isn't a basic choice?" Toge: Just think outside of the box for once. You looked off into the distance, thinking hard. Then you got an idea. "Remember the sushi I made you last week? The ones with Kewpie mayo swirls on it?" Toge's face seemed to soften for a moment once you brought that up. He was down in the dumps last week after a losing streak on Fortnite. You thought it was stupid to get all gloomy over a game with flying buses and shit. But you tried your best to cheer him up. So you made him the only thing you knew how to make—sushi, as ironic as it is. You made this batch of sushi with extra love and care. Of course, your signature mayo swirls were on it too. You delivered it to his room and watched him chow down like a caveman. It warmed your heart seeing him enjoy something you made. You craved this feeling. But you'd never voice it out. "How about we add Kewpie to your vocabulary then? Or is it too basic for your taste, sir?" Toge chuckles softly again and then he goes silent. He looks down at his lap with the smallest smile on his face. "Hey, what's wrong with yo—" "Kewpie." You were taken aback. He was acting strange all of a sudden. "So, what does 'Kewpie' mean then?" Toge looked down at his phone and you stared at yours as well. The chat bubbles appeared, disappeared, appeared, disappeared for a long time... and so on. You were getting nervous.

Then, finally, the message arrived. Toge: I love you. Your eyes widened. You had to read it three—no, ten times to actually believe that those were the 8 letters showing up on your screen. And while you were stuck in your little bubble of shock, he sent another message. Toge: I know, I know, pretty cool way to rizz you up huh? He was so fricking silly, even now. How funny is it that the man who literally couldn't utter normal words would be the first to say this. You were perfectly fine saying anything that you wanted, yet you refused to. You refused to tell him you loved him... but maybe now wouldn't be so bad. "I Kewpie you too," you say before bursting out into a wide grin. Toge couldn't help but laugh a bit. He found your happiness way too endearing. So endearing, in fact, that his lips made its way to yours. He gave you a short and sweet peck. You were in absolute awe, but that didn't stop you from leaning in and giving him a quick kiss of your own. Your antics made the both of you laugh. Your racing thoughts about him were finally quelled. In the end, all you needed was to just tell him—tell him that you loved him so much it hurt. You would've, But Toge is Toge... Toge: By the way, 'I Kewpie you too' is grammatically wrong, loser. But it's okay. You're my loser <3 . ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ end

Likes and reposts are appreciated :))

myojin-boo 2024

#jjk x reader #jjk fluff #jjk x you #inumaki x reader #inumaki x you #inumaki toge #jjk inumaki #myoji writes #jujutsu kaisen

[rochenn]

really intrigued the theoretical possibilities of "gay sit" but too rabid over your dooku not to ask about "dooku x2"

YESSS thank you!!

that's the file name of a fic called "matters of consequence" in which dooku, sometime after qui-gon's knighting, time travels forward into the clone wars, meaning that he now exists in a reality where can look his old corrupted self in the eye and also be absolutely crushed by the things he will do/has already done.

he also gets to hang out with his lineage and crawl through trenches. good times all around!

snippet of the opening chapter under the cut ->

———

Feeling lost was a curious thing.

It wasn't a state of being Dooku had often been confronted with in his forty-odd years of life. Ire, pride, ambition: those were feelings he could process, coming to him as easily as they were dismissed again.

The clink of crude pottery—a clay cup he had known since childhood—mixed with the rattle of high-security handcuffs. The cup's contents warmed his palms, the hassock beneath him soft just like his memory of it. The cuffs, however, weighed heavier than they looked. He pretended they didn't chafe his pride more than his wrists when he drank from the cup, in part to find comfort in a familiar taste, but mostly to hide. Control eluded him.

"I recall, Master," he finally managed, "one of the first things you taught me being that it is rude to stare." His voice came out terse, and it was justified. He glared pointedly into the empty space between Yoda and Mace who had both been silently regarding him for minutes that stretched like hours. He didn't care to admit how much it unnerved him.

"You didn't resist." Mace made no pretense of acknowledging his words. "Why?"

Dooku swallowed a grimace and took another sip, unable to savor the tea's candid sweetness as the Force stretched taut and wary through the room. Light fell past half-shut blinds and painted glowing bars onto the walls, as though sun itself were inclined towards horrible metaphors. This, he was certain, was an interrogation.

"Why?" Indignation, too, came to him easily. "Why is it that when I walk these halls, you pull me away," like he wasn't supposed to be there, "you practically arrest me," like some sort of criminal, and he let the cuffs rattle for emphasis, "and subsequently lock me in this chamber for no apparent reason whatsoever?"

This was all a dream, he figured. It had to be. Mace and Yoda had aged by decades. The Force's river ran polluted and vile here, nearly unrecognizable.

"Again," Mace said, and his old face was hewn from stone, "are you aware of who you are?"

"I have answered this question more than once. I cannot fathom why you should ask at all."

A wisp of Yoda's misty aura brushed against his own and Dooku had to keep himself from reaching for it. Instead, he telegraphed his displeasure through their mangled bond. If his old Master wanted to reassure him, he could well enough open his mouth to do so.

#this one is so fun but also hurting my brain a little bit #my writing #wip #count dooku #ask

[neowinestainedress]

© neowinestaindress; all rights reserved. do NOT repost, modify, or translate any work from this blog on any other platform and claim it as yours. you can find my works on ao3 (neowinestaindress) and wattpad (winestaintedress_; currently inactive).

LONG FICS

Everything has changed ; 11k — part of the “loving him was red” series — she would’ve never imagined that the person that would’ve turned her life around was going to show up in that small cafè where she worked every day and hated so much. But sometimes, it only takes a coffee shop, brown eyes and a rain storm for everything to change.

traitor ; 6k — requested | inspired by sour  [a] — the worst kind of betrayals are the ones that happen unexpectedly and from the ones you love the most. Haechan never gave her a reason to believe he was a traitor. Their relationship never showed signs of cracking. But doing the most for someone you love doesn’t stop them from backstabbing and leaving you behind.

enough for you ; 5k — requested | traitor sequel + jeno [a] [f] — all she ever wanted was to be enough for Haechan, even now that they aren’t together anymore. Until someone opens her eyes and makes her realize that she is already enough the way she is.

happier ; 20k — requested | enough for you sequel + jeno [a] [f] [s] — Haechan can’t live with the weight of losing her forever, he can live even less with the fear that she might be happier with Jeno. He wonders if he’s still in time to fix what he tore apart or if he’ll have to pay the price for what he did forever.

drippin’ ; 18k — requested | x reader | haemarknomin fivesome [s] — you need relief from this strange pain you’re feeling, but you don’t know what to do. Your boyfriend and his friends offer to help, giving you a solution you didn’t quite expect coming.

deep waters ; 8k — inferno event | tentacle monster [s] — all your life you heard stories about the monster that lives in the lake, but they never scared you. You were looking for him, hoping fate was going to lead you to him to prove yourself you’re not crazy for believing in his existence. And when it happens, he seems to be afraid of you.

sweet deception ; 19k — inferno event | x reader | various monsters, multiple members [s] — on Halloween, nothing is as it seems. You end up in a room with six guys thinking they have amazing costumes only to be struck by reality when it’s too late; those are not costumes at all. But remember, on October 31, nothing is as it seems.

hits different ; 44k — requested | fwb to lovers [s][f][a] — nobody ever got under your skin, not until Haechan came in your life and changed everything. 

do you want to play a game, detective? ; 10k — ghostface/scream!au [s] — in these past months your only goal is to find the killer that is terrorizing the town of Woodsboro, but when you get close to him and feel like you finally have the upper hand, Ghostface turns the game around again. Or, Ghostface wants to play with you but not like he does with his victims, and you let him.

‘cause it’s you ; 22k — hits different bonus [s][f] — it’s been 3 years since you met, two since you started dating, but haechan still hits different. or; you and haechan spend your first real christmas together.

SERIES

SOUR — COMPLETED

GLIMPSE OF US — COMPLETED

DRABBLES

thigh riding — requested | x reader [s]

practice room sex — requested | x reader [s]

game over — gamer!haechan + mark, jeno, jaemin | requested | x reader [s]

after concert sex — requested | x reader [s]

random moments — requested | x reader [f]

thigh riding diggity!haechan — requested | x reader [s]

corruption kink — requested | x reader [s]

subspace — requested | x reader [s]

breeding kink — requested | x reader [s]

BLURBS / HARD HOURS

nominhyuck humiliation + filming [s]

nominhyuck humiliation [s]

nahyuck corruption kink [s]

#nct fanfiction #haechan masterlist #haechan smut #haechan fluff #haechan angst

[worldwide-simp]

hello! do u still do request can i ask if u can do yan!scp073 x scp!reader

for some details:

the reader is a safe class cause she doesn't want to hurt people and see them in pain she has healing powers as she usually heals staff or gurads who are injured and she is a total sweetheart!

what will happen if they meet? (u can add any plots and things u wanna add)

*thanks if u are uncomfortable u can decline*!

Ooo I’ve finally got an ask! Sorry, I’m quite late with this. Hope short scenarios will be okay!

consumed by jealousy once again.

Yandere Scp073 x fem reader

Warnings: obsession, implied stalking, corruption, pessimistic thoughts, insecurities, mentions of murder, jealousy

*not proofread, please do notify me if I have missed out a warning, might add some things after posting

How did you both first meet? “…”

• Cain is quite the desirable lad. He’s polite, well-mannered and crosses his legs when seated. Time has carved wisdom into the cadavers of his body; he speaks with many words he’s memorized from dictionaries and occasionally mixes up phrases from different languages.

• When you first met Cain, your sweet and kind nature allured him. He became.. curious, so to speak. Strangely obsessed with admiring you while you’d work with people. Becoming a tad bit jealous when your attention wasn't fixated upon himself. He wouldn't let these thoughts come to light. Not now anyways.

•Always, Cain offered a helping hand. Did you need any assistance carrying that heavy bag? Or perhaps you wanted a glass of water? You could always see him at your service, watching your skilled hands heal others with a passion.

How much time did it take?

“…”

• It had taken him a few months to develop feelings. Cain first believed it was a wonder, why hadn't you excluded him from your table where you would sit? Did you not find his voice uncanny?

•He had only adored you even more after that.

• He had once asked what your occupation in the foundation was, what the foundation declared your function as a cog in one of their elaborate machines. This was the depressing reality. Cain had learned not to question it. They had stuffed his mind full of knowledge to the point he swore it snapped at times, piece by piece.

• Although he had his own mental burdens, Cain would never place them upon you. Endearing innocent soul, let him kiss you to death.

Does his emotions remind him of any past experiences?

“…”

• Cain loathes the feeling of jealousy consuming his heart, it reminded him of a very dark time. Where he had slaughtered his brother out of the same envy he experiences now, just desiring to be injured in any shape or form so he could feel your fingers blessing his cold, still-beating heart and not some guard or doctor undeserving of your touch.

• A rational part of his mind was disgusted at his concerning thoughts. He justified it with a wild vigour.

How would he show his undying love?

“…”

• Sometimes you’d find plastic flowers tucked away in various places, they were always crimson-coloured Morning Glorys and Black roses with sloppy red paint in the shape of a heart. You had giggled and suspected Cain. Though you had never confirmed your thoughts with the man himself. Darling, Sweetheart Cain. Made of sugar and liquorice.

• Every time you discovered your bouquet of flowers, you noticed the hearts had been painted less messily and with more ease, the streaks of red paint precise and pristine.

• Cain felt awkward at the thought of confessing his ever-growing feelings for you. He would only admire you. How your face looked when you smiled, how you rambled about Josie the half-cat’s fluffy pelt and the most adored feature of yours, the way you’d praise him when he did a good job.

•Don’t ever let yourself think he’s going to let such a precious flower like you wilt in his needy grasp.

#Scp 073 #scp x reader #yandere scp x reader #scp foundation #scp #X reader #Yandere x Reader #Written by tired author #Scp 073 x reader #Yandere Scp 073 x reader #sfw content #Nefelibata writes

[crookedkryptonitebeliever]

Language Barrier (Yandere male x reader) p8

tw: violence, blood, afab reader, infantilization , short chapter

Minors and ageless blogs you will be blocked

hi<3 thansk for readeing, i appreciate the reblogs n comments n messages very cool and very motivation

i do have a set plotline timeline vfor this, just a little iffy on how it ends,

pls dont critizwe 2 harsh on my worldbuilding i tired my best ok </3

as allways, no proofreading <3

Happy New years !!

part 1, part 7, Part 9

masterlist

"He said it's to make sure you're always in his line of sight." Said the translator.

Now you know why 2718 always carries you on his front, never giving you a piggy back ride even though it's much easier.

You looked up to the sun. It's in the middle of the sky. You swear that the entire ordeal has taken up more than a day.

The translator is lugging her own backpack, you assumed she bought it sometime before the three of you arrived home. You asked her if she's okay.

"Yeah. Nothing I can't handle. Are you?" She asked, adjusting the heavy straps on her shoulders.

You asked, how many hours are there in a day? A day in this planet, you mean.

"They considered 30 hours a 'day'. But actually, it takes approximately five thousand and nine hundred hours for this planet to complete a whole rotation- in other words, around two hundred 'accepted days' in a 'real day'. You get me?"

What.

That doesn't explain the first five days you spent here, the sun seem to set and rise at regular intervals!

"Sunlight hours here are fucked up. You just got lucky. During your three-day coma, I even saw the sun flicker. Sometimes, the sun would just disappear for a few 'days' and come back, at full brightness for a week straight."

You asked her why that happened, the translator trailed behind 2718. You rested your chin on his shoulder.

"You can rent the sun. Literally. Farmers would pay for more sunlight, nocturnal inhabitants would turn it off, corrupt business owners would manipulate it to get a higher profit, spoiled rich kids would mess around with everyone's day for fun, Oligarchs get to have longer ass-kissing dinners, normal citizens would pool money to maintain the regularity... if you have the resources, you get to play god for a while."

