#and its even better when people point them out

[notjustjavierpena]

(Mid)summer Loving

Main Masterpost

A/N: Yes, based on that new picture. I’ll call this my first contribution to getting railed in a sundress season. 

Summary: The last two years of being with Joel has transformed the both of you. Mostly him. For the better. 

Pairing: Joel Miller x Reader/You (No y/n)

Tags: +18 smut, joel’s kink is being loved and appreciated, long haired joel!!!, healthy joel, established relationship, piv sex, size kink (it's big), rough, loud and desperate sex, dirty talk, praise kink, creampie, railed in a sundress season contribution, they are so soft for each other, bit of aftercare. 

Word count: 3.1k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/55988128

(Mid)summer Loving

It happens when you hear him through the crowd of people in the community center. Your head whips in his direction, your eyes settling on the crinkles around his eyes as he laughs at something Tommy has said to him. He swirls the whiskey in his glass and downs it with slight difficulty because he is still smiling. 

You are only a table away, sitting with some of the women from your patrol group who gossip about potential suitors in the room, especially amongst the newcomers. However, you don’t really pay attention to what is being said because the love of your life sits across from you. It makes you able to admire him, struck by his transformation since he first came to Jackson and barged into your life. Your heart is so soft for him. 

The most obvious change is the hair. It’s gotten longer, the ends curling slightly in a way that softens his otherwise rugged appearance of big leather boots and tripled layered clothing. He used to have it shorter, and while you loved its fluffy bounce on top of his head whenever it was caught in the wind, it doesn’t compare to how it now frames his face by just brushing his collar in the back. It may be a subtle shift to others but to you, it means that Joel is more at ease with who and where he is, and that he has allowed change to find him.

His beard, too, has filled out. It is now thick and even, not at all the patchy scruff that you noticed the first time he talked to you by the rag pile in the trading center. He’d searched for fabric that could be used for shining the creations that he makes when seeking respite in wood carving. You had noticed the patch that resembled a heart first, your own heart skipping a beat as you forced yourself not to point it out to him immediately. That patch is gone but you’ll spend no time mourning it when the result is Joel looking healthier than ever, almost as if his body has responded to happiness with you by filling in all the gaps that heartbreak had left. 

Then there’s his face. It glows, despite his age, with a newfound youth, the signs of weariness and stress of years lived too hard it once bore completely wiped away. When you first met him, your heart had ached for his tired eyes, bags underneath them revealing all the sleepless nights and the burdens that he carried. The way they shine when they look into yours has your heart at ease and you can only hope he feels the same. 

Around you, the women keep chatting, talking animatedly and giggling while you sip your drink and stay silent until they are nothing but a low hum in the background. 

You only snap out of it when your name is said out loud. You furrow your brow, “Sorry?”

“I said that you don’t have to worry about things like this,” one of them chirps happily, “You already got your man.”

“Guess not, guess you’re right,” you chuckle softly and start to feel shy. You have never been one to be glaringly obvious in your happiness to the point where you display it at every opportunity but then Joel came along. He may worry about the gap of years between the two of you, often feeling undeserving of your love and attention but you only wish that he could see himself from your point of view. To you, he is everything. He doesn’t see how his presence calms and grounds you, how he makes you feel safe even in a world beyond repair. In his embrace, you feel even the biggest of anxieties and the worst of your challenges shrink into nothing. All he has to do is put his gentle, calloused hands on you and talk to you in that familiar southern drawl, and then your mind quiets down instantaneously.

However, if not his hands or his voice, his loving gaze also seems to do the trick. He suddenly turns his head in your direction, catching your eyes, and the sound of the lively conversations from each table mutes to nothing. He smiles at you and mouths a ‘you okay?’ at you. 

‘Save me’ you decide to mouth back at him, making a face to see him smile with amusement. He slaps his brother’s back before putting both hands on the table to push himself to stand. You didn’t think he would take it seriously but just the sight of seeing him approach you makes you want to go home with him. 

“Ready to go, honey?” He asks when he reaches your table, placing a hand on your shoulder and gently squeezing. 

“Hi Joel,” your friend group says in unison.

“Ladies,” he nods and they giggle like schoolgirls, “Gotta get this one home.”

You shake your head with a little smile at their reaction. Then you swing your legs over the side of the chair. Joel helps you up and a moment after having said your goodnights, you leave together like you’ve done for a few years now. 

Outside, people are scattered across the town square where a huge bonfire has been erected in the spot where the Christmas tree usually stands. Today is the annual midsummer celebration. Jackson is decorated with bundles of flowers that have replaced the painted eggs that tell people it is Easter. You smile at the memory of Ellie having been forced to join in on getting people in the spirit of Easter which had resulted in you trying to guess which of the eggs hanging from the sky had been crafted by the angry teen. You had decided that it might’ve been the one painted completely black.

Now, bright colors from nature hover above your head instead as you make your way down the main road. Joel holds your hand all the way home. He strokes the back of it with his thumb, feeling no pressure to fill up the silence between you as it has reached a point where it is comfortable. 

When you reach your shared house, Joel stops you by the front door instead of opening it for you in the gentlemanly way he always does. He stands in front of you, the porch light softening his features as he gazes at you.

“You seemed a bit distracted with your friends tonight,” he notes, “Is everythin’ alright?” 

“Just thinking about how lucky I am,” you answer with a smile, your voice sincere, “To have you.”

“I’m the lucky one, baby,” Joel huffs out a little laugh of disbelief, trying to brush off how flattered he always feels each time you say things like this. He gathers your hand in both of his, lifting it to kiss the back of it a few times, “Best fuckin’ thing that ever happened after the world ended.” 

“Don’t let Ellie hear that,” you tease gently. In your chest, your heart hammers against your ribs from being loved by him. 

“I’d never dream of it,” he steps closer with his eyes burning to get closer to you. You see them darken slightly as desire fills them and your heart jumps into your throat at the realization of what he wants. 

You. 

He wants you. 

That’s the one thing that has also changed since you met him; he has become much more untameable when he has you around. Who knew that his stamina was so impressive? Who knew that Joel Miller getting a confession of love - whether it consisted of the actual words or simply was said in your actions - would have him dragging you to somewhere private as soon as possible? 

“I love you, Joel Miller,” you say dreamily, pulling the trigger, “To the day that I die.”

And then suddenly Joel rips the door open so roughly that you’re afraid it might come off its hinges, pulls you inside along with him and slams it shut behind the both of you afterward. He locks it without hesitation, not about to be interrupted by any of your neighbors even if it’s most likely that everyone is out and about the town to be social. 

You are pressed up against the door next, his broad hands resting on your hips as he holds you against it. He bunches up the skirt of your sundress, groping your sides on top of the fabric, and you sling an arm around his back. Your other arm reaches up so you can cup the back of his head, your fingers sliding into the hair there. He has the perfect length for pulling these days - you should know - but you’ll wait for the right moment. 

His lips nearly bruise yours with how hard he kisses you, beard scratching your skin as he practically eats at your mouth to the point where your head swims and your belly swirls with hours of suppressed desire. You need him now, already soaked through your underwear and ready for him to be inside of you.

“Fuck me,” you whine against his lips, heart beating rapidly in your chest. So much that your breathing is already uneven, “Please, Joel, please.”

“S’alright, baby, I know whatcha need,” he rasps as his lips messily start descending on your chin, all the way across your jaw until his mouth attaches to your throat. You let your head bump against the door with a breathy moan, giving him access to bruise your neck too. He creates a purple mark that you will try to hide tomorrow during patrol to avoid interrogation on how Joel Miller is in bed. Only you can know. 

Your skirt falls down the slight amount it has been pulled up when Joel goes to unbuckle his leather belt. The noise of the metal sends a shiver through you, anticipation rising to your cheeks by heating them up underneath no touch. You look down to see the belt hanging open, him shoving the denim down around his thighs afterward and following up with his briefs too. 

The sight of his cock makes your mouth water. He is fully hard already, standing into the air at full attention and threatening to smear your pretty dress with his precome by poking into your belly if he dares get closer. You moan pathetically and he shushes you gently. 

“I know, sweetheart, I know,” he soothes you like he would a child that has scraped their knee. He curls his fingers in the fabric of your dress once more before hiking it up along your thighs until he can stuff the bottom of the skirt into the top of your dress, effectively holding it up so it doesn’t fall down over your soaked panties again. 

You grab at the sides of your underwear to shimmy out of them but Joel doesn’t exercise enough patience to wait for you to step out of them, so he hooks his fingers into the front. He finds your eyes when he feels how wet the cotton fabric is, doesn’t directly say anything about it but just shows you how full-blown his pupils are at the realization. Without warning, he yanks your panties to the side. 

Satisfied with his work, he makes you gasp as he bends his knees to reach down and splay his strong hands on the back of your thighs. He lifts you off the ground and wraps you around him, pressing his knee into the door to hold you up while guiding his throbbing cock into you. You moan desperately at the initial sting, brows furrowing with slight pain as he sheaths himself inside of you to the hilt. 

“Oh my God,” you whimper, letting his name fall from your lips in a helpless chant as he pulses from how your walls choke him as you strain to take him like you always do in the beginning. He might just split you open right here in the hallway when he starts fucking you. 

“Shh, you can take it,” he whispers with the most brutally gentle peck on your zipped lips, “It’s okay. She knows it’s big, baby, but she can take it. I always fuck ya real good, don’t I?” 

You nod helplessly, and fuck you, he does. It’s fast and hard and dirty. The poor wooden door rattles alongside the jingle of his belt buckle with each slam of his hips, the doorknob painfully gnawing into your lower back, and you fear the fabric of your underwear will snap from the strain that is put on it as it sits to the side. Sometimes you think you might even cut a hole in some of your pairs with how often Joel, still two years later, rushes to get his cock into you. There’s something oddly satisfying and offensive about just being able to bend over and let him see that all he has to do is push in. 