You asked how was that possible.

"They claimed it's controlled by magic. But I think that's bull, they must have some massive, planetary-scaled machine that made this possible- The ball of fire up there must be an artificial sun. My reality is no stranger to artificial celestial bodies, we even make our own stars too. But we use science, not some childish, made up idea." She grumbled.

Who are "they"?

"The guy your friend offed for shoving glass in your throat."

The reminder of the disgraced citizen made your blood run cold.

"Listen, he's going to be fine. In fact, you probably did him a favor."

Exasperated, you asked how was that a favor.

2718, sensing your distress, whipped around and pointed his dagger at the translator. Thinking that she was either insulting you or scaring you.

She raised her hands up and backed away, reasoning with him.

You pressed your hand against his face, gently pushing him to the direction you want him to go. He begrudgingly back turned around, letting you face the translator again. His hold on you became firmer, though.

"Trust me, I know he went out... with a bang. But he's going to be just fine."

You don't think that he is going to be 'just fine' and you can't believe that she is this apathetic. However, you decided to drop the topic for now.

"I didn't get all my knowledge of this place from that one guy, though. Most of it came from my associates living here."

You asked why she didn't contact them for help.

"I'm trying to. But it's tough when I can't go 'online' through myself. I need an external vessel, like a computer- or a smartphone, perhaps."

You asked why she didn't use the coins to buy a cheap burner phone or it's equivalent, assuming they exist.

"I'm 'offline', off grid, even. I effectively lost all my contacts... maybe even a whole chunk of my memory- I don't know, I won't know until I reconnect myself to the galactic internet again. I wouldn't know who's ID to call anyways. Might as well use it to buy stuff necessary for me to live another day."

You went onto ask what the name of this planet is and how many planets are there in this solar system.

"In English? I'm sure you can guess."

You really can't. The properties of this planet sounds... familiar. But yet, so foreign.

"I'll give you another hint. This planet spins backwards. Well, used to."

Huh?

"We're in Venus. Venus with major tweaks done to it."

Venus!? Your jaw went slack, this piece of information blew your mind. You can't believe you're in Venus! Absolute insanity, is the translator sure that this isn't actually Earth? But in an alternate universe?

"Yeah. Earth is used as a landfill now. It's still populated though. Mainly by kind volunteers and the... less-than-fortunates. It's a big mess, mind you. We aren't using tiny terms like 'international' anymore. It's Interplanetary and beyond. So the social systems and all that junk are way more complex."

You asked, what IS this solar system?! The past? The future? The present?

"It's convict central, baby!" She sarcastically waved her hands in glee. "It's prison. But worse." She deadpanned. "Because everyone is free. The strongest gets to call shots around here."

"But if you're talking about the solar system before it became a dumping ground for thugs, it's just some poor, alternate timeline where Earth is a budding Type 1 civilization. They stood no chance against Type fives."

You asked what civilization is... 'Convict Central' under.

"Type two, on their way to becoming a type three. Again, the people here claim to 'generate' their own energy through magic. Take their precious Dyson Spheres away and let's see if their whimsical magical hero powers can feed trillions every day."

You quietly noted her disdain on the matter and said nothing about it.

You went onto ask her about clocks, watches or any tool that tells the time. It seems to be nonexistent here.

She snorted.

You asked her what was so funny.

"Let's see, you're considered partially deaf, partially blind, partially mute.... and temporally disabled. I'm glad your friend got you first before anyone else."

Temporally disabled? You asked her to clarify.

"I have a chronometer installed in me, and that's understandable because I'm part metal. Your friend, has one too. But he evolved to have it, and it's damn accurate too. Down to the nanosecond."

She wiped the sweat off her forehead. It made you realize that you're not sweating, because it's comfortably cool. 2718 must be cooling you down.

"The inconsistent sunlight, the gravity, the atmosphere, the stress and generally everything else got my chronometer a little fucked up. As for your friend? You can drop him at the edge of Andromeda and he will calibrate himself immediately. He will know what time it is-- hell, it's damn impressive to even perceive time at that point!"

You brought your hands to your head, upset that you didn't get a chance to experience a world never seen before. And you never will, you're just not evolved enough to grasp it.

"Hmm. Okay makes sense... That makes sense." She mumbled to herself, scratching her chin.

You asked her what made sense.

"He could easily bring you home in a blink, if he had a glass teleporter with him. But seeing that you're still a... primate, he knows that it might screw something up in you."

That explains why you vomited after appearing at the market.

"Yep. That sounds like spatial-temporal sickness alright. Keep that up and it might cause a brain hemorrhage."

Your eyes widened in horror. Absolutely terrifying news, you're grateful that the only side effect was devastating nausea.

You shuddered, creeped out by so many things. That made 2718 stop in his tracks again, glaring at the translator from the corner of his eyes.

The translator defended herself with a whine, swearing that she didn't do anything to you.

You were curious as to why 2718 set you down.

"He's taking a water break." Explained the translator. She took out her own water bottle from her bag.

Your companion softly nudged your arm with the waterskin. You twisted your head and picked it off his hand. He patted your head.

You looked into the distance. It's still a long way to go, you huffed. You felt very demotivated, you really don't want to sit through this entire journey.

Maybe 2718 felt your demoralization too, or the translator told him in a frequency that you cannot hear, but he cupped your cheeks and stared into your eyes.

He gently squished your cheeks, forcing you to pucker a bit, before letting go. The man then pressed a loving kiss onto your forehead. You closed your eyes when he affectionately nuzzled his nose against yours.

"He's said that it's going to be okay. You're doing well and he loves you." Your eyes shifted to the woman.

This translation cause 2718 to growl at the translator for ruining the moment. He shielded you in his arms as he barked insults at her. She argued back, this time annoyance was apparent in her tone and face.

You asked if 2718 actually understands you.

"Not really. But I bet anyone would look at that-" She pointed at his house in the distance. It looked like an ant from here. "-And go 'aaaugghhh... still a long way to go...' I know, I do. He's trying to cheer you up, that's all. You had a sad face on anyways."

You leaned into 2718, tiredly resting against him as he drank some from the waterskin. You don't know why you're so exhausted. It's not like you did most of the walking.

"You have been awake for 35 hours, of course you're going to feel like shit. You're accustomed to 12 hours of daylight and 12 hours of darkness. Today someone rented out the sun and left it on longer than I liked. You better thank them, though. Dealing with creatures of the night is no easy feat."

You groan, has it really been that long? You told her to ask him; how long did it take for him to recover from his injuries earlier.

2718 uttered something to her.

"He said six hours, 27 minutes, 13.0348... Okay, I'll just round it off to the nearest second. 6 hours, 27 minutes and 13 seconds. The fight with the insect took thirteen minutes- around thirteen minutes, he's giving me a twelve digit number and I'm not saying all that."

Assuming the three of you spent half an hour at the lighthouse, that means... the journey from the house to the translator's base took around 28 hours and 20 minutes. You're way behind your sleep schedule, you're going to get eyebags!

But, how does she know that you're awake for 35 hours?

"Your friend told me. Oh yeah, he actually told me to tell you this earlier, so you would... you know, be comfortable sleeping. In his arms. Sorry. I forgot. And I'd be lonely without you talking to me, so..."

You guess you can see why he doesn't trust her to translate his words. You also wonder what else is she omitting from you for her own benefit. You would have forced yourself to stay awake anyways for her sake, she didn't need to lie or 'forget'.

You're giving her the benefit of the doubt. Maybe the language is just too complex to catch everything in one breath. Nevertheless, it does disturb you that the translator could easily manipulate the situation to her favor if she wanted to- by giving false translations.

2718 probably won't buy into her tricks as much. But you know you would, because she's the only one you could understand. And you have no choice but to rely on her.

It made you question if the words she said that made him hostile were congruent to what she tells you.

All these thinking are giving you a headache. You don't want to talk to her for now.

You told her that you're going to sleep for the next... however many hours it takes to walk back. She's disappointed, but she understands.

2718 lifted you up by the arms and lets you sag onto his shoulder. His cold hands, spreading harmless frost all over the fabric of your clothes. Chilling you under the scorching sun.

You let your eyelids droop, slowly giving into the sweet embrace of sleep-

"What the fuck happened here?" You lifted your head at her remark.

This earned a yell from 2718, not at you, at the translator. He must be angry at her for waking you up.

You're more concerned about the matter that made her say that. So you rubbed your eyes before looking around.

Oh. After realizing that you're still on... Venus, and not in some sort of blood-painted, tropophobia-inducing hellscape, you relaxed. Actually, it was extremely bizarre to think about it. Venus, a planet known for it's inhabitable conditions, and you're in it? Alive? And not burnt to bits?

You explained that the epic battle between your companion and the insect took place here. He bled out profusely from his leg and eyes.

You lolled back onto him, adjusting your hat so that the sun doesn't touch your eyes.

You heard the translator grumbled something under her breath. 2718 didn't respond, at least not in a way you can perceive.

His rhythmic trudging lulled you deeper and deeper into slumber.

#yandere #yandere x reader #tw yandere #yandere concept #yandere male #male yandere #yandere imagines #yandere oc #yandere scenarios #yandere tw #cw yandere #yandere cw #tw afab reader #tw infantilization #tw blood #tw violence #yandere x darling #yandere x y/n #yandere x you #yandere ocs #male yandere oc x reader #male yandere oc #yandere oc x reader

[korereapers]

Title: Tainted

Rating: Explicit

Fandom: Baldur's Gate 3

Ship/Pairing: Astarion Ancunín/Gale Dekarios, bloodweave

Warnings: smut, Netherese orb shenanigans. LOTS OF FLUFF

AO3

Join the bloodweave server if you want to!

It has been a mistake on his part, and Gale can't help but blame himself for it. Who would be to blame, if not him and his foolishness? For how much he prides himself in his intelligence, evidence suggests that he has been, yet again, way too impulsive.

"It's more than fine, darling," Astarion says after a deep sigh, and Gale knows that he must be lying. It's not fine, nothing is fine, and Astarion's thumb on the corner of his own lips, licking it absentmindedly, tells him that he has, indeed, ruined the night.

"I swear to you, Astarion. In Mystra's name, I swear I had no idea-"

"Oh for fuck's sake!" Astarion exclaims, clearly irritated, baring his fangs dangerously, but Gale has learned to discern real danger from just a very visible frustration. "I know you had no idea! I know you wouldn't! Can you please keep that goddess of yours out of this?"

Gale bites his own tongue, because everything he can say would make the situation worse. He knows that Astarion blames Mystra for his situation, but Gale knows well enough that he has nobody to blame but himself. His foolishness, his impulsiveness. It wasn't hubris, not really, not as he understands it. He wanted her to like him, to admire him like he does, to-

"Honey," Astarion says, a hand with long fingers on Gale's cheek, a tentative touch that desperately makes him want to go back to reality, far from these thoughts. Can he allow himself that, though? Doesn't he owe him, them all, himself, and Mystra the guilt he is feeling? Isn't it better to do something useful with it, to use what he has inside of his chest for something good, instead of corrupting everything good that has ever happened to him? "Gale. Stop thinking. Look at me."

Gale smiles weakly at that.

"I am afraid, my vampiric companion, that ceasing all thought is kind of an impossible task-"

Astarion groans exasperatedly.

"Wizards… Fucking wizards."

"I mean. At this moment. I am brimming with thoughts. And not the good kind, I assure you."

Astarion's touch is cold, almost grounding. Red eyes look at him with worry, as if Gale was the one hurt, and not the other way around. It makes the hole inside of his chest feel bigger, the orb thrumming softly.

"Don't try and deflect again. That’s supposed to be my job."

Deep down, Astarion cares. He cares, because he reacts, sometimes viscerally, to the choices the group makes, to what Gale does to him, or to himself. Blood might not flow naturally inside of his body, but anger can make it boil just the same. Sadness does make his eyes sink, his movements slower. Happiness making his features shine, too young to what he had to endure, too full of life.

Gale doesn’t really want to think about when Astarion’s expression shows fear.

“I am aware of the… reservations you had towards us getting intimate. I of course intended to give you space. I tried my best at it,” Gale starts, his voice a little high, panic still fresh in his body. “I wanted to give you a special night. A night you would never forget.”

As if in cue, the starry sky becomes even more beautiful, its colors more intense. It’s a miracle that Gale hasn’t lost his concentration, given the circumstances, his magic still a wonder to Astarion, who looks up for a brief moment, only for his eyes to be back on Gale’s a second later. 

It might be dark, but Gale works his magic for human eyes, and Astarion is an elf, and a vampire. He can see his warm eyes, rightfully worried, even if his worry is misplaced, this time. He sees how he gulps, he can almost feel every breath, even more because Astarion himself doesn’t have to, his lungs useless long ago. His blood, warm inside of him, the most tempting current, its flow a temptation he has learned to ignore most of the time.

He is aware, both of them are. Gale’s blood is corrupted, the orb inside of his chest making his body slowly rot from the inside, its magic taking Gale’s, and everything he touches with a purpose. Astarion hasn’t tried it again, Gale being adamant about it, about how dangerous it might be for him.

Gale is sure it is, at least. Not an acquired taste, as Astarion had tried to put it. As it turns out, it was not just his blood that got tainted by the Netherese orb, but many, many other parts of his body. Which is why, when Astarion had made the exact same face he did back when he first tried his blood while trying another completely different fluid of his, Gale had panicked.

Blood is one thing. It’s different when your vampire companion tries to bite you against your will, and he bites more than he can chew. Quite literally. Enjoying the… attentions Astarion’s mouth gives to him, after weeks of dancing around each other? After a well needed conversation about how Gale hasn’t had a partner after Mystra, while Astarion very much prefers not to be touched sexually until he feels ready? That’s a completely different thing.