“That’s it, look at me, baby, such a good girl f’me,” he praises to get you back to him, not here to lose your attention to the way his cock feels inside of your tight heat. Your eyes settle on him again, your mouth hanging open to elicit pathetic gasps each time he knocks the wind out of you by driving his hips up into you and effectively pounding your g-spot. His face is so close to you; you can feel his breath and share it with him, can study every little imperfection in the form of tiny scars and dark lines that you hadn’t been able to see earlier from your seat a few tables over. 

“Joel,” you pant, digging your heels into the small of his back, clinging on desperately and angling your hips as he has his way with you. The slight adjustment has him going deeper, touching something inside of you that ignites the first sparks of an orgasm. Your nails claw, dig and scratch at his back in ways that would have been enough to draw blood if he wasn’t wearing a shirt, “Fuck, baby! Don’t— ngh, don’t stop.”

“You feel so good,” he replies with a groan, most likely powering through the exhaustion and strain on his body to make you feel even better. He is everywhere on you, his hands on your thighs, gripping and squeezing. He is everywhere in you too, his cock twitching inside of you each time you cry his name.

“I’m—“ you sob.

“Let go, baby, I can feel ya,” he growls when you dance around the edge of your orgasm because your fingers on both hands tangle into his beautifully chocolate hair, yanking harshly as impending pleasure knocks the breath out of your lungs. Your skin burns, your whole system halts and goes into overdrive at the same time until all you can do is shout silently at the ceiling. Your walls clench in mind-altering ecstasy then and your quietness is over, replaced by a relieved whine as you come on his dick. It is intense from how fast you’ve gotten there since he entered you, your body writhing as it is held against the wall. He fucks you through it, has you wailing as he chases his own high. 

You cradle his head during his last few thrusts, feeling his damp breath against your shoulder as he buries himself inside of your spent cunt and comes hard. It feels so good when he groans as he fills you up, the sound vibrating through his entire body. You whimper at the ceiling with the way he pulses deliciously with each breathy moan until he has no more to give you. 

He leans all his weight into you as he comes down again, holding you in place with his chest against yours to make sure that you won’t fall down and drag him with you. He gives you a moment and places a string of lazy kisses on your lips until he slips out of you with a soft sound. 

Carefully, he places you back down on the floor and eyes you as he does it to be certain you won’t collapse. He moves off of you when it feels safe to do so. 

“I say it back?” He asks as he leans against the door with you. Automatically, you tilt your head towards him. He glances at you out of the corner of his eye, turning his head a second later to fully look at your disheveled state. You have a hand on your chest to calm your breathing but it still matches your fluttering heartbeat. He still aches between your legs.

You look back at him, awaiting his words with short breaths, “Say what?”

He makes a gesture to the both of you, “Before what we just did happened. I tell ya that I love you too?” 

“No?” Your reply is almost a question. 

“Shame on me,” he smiles and turns his whole body so that he faces you completely, shoulder against the door. His eyes soften as he reaches out, his hand gently cupping your cheek. The warmth of his touch is nice when the sweat has started to cool you down, and you lean into his palm, feeling the roughness of his calloused skin against you. 

“Shame on me, indeed,” he murmurs, eyes on your slightly open mouth, “Because I do love ya. More than I can understand sometimes.”

“You don’t have to say it back every time, Joel. I know,” you try to brush off how much your body and mind buzz at the same time. 

He shakes his head slightly, his eyes never leaving your mouth, “No, I do needa say it. You deserve to hear it. I love you.”

You nod and reach to hold his wrist when he leans in to press a gentle kiss to your open mouth. Just a few minutes ago, the now-careful hands had been rough on your skin and his words had dripped with sin.

“Now, how ‘bout I take you to bed?” He asks and pulls your dress’ skirt out of the top, watching it tumble down and fall back into place around your knees. 

While you wait for him to get dressed again, fatigue seems to finally have caught up with you because you feel like you might collapse in your hallway at that suggestion. When it’s safe to do so, you let yourself fall into his arms and he catches you without hesitation. 

He scoops you up, goes upstairs with you in his arms, undresses you, washes you down with a warm flannel, and gets you into bed. You curl up on your side and after a while, after hearing his boots come off and the shuffling of clothes, the bed dips from his weight. 

The warmth of his body against your back lulls you to sleep. Oh, how simply he loves you. Forever doesn’t seem like a lot to ask for.

.

.

.

FOLLOW @notjustjavierpena-fics AND TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS 💖❤️💖❤️

#pedro pascal characters #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #the last of us #my writing #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal smut #joel tlou #joel the last of us #joel miller imagine #joel miller fanfic #joel miller smut #joel miller the last of us

[dunmeshistash]

Dungeons

Dungeon Meshi Dungeons have unique characteristics and the Adventurer's Bible gives us a look on a few of the more important ones.

First, what makes a dungeon a dungeon? According to the Glossary section:

Dungeon There are two types of dungeon: manmade and natural. Manmade dungeons like the one on the Island are structures created when a door is linked to another dimension. Natural dungeons are environments that resemble manmade dungeons; they're created when a portal to another dimension forms on its own and mana seeps in. In natural dungeons, you can't be resurrected if you die. The cavern Falin took Marcille to when they were at magic school was a natural dungeon.

Continuing bellow the cut, Major Spoilers ahead

In ch87 we learn that man-made Dungeons were created by the ancient civilizations to contain the Demon's powers, and be able to better use it.

In ch 68 Thistle confirms something similar.

With this in mind, Dungeons also seem to have "Styles".

Like these examples from the cover of ch 48.

"The island", which is the name given to the Dungeon Linked to Melini Village's Graveyard, is a "Compound-Style Dungeon" while other dungeons seem to have specific styles linked to other ancient civilizations (Dwarf-Style, Gnome-Style, Elf-Style)

'The Island' in specific seem to be a Compound Style between dwarfish and elvish styles. As Thistle says, continuing in ch 68, it was an ancient Dwarf construction that was then used by Elves.

Maybe that's the reason the dwarfish inscriptions are only in the innermost levels of the dungeon. The Style then seems to indicate which ancient civilizations created the manmade Dungeon.

From how they speak about Dungeons in the story I also believe there isn't a way to create new manmade dungeons, and rather they must find them since they were buried by ancient civilizations once they realized it was impossible to control the Demon.

Besides that dungeons apparently also seem to have a life cycle, or "Maturity Levels", that ends with the collapse of the dungeon. Here's the cover for ch 54 illustrating it.

From the descriptions, Utaya seems to have reached lv 5 while others tend to be conquered and collapsed before. Some even seem to collapse on their own.

These are the main Dungeons pointed out in the adventurer's bible with their respective descriptions.

DUNGEONS

1 THE ISLAND

A new dungeon that was discovered just six years ago. It's rumored that the Golden Country that existed a thousand years ago still lies in its depths, imprisoned there by the Lunatic Magician.

2 BUDOU PIT

A dwarf-style dungeon. It was excavated straight down like a mine shaft and has already collapsed. Its atmosphere and location are bad, and even after it was discovered, not many adventurers visited it. As a result, it's believed to have collapsed naturally. Its depths may be connected to the ocean: If you listen carefully, some say you can hear the waves. People also claim that if you throw something into the pit, it will inevitably wash up in the port of Kahka Brud.

3 THE BRUD DUNGEON CLUSTER

A dwarf-style dungeon. It's made of the ruins of dungeons that riddled the ground beneath Kahka Brud. Now that its last lord has been defeated, the dungeon has been completely captured. It's become part of the town, and bits of it are used as storehouses, shops, and private homes.

4 THE TOWER OF NIGHT CRIES

A gnome-style dungeon. It's on the verge of collapsing and is currently sealed. Since it's still functioning, if barely, it's believed to have a lord somewhere. The dungeon is shaped like a tower. Its name comes from the wailing noise produced by the wind blowing through holes in its walls at night. Winged monsters have been sighted flying around the tower.

5 THE UTAYA DUNGEON

An elf-style dungeon. It changed lords frequently, and it's the dungeon that grew the largest after the ancient war. At present, it's sealed. Fifteen years ago, monsters flooded out and destroyed the nearby towns. Because it had expanded so much, it couldn't be blocked off completely, and the Canaries quelled the situation by casting a barrier over the dungeon and the entire surrounding area. Magic users are still permanently stationed there to maintain the barrier.

6 THE DRAGONS' LAIR

An elf-style dungeon. Currently collapsed. A rare case in which an entire region of interlacing canyons became a dungeon. Many dragons lived here once, and it was a notoriously secluded region. However, it was hard just to get to it, the rewards were small, and the dragons were tough. Almost no adventurers visited it, and it's thought to have collapsed naturally. When the population dwindled, mana stopped flowing through it, so the large dragons vanished. However, a few small dragons still live there.

7 THE CENTRAL WATCHTOWER

An elf-style dungeon near the capital of the Western Elves. Currently sealed. Since it hadn't had a lord for a long time, it was believed to be nearly collapsed. Mithrun was dispatched to investigate a nearby rash of disappearances and got taken in.

There's much more to talk about how the dungeons work, especially how it relates to Ancient Magic but I'll leave it for another post in the future. If you have any insights about the information here or if I've missed something important please share!

#Dungeon Meshi #Dungeon Meshi Spoilers #Dungeons #Dungeon Design #The Island #thistle dungeon meshi #Its hard to know whats relevant to the dungeons and whats more relevant for ancient magic since they're so linked #I'll try to edit the image ids and make them better later I hope these are ok

[zephyrchama]

[Thoughts about an MC who gets periods]

Getting periods in the Devildom must be pretty rough. Demons probably don’t get them, and the number of humans freely wandering around has to be incredibly low. If MC takes the form of a sheep then they likely don't have to deal with it immediately, but eventually that's going to wear off and they'll revert back to a human. Does the Devildom even have pads and tampons for sale?

MC might have to sheepishly ask Barbatos if he can acquire some in bulk from the human world. Barbatos would remain professional as always when inquiring about the use of these products and their role in daily life. He'd have to report it to the prince. They're both aware of what periods are, but only in a vague "oh yeah, humans do that" kind of way. (Perhaps in the future, Lucifer could use his secret Akuzon account to order more?)

There's surely some plant or potion that prevents them, but they're not meant for long term use. Probably tastes nasty over time and covers human skin in a weird oozing rash if consumed too often.

A month or two into the exchange program, MC might have to call up Solomon for aid.

---

“Can you help me with something?”

Solomon, not too interested in MC yet, agrees just to be amicable with his fellow human exchange student. They must be scared! They must be missing humans! “Is something on your mind?”

“You know how to do magic, right?”

What a silly question. It’s almost refreshing to hear. “I do.”

“Do you know… like, uh, smell…? Reducing magic? Something to cover up smells? Without being obvious, I mean. I feel like I stink and I was really hoping you could help me figure something out.”

How cute, he thinks. He can’t quite remember the time when he smelled fully human anymore, and he can’t really smell the distinct odor on people that demons can, but he knows demons can easily sniff out a human from afar. “Oh, don’t worry about that. It should go away on its own as you spend time here.”

MC isn’t convinced. “I don’t think it will…”

“Trust me. How are you finding Devildom cuisine? I know you’re not used to it, but eating more will help you adjust. I can whip up a few simpler dishes for you to try if you need help.”

MC is silent for a bit. Solomon thinks his job is done until they say quietly, “that’s not the problem.”

“What?”

“I’m pretty sure the brothers I live with can smell, uh, my cycle.” No use being coy about it, better get straight to the point. “They stare at me when I’m on my period. I think - no, I know - they can smell the blood. I’ve seen them sniff the air when I’m around. It's weird. And I can’t exactly stop it from happening every month.”

“Oh.” Now it’s Solomon’s turn to be quiet. He’s embarrassed and surprised, a little humbled, and also really interested in this problem. It’s not something he’s ever thought about before.

MC continues, “I think they can tell when I’m ovulating too, Asmo started lingering around more often, and Lucifer looked scarier than usual, and they all stare more, and-”

“I think I get it.” Solomon can’t stop his face from turning pink. Despite his usual grin, he doesn't think he’s ready to listen to the rest of MC’s sentence.

There should be an easy solution, but it’s something that warrants testing if MC doesn’t want the brothers noticing a sudden spell cast upon them. It could get mistaken for something malicious. Solomon says, “I might be able to help. Can you come over today?”

#maybe he can also teach MC how to turn their hands into little heaters #obey me #obey me! #omswd #obey me scenarios #obey me shall we date #obey me headcanon #obey me x mc #obey me swd #obey me fanfic #obey me solomon #obey me solomon x mc #obey me mc #obey me hcs #tmi but mine get so bad it's not unusual for me to faint. i get like a 60 second warning via blurry vision and then i pass out. #i would not survive the devildom lol i'd get devoured in some random alleyway. wouldn't even leave the house for a week.

[alastorss]

AAAA ITS GOOD TO HAVE YOU BACK!

I love your characterization of Alastor sm ❤️❤️❤️

Could I request reader dropping dead things (people/body parts, deer, etc.) at his door/radio tower? No note, just corpses. He’s gotta figure out who tf if dropping these for him.

a/n: thank you, it's so good to be back!! i really appreciate you and everyone for being so welcoming :')) <3

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

"You've been doing what?!"

"I didn't think it was so bad... You're the one who wanted me to make friends!"

Charlie only gawks at you, tugging at the ends of her hair in stress. The Princess of Hell paces back and forth across the room, slowly piecing together why Alastor has been in such a foul mood lately.

"So you thought the best way to make friends with the Radio Demon was to leave dead bodies at his doorstep?"

"He loves dead bodies."

"Yeah, to eat them! Oh god, what kind of message have you been sending to him?" She babbles on, exasperated and flinging her hands around in a panic. "He must think you're threatening him or something!"

"Well..." you make some sort of constipated expression and Charlie stops dead in her tracks. "He might not know they've been from me."

"You've been leaving them anonymously?" The Princess squeaks, unsure of whether that makes it infinitely better or infinitely worse. "What was even the point then?"

"I get nervous!" You argue, flopping back on the couch and laying an arm over your eyes. "I was going to tell him eventually."

Alastor was a different breed of terrifying. He could silence a room just by breathing in it. The wailing souls in his broadcast were enough to command that sort of attention.

When Charlie had given you the task of making friends as a part of her "redemption project" you had assumed he was exempt from the list. He was, after all, fairly secluded despite his cheery demeanour. Very few had ever managed to become his companions.

However, your hopes of avoiding him had been flushed down the drain when you accidentally bumped into each other on the way out on your very first day.

He gave you a look over, scrutinizing you from head to toe until your cheeks burned. Then, demanded something very simple of you:

"Welcome! Please, do entertain me."

His first and, as of today, last words he ever spoke to you. Sure, your methods were a little unorthodox, but you had asked Husk for advice and Alastor's cannibalistic tendencies were as much as the bartender was willing to spill.

When you don't receive any response, you peel your arm away to peer at your friend. She makes another two laps around the coffee table before her face lights up.

"I've got it!"

"I don't like that look on your face—"

"Come on," she laughs, pulling you by the wrists. "You just have to be honest. And make sure he knows you're not trying to kill him!"

"How am I supposed to do that?" You ask nervously. "You just told me he's been in a worse mood than usual."

A sinister smile that could only belong to the daughter of the devil creeps its way across her lips.

Dread. All you feel is terrible dread.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

As much as Alastor enjoys a good meal, this is becoming excessive.

It must be the seventh or eighth body this week. And, as usual, there is no note. No indication of why there's a corpse or a deer head or a rabbit's foot at his door. He can't even sniff out any traces of a soul being here.

He hates charity.

Not even because he does not need it, but because the anonymity is making him think they're gifts of pity. That, or it's a threat on his life. Either way, he loathes the idea that someone is looking down on him.

The demon needs to get to the bottom of this soon. Paranoia is not common for him, but the anxious bubbling in his chest is unmistakable. Whoever keeps leaving the bodies at his door is meticulously clean when they kill. He would hate to be on the receiving end of the blade.

Just as he's about to dump the body in his swamp for later, there's a knock on his bedroom door. He hesitates.

No, he isn't afraid of whoever is on the other side of the door. However, if there were a fight, he would need to get his suit tailored again and he simply doesn't have the time for that today.

He takes slightly too long to decide whether or not the person on the other side of the wall is a threat, because soon enough his ears pick up the sound of retreating footsteps.

Alastor swings the doors open so fast that you yelp.

At first he's confused why you refuse to turn around to look at him. Lacking common manners—he'll have to bring that up to you later. Then, he's confused on why you've shown up to his door at all.

"May I help you, dear?"

A chill creeps down your spine. Charlie and her ideas... they would be the death of you. Preferably today. Right now.

"I didn't mean to disturb you!" You stammer, still not looking at him.

Alastor raises a brow before popping up behind you from the shadows. You squeak, clutching somehing to your chest and shielding it from his gaze. He does a loop around your body and you spin around to keep the item hidden. The Radio Demon narrows his eyes.

"Are you hiding something?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

You do another spin as he tries to get a peek of what's in your hands.

"You wouldn't lie to me, would you?" He feigns offense. Again, another spin.

"Of course not!"

"You see, I very much don't enjoy being lied to. Last time I caught a scoundrel in my midst, I cracked them open like a—"

"Okay, okay!" You suddenly burst out. You turn so slow that Alastor feels himself holding his breath.

When he finally sees what you've been so insistent on hiding, he snickers. Impolitely, mind you.

"Don't laugh," you whine, squeezing the bouquet closer to your chest. Amongst the flowers are little pieces of death—fingers, eyes, ears.

Charlie had decided that one step back in your redemption by collecting body parts like this would result in three steps forward. She allowed it, just this once.

"Are these for me?" He purrs, leaning down until his face is in yours. You'd been warned before that Alastor had no concept of personal space, but you can't help the way it robs the air in your lungs.

"Please don't get the wrong idea," you strain in embarrassment. "I just wanted to say... I'm sorry. For leaving all those bodies here. I didn't mean for it to come across as insulting."

The demon blinks at you in stunned silence for a few moments before he cackles, standing back to let you breathe again. "Why, of course! No hard feelings, darling."

"Really?" You lighten up with a sigh of relief.

"Your little gifts have kept me on my toes," he assures. "Perhaps not my idea of entertainment, but the effort was there."

"I'm glad to hear that," you smile. "Charlie was worried you wouldn't accept my apology or want to be friends."

You seem to catch yourself, eyes going wide as you shake your head.

"N-Not that I'm assuming this means we can be friends!"

Alastor only laughs again, gentler this time. "No need to be so jumpy. I don't bite," he muses. "And tell the Princess she has nothing to worry about."

He takes the bouquet from you, hands lingering over yours for a fraction longer than he meant for them to.

"I would love to be your friend."

~

taglist: @the-lake-is-calling @dragons-and-dwarves-are-nice @averylonelysea @bri22222 @cxrsedwxrlds @amarokofficial @anae-naea-zacheria @for-hearthand-home @fantasy-is-best @angixyc @th3-st4r-gur1 @i-am-nonbinary-bean-deal-with-it @dilemmaiscool @concentratedconcrete @squiword7 @clarakainda @princekeerys @cedarrthefluffylee (send an ask to be added!)

#🍓 faye's thoughts <3 #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor #hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #hazbin x reader #alastor fic #alastor headcanons #alastor x you #alastor hazbin x reader #alastor fanfiction #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin

[neverevan]

Fuck It Friday 💌

I keep wondering if people even know that I write... like, I know giffing has captivated me lately, but actually this is where I'm "based", so to speak. I just kinda fell off the map since the new season started airing (and since posting that 75k monstrosity that was the mudslide fic lmao).

Anyway, I am finally, finally getting closer to finishing the buck loves tommy fic (which pretty much does what it says on the tin, though it does have an actual title now), all it needs is some hefty editing and it's ready to be posted — hopefully within the next few days. Until then, here's some soft angst that somehow found its way into the middle of the smut.