Gale has ruined it all. Again.

It’s surprising, because he feels their illithids close, together, connecting. Astarion might not be able to understand, but wants to. His expression relaxes as Gale lets him connect, lets him see. There is no point in hiding anything anymore.

“You wanted to make it special. For me.”

Gale nods, closing his eyes  when Astarion closes the gap between them, not to kiss him, but to touch his forehead with his own. Astarion, who doesn’t like physical touch, initiates it with someone like Gale, who caresses his cold face as if it was easy.

“You are afraid of this eternal feeling of yours. You feel that you are not good enough, that you have to impress me to make me think that you’re… worthwhile. That you have failed me and you have failed yourself.”

Gale doesn’t even try to hide, a sigh escaping his lips, his heart sinking when Astarion imitates the gesture a second later. He can feel his irritation through the tadpole, but Astarion keeps his cards close, he always does. The connection gets interrupted when Astarion moves, and Gale is, indeed, afraid. Afraid that he has ruined it even more.

Mystra didn’t deem him worthy. Maybe Astarion thinks the same.

The vampire shakes his head, graciously, and Gale finds himself looking, red eyes shining in what he recognizes as anger. Anger at him, maybe. That would be understandable, as Gale Dekarios seems to have a talent to make people angry at him.

“That’s… oddly self centered, don’t you think?”

Like that, Gale’s mind goes blank. He registers the words, but they don’t make sense to him. A part of him makes his blood burn with rage at the audacity, but the sad, heavy feeling that reminds him that he deserves it is too overwhelming for the rage to take place. It drowns its embers without effort, and Gale is left weak, his shoulders slumped.

Here it comes. The punishment.

“You don’t get to decide what to think and what to feel. Only I get to decide that.”

Gale wants to speak, really, he does. He has practiced speeches for situations like this, so usual with Mystra, having to use his silver tongue to get in her good graces again, until he couldn’t do it anymore. Until no words would appease her.

He can’t talk, though, because his lips are sealed with Astarion’s, whose anger seems to translate into a particularly rough kiss. A kiss that hurts, a kiss that heals. A kiss that makes him bleed. 

He wants to warn him, he really does, but his brain feels foggy, almost as if it wasn’t his own. Gale kisses him back, selfishly, and he feels Astarion tense when he drinks, the taste probably hellish. Everything in him surely tastes like Hell.

But Astarion doesn’t relent, and damn, Gale knows that neither of them are particularly strong, but Astarion manages to push him into the floor, letting him breathe just before he kisses him again. A different type of hunger, he guesses. His red eyes burn like a predator’s, and Gale wonders, even if for a brief moment, what color they used to be.

“Stupid fucking wizard. When are you going to stop being lost in your own mind? I care about you, everyone cares about you. You feed and take care of this group of weirdos, you talk and talk, and Hells, talk so much and so eloquently it makes me angry at how much it makes me want you.”

Gale shudders at his words, not moving an inch when Astarion starts unbuttoning his robes, slowly, dexterous fingers tracing his skin. He is beautiful, the lines on his skin as he frowns, his eyebags of not sleeping properly in who knows how long.

A hint of fangs shine behind his lips as he admires Gale's body, his chest hairy, rising and falling, the rhythm increasingly quickly because of how excited he feels, his breathing so intense he is afraid of passing out. A slender finger plays around the orb on his chest, and Astarion finally smiles a little, Gale's body reacting to his touch, the weave reacting to his touch.

"I'm afraid I am not sure of what will happen if you toy too much with it, Astarion."

Red eyes glint when the vampire's smile becomes more visible, playful, almost cheeky.

"We'll be careful, won't we, darling?"

He feels exposed in front of him, all of his fake pride gone, not flaunting anything anymore. He feels insecure, even if he knows how good his skills are, maybe because he does, and doesn't consider them nearly enough. Blame the tadpole, Astarion seems to notice.

"I like the Gale Dekarios I see. Not Gale of Waterdeep, not Mystra's chosen. Just you. She doesn’t get to define you, and neither does anyone but yourself."

Gale does smile a little at that.

"You are sweeter than you claim to be, Astarion."

The vampire scoffs at his words, as if they were the funniest joke in the world. Gale doesn't need an illithid to feel the bitterness coming out of him.

"I speak the truth, my star. You know I do. And your words, your feelings, are more than welcome. They may hurt, but I can discern good intentions when I see them."

Astarion does groan this time, no energy to sugarcoat it.

"Can you please shut-"

"I want to kiss you again, Astarion. And do whatever you are comfortable with. The only thing that worries me is that I will burden you with a rotten body, and a rotten purpose."

He feels that the words lose their original meaning, his pants still unceremoniously unbuttoned, his robes half open, long hair disheveled, a clear blush almost everywhere. It’s Astarion’s time to shudder, though, his expression intense when he gets closer again, Gale’s breath on his face, and he feels it in Astarion’s features, he thinks it’s nice, that it feels nice. Astarion’s breath is, of course, absent, an intense red color filtering through beautiful, white eyelashes. Knowing. Waiting.

“Come and get it, then. Show me how much you want it.”

Gale feels a tug from inside. Something in his chest that’s not his orb. Something down his abdomen that’s definitely his cock, still hard, against all odds. Still, he has to ask. He would never forgive himself otherwise. A small gesture towards Astarion’s comfort.

“Do you want it? Do you want everything my body, mind, and soul can offer you? Even after having briefly tasted me and felt how far gone my body is?”

Astarion doesn’t move, almost not blinking, so clearly undead that it should make Gale’s skin crawl, but it doesn’t. It really doesn’t, not when Astarion’s hand is nervously on his own, his lips still a treat to Gale’s eyes. He feels the word before it abandons Astarion’s lips, a half casted spell that Gale feels against his lips.

“Yes.”

He is sincere, the word engraved into Gale’s brain, making him tremble in anticipation. Gale’s warm hand is on the cold cheek, just keeping him in place as he moves, closing the distance between them with a shaky breath.

The Nine Hells be damned, Gale knows what he is doing, but Astarion almost has it engraved in his muscle memory. He gets lost in the sensation, something that makes Gale’s heart flutter, because Astarion may be used to sex, but he is not used to this. He is not used to the way Gale’s hands shake, slowly and desperately trying to get rid of the vampire's clothes, until Astarion helps, his hands more skilled at the matter. 

With a decent amount of collaboration they manage to show themselves, unclad, under the myriad of stars.

“Are you okay, darling? You look like you’re about to collapse…”

Gale nods, desperately, his lips letting out a soft moan when Astarion’s hands explore his body, every curve, the soft patches of hair. He shudders when a slender, cold hand is on his cock again stroking him softly, his mouth carefully biting Gale’s lower lip, dry blood on it that only seems to make Astarion even more eager.

“You won’t like whatever I can offer you, Astarion. Especially not you.”

Astarion huffs in frustration, a word in elvish that he doesn’t quite identify, but he doesn’t move when he is on the ground again, Astarion’s beautiful body shining under the artificial aurora Gale has created. Lots of small, little stars joining one of their kind, whose fangs slightly glint in a grin when Gale looks up at him, hands on his waist when Astarion straddles him with his legs.

“I wanna ride you. That’s what I would like to do.”

Gale’s throat is dry, eyes big and focused on Astarion’s face. There is no warmth on his skin, but that’s just another reason to keep him close. To try and remind him of when he was alive, before Cazador, before all of this madness. Warm hands move from Astarion’s waist to his chest, aware of the lack of heartbeat, still feeling in the tension of his muscles that he is, indeed, nervous. He caresses the scars on his back, and dexterous hands guide him downwards quickly, way too quickly. As if he didn’t want Gale to touch the words engraved into his back. He respects that, of course, his cock surely interested when Astarion’s hands guide his own towards his butt, and Gale blushes when the elf smiles knowingly.

“I assure you, my dear. Whatever your body and mind can offer me is more than welcome."

Gale isn't so sure about that, to be honest. Not about Astarion's… predisposition, but about his own body. Maybe if he manages to talk to Mystra one day… maybe she would understand. Maybe she'd forgive him, and grant him a body he doesn't deserve. Maybe.

Astarion brings him back to the present, far from possibilities, making him focus on what they are doing. A bottle of something Gale bought as soon as they got into the outskirts of Baldur's Gate floats in the air, courtesy of Astarion's invisible mage hand. He smirks at him, fangs showing slightly.

"Do you want to get me ready, or would you rather watch?"

Both choices seem impossible to Gale's own fragile mental health, to be completely honest. Still, the choice is obvious to him at the moment.

"If you do not mind… I would rather touch you myself. You might find that I have some… untapped skills."

He doesn't know how he manages to say that with a straight face, but Astarion's smile only gets wider. He believes him. He really does. He takes the small bottle from the mage hand, handing it to Gale carefully.

"I'm sure of that."

There is this thing about Astarion. About sexual matters, he always seems to be confident, experienced. Not a hair out of place, clearly a performance that has been honed for centuries. His façade breaks slightly when Gale's coated fingers caress his entrance, red eyes bigger, like a nervous animal. Prey, for once, and not a predator.

Gale is, still, very much not a predator, thank you very much.

"You know you can relax around me, Astarion. We can stop whenever you want."

Astarion's groan is supposed to convey frustration, but to Gale's ears is just yet another expression of fondness.

He feels tight and cold around his finger, eager and fed, having drunk from one of their enemies mere hours ago. He feels warmer when he is sated, Gale has noticed. More alive, also more sensitive. His soft sigh when Gale slowly fingers him is not performative, for it's not perfect, not calculated, not so beautiful for it to be irreal. He is sure that Astarion would blush if he could.

Gale likes it even more this way.

The way his red eyes shine when Gale looks up to kiss him are more than enough, though.

"Hurry up. I can take it, wizard."

Gale knows he can. He still doesn't rush it, arching his finger a little, his caress a little quicker, but not much. He kisses his lips, his chin, his sharp cheeks. Sadness fills him when he thinks about being unable to feed him, not in a way that matters. Meat and stew taste good, but do nothing to placate Astarion's hunger. He still eats, though, not saying a word about the taste, so Gale assumes he enjoys it. Astarion would never take anything less than what he deserves, after all. In that aspect, at least.

Gale is the living proof of the exception, after all. Why would he choose a human, with a rotten body, a damned future caused by the most damaging part of his ego?

"Wizard. Stop overthinking, or the gods help me…"

He doesn't even have to ask. Astarion rolls his eyes, as if it were obvious.

"You get a little frown when you think hard about something. It's not usually something happy, for what I know."

Gale sighs, teasing his entrance with another finger.

"I get lost in my mind way too often. For that, I apologize."

Astarion gasps as he enters him, slender legs shaking on Gale's lap. 

What a sight…

"You're lucky you're kind of cute, Gale Dekarios. If you weren't, I might have stabbed you long, long ago."

Gale knows that he is joking. He also knows that it's not a coincidence that Astarion is saying that when he is feeling vulnerable, or that he is using his family name, and not the epithet Gale uses for himself. He has been since they met Tara, since Gale mentioned his mother.

"I am cute? You are gorgeous, my star."

Astarion's muscles tense around his fingers in response. He surely likes the praise, especially when it is sincere, when Gale is not just speaking about Astarion's good looks. For a second, Gale wonders about it, about those muscles tensing around him, tight and delicious, taking him eagerly. He blushes at the thought, and Astarion smiles, dashing and knowing. 

"A copper piece for your thoughts?"

Gale mumbles something incoherent, burying his burning face in Astarion's shoulder, making him giggle.

"Nothing? That's a first… having rendered Gale Dekarios speechless…"

He doesn't get to tease him for long, because Gale actually gets to work, trying to focus on the task at hand. Which is both preparing and pleasuring Astarion until he feels ready to take him and… experience whatever doom is awaiting them when Gale fills him with his rotten seed and-

Astarion kisses his temple, and it does make Gale think, about how comfortable he seems to be with his new role, in which his lips are not a tool to prey on others, to lie and lie and keep lying until someone finally falls for his tricks. This, this soft caress, honest and without worry, suits him perfectly. Maybe, Gale himself suits him perfectly.

Maybe.

"I said no overthinking."

Gale smiles at him, brown eyes like melted chocolate, his motions slow but purposeful. Astarion trembles on his lap, his cock twitching in interest, and Gale tries his hardest not to just take him in his hand, no matter how much Astarion's eyes, drowning him in crimson intensity, are almost ordering him to.

"I would like for you to enjoy this longer, my star."

The petname seems to work, because Astarion begrudgingly, sighs, almost as if trying to relax. He frowns when Gale curls his fingers, carefully massaging his insides, fingers that were made for reading and handling powerful spells finding a sensitive spot, and Astarion does indeed make a sound. It's not dignified, or elegant, but it's natural, raw.

He guides him through the whole process. How he likes it, the intensity, the pressure, the pace. He murmurs it all, sweet instructions against Gale's lips, who follows them in between soft kisses, shuddering each time Astarion seems to especially enjoy something.

"You are a quick learner, wizard. Such a beautiful brain you have…"

Astarion is riling him up. He doesn't have to be smart to know. He is successfully doing it, and Gale hates himself for falling for it, weak and pathetic, panting against his smile, feeling his thighs tensing around him.

"Inside, Gale," he says in a low tone, demanding, almost a growl. "I want you inside."

Gale Dekarios is, well, currently untouched. He still trembles when Astarion speaks, a desperate sound leaving his lips. He feels pathetic, but Astarion's expression is unchanging. Honest, wanting.

"Shit," Gale enunciates eloquently when Astarion moves, making Gale miss him dearly when his fingers are no longer inside of him. Astarion takes the bottle of lubricant, manually, slowly coating Gale's cock with it, keeping eye contact. Which would be hell for Gale if not for the fact that he is currently mesmerized.