“Good.” Tommy’s lips stretched into one of those wide but close lipped smiles and it was hard to hold back the urge to trace it with his thumb — so he didn’t. Tommy gave a small kiss to the tip of Buck’s thumb, before opening his lips and sucking it in between them, humming quietly. “God… did you get even hotter while you were away?” Buck mused with an incredulous huff. “Are you trying to talk your way into my pants?” Tommy’s grin was downright dangerous as he let go of Buck’s finger and leaned down to get a hold of the hem of his t-shirt, rolling it up as much as he could with the stupid sling in the way. “You’re not wearing any pants.” Buck pointed out with a teasing lilt of his voice. “Must be doing real good on all that talking then, huh?” “Funny.” Buck rolled his eyes jovially, but when Tommy didn’t answer or in fact moved at all, he zeroed in on his face with a frown. “H-hey, you okay?” “I don’t know. Are you?” Buck followed his line of sight, only to realize that Tommy was staring directly at the bruises on his ribs, where they were blooming like a collection of poisonous clematises; hugging his torso tight, probably for weeks to come. “Y-yeah, I told you, I’m fine. It’s- it’s just some bruising, no big deal, I swear.” “We can wait until you feel better.” Tommy suggested, his face darkening and his eyes never leaving the big blotches of purple and pink. “Baby, does it look like I wanna wait?” Buck scoffed, gesturing vaguely at his achingly hard cock, only inches away from Tommy’s own. “Evan, that’s not—” “You a-asked me what I need.” Buck cut him off with a serious set of his jaw. “This- this is what I need. You. That’s all I want, okay? So just… please, would you just touch me already?” Buck closed his eyes with a frustrated little sigh and only opened them when he felt a feather light touch on his skin, causing it to twitch with a tickle, as Tommy’s lips brushed over the bruises. “That okay?” He hummed quietly, his lips gently vibrating with it and bringing a small tingle into Buck's ribs, one that somehow felt like it was going much deeper than skin or bone. “Y-yeah… okay.”

✨I have been tagged by and am absolutely no pressure tagging the ever so talented @sunshinediaz @spagheddiediaz @jeeyuns @exhuastedpigeon @bidisasterevankinard @diazsdimples @likegoldintheair @honestlydarkprincess @watchyourbuck @actualalligator @wikiangela @bucksbignaturals @loveyouanyway and anyone else who feels like sharing mwuahhh 💛

#the smut is just some very rought draft at the moment but it's finally done #and the whole thing is nearly 9k unedited #which the people who do remember how i am when i write already know means it'll be a miracle if it comes out under 10k lmao #i kinda missed this ngl #anyway #911 #911 abc #bucktommy #wip #buck loves tommy

[jacaerysgf]

Ignored

Summary: Based on two requests; You had been best friends with Jacaerys since you were kids. But when he gets a girlfriend and joins the football team in college your whole life gets turned upside down and he's suddenly ditched you. A year after you are confronted by him and emotions spill to the surface.

w.c: 2.7k

c.w: Porn with plot, sub!jace, hand job, overstimulation, p in v, unprotected sex (WRAP IT UP), car sex, im not good at angry sex or mean stuff guys so sorry,

masterlist

One year. one fucking year since you’ve last spoken to him. You never imagined the two of you would end up like this.

He gets on the college football team and gets some hot girlfriend and suddenly he’s too good for you. You doubt he’s even noticed. It was slow to start, he started being busy during your weekly hang outs, then it would slip his mind to text you back, then he just suddenly stopped texting you. You had been replaced, you would always spend the holidays with his family but this past year you had seen Lucerys post on his insta holiday pictures and she was there instead. Everyone else in his family had reached out to you at some point. usually something along the lines of a happy holidays and that they hoped to see you soon, that they missed you. They even wished you happy birthday. He didn’t.

You had gotten to the point you stopped answering his family's texts, it made you feel sick when Lucerys asked if you would come to his birthday party and you didn’t have the heart to reply to him. You stopped checking their socials, even going as far as to mute them but you didn’t have the heart to unfollow them. then it would get too real, that the people you’ve considered family since you were basically a baby were no longer around.

You wish you didn’t miss him. You wish when started at your aunts gravestone he was not the face that appeared in your mind when you wished you had someone to comfort you. She had died six months ago, you hadn’t even bothered to text him about it. He met her a couple times, but its not like he would care now.

You do not cry for her anymore. Having come far enough in your grief, but you feel yourself come to a halt when you are walking through the graveyard and are stopped by a familiar family.

“Y/n?” You feel a knot grow in your throat. Why were they here? you could see lucerys was holding some flowers. “Hello.” What else are you supposed to say? You are frozen in place as lucerys walks over and throws his arms around you. “I missed you.” You try not to let your tears spill down your face as Lucerys pulls back and looks at you alarmed, “Are you okay?”

You laugh and cover your face with your hands, unable to even describe what you’re feeling. “You’re so tall.” Your voice cracks as you speak and he slaps you on the shoulder. “’Course i am, had to get taller than mr prince charming over there.”

You don’t want to look at him. You wish he was not even there. But you cannot help yourself the way your eyes drift to where Lucerys is referring to and you wish you hadn’t. He is as beautiful as he was the last day you saw him, he looks like he just came out of a romcom, a long trench coat covering him and a bouquet of flowers in his hands. You have no clue what he’s thinking, his face giving nothing away, cant take your eyes off him. The way his eyes have a gloss over them as he takes a couple steps towards you.

You swiftly turn away from his and notice rhaenyra standing at your side and she reaches out a grips your forearm. “It is so wonderful to see you dear.” You nod and smile at her, “It is always a pleasure Ms. Targaryen.” she hits your arm, “You stay away for a couple months and suddenly I’m Ms. Targaryen, call me rhaenyra dear you know better.” You want to correct her, tell her its been over a year. yet you don't, only nodding and apologizing to her.

“What are you doing here?” Its the first words he’s said to you in god knows how long. You swear your knees almost crumple at the sound of his voice. You want to punch him, spit in his face, you wish you hated him. “My aunt died.” You spit at the ground, you voice coming out angrier than you indented it to.

The people around you immediately flood around to give their condolences. You thank them, Lucerys especially kept you in a deep hug and mentioned how they came today to see rhaenyra's father but they'll make sure to stop by your aunt’s grave.

He says nothing. nothing at all. You hate him. You hate him so much. But you cant say no when they ask if you’ll join them to see viserys and your aunt. you cant even say no when they offer you to join them for dinner.

you two say nothing to each other, not until you say you’ll drive in your car on the way there and turn to walk towards it, still having the map to their house memorized until you are stopped, a hand gripping on your forearm.

“Can i ride with you?” You don't turn around to look at him. Continuing to stare straight ahead, your heart and head churning. You want to tell him no, that you don't wish to ever even see him again. “Please.”

“Fine.”

But you're a pussy. the biggest punk in the whole world as you watch him slide into the passenger seat as you close the drivers door. A silence fills the space between you two, you don't want to speak, a part of you hopes it will stay that way.

“What happened with us?” You harshly break at the red light and whip your head towards him. Rage boiling at your skin as you hiss at him, “What happened? What do you mean what happened? You're the one who ditched me!”

“What the fuck are you taking about?” “Oh so you’re just gonna act like you didn't fucking stop talking to me after you a girlfriend? What is her name? i don't even fucking know because you never introduced us.” A loud honk behind you forced you to turn your head away from him and back on the road, you swear your knuckles turned white from the pressure you were squeezing it.

“i-” “No. Because you know what Jace. Fuck you. Fuck you and your stupid face and your stupid girlfriend and your stupid friends because you fucking left me. You have no reason to sit around and ask me what the fuck happened between us because it was all because of you. i put in the effort to reach out i even sent you a fucking gift for your birthday because you couldn't spare the time to hang with me and you don't even text me a happy fucking birthday?!? Fuck you man.”

Your hands slam down on the wheel in frustration as you clench your jaw, the fucking nerve of this guy. You don’t even spare him another glance and he doesn't dare to say anything else for awhile. the drive is long, they were buried far out from your homes so the drive was over an hour.

it takes twenty minutes before he says anything. “I’m sorry.” It comes out strained, if you looked at him he would probably be crying but you do not dare look at him. “I wish i could explain to you why i did it, why i acted like that. But I’m sorry. I’m sorry i just think i liked the attention, i liked having people fawn over me. And her, fuck i don't know, i liked her sure, but she fucking cheated on me with one of the guys on the team, told me she only got with me to get closer to him. Its not an excuse, i should have never put what we had down the drain for someone that never really mattered because you, you matter to me more than anyone else. I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry, ill say it forever because i don't deserve your forgiveness.”

You pull over into a road side parking lot because you couldn't see the road anymore. Your eyes filled with tears as your shoulders shook with silent sobs, “I am sorry i made you feel this way, that you couldn't even come to me when she died, i liked it, i remember she gave me the toy car display i still have in my room fuck i can't even imagine how you must feel. I miss you. I miss you so much.”

You put your head against the wheel and allow yourself to sob. This is all you’ve wanted to hear for so long that now you have no clue how to feel. You want to tell him to fuck off. That he has no reason to be begging for your forgiveness now.

“Jacaerys,” You swear you hear it wrong, that you must be confused. He whimpers. “No please,” “Its dragged out in a way that has your stomach churning and you shift in your seat. “Don’t call me Jacaerys, Jace please.”

You must be strong. You cannot give into to his sad puppy eyes and cries. Yet you look over to him and feel your resolve crumble. He has tears streaming down his face. He’s looking at you. Has he been looking at you this whole time? “You left me Jace.” He lets out a trembled breath as he dares with shaky hands to grab yours. “I'm sorry. I will beg you to forgive me till the end of time because i will never deserve it. I need you.”

Your heart pounds against your chest as the two of you stare at one another. You feel your hands shake in his grip as the two of you unknowingly move closer to each other.

“I realized after i found out what she had done i was more upset about the fact you were not there more than anything. She had begged me to take her back but the only thing i could think about was you. I was so stupid and so blind i will never forgive myself. You are everything to me.”

“Jace,” He cups your cheeks and lets out a trembled breath, “I was a fool to let you go. I will never make that mistake again,” You cannot believe what is happening, he does not truly mean what you think he’s saying does he? “I had months to think it over. I am so madly in love with you. If you do not feel the same i will act like this never happened and we can just go back to being friends or even if you cannot stomach being around me we can just never talk but-”

He lets out a surprised moan as you shove your lips against his and eagerly pressed his lips against yours. He a lot more vocal than you had expected him to be, eagerly humming against your lips as his hands have moved to your neck.

He lets out a shocked gasp when you push him back into his seat and looks at you with wide eyes as you climb over his lap, pulling the level to have him lay over his back and simply stare at him as you hover above him. He whimpers as you grab the front of his shirt and pull him towards your face, “This is for me. Not you. Right?” He eagerly nods, more than willing to take anything you’ll give him.

He whines as you unbutton his black dress pants and waste no time shoving your hand past his boxers and gripping onto his dick. His head is thrown backwards as you rub your thumb against his tip, ignoring his mumbles until enough precum has dripped down onto your hand before you begin vigorously pumping him up and down.

You do not stop even as he’s asking you to slow down. Well you do, but it is always right before he’s about to come. You do this again. and again. and again. He feels like he’s about to burst, the stimulation is too much for him to bare.

“Please.” You tilt your head at him as he grips the front of your button down shirt. “What do you want?” Your words are spoken like he a stranger approaching you on the street, he whimpers and shoves his head into your chest, his tears threatening to spill out. “Please,”

“awe are you so fucked out you have no clue what you’re talking about huh?” He’s babbling nonsense as you feel his tears pool into your shirt. You fully remove your hands off him for the fourth time and he thinks he might crack. “Please no I’m sorry I’m sorry please please just let me,,” His words trail off as he watches you fully release him from his pants and boxers, his breath shaky as he watches you pool up your shirt and move to hover above him.

“Please please.” “Shut the fuck up.” He whimpers as his tip presses against your folds but you don’t him in enter yet, simply allowing his tip to be dragged up and down your slit. He throws his head back as the tears continue to flow down his face, he can’t take this, his hips rise up to try and thrust into you but you hold him down and spit at him. “You don’t know how to behave slut.”

He lets out a surprised gurgle of sounds when you suddenly slam all the way down onto him and lightly slap him across the face. “Are you happy now slut? You happy your little loser friend is fucking you stupid?”

He can barely speak as you begin to bounce up and down on him. He’s dreamed of this for much longer than he’d like to admit but this is much better than anything he could have imagined. The way your lightly let out sounds of delight are like music to his ears. He wishes he could say something but over the heat that flows over his body and the way he feels your hands slip under his shirt and begin to rub up and down his chest he can’t find the words.

He keeps his hands at his side, not knowing if he is allowed to touch you not wishing to upset you more than he already has. You notice the way his hands twitch and slightly raise as if he wants to reach out to you. You slow down for a moment to grab his hands and place them on your chest, a wordless exchange between the two of you as he stares at you in wonder. So much love fills his gaze you almost flush with embarrassment. You begin to pick up your pace once again as he fondles you over your clothes.

The pit grows larger in his stomach much faster than he would like but due to the overstimulation and the overflowing of emotions he’s on the edge. “I’m so close.”

“Hold it.” He whines and watches as one of your hands slip under your skirt, “You think you should be allowed to cum before me?” He shakes his head, of course not, he doesn’t deserve too.

He swears he almost cums from your blissed out face alone, but he is surprised he manages to contain himself until he feels you throb and your essence drips around him. You slowly lift off him and pump him until his cum drips down your hands.

The car windows are foggy, you have no clue how long you’ve been out here but the sun as begun to set as you allow yourself to fall against his chest, feeling the way his heart beats erratically as his arms come to wrap around you.

“I don’t forgive you,” He feels his heart drop as he gulps, bracing himself for you to lift off him and drop him off at his house, never to speak to him again. “But i think i can one day, you just have to take me out on a couple dates first.”

He grins.

Perm Jacaerys taglist

@tyronesien @itsbookworm987 @cruelworldlana @smurfelle @ireneispunk @hxtd @venmondiese @urmomsgirlfriend1 @aegonswife @jacesvelaryons

#house of the dragon #hotd #hotd imagine #jacaerys targaryen x reader #jacaerys velaryon x reader #jacaerys strong #prince jacaerys #jacaerys targaryen #jacaerys velaryon #hotd jacaerys #jacaerys x reader #jace x you #jace velaryon #jace targaryen #jace x reader #hotd fanfic #hotd x reader #hotd x y/n #house of the dragon fanfiction #house of the dragon fanfic #house targaryen #jacaerys #modern hotd #modern jace #modern jacaerys

[utilitycaster]

Can I get your opinion, since you seem to be a pretty straight shooter ?

Do you think that Orym is lying to himself when he says he doesn’t want the sword for revenge or isn’t motivated by revenge? In the same way that Laudna was lying to herself and the others about why she wanted the sword?

I’ve seen a lot of ~discourse~ over whether or not orym is being truthful here and tbh I don’t know what to make of it.

My short answer: I suppose it's possible revenge might be among the many factors motivating him, but I don't believe it's his primary motivator.

My real answer? Who fucking cares.

There has been a pretty consistent pattern in which a lot of people who defend Laudna (and Imogen, for that matter) are so laser-focused on their motivations that they utterly ignore the actual consequences of their actions. Because that's the thing, right? You can make speculative claims about motivations; there is no true way to prove that Orym has absolutely no vengeful bones in his body since there's a myriad of reasons to go after the Vanguard and its leadership of which revenge absolutely is one. But you can't deny actions without someone inconveniently pointing out the truth that the action was, in fact, performed by a particular character. So it's a popular focus for people who don't actually have any evidence of their points.

Intent and motivation is, obviously, useful in understanding what a character might do. It's useful in understanding whether they could perhaps be swayed one way or another (eg: Liliana's intentions are in fact of vital importance for that reason, because if they understand what drives her, they might be able to change her path). But it's useless in judging harm done to other people. If someone kills a pedestrian in a crosswalk because they fell asleep driving because they'd stayed up all night for a charitable cause, or if they kill them because they were drunk driving, someone's still dead because of their actions. (For that matter, and I said this in an earlier post, the pedestrian is also equally dead if the driver were drunk driving because they are a well-intentioned alcoholic who fell off the wagon vs. an asshole who doesn't think the rules apply to them.) I don't blame the victim's family for hating the driver in any of the scenarios, even though I think that the some of the above drivers are far more likely to be people who will attempt to rehabilitate themselves and for whom I as a person more removed from the situation may have more pity.

Ultimately, how others see a character in-world is going to be a measure of their actions. So, for example, it does not actually matter if Imogen floats allying with the Vanguard because she wants to connect with her deadbeat mom; Orym is still justified in being hurt and offended because she said something insensitive in front of him. It's better that Imogen is doing this out of an idealized desire rather than malice; I think far better of her as a character and believe there is room for growth; but that doesn't change what she did and that it was, in fact, insensitive. It speaks well to her that Laudna's pressure point is "this sword could hurt your friend" and not "hey what if you could have a sick evil sword of your own", but she did still attack her friend in the middle of the night even with good intentions.

If Orym wants to kill Ludinus out of vengeance for the deaths of his family or if he wants to do so because Ludinus has done immeasurable harm already and very well might destroy the world (and I certainly do believe Orym is motivated by the latter, even if the former plays a role), Ludinus still ends up dead. Sure, if he's motivated only by revenge it might change how you interact with him, the way how Bells Hells treat Keyleth quite differently than they do Ira, but in terms of analyzing whether any specific action was helpful or harmful? Utterly fucking irrelevant.

Anyone making the argument that Orym might not have the purest motives either, as a means to defend Laudna, is either too dumb to even find the correct questions to ask or deliberately throwing up a smoke screen, and as this post indicates, doesn't fucking matter if they're stupid or malicious - they're a waste of your time. Don't even bother.

#answered #Anonymous #cr spoilers #critical role #cr discourse

[birder-of-remnant]

A Story Done Right

Kill Bill, The Princess Bride, Blue-Eyed Samurai, Wrath of Khan. Our media is saturated with revenge stories. Even children's tales often have revenge as a sweeping premise (e.g., the countless Star Wars villains as a modern example, but older tales such as Cinderella were even more rife with vindictive messages). And to be honest, I have never cared for this plot type.

Revenge stories are usually violent, merciless, myopic, and pretty disregarding of 'collateral' losses. Not all, but most lack any type of interesting moral symbology and substitute dynamic storylines and complex character development in lieu of exciting action scenes and a prosaic fixation on bloodshed. There are certainly exceptions to this, many of the titles I listed above actually have a lot of great things going for them. But I would say that these qualities are in spite of their focus on revenge and not because of it.

And there are an endless number of animes, movies, books, and other stories based on revenge that simply do not appeal to me (not judging other people if they like violent action media, just not my personal taste). Most of the time, I am just left feeling empty at the end, like Neo after volume 9.

But there is one exception to this theme. One revenge story that leaves me feeling whole, not empty. From the banner image, I think it is pretty obvious which story it is. This is my own highly subjective opinion, but I truly believe that the fight with Adam represents the perfect revenge story. And here is my reasoning.

Revenge is Not The Hero's Purpose

In too many stories, the premise begins with douchebag 'X' killing damsel 'Y', leading to hero 'Z' killing a lot of henchmen and blowing up a lot of buildings all for the singular purpose of making Mr. X pay. Once they achieve this purpose, they look around aimlessly before wandering off to have a milkshake or play golf or something. Yeah well, this story does not do this. Killing Adam was never the objective for Blake and Yang, because they have actual goals that involve saving people and not just executing some vendetta.

Don't get me wrong. I love redemption stories, I find them so much more satisfying, especially when the character in question has to struggle to overcome the gravity of what they have done (note: a redemption arc does not mean instant forgiveness, it might never end with actual for absolution for what they have done). I love Emerald's story and think it has a lot of interesting twists that it can take. But there are some characters who are just too far gone to save. And Adam fits that perfectly.