His orb pulses, the sound of electricity filling the air. Maybe this is the way he goes. Unable to keep himself under control, way too excited and reckless to think about the obvious. To have enough strength to care about the danger.

"You are not going to get hurt," Astarion assures him. "You are not going to hurt me either. Or anyone in camp."

"But-"

"You might be a self centered asshole sometimes, but you care about us. About yourself. About… about me."

Astarion may be unable to blush, but the way his tongue seems to twist and make him ponder about his words is maybe the closest thing he has.

"Deep down, you never wanted to off yourself. You just thought it was the only thing you could do. The right thing to do. Bullshit…"

Gale smiles at him, his hands on both sides of Astarion's face.

"Is that an insight… from self centered asshole to self centered asshole?"

Astarion chuckles at that, enamored.

"Oh he has some edge… I love that."

It's Astarion who guides Gale's cock towards his entrance, his experience still unmatched… which leaves Gale with a sour feeling. He shouldn't have had to deal with something like that. He deserved better. That's why he is trying to make everything beautiful, perfect for him.

"I can… I can do it all myself, if that helps you…"

Astarion gently rolls his eyes.

"Darling, I am indeed deeply grateful. But I want to do this. I want you to feel good, and I want to feel good with you. I do appreciate the pampering but… I'm fine, I swear."

Gale’s smile is nervous. Knowing what’s to come, knowing what to expect. His throat bobs slightly, gulping a little bit too loudly.

“If I understand correctly… that means that you want to pamper me, I am assuming?”

Astarion’s smile is devilishly sexy after he answers with a single word, but it’s not rehearsed, not so pretty it has to be unreal. It’s pretty, his fangs showing slightly, but it’s not too wide, not too flashy. There is a hint of nervousness in trembling lips, and Gale can only kiss them softly, feeling their cool touch that is starting to warm up to him.

His insides are not cold, but not warm either. Something is at work there, maybe that Astarion has fed recently, so his body is especially vigorous. He takes him slowly, almost like torture, and Gale has his hands on his hips, making sure that he doesn’t rush it. Astarion seems proud of himself when Gale lets out a breath that he didn’t know that he was holding, a little fanged smile that Gale makes sure to kiss yet again.

“Are you sure…” he tries to ask, nervous about his obvious problem, but Astarion is having none of it.

“Yes.”

“But-”

“Darling, you might be an incredible wizard. A wonderful man. But I’m pretty sure your cock lacks the skill to kill me, no matter how good of a cock it is.”

Gale’s face is flushed, both mortified and incredibly pleased. Trying not to let the compliment go too deep inside of his psyche. He can feel himself getting harder at it, and Astarion’s smile is amused, sinking himself more into him, making a sweet sound when the friction seems to be a little bit too good.

“Fuck… finally.”

Gale cannot say much in return, too overwhelmed by the sensation, not just the physical one. Astarion makes him lie down, the beautiful night sky above them. Pale skin reflects the light slightly, making Gale gasp in awe. The stars may be beautiful, but Astarion is the most gorgeous of them all.

“My star…” Gale manages to say, his voice strangled, before the vampire moves, hungry for him in a way that Gale hasn’t felt in decades. Before Mystra, before his own foolishness, before all this mess. Red eyes shine in recognition, in fondness, rocking his hips slowly.

He’s beautiful. That’s what he thinks as Astarion moves, his movements elegant. He thinks about him moving in the shadows, slicing an enemy without effort, his eyes hungry in a completely different way. He looks up at him, because he knows, he knows he might be doing this for him, and not for both of them, but his expression is not vacant. Astarion is there with him, moaning softly when Gale’s warm hands caress his thighs, tenderly, digging his fingers into his skin with both sweetness and lust.

“May I… may I touch you?”

Gale has to ask, wants to ask. Astarion confided in him, about his worries, his past, his relationship with sex. He won’t do anything Astarion is uncomfortable with, but it’s still refreshing to hear him chuckle, the gesture making his whole body tremble.

“Of course, my dear,” he murmurs, just a second after moving again, Gale’s hold on him tighter, moaning softly, a hand slowly moving towards Astarion’s erection. He takes him with no hesitation, sensing him tense, the eye contact making Gale’s insides burn. Astarion looks intense as he moves, as Gale pumps him, tight around each other, an exhalation escaping an undead mouth with effort. It is rewarding when he finally moans, and Gale just frowns, nodding slightly.

It’s funny, almost, how words elude him in that moment. He feels himself babbling at times, about Astarion, about how pretty he is, about how nice and sweet he is to him. It makes Astarion’s expression change, and Gale doesn’t feel any kind of disgust coming from him, if the tension around his cock is to be trusted. He has never been good at reading expressions, even less in this state of near climax.

That’s why it takes him by surprise, the way Astarion keeps moving, but gets closer to him, looking for his lips briefly before the kisses go down his chin, his throat. Gale is pretty sure the vampire is not going to bite him, given how revolting his blood is, but his lips are dangerously close to the Netherese orb.

Gale wants to warn him, to tell him he doesn’t know how volatile the orb might be, but he isn’t sure if Astarion would have listened nevertheless. His voice breaks when Astarion kisses it, tenderly, his face buried on Gale’s chest as he keeps rocking his lips.

If there was something to say, Gale isn’t sure he can find the words, his face so red he fears he might faint. He just moans, feeling the orb thrumming, Astarion’s own whimper making his sight blurry. His movements are erratic. He must be close, too.

“You wanted to keep this from me, wizard? You feel like electricity… Powerful and vigorous and…”

Gale wants to say something, anything.

“Astarion…”

“I love everything you have to offer. I love… I love everything…”

That’s a little bit too much for Gale’s heart to handle. He feels himself coming messily, with the strength of a sledgehammer, the orb dangerously close to losing its stability. He is, too, so he wouldn’t really blame it. The stars seem to flicker above them, and Gale doesn’t know how his concentration hasn’t broken or faded, after all. Astarion keeps moving, almost desperately, reaching his own orgasm shortly after, Gale’s hand erratic on him, but apparently still enough to make him figuratively or not, see the stars. He feels a smile against his chest, a small kiss on it afterwards, and Gale realizes, embarrassed, that there are tears on his face. He still kisses Astarion’s temple, both in relief and in gratitude.

“I stand… I stand corrected,” Astarion mutters, still kissing his skin. “That cock almost killed me, albeit not in the way you feared.”

Gale lets out a small chuckle, trying not to sniff too loudly. Still, he knows that there is something in the air. The orb seems to react to Astarion’s touch, even if weakly, as if drawing itself to him.

“Do you… do you feel the weave, like back when we practiced?”

Astarion nods, looking up at him, magic oozing from him, a faint purple glint in his eyes.

“If I compliment you too much, it’ll go over your head, so I’ll just say this. You may taste like hell, but this…”

Gale knows the feeling well. Completion, understanding. Fulfillness. He caresses Astarion’s face, feeling the magic under his fingertips.

“You are lovely. I know I might have said that already, but if you are not averse to-”

Astarion’s lips are on his own, trapping him between the vampire’s body and the ground. Drinking from him without draining him, just… sharing an experience. Connected in a way that makes sense to both of them.

“It feels good, to be like this with you.”

The netherese orb is like a curse, a punishment for his own hubris, but Astarion’s fingers circling it, his small kisses, almost make it all bearable. They both wear their marks, the weight of their past. Gale’s fingers ghost over Astarion’s scars as they kiss, not daring to touch them too much, not until it’s Astarion who guides him towards them, as if trying to repay his trust.

If Astarion realises that Gale is crying again, he says nothing about it. They just lie side by side, looking at stars that aren’t real, but that are proof of everything Gale wants to convey. Closer than they should be, even if the moment is technically over. Gale would love to cuddle a little more, but he doesn’t really want to push it and make him uncomfortable.

“Thank you,” he says instead, his warm eyes looking at him, at the beautiful start shining among hundreds of his kind. “For everything.”

Astarion doesn’t meet his gaze, still looking at the sky. At everything that Gale has created for him.

“You have been kind to me. That’s more than most people can say,” he offers as an explanation, but says nothing else.

Gale still notices how he gets closer to him, his head casually resting on Gale’s shoulder as he admires the sky. Gale, though? Bless the weave and its wonders, but in that moment, Gale can only keep looking at Astarion.

#my stuff #bloodweave #baldur's gate 3 #astarion ancunin #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #these hoziers kind of ship motherfuckers

[thehopelessexception]

how can a person know everything at 18 but nothing at 22 (almost 24)

warning: im writing this while im on my period and eating ice cream.

i've been dissociating for what now? half a year maybe more. i dont recognize reality. i feel im floating in this sea we call society and i've been feeling the wilson of the story here. i assume everything that's happening around me is real, ofc. but that doesnt make it any less a convenient arrangement i build for myself to try to act like a real person and not freak out. i am feeling out of reality. like the part of the game where you let the sim on auto-mode. i am the sim on auto-mode. and i don't know how to stop this stage of oblivion.

to make a vague introduction, the thing with me is that im a living paradox of a full time contradiction. i am flamboyant but i hate being perceived. i like to speak up for myself but i hate people thinking about me because of it. i have my own process of how i understand things. i trust logic and i question everything. im quite skeptical over things when there's no empirical evidence. i seek for knowledge. critical thinking, data analysis and the whole stuff. i know myself. i sometimes look like i am too obnoxious, frivolous, morally corrupted (people have told me that), when i obsess over something —because i sometimes treat people like they are stupid (not my intention really)—; but probably the only thing im completely sure of is myself. i tend to be a confident person, to have an ego, to not let the guard down, to calculate every single move. and lately i am noticing myself being impulsive, insecure, nervous, weird, saying stupid shit, nonsenses, feeling small. and i don't know how to make it stop. the thing is i put my whole self-esteem backed up by my intelligence, however im not sure of anything anymore. i don't know if the reason behind not recognising myself lately is the fact i have somehow a new crush —or a new hyperfixation for that matter— or just the natural act of growing, also known as the quarter life crisis.

i have this thing where i hyperfix on random stuff, i've been like this my whole life. one of my friends even made a powerpoint of all the things i've been obsessed with over the years. and the issue here is that this things never last that much, or maybe they do? i actually never though about it. the most random ones i remember are probably me buying ice-cream cakes of this specific brand every week for two months. i also got obsessed with eating too many scrambled eggs all day every day for a very long time. then it was that turkish telenovela on an airing channel. then ofc succession, and it grew into watching every single movie kieran culkin was part of. the world cup. mbti —im intj by the way—. red white and royal blue (i watched it five times in a day), then nicholas galitzine —did yk he has a lineage that comes all the way from the romanovs?— and his entire filmography. and also politics, i got way into politics; election campaigns, follow up candidates, history, economy, the law, etc (my candidate lost tho) (we're succumbing to disgrace) (like literally we collectively, as a country, haven't had any kind of good news since then) (please help me). and etc etc. but the thing is, i also hyperfix on random people, or not so random i guess. it doesnt happen very often tho, im quite picky, but the procedure is this: i meet someone, they draw somehow my attention, i want to know everything about this person, i talk to this person a lot (medium to long term) (week to months), and then this person becomes my friend or i get bored and completely ignore them for the rest of my life and move on.

but this time is different, or im feeling it different. i find myself questioning everything i know and i was convinced of. i dont know if it has something to do with the fact that i met someone, probably the first person wise enough to make me question if i was ever correct about anything. maybe i am hyperfixating on this person, idealizing them. but it's truly amazing how much more data this person has about everything i know of. and right now i feel way too insecure, because even if this person told me they find me smart and they enjoy talking to me, i am always thinking that if i say something not completely fact-checked they'll think im stupid. it's absurd. it's a boohoo situation, i know. and it's a process im having about who am i, or what am i supposed to be. some months ago the whole context around my life changed or i think it changed? i dont know how to explain it, —i mean i know how but i would have to talk about other things not related to this (politics stuff, things happening in my country, etc). i'll probably will make a new post about it someday—. but the whole issue is, i dont know myself anymore. and everything is crumbling.

im afraid the person i build for myself it's a fraud. or doesnt exist anymore.

i remember myself at 18, and i was this marvellous whole person. independent, smart, focused, driven. that girl spent their whole days outside her house. did everything she wanted to. wasnt scared of anything. and i look at myself now and think how? the pandemic has a lot to do with it i guess, but when i first heard taylor saying that in nothing new i thought "that wont happen to me". guess what, i was wrong.

for my fellow girlies being 23 —in my experience— is exactly how they say it will be. the worst age of your life.

next month is my birthday and im pushing 24. and i have to say my life is a mess. but i dont know if i can call it a mess because it is truly a mess or because i am a complete drama queen. because people probably have worse problems than mine, and i am what you call a white girl, only poorer —and a third world country citizen—. the issue is, i am almost 24, almost 25. almost 27. ALMOST 30. and i did nothing with my life. absolutely nothing. my mom had me at 29 for god's sake.

and by nothing i mean everything i do is not enough to feel it worthy of a life well-lived. should i look for a job and work while studying just to say i am extremely occupied because i have somehow a life? just to feel something? even if that makes my stress situation and anxiety even worse? should i somehow save enough money so i can move from my parents house? even if for my whole generation it's close to impossible? is studying something i (kinda) like enough to not feel like shit about myself? i've never had a boyfriend, nor girlfriend. shoud i look for one? get myself one? even if i dont think any of that would make me happy? i dont think i know happiness as a state of mind, nor the concept of it.

i dont feel like i have many anecdotes to tell in my future. should i measure the life-worth by anecdotes? my friends feel the same way i do, but they have a more organized life. jobs, boyfriends, careers, plans for the future, one of my closest friends move to the other side of the world with her boyfriend (!) in the blink of an eye. but they aren't much happy nor they have many anecdotes either. and i dont have the money or the guts or the available friends to create any.

every day i understand fleabag a bit more.

my favourite anecdotes about my life are from when i was about 13 and 15 years, also known as the worst time of my life. i didnt appreciated it back then, probably none of us did. but when we were teens everything was possible and we didnt have a care on anything other than mundane stuff or rebellious stuff but nothing more than yelling at people, drinking and smoking weird shit (i never had weed tho). not a real responsibility. being careless, free, avoiding consequences that mattered. i think that girl hates me right now. and i am not sure if that's the feeling i should have or if it's just utterly pathetic.