He has a tragic backstory and I truly pity him. But he is also an abusive, murdering shitlord who manipulated and groomed Blake (I wouldn't be surprised if he physically or sexually abused her, which is somewhat implied by her frequently defensive body posture, but is not definite). He kills out of spite and represents Yang's demon, who she could have become. It was cathartic to watch him fall, but I am ever so grateful that his demise was not the purpose of Blake and Yang. Because killing him out of spite for what he did to them would not be much different than the way he lashed out at others for the traumas that he has endured. Some might call it justice, but justice and revenge are two sides of the same coin and the edges between them can be blurry.

The point is, Yang and Blake are so much more than Adam. They killed him out of necessity, not out of hate.

They Are Set on the Future

As I mentioned, I often feel empty at the end of a revenge story. When the villain lies dead within a pool of their own blood and the hero has achieved everything they sought to accomplish, what more is there really? Often, I feel like the story has reached its ending without really achieving anything of note. Often, without really making the world a better place. A plot about revenge is not the same as one about taking someone down to save other people. The former is what Adam wanted and it would have made the world a worse place. But Yang and Blake are protectors. The fight was exhilarating and satisfying, but it ultimately humanized these characters whereas most revenge stories do the opposite, treating human life as cheap entertainment to be killed in the most 'epic' way possible.

But more important, the fight left me feeling excited about the future, rather than feeling burn out from seeing the villain die. Adam was fixated on the past. He was a character of the past. He represented Blake and Yang's trauma, their old demons and fears. He had no further place in their character arcs, because they had evolved into something so much more. Killing Adam was not the end of their story as it is in so many revenge plots. It was simply a new beginning. It felt whole and wholesome. Past, present, and future.

Because it is the People Who Matter

Ultimately, the fight was never about killing Adam. It was about bringing Yang and Blake together. About having them overcome the demons of their past. About the importance of mental health. About their individual traumas (abandonment issues & PTSD for Yang and Blake's fear of hurting others). About the challenges that LGBTQ+ people face in finding security in a hostile world. It was about these two, fucking amazing characters and the ineffably wondrous relationship that forms between them. One based on actual fucking support, equality, and love.

That is all I have on this right now. Hopefully, I did not offend too many people by criticizing typical revenge stories. But I have been wanting to talk about my love and appreciation of this scene for years. I know there have been so many more people who have discussed these same themes and points before, probably more adroitly than my rambling mess, but this is my rambling mess. Thanks for reading!

Random side trivia 1: Mandy Patinkin, the actor who played Inigo Montoya in The Princess Bride, is famous for his iconic line, "Hello. My name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father. Prepare to die." Mandy felt that the scene was symbolic of feelings towards the illness that took his father. But regarding revenge against people, he actually dislikes his iconic line and how it idolizes revenge.

Random side trivia 2: I love Jeff & Casey William songs and I just love BMBLY (except or that creepy line about the birds and butterflies knowing, wtf). But as an ecologist, I should note that bumblebees do not make honey. Jeff was thinking of European honey bees. Bumblees are cute, fuzzy, chunky super pollinators that live in the ground, in hollow plant stems, or other obscure spots and are either solitary or have very small hives. They virtually never bother people and are super pollinators, actually much better pollinators than honeybees (which are super awesome cool in their own right, but also highly invasive in the western hemisphere and hurt our native pollinators D: And yes, I cherry-picked the ugliest picture of one that I could find). Many bumblebees are endangered, just like our beloved Bumblebees. Save the bees! AND THE BEES!

#bumbleby #rwby #yang xiao long #blake belladonna #save rwby #greenlight rwby volume 10 #save crwby

[arson-09]

one of the many issues i find with sjms writing (and subsequently her fans) is that a character has to be perfect to be loved (this is acotar specific) hear me out ((apologies in advance for the somewhat rambling and nonsensical bits. its late lmao)

Just about everything Feyre and Rhysand do is justified. Rhysands entire list of evil actions from acotar is retconned. Him murdering those winter court children was suddenly by an unnamed daemati whos never brought up again, his sexual assault of feyre was “for her protection”, and in general the way he treated her UtM is okayed (sa is never justifiable, even in fictional media) and him keeping very important information about Feyres body from her is fine because he was doing it to spare her feelings (also never ok to keep information of ones body from the individual)

Feyre is allowed to destroy the spring court. No matter how you feel about Tamlins character the actions she took were extreme, petty, and useless. She collectively punished the citizens of the spring court because of her relationship with Tamlin and she believed him to be allying with Hybern. Which was hinted to her to be false and she could have read his mind at any point. Feyre also is a unreliable narrator but her word is taken as truth. When she has magical outbursts its nothing, she can treat her supposed friends like shit but shes still the better friend.

Together they constantly spout how perfect the other is. Especially Feyre about Rhysand, maybe its the mating bond but the bond is how sjm communicates her feelings about the characters (which i feel is evident in the Nessian bond) Feyre says rhysand is Good and Justified in everything he does, so you the reader must believe it too, right?

The rest of the Inner Circle also falls into this. Mor is allowed to unfairly treat Nesta like shit, Cassian is unquestioned when it comes to his mistreatment of his mate, azriel is a background tapestry, and amren is a whole different issue tbh.

Nesta is the outlier. She is not perfect and we know it because of how mistreated she is by the people that surround her. Cassian is a horrible partner, letting rhysand do and say what he wants to her, restricting her food and being very neglectful of Nestas mental health. Nesta is a flawed character but shes not an antagonist. Her flaws does not call for this sort of treatment. It is disgusting how sjm portrays Nestas character and her “healing arc”. Sjm says she loves nesta, but her treatment says otherwise.

Tamlin receives the brunt of this treatment. He is a flawed character but is not evil. Hes not even a real antagonist, just because he is not friends or on good terms with Feyre and Rhysand does not make him such. His allying with Hybern is used as reasoning for his mistreatment when its clear as day hes a double agent. Tamlin, while he struggles with emotional regulation, anger issues and communication is a very good high lord and his personal relationship with a character does not change that. His actions towards feyre are often called abusive but sjms writing fails to bring this observation to fruition. She fails to actually make him abusive and antagonistic because she accidentally writes her own outs by justifying similar behaviors from other characters.

If you have spent anytime on the majority side of the fandom you have seen the Feyre and Rhysand vs Nesta and Tamlin mentality. Nesta and Tamlin are hated while Feysand are treasured and its because sjm makes a perfect character for you to love so why would you root for the flawed characters hated by the narrative? Nesta and Tamlin are far more nuanced and interesting due to their imperfections, dislike by the narrative, and hatred from the majority fandom. (To note, Nesta and Tamlins characters are different ((although they have some striking similarities)) but their treatment is very equal. Which is why i, and many other people in the fandom compare and combine them so much)

Feyre and Rhysand through the narrative and fans are perfect and can do no wrong. Tamlin and Nesta are frankly evil and undeserving of love. Its intriguing to see this behavior and its almost unique to the acotar and booktok fandom. Which is why i find myself so focused on Tamlin and subsequently the fandom. its so odd and something i havent seen before that it gets stuck in my little adhd brain.

#acotar #pro tamlin #tamlin #a court of thorns and roses #sarah j maas #anti rhysand #sjm critical #anti feysand #anti nessian #pro nesta #Arson yaps #Its late. can you tell? #i was eating my 1am cereal and the thought came to me #i may polish this more in the morning since its a bit rambling #anyway i love my cancelled wives #this is tagged anti rhysand and anti feyre so i better not see any of yall bitches here #this is for the girls who get it (girls gender neutral ofc) #I will definitely expand on this thought while working on my deep dive analysis #theres a point in here i swear

[goodnightoilcountry]

don't overthink when you could be loving me - sebastian aho

summary: Your inadvertent friendship with some of the Canes players was not something you advertized in your day-to-day life. But an evening of Friday night drinks changes that when you find yourself trapped in the same bar with your co-workers and one love-struck Sebastian Aho who’s determined to make it known that you’re spoken for… well, tentatively that is. 

word count: 6.2k

author's note: one month in the making and i'm not even convinced that this is of any quality. but if i don't put it out now, i never will. i'm going to do another proofread but don't worry, if there are going to be any edits, it'll just be fixing up typos / grammar.

tag list: @kashee-h

You won’t lie. You weren’t always the biggest believer in keeping your personal life and work life separate. 

Despite the numerous warnings about how “your colleagues are not your friends”, you couldn’t help but merge the two words into a synonymous figure. By this point in your life, you could probably ballpark that half of your closest friends were acquired from the various roles you were appointed. You’ve always felt like you’ve lucked out in that department. 

The moment when your luck seemed to wear out was at your very first grad role. 

With a newly minted finance degree in one hand and just about $50,000 in the other, the bar wasn’t set particularly high in terms of quality for a grad role. So when you received the congratulatory phone call from human resources, you didn’t care about the questionably low pay or how weirdly vague your interviewers were about overtime practices, you were just happy to finally have something substantial splashed across your resume. 

Your first month wasn’t anything to write home about. As expected, everyone was cordial, you were given grunt work, and you would routinely eat tune rice and veg for lunch - something that was weirdly unique to the corporate world. 

Where the comfort flipped was the night that the firm hosted its annual Thank You Dinner. What was announced as a company event hosted by the executives to say thank you to its employees for their efforts was actually disguised as a night of debauchery at the expense of the firm’s bottom line - but you didn’t know that yet. 

So when a passing comment about the Canes turns into a full-blown conversation piece at your table, your wine-induced lips couldn’t help but let something slip. 

It’s not like you ran around advertising the fact that you were family friends with Seth Jarvis growing up. But hockey culture was thriving in Raleigh and moments where a mention of the Canes wasn’t thrown into the mix rarely occurred. 

More often than not, you were happy to pass on any unused tickets that Seth had reserved in your name every year. Of course, generally, nobody questions where the tickets came from the first time around - free tickets are free tickets. But by the fourth round? Who would still believe that you just accidentally purchased lower-bowl seats not knowing you already had plans? 