#girlblogging #girlblogger #girl blogger #girl interrupted #girly things #gaslight gatekeep girlblog #this is a girlblog #girl problems #girly stuff #girl blogging #girlcore #girl boss gaslight gatekeep #girl interupted syndrome #girl rotting #girlhood #girlblog aesthetic #girlblog #femcel #girlrotting #hell is a teenage girl #i’m just a girl #just girly thoughts #just girlboss things #taylor swift #nothing new #this is what makes us girls #fleabag #20s #life in your 20s #20 something

[chuckwon]

I find it hard to imagine an emotionally satisfying and compelling plotline for an SPN sequel/revival that isn’t “Chuck won” related.

Here’s my logic:

-What reason would there be for Sam and Dean to push to ~leave Heaven~ if they’re supposedly content? (The Winchesters also showed us exactly why Dean ISNT content, at length, and that’s still true for his character whether or not the sequel/revival will reference any of its plot and events directly.)

-To position Sam and Dean as compelled to leave Heaven for ANY reason unavoidably highlights the original finale wasn’t a good ending. (Which, again, The Winchesters has already elaborated upon for 13 episodes.) That necessitates answering why and how that ending happened at all.

-They can go with some kind of general “Well life is life. Sometimes you die. True free will is that everything can’t be perfect :/ They just want a second chance“ but that WOULD be a cop out. Not compelling at all and blatantly hollow reasoning to just make more of the show.

-If Jack’s truly the new God, and that’s supposedly good and fine, what reason would HE have for resurrecting Sam and Dean? What could he ~need~? There’s no POV where Sam and Dean having more “work to do” isn’t tragic, and no compelling sense to it if it’s not about the obvious: Jack’s the problem.

-How’s Jack the problem? However you slice it, he’s been corrupted by God power. That routes back to Chuck because he orchestrated this outcome, as well as cycles of violence.

-Any SPN sequel requires reciprocal Destiel. It simply does. And the original silence—Dean and Cas being kept apart at the end of season 15—is thematically connected to all this.

-If Jack was corrupted by God power and that was Chuck’s plan all along, things have then been “fake” and called into question just like throughout s15; so, what’s real? Unavoidably there’d have to be emphasis on that. And what’s “real” still includes, purposefully, Destiel. They’re a hallmark of reality and their love is part of the key to their collective freedom.

It’s just math to me!! All the threads tie together!!!!

They could do something else, of course. But if they just pull some random big bad out that the gang needs to fight (that Good Jack can’t handle?? A BIGGER God??) it’ll be laughably transparent and hard to care.

That’s why the Akrida were even connected to Chuck in The Winchesters. They know this. They’re in a corner. They could resurrect Sam and Dean to do small cases again, but… again, to what purpose?

If they resurrect Supernatural, they’d better have a damn good premise.

There’s no Bigger Bad than the Big Bad they already fought and supposedly defeated…unless they didn’t win.

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

The brothers and the gay angel need to free their son. And themselves in the process.

#getting back on my bullshittttt (I never left) #I posted this on twitter days ago and forgot to put it here #supernatural #Chuck won #SPN revival #SPN sequel #Chuck won theory #Chuck won meta #my meta

[echo-echo31]

5 Times Gray Nearly Kissed Cooper and 1 Time Jay Witnessed It Finally Happen | Chains Series Spin-Off

SERIES MASTERPOST | RIBBONS SPIN-OFF

A/N: This is for my wonderful, amazing friend on their birthday! In case you don't know, these characters are part of my Chains Series as well as being my friend's special blorbos <3

Warnings: trauma, PTSD, reference to torture.

1. The first time Gray nearly kisses Cooper, he doesn't know who they are.

It's in the moments of being rebooted. After the trauma of waking up to find his entire life stolen, corrupted, replaced. Reality rushes back so fast he feels like he's dying again. He didn't expect to wake up; he thought the last thing he'd ever see was Ada's face as the truth rushed into it like her human blood.

"...you're okay. It's gonna be okay,"

That voice.

It's the hand of wakefulness tugging him out of his own nightmares. The one thing that kept him tethered to reality when he was in stasis. He rushes towards it like a drowning man, and then his optic programmes kick-in and he's so relieved, hit so hard with the force of simply being alive that it seems natural to reach up and make their lips meet.

That's when he finds that his other programmes haven't loaded yet. He's paralysed, looking up at the panels of a rotting wooden ceiling. He can't speak, but he thinks his eyes convey emotions he could never put into words when he finally sees the face of the mechanic smiling down at him.

2. It happens again the first time he sees snow.

After being guided outside and recounting the stories Ada used to tell him, both he and Cooper had stayed there for an unknown amount of time…staring.

It was so quiet. And not the bad kind. Not the kind that crept in and infested like the endless, isolating days he'd spent in stasis. It was peace, it was beautiful.

The sudden noise beside him is the first time he's been reminded he's not alone out here for a while, and he turns his head to see Cooper shiver,hands rubbing the raised hair on their arm. Sometimes - in the adrenaline rush of their lives on the run - Gray can forget that they're human. Whenever he's reminded, there's some kind of emotion that gets stuck in his throat that he has to force back down.

He should encourage them back inside. Avoid hypothermia. And yet there's a few more seconds when he's just looking at them. Their prosthetic arm holds onto their body and he's once again mermerised how intricate and well-designed it is. They look off into the distance with those brown eyes so deep he could get lost in them.

And for a moment he thinks about walking over, holding their face in his hands and kissing them.

"We should get you inside, Coop,"

3. Trauma seems to be a good catalyst for these things to happen.

All Gray can hear is the siren continuing to echo through the corridors of the Alliance base. His optic programme is working, and yet he can't seem to actually comprehend anything that's happening around him.

His mind is full of that thing. The thing that has his head. The thing that almost killed him before it was called away to become the subject of someone else's nightmares.

Even when Jay found him, he couldn't tell the fellow android what had happened. It was as if he was back in stasis mode, only all of his sensory programmes were still working fine. He felt trapped, traumatised, alone.

There's a pressure on his shoulder and suddenly he's knocked out of the paralysis. He flinches, systems blaring some warning message as he interprets it as a threat until he really looks, and sees Cooper leaning their head on his shoulder.

There's tear stains on their cheeks and their eyes have a glassed over, far-reaching expression. Immediately, his body relaxes and his mind becomes fixated on making sure they're okay, rather than dealing with whatever damage that psychopath had done to it.

Seeing them like this, he wants to comfort them in any way he can. They hold each other - for minutes or hours he has no idea. Eventually, they sniffle and he kisses the top of their head. He wants to do more; he wants to press his lips to theirs in an attempt to take away…to swallow all the pain.

It's not the moment. So instead he holds them close enough to convince them both that nothing else can touch them.

4. Jay daring him is just a occupational hazard at this point.

It happens at least a few times today. They'll be traversing the abandoned landscape of a small town, or crossing a river or getting supplies from an ex-military base and Jay will come up to him with some ridiculous idea.

It's oddly comforting in some ways; a nice reminder that He didn't erase all of Jay's original personality programming. An act of rebellion.

So, he's never surprised when he comes at him with that dorky grin and an idea to jump off a bridge or steal a 7 foot tall replica of the Eiffel Tower.

And yet.

"I dare you to kiss Coop,"

Gray knows it's literally impossible for him to choke, but right now it sounds like it with the noise he makes when Jay whispers into his ear.

They're about four steps behind Cooper, on an abandoned railroad track in the middle of nowhere. As per usual, the mechanic is leading the way, following signals they've got on one of their ingenious inventions that tracks SOS programmes from androids who've defected from the House.

"What? Shut the hell up, man!" Gray hisses aggressively back, eyes trained on their human's backpack in terror of them accidentally hearing their discussion.

"Come on, tough guy. I see how you look at them," Jay teases, an arm slung around Gray's shoulder as the Google Android refuses to meet his gaze.

"I don't…I don't know what you're on about, Jay. And anyway, you two are a thing, aren't you?" He tries not to let the hope he feels bleed into his tone of voice as he asks the question.

Jay laughs, and Gray starts to feel annoyed, like he's being made fun of. Jay leans in closer and this time his voice is more serious, more sincere.

"You really think that heart isn't big enough for the both of us?"

Gray is left standing still as Jay walks ahead of him, joining Cooper

"Hurry up, slow coach!" Jay shouts back, and Gray curses him under his breath.

5. Around the campfire, he really thinks he's going to do it.

They've made it to some make-shift camp set up by a handful of androids; some defectors, others who ran away from abusive owners well before the Blue Screen Event.

The last few days had been…nice. Really nice. In fact, the Alliance and rebellion and Alpha and everything else had slipped from his mind a few times whilst they'd been here, and that was a miracle in itself. It was almost like a taste of what could be; a possible future free from threat and fear.

It's in this warming glow that Gray finds himself trying to pluck up the courage to kiss them. He's been casually staring for at least the last ten minutes, the flames of the fire honeying their brown eyes in the darkness. He fidgets with his hands and occasionally sees a knowing smirk from Jay in the corner of his eye that he chooses to ignore.

He wants to do it. He needs to do it. And yet plucking up the courage to do so seems to be harder than when he had to resist the ongoing mental torture of having the world's most dangerous android in his head.

"Hey! We should go see if Hunter is alright," Cooper suggests, and it takes a while for Gray to process what they've actually said.

"Oh…yeah sure," He answers, watching as the mechanic is already standing up and catching Jay facepalm.

+1. It's been months since they left Markus' Alliance base.

Months since they set off, travelling North, following the tracks left behind from the House moving base after the incident of one of their Beta's being corrupted.

They're still unsure as to what exactly happened, but it was enough to force Alpha to move. And that meant it was serious. Very serious.

Something had happened between then. Something that meant Cooper no longer wanted to be involved with Markus - their brother - and that also meant they were back to the three of them travelling alone. Which to be honest, didn't bother Gray. In fact, he rather preferred it this way. Cooper's brother always gave a vibe that made him uncomfortable. Sometimes he thought he was more similar to Alpha than he knew…but that's not something he'd ever admit out loud.

Nevertheless, it was back to Cooper leading the way through what had slowly become denser, darker forest with more treacherous paths to traverse. They had become more reckless recently, as if they were trying to reach something more important than their own safety. Therehad been a few close calls when Gray or Jay had to bandage them up, and yet whenever they tried to hint that something was wrong, they were met with unconvincing reassurances that everything was fine.

That's how it happens.

One minute Gray is following behind them, the next he's running to the spot they once wereafter he sees them slip and fall, disappearing behind the ledge they were approaching.

Every possible worst-case scenario goes through his head; his systems are screaming at him as if he's the one who's in danger.

"COOPER!" He shouts, hearing the same name echoed from behind him by Jay.

Once he gets there though, relief floods through him like a drug as he finds them merely a few feet below, having fallen onto a shallow riverbank.

They're in a heap and dirty, but already brushing it off and clearly not hurt above a few scratches and bruises. Without thinking, Gray is jumping down after them, his superior strength and resilience making the leap a lot easier and more graceful for him.

"Hey, you okay?" He says, arms already reaching out to hold them.

"Y-yeah. Yeah, I'm good. Just a stupid mistake," They say, sounding angry with themselves.

"It's not stupid," He replies, brushing some dirt off their shoulders and they do the same to their clothes. There's a streak of mud across their cheek and he goes to clean it off, accidentally smudging it further across their skin. It's a few seconds before he realises he's essentially stroking their face. And that they're staring at him.

It's here, with the water rushing past and his mechanic covered in mud and a cacophony of different lifetime's words between them that he finally, finally, leans in to press his lips to theirs.

They taste like pine needles and firewood and home. It's like the inevitable, as if there's been an invisible string pulling them closer and closer and finally they've become tied.

It's everything he needs.

That is, until they break apart with the sound of a someone nearby clearing their throat.

Gray turns his head to see Jay looking at them, arms holding each other and Cooper's skin flushed.

"Well…I'm glad we're all still alive. And kissing. Fucking finally. So…can we maybe keep going because my optics are telling me that it's almost twilight and however much you two want to stick your tongues in each other's mouths, I'd like that to happen somewhere away from the creatures of the forest please."

#is there hints at chains 3 here #:)))) #iowa anon #trauma #ptsd #torture #trauma trio #the beloveds #chains series #echo writes #echo is sfw

[dailyadventureprompts]

Hey, I wanted to take a moment and say that I really enjoy the blog! Thanks for all the time and effort that you put in it!

I was also wondering if you might be able to provide some help? One of my players has been trying to make a patron that has a strong theme of sorrow and woe; without dipping into Fae territory. They’ve reached out to me to help and I’ve got absolutely nothing! Any ideas or concepts you might be able to make?

Monsterhunt: Thousandfold Sorrows

The hardest part of moving on is finding the way forward

A spirit of the plane of mirrors, Thousandfold Sorrows hunts those riven by great grief and loss, harrowing them with visions of a moment from their past from which they are unable to move on. Pain, shame, false hope, as the victim's mind is fractured by a multitude of emotions reality starts to go with it: different versions of their life playing out the possibility of what could've been.

Adventure Hooks:

A tragic cart accident goes even more awry as an out of control wagon runs into a girl walking down a busy market street who proceeds to shatter into thousands of mirrored shards infront of all the onlookers, horrifying the boy she was out on the town with. Stranger yet, the girl's description matches that of a young woman who went missing from her job at an antique store some weeks ago, as well as numerous other incidents all around the city. As it turns out, the shopgirl has fallen victim to Thousandfold Sorrows while she was lamenting wasting her youth in the dusty old shop instead of out there living life. Now she wanders the labyrinth of the mirror dimension, and the only way to get her back is to convince one of the impulsive duplicates that've slipped free in the previous days to take her place.

Seeking to undo the mistakes of the past, an aging mage has summoned Thousandfold Sorrows to ruminate on a tragedy from his youth, where the lives of his closest friends were sacrificed in the process of averting a magical disaster that would have ravaged the countryside. Increasingly desperate to know if he really did make the right choice, the mage has had Thousandfold sorrows run through endless permutations of events, eventually causing a chain-reaction of mirror magic that's split the local area (and nearby village) into three time lines: The present, the idealistic past, and an alternate version of events ravaged by wild magic. Caught in the middle, the party must discern the boundaries between truth and illusion and overcome paradoxical hazards in order to set the land right once again.

Like many creatures of the mirror dimension, Thousandfold Sorrows does not bear explicit ill towards those it haunts, instead existing in a state of perpetual reflection from a very limited viewpoint. It can communicate only through flawed reccolection, asking questions (sometimes radically inappropriate ones) about what its quarry WANTS as it desires to understand. One could perhaps say that it is hyperempathic but when that empathy is focused on something the quarry would really rather be left alone, conflict and tragedy will invariably ensue.

For the asker: Using Thousandfold Sorrows as a warlock patron will require your character to create a rough outline of their character and something tragic in their past, then have the mirror spirit relfect it back at them over and over and over as it tries to empathise. As for actual stats, I'd recommend searching 3rd party mirror magic and the unearthed arcana subreddit.

If you're not feeling particularly mirror focused, I could also recommend a number of possible patrons:

An engine of doom, pushed beyond its appointed rest

The Demon queen of despair and decay

A corrupted pagan god of being trapped in pain

A number of patrons in the "Compendium of forgotten secrets: awakening" one of the best and most thematically interesting warlock books out there, give it a google.

Art

#dnd #dungeons and dragons #d&d #5e #warlock #haunting #mystery #town #chronomancy #illusion #city #vimagotri #spirit #elemental #nerra #prompt postage

[saline-coelacanth]

List of my Ninjago Aus

I figured I should make a list of my Ninjago Aus that I can link to my pinned post since sometimes the Ninjago hyperfixation comes back. I'm only including aus that I still have interest in working on, so if an au isn't on the list, it's probably safe to assume that I don't have interest in working on that au (so you shouldn't send asks about it)

Bad Endings Au: An au based on evil versions of the ninja from different timelines, usually referred to as the BE!Ninja. Each ninja has their own origin story explaining their downfall before they all get transported into the main timeline where they team up to take out the normal versions of the ninja

Next Gen Au: Follows a timeline separate from Dragons Rising (since I made it way before that came out) that follows the future ninja, Shayla, (bruise kid and master of lightning) Tara, (other bruise kid and master of earth) Fallon, (oppo kid and master of ice) an Trixie (daughter of Pythor and my oc Asashi)

Purified Au: An au where instead of being destroyed at the end of Rebooted, the Overlord is just left in a weakened, child-like state with amnesia who the ninja find and decide to raise. The Overlord gets named Oliver by the ninja and it mainly follows Oliver as the ninja try to hide the truth from him, fearing that he'll revert to his evil self if he finds out who he truly is.

Weresnake Au: An au where instead of being fully cured from the fangpyre venom, Jay instead becomes a 'weresnake', turning into a feral serpentine form when he gets too cold.

Anacondrai Curse Au: Initially taking place during the Tournament of Elements, Chen experiments on Cole to try and use an alternate spell which ends up 'cursing' Cole and making him appear partially like an anacondrai, and causing him to turn into a full anacondrai at random moments.

Fangdroid Au: An au where Zane gets bit by a fangpyre during Rise of the Snakes where he runs away and ends up teaming up with the serpentine after they manipulate him.

Roleswap Au: Probably not one I'm gonna do too much with, but it's your standard swap au where the ninja are swapped with different characters. Lloyd and Harumi are swapped, Cole is swapped with Morro, Zane with Cryptor, Jay with Clancee, and then there's a three way swap with Skylor, Kai and Nya where Skylor takes Kai's role, Kai takes Nya's, and Nya takes Skylor's. (Although I might change this one if I go back to it)

Dragonblood Au: An au where the elemental masters are knows as Dragonbloods and can turn into giant, rampaging dragons. This has caused people to fear them and hunt them down. The ninja form a team and fight against the dragon hunters, their main enemy being Garmadon and his army of dragon hunters. There's a lot to this one that I don't really have time to explain further, so if you really want to know more you can probably find more info about it on my blog.

Pokemon Au: Pretty self explanatory, it's Ninjago characters but in the world of Pokemon. Lloyd is the champion and the other ninja are gym leaders (alone with Pixal, Skylor and Morro to make it 8).

Black Knight Au: It's the plot of Sonic and the Black Knight but with Ninjago characters. Kai takes Sonic's role and get transported to this other world where he meets people who look like his friends but aren't quite the same. He also needs to learn how to become a knight in order to defeat the evil and corrupt King Arthur.

Storm Vessel Au: Taking place during the events of The Island, when Jay gets 'sacrificed', the storm energy around the island ends up corrupting him and turning him into a chaotic and destructive entity that is basically the embodiment of the storm. It's very similar to Nya turning into the ocean as it's basically Jay turning into his element. He occasionally has moments of clarity where he turns blue and is in control of himself, but for the most part he's chaotic and doesn't listen to reason.

Mirage Memory Au: The ninja find a strange artifact that creates a new fake reality where they all have fake memories and don't remember ever being ninja and they don't remember each other. The only one without fake memories is Lloyd and he has to try and get the ninja back together so they can get their memories back and fix their reality.

If I end up making more aus, I'll edit this list with them

#ninjago #lego ninjago #ninjago au

[tyrantisterror]

I want to talk about Harley Quinn for a bit, unprompted by anything, because fuck you it’s my blog I do what I want.

Because I’m a nerd who thinks too much about stories I like to sort the stages of my life by the heroes that defined them.  Godzilla was the hero of my childhood, a big dinosaur who taught a bullied kid me that you have a right to dig in your feet and assert who you are even when the world is against you for it.  Spider-Man was the hero of my teens, helping me cope with learned just how chaotic the adult world I was preparing to enter is and survive the rocky road to growing up.  Sherlock Holmes was the hero of my college years, a person who found what he wanted to do in life and devoted himself entirely to it, which is what I tried to do in turn.

Harley Quinn is the hero of my current stage.  I know most people would find that weird since she’s, like, a supervillain most of the time, and at best a very amoral anti-hero, but I mean it entirely sincerely.  And she’s the hero of my current age in part because she’s defined so much by her failures.

In almost every incarnation, Harley’s backstory begins with her going to college and pursuing a career that will bring her material success and prestige, as so many people in my generation were told to do.  She does as instructed and gets that career, only to immediately be shown the grim reality of what she signed up for, and getting broken by the stress that comes with the job almost immediately.  Saying she became a supervillain is actually generous because Harley really becomes a supervillain’s henchman, completely subservient to and exploited by a character who’s basically a personification of the corruption that made her dream job a living hell.

As a villain/henchman, Harley’s fun but a bit limited.  She exists to provide comic relief - both by being a goofier, lighter sort of evil compared to the other, more dangerous villains, and by being just debauched enough herself that we can laugh when she fails and gets knocked on her ass.  She’s a punching bag for the narrative, a joke to be laughed at and only occasionally pitied (but never enough to keep us from rooting for her to lose).

It’s important to note here that Harley was initially created for Batman the Animated Series, which is specifically a version of the Batman story where redemption doesn’t happen.  There have been papers written on this, even.  Because B:TAS was a serialized story designed to go on as long as the executives at Warner Bros thought it was making money, its villains had to stay villains, because if they ever changed from that they’d no longer serve their narrative purpose.  There are countless episodes where various villains try to turn over a new leaf (including one for Harley), but they always end with the villain in question backsliding into villainy.  As one critic pointed out, it’s kind of Calvinist that way: you’re either good or bad from creation, and no matter what you try to do you can’t change that, no matter how much you might want to be good.  A B:TAS villain has no choice but to be a villain till the story ends, and the story is never meant to end.

Comic books are also serialized and meant to be endless, so in this way B:TAS is pretty true to the source material.  However, because of just how long comics have gone on, sometimes writers are given permission to shake things up and change the status quo for a bit, to keep people engaged.  And while these changes are generally dialed back (there’s countless jokes about how rarely even death sticks in comics), occasionally they prove popular enough to become the new status quo.  It’s not common, but it has happened.

And this is where Harley goes from fun to inspiring - because Harley made a new status quo.

Being incredibly popular, Harley Quinn eventually got her own comic book series, which is a pretty big deal for a glorified henchman.  And because it was her comic series, the writers had to figure out who Harley was without the presence of Batman or the Joker, the characters who had defined her up to this point.  They looked at Harley’s personality and backstory and tried to figure out what Harley would do on her own.

And the result was something really interesting.  She stopped being a henchman, and ultimately proved too good-natured to be a villain, yet a bit too chaotic  and counter-culture to be a traditional hero, while also being too plucky and sweet to resemble most comic book anti-heroes.  Her background as a psychologist became more prominent as people realized that a comic book world actually kind of desperately needs some good psychologists around, and her wildcard status made her bounce off of other characters, both villains and heroes, in interesting ways few other characters could do.

It was fun and interesting and popular, so it stuck.  Harley, who was born in one of the most rigidly static versions of the Batman mythos, where villains stay villains and heroes stay heroes, broke the status quo and remade it.  Harley, who was originally defined by her failure and victimization, made a whole new role for herself, and found success despite it all.  The punching bag became so beloved that the rules of the universe bent for her, and what once was the sum of her character became just an added wrinkle of backstory to creating the trickster that comics fans love.

Harley went to college, got her dream career, promptly got her ass kicked by said career when it turned out to suck ass, and spent a decade or so going through hell before finally discovering who she really wanted to be, and then became that person to the love and support of all.  That’s why Harley Quinn is inspiring, and that’s why she’s my hero.

#Also she's very attractive

[away-ward]

Note: I think this is "The Will Post" people reference sometimes, but I'm not sure. Here and Here are the links to the original Anon messages.

This was the first time I'd received a message like this and I didn't know how to response. Eventually, it became the norm for people leave me ranty messages about this series and it's characters. I usually got a kick out of them because you guys are hilarious, and then I'd tried to answer seriously because I like discussion and discourse. So, I developed the method of answering that is seen on other posts. I just wanted to make clear why this one looks different. I wasn't trying to single them out or make an entire post about Will. Anyway.

On to the response!

Original response below, edited for grammar, spelling, and word choice. Some rephrasing, but essentially the same thoughts.

I think, first and foremost, it’s essential to get out of the way that to enjoy this series, you can’t look at any of the characters too closely. Because once you do, you’ll realize almost everybody here sucks in some way or another.  

That being said, let’s look at the characters way too closely.  

Anon, I organized your thoughts by character/relationships to make it easier to manage my thoughts and form a response. So, I'll take it individually instead of responding to each part directly as you wrote it. I don’t think I or anyone else can say anything that will change your mind, but as regards to how I approach the characters when writing them, these are my thoughts.

But thank you so much for reading my fics! The fact that people spend their time doing so is always such a big compliment, even if some of the things I wrote...didn't quite sit right with you.

Disclaimer: these are my thoughts and opinions and are in no way meant to be asserted as fact or canon. Thank you.

FYI, this is a long one, folks. Grab a drink before you start.

First up:   

Will and Alex  

You’re absolutely right that Will and Alex only knew each other for about five years when we got to Nightfall. I messed up when I wrote Reality and said seven years. I realized it about two to three weeks after posting it and never went back to fix it. Good catch.  

I see that you have a problem with Alex. That’s valid. I’m not entirely sure if it’s how I portray Alex and her relationship with Will or Alex from the source material that you have a bigger issue with. Still, I’ll try to explain my feelings about her beyond what I’ve said in other posts.   

Feel free to correct me if I get anything wrong because, honestly, I have disregarded most of what Alex has said and done. After all, it hardly ever matters to the plot. Like you, I have the viewpoint that Alex’s involvement in the story doesn’t affect anything and, more often than not, makes a scene worse. I can’t think of a single time when Alex did something one of the other characters couldn’t do.   

I think the timeline is that Will was arrested at 19 and released at 21/22. He would have met Alex soon after his release. It would be just a few months before the beginning of Corrupt. We first meet Alex through Michael. She comes off as confident and self-assured, in complete control of herself. She doesn’t hesitate to let Rika know she’s an escort when the opportunity arises. Her boldness gives off the feeling that she’s world-wise, with years of experience.   

The reality is that she’s the same age as Rika. Given this, she would have only been in this line of work for a few months to a year, if we consider her account of events to be accurate. It tracks that Alex would be reeling from losing her friends and scholarship. She didn’t just lose Aydin when her roommate betrayed her. Alex lost her entire support system, and her plans for the future. Maybe she did figure out how to land on her feet through sex work, but I don’t think she was completely content with it – at least not as much as she tries to appear to be. She always said it was temporary, not a forever job, and she planned on doing more once she graduated.   

Towards the beginning of their relationship, Will and Alex had a more casual approach to each other. While they genuinely enjoyed each other’s company, they weren’t close. But a year passes between Corrupt and Hideaway, and that is plenty of time to get to know someone and develop an intimate relationship. Their friendship deepens over time, but because of how the story is told with the reader only viewing this very narrow window of the character's lives during October every year, we don’t see much of that progress. We don’t know what significant moments these two have shared, what they’ve revealed to each other when it was four in the morning and no one else was around. I believe Will and Alex found solace in each other; peace they couldn’t find with anyone else available to them.  