You would eventually let up that maybe you were better acquainted with the Canes than on just a last-name and number basis. And the reactions that followed usually panned out the same way. You’d receive looks that crossed between amazement and disbelief, followed by thirty minutes of inquisitioning, and then the excitement of the news would eventually fade before moving on to something salacious that had happened earlier that week. 

But the news of your affiliation that night was volatile. 

Suddenly, your tickets weren’t viewed as a generous offering but rather as a right. People in different departments whom you had never met started taking you out for lunches with a casual mention of how they hadn’t ever been to a live game; your boss expected you to give them up for the sake of appeasing potential clients; girls would invite you out with the hopes of them showing up to wherever you were. 

You handed in your resignation six months later. 

So when you signed your letter of offer for your new role, you made a silent promise to yourself to keep that portion of your life separate. So, you distanced yourself. 

Seth had noticed. He had known that you would occasionally give up your tickets when you knew you weren’t able to make a game. But as more and more weeks had passed, he had maybe seen your seats filled twice: once by a few of your closest girlfriends and the other was when your parents had come to town for a long weekend. 

Outings with him and the team became infrequent as you declined to attend any sort of public event that would bear the risk of you being caught out by your new colleagues. And when you were eventually questioned why, you simply excused that your new job had you locked down. 

The second person to notice your increasing absence was Sebastian. 

Since Seth’s rookie days, you had been, on more than several occasions, his plus one to team events. And over the years, you had gotten to know some of the younger members who were able to keep up with Seth’s redbull-fueled energy. That included Sebastian. 

The first time you had actually properly spoken to him was at a Canes charity gala. Seth and KK had been swept into a conversation by a few board members, leaving you to quietly people-watch from your assigned seat. 

****

“Refill?” 

You turned to find Sebastian with an arm extended out; a glass of champagne delicately sat between his fingers. You returned a grateful smile as he sat down in Seth’s seat. 

“You manage to avoid the noise fest?” you lightly poked, looking over at Seth where Andrei and Jack were now caught. 

He let out a laugh and shook his head while looking down, “I’ve definitely done my fair share of the sucking up.”

“You didn’t feel like joining your boyfriend?” 

You choked on your drink as soon as the assumption left his mouth. You couldn’t help but begin laughing as you coughed up a response, “Oh my god, no. Seth and I grew up together back home. Our parents were close friends.” 

His cheeks flushed red at the revelation. 

“Oh, I’m sorry. I just assumed because you’ve come to a few of these things with him before and you’re at our games a lot,” he tried to reason as he rubbed the back of his neck to ease the embarrassment. 

You shook your head with the same amused donned across your face, “he’s really never mentioned that we grew together as kids?”

“I’m sure he’s mentioned it but it’s hard to catch everything he says. He talks… a lot.” 

You couldn’t help but giggle at the blunt statement. 

You had found it easy to talk to Sebastian. The conversation flowed seamlessly, from the standard questioning of each other’s jobs to the shared ache of missing home. Before you knew it, Seth had returned with a sheepish look on his face; apologetic for his disappearance but not missing the flash of disappointment across his teammate’s face when you said goodnight. 

After that, the trajectory of your relationship with Sebastian had shifted into something more. Sure, you both became closer as friends, growing comfortable in the presence of one another. But as time went on you couldn’t help but feel like the line between you two would occasionally go hazy; blurring completely on a night out following a hard-fought win. 

****

Every summer that comes around reminds you of how incomprehensible the energy can be in Raleigh. 

The city came alive as holidayers passed through, the nights drew out longer, and the cool drinks were more than welcome from people who were looking to escape the heat. Which is how you found yourself sitting at a beer hall three blocks from your office in downtown Raleigh.  

Unsurprisingly, the bar was packed on a Friday evening and you could only expect it to ramp up even more when your eyes fell on the sight of a band setting up stage for the night. 

“Here, grab these first and I’ll bring over the rest.”

Maddy slides over 3 glasses to you and pulls out her card to start a tab for the table. You met Maddy on your first day when you were doing the round with HR. They had introduced her as your “office buddy”, to which Maddy later rolled her eyes at and reassured you that she wouldn’t be as micro-managing as they had made it out to be. 

She took you to lunch and gave you her version of the onboarding special which basically involved giving you the run down of who you didn’t want to piss off if you ever wanted to be promoted. 

It wasn’t long before you both became each other’s go-to person at work when things went to shit and sometimes the occasional debrief session at Thursday wines where she updated you about how her dating life was tracking. 

You pull together the glasses and place them into a firm grasp between your hands before turning around to make a beeline for the table with Maddy trailing behind you. There are a few familiar faces from your team and some that you don’t think you’ve ever met before but you know that Maddy is a big fan of getting into the good graces of other departments. 

Your phone screen lights up before you can even take a sip from the glass causing you to divert your attention. 

Last weekend before we’re due back for pre-season training. Come out with us tonight? - Jarvy 

You feel a pang of guilt with the sudden reminder that Seth just unintentionally gave you. 

Your MIA-ness had begun a month before the playoffs started. Granted you still followed every game from the comfort of your home, but your continued in-person absence did not go unnoticed. Even more so after the 4-0 Conference Finals loss to the Panthers, where Sebastian wanted nothing more than to feel the comfort of your presence to ease the heartbreak. 

Instead, he had to settle for an “I’m sorry.” text. 

And in your defence, you had tried to see him when they returned home but the timing was never quite right as Sebastian took off for Finland a few weeks later as a last-minute guest for his cousin’s wedding. 

You were able to catch Seth a handful of times before he also took flight: Winnipeg for home, Chicago for Lollapalooza, and Cabo with KK and Svech from the look of his Instagram stories. 

He waved away your apologies and said he understood that you were flat out with work and that he hoped you weren’t working yourself too hard. All you could do was return a meek smile and be thankful that he didn’t press about it further. 

Your fingers hovered over the keyboard, trying to rack your brain for an excuse that wouldn’t leave any room for further persuasion. 

Sorry :( feeling too run down from the week. Next time though! 

You take one more look at your phone as Seth sends you the ‘Boo, You Whore!’ gif from Mean Girls, causing you to crack a small smile. 

“Better offer somewhere else?” 

Your head snaps up and meets the eyes of one of the unfamiliar faces sitting across you. 

“I don’t think we’ve met before. I’m Charlie, I just joined the legal counsel,” he offers with a smile. And it’s a pretty damn good smile too.

You’re quickly swept up into a conversation with Charlie. You learn that he recently relocated from Boston, he has a labrador named Ollie, and that he’s heard of a fantastic restaurant down the road that he’s been “dying” to check out with someone. That last part is followed with a mischievous glint in his eyes.  

He’s not bad-looking, you’ll give him that much. Maybe a year ago he would have been your type. But lately, you’ve seemed to turn away from the sharp jawlines and blue eyes, and instead look for softer and warmer features with maybe a small scar carved into the bottom of their lip...

Wait, what? 

You shake the thought out of your head and instead focus back on Charlie’s current story: some embarrassing run-in with your boss, on his first day. 

You’re shaking from laughter at this point, “No way! Did she say anything to you later on?” 

Charlie grins as he places his head in his hands, “Yeah, it was such a shame job. When I got my first official meeting with her, it was-” 

You watch him trail off as his eyes dart to look at you. No, not at you. Behind you? 

“Well, well, well. Feeling better, eh?” 

You recognize that shit-eating tone anywhere. 

“Oh Jesus Christ,” you mutter under your breath. You turn around and find Seth smirking down at you like he’s found a deer in the headlights. 

“Must have been a pretty quick recovery considering you were sick only two hours ago,” he derides, sliding into the empty spot next to you. You’ve only just realized that your whole table is now empty besides you and Charlie. A quick whip around tells you that they’ve all moved to the nearby pool tables. 

“Seth,” you say calmly, “what are you doing here?” 

“I told you. Last weekend before practice starts.” 

“Yeah, but you don’t even like it here. I’ve literally heard you call it the worst bar in the world,” you argue back.

Seth’s about to open his mouth for some quick retaliation but Charlie beats him to it. 

“You’re Seth Jarvis,” he says. The look he gives is nothing short of bewilderment as he puts together that Seth Jarvis knows you. 

“Hey man, how you doing? Always nice to meet a fan,” Seth nods with an outstretched hand to Charlie. 

Charlie slowly shakes his hand, still reeling in from the newfound piece of information he’s just learned. “Oh, well I’m from Boston so not exactly a fan of you.” 

Seriously? Who even says something like that? 

You refuse to meet Seth’s side eye in an attempt to dodge the embarrassment you feel from Charlie’s unwarranted dig. He’s unsure how to respond to the hostility but the moment of awkwardness is cleared by a second voice appearing. 

“Jarvy, Burnsie found a table outside - let’s go...”

Your head snaps towards the voice and you find Sebastian looking right back. He’s taken aback and stumbles on his words for a second but recomposes himself just as quickly. 

“Hey, where have you b-,” he begins to step forward but falters as his eyes properly assess the scene before him. You and Charlie. Together. Alone. 

“Oh. Are you in the middle of something?” he hesitates, flickering between you and Charlie; unsure of what to make of the situation. 

Your eyes widen slightly before clearing your throat, “Oh, um no. This is Charlie. He recently moved to our office from Boston.” 

God, you feel so small right now. Here you were, seeing Sebastian for the first time in months and you can’t even muster up the courage to properly say hello. 

“Well, we’re gonna go back to our table. Find us at some point, yeah?” 

Seth gives Charlie a final cautious look before he pats Sebastian on the back, guiding them both to a table on the veranda. 

The rest of your group comes flooding back to the table having witnessed the sight unfold from afar. If Charlie keeps his mouth shut, surely you can play it off as a lucky fan interaction?

“Holy shit! Do you know who they were? Tell me you do because I will seriously freak if you tell me you don’t know,” Maddy furiously whispers with wide eyes. 

“I don’t know, Maddy. Seemed like she’s more than well-acquainted by the look on Aho’s face,” Charlie said dryly, bringing a bottle to his lips with a raised eyebrow. 

You’re a bit taken aback by his insinuation. 