We can see their progression over the years in small moments

In Corrupt, when Damon is being aggressive with Alex, Will laughs and leaves it alone. I think his feelings are that this is her job and she can handle herself. Damon is his friend. Will sides with Damon.

In Hideaway a year later, Will supports Alex in the shopping scene. His comment to Banks is pretty neutral but more positive than before.

Yet, in the third year of their friendship or relationship (whatever you want to call it), we see Will defending Alex against Damon.

Damon's petty words are nothing compared to the way Damon physically treated her just two years prior. Some might argue that Will is acting out of his anger towards Damon, and using Alex as a prop to do it. That's fair. Will isn't the most emotionally intelligent person at this point of the story.

I think it's a mixture of both. Will wants to hurt Damon by replacing him (with a girl nonetheless. The horror), but it's also that his relationship with Alex has changed. He cares for her more now than he did even a year ago. He won't tolerate Damon saying spiteful things to Alex.

In Kill Switch, when Damon is threatening war, Will is the one who brings up Alex. He sees value in her being at his side.

Anon, you asked how their friendship could be that deep if she didn’t know that Will was missing. I don’t have Conclave on me, so I could be wrong, but weren’t Will’s parents lying for him? First, he was actually globetrotting – posting pictures on social media from various locations. Then the lie was he was with some program to help in third-world countries? Either way, it’s entirely believable that it would take a while to figure out something wasn’t quite right with the story. Should they have figured it out earlier? Sure. It shouldn’t have taken his younger cousin to make his three closest friends aware that Will was missing.   

But in the Horsemen’s defense, they’re married with children and running businesses. And it’s not like they weren’t trying to reach him. 

At the end of Kill Switch, Damon talks about how they got him clean from drugs, but alcohol was a bigger issue. He also mentions that he's been leaving messages often, waiting for a response. Damon was mad that Will missed the birth of his son, and it's not like Damon wasn't trying to make Will aware that it was happening.

Damon tried. Will made the decision to leave without telling anyone and go to a location they wouldn't be able to find him, and then he arranged for his family to lie about his whereabouts. I think the boys have an excuse for not knowing something was up right away, and then for acting when they did.

The way Conclave focuses on other issues is not the character's fault; it's what the author wanted to focus on. But there's nothing to say that the characters didn't eventually get down to business and figure out what needed to be done to get to Will. I agree that that portion of events would have been a more interesting story and would have set us up beautifully for Nightfall, but I've digressed enough.

Getting back to Alex. I find that she tends to lean towards putting her pleasure above all else, unless the situation is dire, or she's been given a direct instruction by one of the other characters. She has moments where she takes things seriously, but for the most part she seems to flounce around with a childish air. And Will does most of the time as well, and maybe that’s why they gravitated towards each other. While Kai, Michael and the others are growing, Will is stuck and Alex is on a similar level. They leaned into each other, and this worked for a while. But then Will was ready to grow, and he knew he couldn't let them carry his weight any longer, Alex included. 

The bottom line, I don’t like Alex. I’ve never liked Alex. I was indifferent to her for a while, but Nightfall did her no favors in my eyes. In reviewing the series, I’ve come to dislike her even more. To use what you’ve said, Alex gives me the "ick." The way she naturally falls into coercing and manipulating people doesn't rub me the right away and never has. I'm not saying she's ever forced someone to do something they didn't want to do, but possibly things they'd rather not?

For instance, in Hideaway, we have this thought from Banks about how Alex coerced her into drinking during the sleepover scene. Banks, while wanting to enjoy a "normal" life, also felt it was important to keep her wits about her when around Kai. So Alex "coercing" her to drink feels like she ignores what people want so that she can have a good time.

Again, in Hideaway, Alex as pulled Lev, I believe, away from his post so that she can try to sleep with him. Same as before, Lev wasn't opposed to the idea of sleeping with Alex, but he had a job to do, and that moment was not the time. Alex ignored that because wanted what she wanted. And like a child, she wanted it there and then.

(I mean, I guess the argument could be made that Alex was the only one who could have helped Banks tap into her femininity because Banks hated everyone else, especially Rika but still. I don’t like the way she behaves in general.)

But when I’m writing about these characters – especially when the setting for a fic is in the canon universe – I don't want to ignore PD intended for their relationship. They wanted Will and Alex to have a deep connection different from what he shared with the others. I’m not convinced it was ever meant to be romantic, but it was meant to be deep.  

I think you’re also correct in saying that Will used his friendship with Alex to soothe and distract from the pain of what happened between him and Damon.   

Which brings us to our next part.   

Will and Damon  

I think it’s a bit harsh to say Damon was always a tool to distract Will from reality. I believe Will quite liked his reality in high school. He was privileged, wealthy, attractive, athletic, popular, and had a good home life. The only thing missing was the girl of his dreams, and he was delusional enough to think it was only a matter of time before she came to him. There was nothing to distract from. Will enjoyed every second of it. He loved the drinking, the partying, the sex, and the camaraderie between his friends and teammates. He lived for it. 

He never wanted to leave it.  

And I think Damon loved Will. He wanted to keep Will “safe” inside this little bubble where nothing could hurt him or take away his joy. Damon wanted Will to be happy, as long as Will's happiness didn't take him away.   

The second Will started talking about Emory like she was different from the other girls was the second Damon began to hate her. Because Emory had the ability no one else had: she could either take Will away from him or destroy Will. And Will would let it happen because he’s full of love, and he's soft.   

And that’s precisely what happened when Emory and Will did finally connect, as Damon knew it would.   

Damon did know Will. He knew what he liked, what he wanted, how he thought. He probably understood Will better than Will understood himself. Which is how he knew exactly what to say and what do to hurt Will.    

That's why Damon was sick at the thought of losing him, completely out of his mind with grief at what he’d done. That's why when Damon thought of leaving, all he wanted was to take was Winter, Banks, and Will.

I’d dare to say it’s Michael and Kai that Damon doesn’t care about all that much. Not that he hates them. He’d kill for them. Walk through fire for them. Go to prison rather than rat them out for a lighter sentence. But there’s something in Will that Damon wanted to protect and keep.  

The problem was Damon's a little control freak in the worst way. This means he goes way too far in doing anything. His whole redemption arc is learning how not to do that with literally everything and still be okay. The little weirdo.  

I’m not a Damon apologist, if there is such a thing. Damon’s trauma and redemption arc doesn’t do anything for me. I also don’t think it's any excuse for his actions before then. I won’t deny that he does add to the series for me. Most of the time, if Damon was there, I was paying attention, whether I liked him or not.   

I’ve said it elsewhere, but I would have loved for his redemption arc to be the last part of the series because it makes more sense as a conclusion. To read Nightfall, not knowing if he was going to be a real villain by the end of the series, would have made his scenes with Emory and the other characters all the more chilling,  

But the story is what it is, and again, I don't want to ignore what PD was trying to do with Damon and Will, so when I write about the two of them, where one is, the other follows.   

On a side note, PD did an excellent job of introducing the potential bond that Damon and Emory would eventually share. They can relate to each other on multiple levels: 

The abuse. 

The love for Will. 

Their artistic visions. 

The way they covered for each other when they didn’t need to. 

Their bond would be much stronger than Em’s with Alex, and I wish the fandom focused on it more.   

Besides

Moving on.

Will   

You’re right when you say that Will was doing all those things before he went to prison, before he almost died, and before Damon left him.   

The main difference is that he was doing it for fun before all of that. He didn’t need to do it; his life didn’t revolve around it. It wasn’t an everyday occurrence but more of an occasional thing. Once Emory broke his heart and his friends left for college, we see him start to spiral just a little   

And that was after only losing Emory.

He needed his life at TBP to stabilize, and once his support system was gone, he couldn’t cope. And I like to focus on that aspect of Will. He was weak and soft before because he’d never faced a real challenge. His privilege, and later Damon, prevented him from experiencing any difficulties, doing him a disservice. When change was on the horizon, Will didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know who he was outside of being a rich teenager. And had things gone along without interruption, he probably would have continued down that path, either never growing up completely or eventually OD’ing.   

Going to prison might have saved his life, and if Damon hadn’t betrayed him, he might have been okay.  

Except Damon did betray him. So, he started spiraling again, this time worse than before, because now he didn’t even have his friends to fall back on. He couldn't go a day without getting drunk or high. As Banks said, he was only sober long enough to get to his fridge. Nothing was good. His two remaining friends didn’t like how he was acting, and they were moving on without him. The girl of his dreams didn’t care that he went to prison for her – she didn’t even call! (Note: I'm not made about this; it's just Will's feelings on the subject). Rika wasn’t the revenge he was hoping for, and now he didn’t even have that to look forward to. All he really had going for him was the approval he received from Alex.   

I haven’t considered how much Alex had a hand in things. I want to think that since they were new friends, she took an “it’s not my place to tell him what to do; his friends will step in if it goes too far” position. At the same time, I can see her encouraging him because it’s what she wanted to do to cover her own pain and fear. Again, because we don’t get moments outside these high-intensity situations, we don’t really know how their friendship works.   

But even so, a person’s early twenties are turbulent, to begin with, and Will had to learn how to cope with losing Emory, going to prison, nearly dying, and losing his best friend all within a matter of a few years.   

The fandom talks a lot about Damon’s trauma, but we ignore entirely that between the four boys, Will comes in a close second for the most traumatized. All his trauma is fresh, and in a short period of time.    

He was an active participant in his own downward spiral. He hid his pain behind a mask of smiles and good times, which carried him through until it didn't work anymore. Furthermore, he knew when Damon came back, he had no more excuses. The thing about relationships is that they require good communication and mutual respect, neither of which Will had. Mainly because he didn’t respect himself. With his friends' help, Will kicked his drug habit. It’s possible that with the clarity that came with it, he saw himself dragging his friends down. His friends were starting families and business, but he was still stuck. Kai said it best when he said Will never did anything on his own, and that was true until Will decided to go to Blackchurch.

So, they would have no reason to suspect that Will was doing anything other than what he said – traveling the world and figuring things out. But Michael, Kai, and Damon hadn't abandoned him. They were trying. Will was the one who left them hanging.   

To expect his friends to respect and trust him, and to develop some respect and trust in himself, he had to grow up. But his friends cut him a lot of slack. They let his stupid mistakes go unchecked and unpunished because it’s Will. I think in their eyes, he never meant any harm, or he was young and dumb, or he was hurting. They gave him a million excuses because they loved him. They weren’t strong enough to be the firm hand and give him the tough love he needed. Before anyone else, Will realized what he needed, and knew he couldn’t get it from his friends. Beyond that, he was too embarrassed to ask for it, to be seen as weak to them. Because everyone looked at their group and saw Will as the weak link, Will began to see himself that way too. And he was right. 

The Will before Emory and the Will after prison are two different people. I guess it’s up to the reader to decide who is more authentic. I choose to see Will before Emory as the real him, Will after prison, a mask he wears to keep from being hurt again, and Will during Blackchurch as someone stripped down to their barest form. He’s lost before Emory shows up, not knowing whether he can return to the real world and start again. It takes some prompting from Emory to get him moving and feeling like himself. And after Blackchurch, we see the Will from high school begin to resurface. 

I’m not sure where I’m going with this thought. But I think all the things you’ve complained about regarding Will are why he went to Blackchurch. He wanted to quit the drugs and drinking permanently, so he could grow up and be the person his friends needed. Then they wouldn’t have to pull his weight. I hated Will through most of the series because of his actions, the way he treated Banks and Winter specifically. Once I realized he was hiding all that heartbreak and pain, his motives and actions became more obvious. Again, pain is not an excuse to hurt anyone, but we are reading about imperfect characters who make mistakes and rarely, if ever, take the high road.

I’d say that part of the story is that when others hit low, they go lower. They’ll go to hell if it means getting one over on anyone who's pissed them off.  

They’re petty.  

All of them.  

The Horsemen   

  

I love friendships. Especially strong ones. Ones that don’t make sense on the surface. The kind of friendships where you know if it weren’t for unconditional love and loyalty, these people would probably stab each other multiple times, but instead they'll stab anyone who hurts them.

The problem with the Horsemen is that because they are supposed to focus on the four romances, we don’t get much of their friendship. PD gives us small glimpses here and there, and then says, “Just trust me, they’re brothers.” However, that leaves a lot to be desired when the entire plot hinges on them practically dying for each other every other year. 

But I’ve read other books about solid relationships. I’ve watched shows with the same dynamic. The idea of a unique foursome with an unparalleled bond isn’t unheard of by any means. It's an old trope. So, I can fill in the gaps.  It’s sometimes irritating to have to do that when I shouldn't have to. For instance, I have no idea what would happen if I put Emory and Michael alone in a room together. None. They stand in separate corners and don’t talk to each other, and this is because their relationship receives zero development. If you’re going to tell me that this group is a close, chosen family, willing to die for each other; that they loves and need each other, and that each member of the family (everyone from Michael their leader, to Emory the most recent addition) provides something critical to make the family work, then I need to see it. I need to feel it. But if I can't determine how two people in this family would interact, then something is missing.

But I have the ability to add what isn’t there, and to pull inspiration from other sources to fill-in what PD clearly intended. (If there's one thing about Devil's Night, is the potential for Head Canons galore!)

As you said, Anon, there were many times when their problems could have been solved by communication. However, I don’t think communication was a skill any of these men developed. Especially when admitting they were wrong, or talking about their feelings, or showing any sign of weakness in front of each other. Pride is a cruel master; it will trip you up if you give it a chance. But I don’t think their faults were a lack of love for each other.   

Michael was overly cautious where Will was reckless, which often caused disagreements. Michael acknowledged this in Corrupt. I still think there is plenty of evidence that they cared about each other and knew each other on a deeper level. I get why you’d say they didn’t care about Will, but if we only look at the one time Will jagged left when he usually goes right, it’s understandable that they’d be a little slow to react.

I mean, think about them being on a team in high school. If Will always preferred to shoot from a certain position, then Michael and the others would work to put him in that position. They’d get the ball to him. But what if he suddenly decided to be on the other side of the court? Then they’d be throwing the ball to an empty spot, because that’s where Will always was before. Just because Will did something he’s never done before doesn’t mean they don’t know him.

They didn’t expect Will to pull the Blackchurch maneuver for the same reasons I mentioned above:  

Will never did anything on his own.  

He went traveling first, either because he needed to or with the purpose of disappearing. After that, he quickly switched gears without telling anyone.

He had his family lie about it. It was probably his grandfather dispensing information, and who's going to call Senator A.P. Grayson out? 

As I said before, if you look at these characters too closely, you’ll find that nothing is redeeming about any of them. But they sure are fun.

I think?  

I don’t know anymore. Are we having fun? ARE YOU???  

Emory... versus the world?

Emory learned to think on her feet through trial and error with Martin. Unlike Will, she had to learn to survive, which made her think things through before making a decision. Of course, it made her too wary and overly defensive at times. One wrong step and she could have lost her life to Martin losing control.  

Emory had a plan to survive, to eventually escape. It didn't include falling for a pretty boy with pretty words. She knew, as good as it sounded and as much as she wanted it, any plan that Will came up with to save her and her grandma could have gone sideways real fast. She made the decision that had the best chance of succeeding, because it relied on her alone. She made the decision out of fear, but I don’t think that fear was misplaced. Hating her because she was forced to make that decision is dumb.

I will say she gave Will mixed signals. But...she was young and emotional and he was the one good thing in her life outside her grandma. I can't blame her for being human and needing him, but it's not wrong to hold her accountable for that.

Just like it's not wrong to hold Will accountable to the fact that he didn't listen for the three years she tried to warn him to stay away. Just like it's not wrong to hold him accountable for pushing her when she had previously said no.

I believe I’ve said this elsewhere, but I don’t know where. I don’t understand Alex and Emory’s relationship. I don’t get why Alex was so friendly with Emory when they first met and then judged her for not being around when Will was hurt. Either she understood Emory’s struggle, or she didn’t. Either way, one of these scenarios doesn’t make sense.  

As for Aydin - I don’t care about Aydin. I hated him. I still hate him. I hate that he’s barely three years older than Emory, kidnapped her, messed with her mind, forcibly kissed her to make Will and Alex jealous (which is still considered a form of sexual assault, by the way), and she still wanted to consider him a mentor. I don’t care that he was more valuable as an ally. I thought their bond was too strong after a week to be taken that seriously.

I mean, Anon, you’re criticizing the bond between the Horsemen even though they’ve known each other for over a decade, but Emory's known Aydin for all of five days, and that’s all it takes for her to need him and understand him? Because she realized he’d be better as their ally against the families? Because she's smart? I call BS on this entire thing. This was one of the weakest storylines in my opinion and I mentioned on another post how I think it could have been helped just a little bit if Aydin had been older. It wouldn't have fixed it! But I could have tolerated it more. I stand by that.

I still don’t know what Aydin brought to the table that Micah or Rory didn’t. He's there because of only because of Alex, so to favor him while despising her also doesn't make sense to me. They're literally the same.

Anon, are you talking about how other fans treat Emory like she’s the worst character because she hurt Will? When literally all of these characters have hurt each other—all of them. The only characters we don't see taking actions that hurt another are Emory toward any other character that isn't Will, and that's because there isn't time. The series ended before we could see Emory interact with any of them, and all their major problems were over. There was no opportunity, but that doesn't mean they wouldn't have if the series had been ordered differently. So, if people are hating on Emory for hurting Will alone, then they're probably biased toward one of the other girls (probably Alex). Not saying that readers can't dislike Emory for other reasons. She won't be for everyone and I'm sure there are valid reasons to dislike her. For me, she was the one I could relate to the most out of the main four, and I really felt for her struggles. She had the most realistic character arc, and her finding her way back to Will made the most sense over Rika, Banks, Winter, and even Alex with Aydin.

Anyway, those are my thoughts on everything you said. Somewhere along the way, I lost track of what I was actually attempting to say. Regarding my way of writing specifically, since I'm filling in voids and holes that I felt were too unanswered, I tried to remain as close to canon as I could. Not necessarily what was there, but what was intended. I don't always keep them in character as PD wrote them, but I try to get the same vibe.   

This means, even though I don’t like Alex, I know Will likes her. So when I write about Will, she’s sometimes there too, and it's sometimes positive.

***

Anyone is welcomed to share their thoughts...if you're brain's not numb by now. If it is, I understand. Thanks for making it this far and listening to my rambling.

-KO

#devil's night series stuff #asked and answered #asked and answered 11 #the horsemen of devil's night #the women of devil's night #devil's night series #debated putting DN tag in because this is a lot #let me know if I should remove it #I don't write essays #I just wanna write pretty words and characters smooching

[nekoastral]

How NOT to start a meeting: Magnus edition.

If you were to ask Ultra Magnus about how he feels about his job, he would reply with a typical “As leader, I do not have words to describe my motivation to continue bringing peace to our fellow bots.” Once he was alone, however, the weight of the title can be too heavy to bare.

He misses the days where he didn’t have to worry about every little thing in terms of ranks, regulations, or the typical propaganda. He knows there’s corruption even among the Autobot ranks, but some were so minor that he often left it to the bot’s next chain of command to handle it. If he tried going down there himself, it would cause a massive panic since Ultra Magnus was the leader. If he has to come down and it’s not for a interview or a meeting, you screwed up big time.

It takes a lot of restraint on his part and a firm glare from his favorite judge to keep him going down without a proper explanation. Nowadays he just stays at the headquarters. This job can get stressful and take a toll on his processor.

There was three reasons he kept going. And those three were at daycare. The three tiny tornadoes known as his sparklings. He would like to be at home more and be with them and his wonderful conjunx Alpha Trion. But they both have jobs and they cannot always be there. They were fortunate the staff decided to open a daycare for the councils sparklings to stay while their creators worked. Alpha Trion updates on the little ones’ status via a personal commlink and sometimes Ultra Magnus could hear their youngest Elita babble on the other line. He only hopes their oldest sparkling Sentinel wasn’t causing trouble. He didn’t have to worry too much for their youngest little mech Optimus since he tries to be a good boy

He was thinking of stopping by the daycare to see his little ones. Their smiles always brightened his day. But reality came knocking when a incoming transmission flashed on his console.

Oh right…

He had a video meeting with the council today. So much for his little trip downstairs. Ultra Magnus presses a button to open the transmission. There was Highbrow from Intelligence, Perceptor from the Ministry of Science, Botanica, Yoketron of the Ninja Corp, and last but most certainly not least, Alpha Trion. The judge of his spark. He won’t dare say that in front of the council members. He caught Alpha Trions optic when he gave him a scolding look at him. He didn’t have lunch yet. HOW DID HE KNOW?!

“Good afternoon, everyone. Before we begin today’s meeting, I must step out for refuel. One moment.”

The towering mech hoisted himself from his chair, walked away from the camera, and toward the door. Highbrow rolled his optics before taking a swig of a rather large energon coffee. He must’ve had a rough recharge cycle with his own bitlet if he ordered that much coffee. Yoketron hummed quietly to himself before taking a sip of his own drink: energon tea. Quite bitter. Alpha trion shook his helm at his conjuxs antics. He was about to take a bite out of a macaron when he heard the door open from Ultra magnus’ side. Maybe he came back already-

Nope. It was a little darkish blue sparkling with a rather big chin. He waddled in with a inflatable hammer in his left servo. He scanned the room to see no one was inside before seeing there was a transmission going on. He immediately made his way toward the desk and struggled to climb up the chair. Alpha trion began to choke on his snack once he realized it was his eldest son!!!!

“It certainly looks like it.” Yoketron added.

Sentinel managed to get up onto the chair and quickly positioned his squeaky hammer forward. He wanted to be just like his sire. A little too badly. He would never leave Ultra Magnus’ side once he was in his sights. Alas, this isn’t the case at the moment. Sentinel looked up at the monitors before scrunching up the most serious face a sparkling could muster. He tried to look cool. But he wasn’t. He was all cute. Botanica giggled at the attempt while Perceptor shook his head in disapproval. He would say something if it wasn’t for the death glare of the elder council member. No one was going to diss his beloved sparkling. Not right now. Not ever. Or at least not while Alpha Trion is around.

To the poor bot’s horror, Sentinel wasn’t the only sparkling who escaped. Two more sparklings was spotted at the door. One was a light blue mech with a red onesie on. He was holding a rather small femme in his arms. She was yellow with a light yellow onesie. She had a purple pacifier in her mouth. It was his second oldest son and only daughter!

“Optimus-?!” Alpha Trion coughed. There was crumbs of macaron stuck in his throat.

The young bot had heard his carrier’s voice and immediately smiled bright. He made his way over toward the chair where his big brother sat. Elita blinked as her brother helped her onto the chair. Sentinel moved her about a arms length away. She could still be shown on the camera. Then little Optimus tried to climb up to join his siblings. Sentinel frowned at his little brother and whacked him with his squeak hammer.

“Nwo!”

They could see Optimus lose his grip and fall rather hard on the floor. There was a loud THUD. He must’ve hit his head on the leg of the chair.

“WAAAAAAAH!!!!” Optimus wailed on the floor.

“My bitlet!!!!”

Mama Alpha was now considering running to the office. Yoketron was wheezing, Highbrow had spit out his drink, Botanica was concerned of the hurt bitty, and Perceptor was….just sitting there.

“Can we go on with this meeting.” The emotionless bot said.

“MY SPARKLING IS HURT AND YOU WANT TO START THE MEETING?!!” Alpha trion screeched.

Ultra magnus had just returned with a cup of hot energon when he heard his beloved yell. Just what was going on??? When he saw two of his bitlets in his chair and one on the floor crying, he dropped his cup and quickly ran to them. He scooped up Optimus who wanted a hug. Elita just now noticed her carrier had her favorite snack with him and glared at him. He wasn’t sharing!!! Ultra magnus picked her up next and she didn’t break eye contact. The poor bot sighed. There goes his private snack time.

“I relieve you of your post, young one.” Their sire said to Sentinel.

“NWO!”

Oh boy. Not even grown and he’s already defying him. Sentinel kept saying “no” as he was hoisted up by his sire. At this point, the meeting would have to be postponed until he brought them back to the daycare.

That wasn’t the plan. Whenever he got close to the door, all three sparklings’ screamed their helms off. Ultra Magnus would step back and they would cease. Step closer. More screaming. Step back. It stopped.

Looks like three more bots joined the meeting

——-————-—————————————————

PLEASE FOLLOW ASK-THE-SPARKLING-SIBLINGS-AU! They are the inspiration for this fic!

#transformers animated #tfa sparklings #tfa ultra magnus #tfa optimus prime #tfa sentinel prime #tfa elita one #sparkling siblings au

[localcuttlefish]

What are the interactions between your FAITHoc and John Ward like?

Simply put?

Chaotic.

John and Isaac are both off the rails a little bit, but in significantly different ways that don’t really overlap as much as you’d expect. Deep down, Isaac still believes he could be a prophet because of how Gary’s cult affected him mentally and completely distorted his synesthesia into something horrible. On the other hand, John is like. Literally a beacon for all things demonic because of how desperately he’s trying to uproot Gary’s cult. All this to say, Isaac is corrupted enough in the head to secretly embrace the demonic spirit, whereas John resents it all to the point of resenting himself for failing to banish the demonic spirit now haunting him. 

But, that being said, they both have a strangely similar status quo: Recovering from a traumatic institutionalization, marked by the same cult that affected them as children, deeply tied to the occult edge of religion, and lastly, struggling on the cusp of what is reality and what are figments of their imaginations.

I’d like to consider them as having a frigid father-son relationship during the initial part of them knowing one another. Not negative or neglectful, but just unsure of what to do about each other. I can get into how they would meet in Chapter 3, but that’s a whole can of worms. The long story short is that neither John nor Isaac want to acknowledge how similar they are to one another, and they’re just stuck in a limbo of being awkward acquaintances with neither one of them wanting to be the one to actually say anything about it.

Where this changes would probably be while John is investigating the Daycare Center. There would be an opportunity to find hidden drawings, many of which drawn by Isaac, and including pieces of scribbled sheet music as well. Being that Isaac was groomed to be a prophetic vessel, many of the drawings include vague, cryptic, and symbolic renditions of characters and scenes from previous chapters. There would be opportunities for John to ask Isaac real questions about who he is, and opportunities for Isaac to ask those same questions to John while they both navigate the now clearly corrupted Daycare Center. Isaac knows these hallways, and John knows the cult that infested them. Nothing like the site of a traumatic event to kick start a bond.

Of course I have to ruin it all by saying that John has the opportunity to kill Isaac in a mad haze after Gary drugs him. Something something, parallel to the Judeo-Christian story of The Binding of Isaac, et cetera. Buuuuut we don’t have to think about that right now!

If they both survive the night, they’re far more comfortable around one another, and more willing to defend each other. Sure they don’t totally see eye to eye, and they still think of each other as weird, but now it’s more of in the same way an older generation would find a younger generation odd, and vice versa.

Isaac offers to get John into concerts for free. John sometimes helps drives the band’s equipment to and from venues. Among The Bloodied eventually comes to get used to John as a generally common presence. John lets the band crash at his house if they need a safe place to stay. Congrats old man, you’ve accidentally adopted five punks because you saved the life of one of them.

#faith airdorf #faith game #faith the unholy trinity #john ward #local cuttlefish is drawing again #faith oc #beelzefest #faith chapter 3 #oc: Isaac Chandler