“Um, Seth and I grew up together back home,” you slowly let out, “it was just a coincidence that we both ended up in Raleigh.” 

“Wait, so you’re telling me that you’re friends with Seth Jarvis? Are you kidding me? You’ve only heard me talk about the Canes like a thousand times,” she gapes at you with an incredulous look. 

Here we go. 

The rest of your group wasn’t privy to your admission, being too caught up with the sight of the team being mere yards away from them. 

“Look, I don’t know. I just don’t like using his name like that. It makes me feel gross.” you sigh, rubbing your arms. 

“I’d just rather we drop it. Please?” 

You shoot her a look to which Maddy softens; understanding that the topic has hit a bit of a sore spot for you. 

“Okay yeah, of course. You don’t owe anyone an explanation.” 

The mass intrigue of the boys’ presence soon dies off as people slowly realize that they’re about as interesting to watch drinking as the next table is. Conversations resume back to normal and you try your best to feign interest but the knowledge that he’s the closest that you guys have been in months won’t leave you alone. 

So twenty more minutes pass by and you’re ready to throw in the towel. You’ve decided that you’ll deal with the situation another day - preferably when you can string together a proper sentence. After a quick goodbye and the promise of a home-safe text to Maddy, you gather your things and start making headway for the exit. 

The weakness in you can’t help but take one final look at Sebastian before you step out for the night but he’s beaten you to it. His eyes are already fixed on you with the same look you had become all too familiar with. 

****

Saturday night. Seth’s Birthday. Shut-out win over Vegas. No game scheduled until Wednesday. 

Individually, they’re considered lawfully good events. Combined? It’s as if someone was testing to see if Carolina even knew the definition of chaos. And when have they ever backed down from a challenge? 

You let out a huff of air as you fall back into the booth. You had finally managed to escape Seth and Jesperi from the dance floor. If there was ever a case to be made about the negative long-term effects of Redbull, those two were it. 

“Oh my god, how were you even out there for that long?” 

Martin’s girlfriend, Nykki, opens up her arm and lets you lean in. Her leather jacket is a cool contrast to your warm and flushed body. 

“Don’t let them take me again,” you whine as the ache in your feet comes flooding in. She giggles and affectionately pats your head. 

Your eyes skim over the crowd, taking count of where everyone was. Brady, Kuzy and Martin by the bar. Andrei, Jack and Pyotr occupied with a group of girls. Seth and Jesperi still unabashedly dancing but now sporting a pair of shades that you had a sneaky suspicion they found on the floor. As if your eyes knew before your brain, they’re scanning the room again to find what’s missing. 

“He stepped away to the bathroom.” 

Your eyes tear away from the crowd and you sit yourself up, pulling the closest drink to your lips to avoid the direction Nykki is heading.

“He was watching you all night, you know? Didn’t listen to a damn thing I said,” she nudges with a knowing smirk. You didn’t think it was possible for your face to heat up anymore. Your continued silence doesn’t deter Nykki though as she decides that she will get you to admit something that you’re not even sure you’re ready to admit to yourself. 

“Why are you both dancing around this? It’s obvious that he likes you. And maybe you won’t ever admit it to me but I can tell that you like him,” Nykki softens, acutely aware that Sebastian could return to the booth at any moment. 

“Do you…” you hesitate, swirling the remnants of your drink in the glass. “Do you ever feel like you’re too exposed sometimes?” 

She furrows her brows, “What do you mean?” 

“There’s this thing that happens, and maybe it’s not often but it happens, where people expect things just because of who you know.

And if it’s true for just simply being friends with Seth, will it be worse if you’re involved with them?” 

“A hockey player definitely wasn’t my first choice,” she says after a moment. “And maybe I wish I knew what it would have meant to be with him.” 

“But,” she quickly recovers, watching your expression fall, “I wouldn’t change anything. It’s not about the world that he can offer me like everyone thinks it is. It’s how he always shows up for me, even when he’s 3000 miles away. It’s those private moments that are enough to make me forget the world is watching us.”

You catch the glowing adoration that’s etched into her face when she gazes across the room, watching her boyfriend laughing with Brady. You’re so wrapped up in ruminating over Nykki’s words that you almost don’t feel the way the cushion sinks next to you. 

“Are you done with that?” 

Sebastian’s voice grounds you back to reality. “Oh, I am but I’ll get another soon.” 

Before you can stop him, he slides back out of the booth again and flags down a bartender. And Nykki doesn’t take a beat to do the same, “I think I’ll join the others,” sending you a small wink. 

Sebastian slides back in setting down three glasses, two for you and one for him. “I thought you’d want some water too. Jarvy didn’t look like he was going to let you leave at any point,” he offers with a smile. 

You let out a laugh and shake your head, “The trick is to run the second he turns his back. Trust me, works every time.” 

“Did you have fun tonight?”

“Me? What about you? 3 assists and a goal? Surely that’s what we’re really celebrating tonight,” you whistle as you twirl the straw between your fingers. 

You don’t miss the way he almost immediately shies up, turning away with the crack of a smile threatening to take over.

“I couldn’t have done it without the guys, they make all of it happen,” he notions. 

You roll your eyes immediately, “I forget how well media-trained you guys are sometimes.” 

“You should be able to enjoy your successes. It’s not about the other guys not being talented, it’s about being able to reflect on how far you’ve come. All of this is the culmination of your dedication, Sebastian. It’s important to remember that.” 

The silence he returns suddenly fills you with regret. Did you say too much? Was it even your place to say anything at all? You need to backpeddle. 

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have -” you sigh, pushing away your drink. 

“No,” he quickly cuts, “I guess I’ve just never thought about it like that. But it does feel good to hear it.” 

“I like having you at our games” he smiles. “You know you’re part of my warm-up routine?” 

“I am?” 

“Yeah, I play this little game where I try to spell people’s names as fast as I can with the puck. I tried yours once and we won, so I did it the next night and we won again. Now I do it every game to put a little luck into the ice.”

Fuck. His confession renders you speechless. If there were any more doubts about your feelings for Sebastian, they were well and truly effaced now. And suddenly you gain a partial understanding of what Nykki meant. For every game, whether you’re there or not, Sebastian carves a part of you into it. 

You swallow, giving yourself a moment to recollect. “I didn’t think that I was such a game changer,” you softly let out.

You’re not exactly sure when or how it happened but you notice the proximity between you two has significantly lessened. And the arm he has strewn behind you on the top cap suddenly feels misplaced - like they would feel more at home around you. 

And for a brief moment - between the silence you’re both too afraid to break - his eyes break away from yours and flick towards your lips.

He inches closer, “You are… everything.” 

Your breath hitches. Before you can even stop yourself, your hand rests against his neck, gently pulling him in and Sebastian is more than willing to follow. This is it. 

“Guys! KK said his friend can get us into this new club!” 

Your eyes close shut and your hand drops down Sebastian. An agitated sigh leaves him as he reluctantly pulls back. You both look at each other, still caught in the moment that’s now fleed at the sound of Seth’s voice. 

Seth shakes Sebastian, forcing him to break away from your gaze. 

“Did you hear me? KK’s calling us an Uber,” Seth bounces. Not a beat later, Nykki appears and attempts to forcefully pull him away. But it’s Seth. And of course, rightfully so, he wants two of his best friends to come with. 

You quickly down the rest of your drink and step out of the booth, not wanting to bask in the awkwardness any longer. As you step outside, the chill of the wind grounds you back into reality, and you instinctively wrap your hands around your arms. In the peripheral of your vision, you see Nykki rush towards you. 

“I’m so sorry. I tried to grab onto him but he just moved so quickly.” 

You return a small smile, “It’s fine. Really.” 

You link arms with her and she guides you to the Uber that Martin is standing by with the door open. As Nykki climbs in, you turn your head and find Sebastian watching. 

He almost looks hopeful that you’ll follow him. That you’ll both leave the mess of the group behind and find solitude someplace else.

But you don’t. 

Instead, you give a small shake of your head and follow Nykki, with Martin firmly closing the door behind you. 

****

In the years you’ve watched Seth play in Raleigh, you’ve never once seen a game from the suite before. 

But the Monday morning after your run-in with the group, you find yourself opening a calendar invite from your boss to the first home game of the season with a few key clients. So now, you’re perched by the glass, watching the spotlights dancing around the ice and the crowds of people getting settled in for the night. 

“You know we’re meant to be chatting up the clients, right?” 

Of course, Charlie managed to be invited too. 

“I still haven’t been able to swing by that new restaurant I was telling you about. Could be fun to check it out afterwards,” he says, looking out towards the rink. 

“Thanks, Charlie but I think I’m just going to head home the game’s done,” you respond dryly.

He cocks his head with a raised brow, “You know they organized a meet and greet after the game right? The whole reason why we’re here is because the CEO’s son is a huge fan.” 

You don’t love the way your body freezes up at the newly shared information. You appreciated that your friendship with the team hadn’t made it past Maddy and Charlie’s lips, but you weren’t confident that would stay the same after tonight. And that’s the only thing that runs through your mind through all three periods. You can barely converse with the clients as you’re half-distracted by the get-away plan that you’re attempting to draw out in your mind, and it leaves your boss shooting you looks of “get your shit together”. 

The horn sounds off as soon as the clock hits zero. It’s evident that you’re not getting out of this and the only prayer you have left is that the players who join you are the younger rookies who have little to no idea who you are. But you know the chances of that are slim to none. 

You try to push away the anxiousness by listening to a conversation between your boss, Charlie, and the client. 

“All I’m saying is that the reason Boston didn’t make it past the first round was because of how shit some of the calls were against them,” Charlie rambles, oblivious to the unimpressed faces. 

The door of the suite swings open and you find Jordan, Brady, and Sebastian filing in. They’ve all clearly come straight from the showers, still dripping droplets of water from their hair onto the floor. They make their way around the room and shake everyone’s hands, thanking them for their support. Brady is the first to spot you as he gives you a surprised look followed by a welcoming smile. But he reads the panic in your eyes and - being classically perceptive - nods in understanding. 

It doesn’t take another second to pass for Sebastian to register your appearance and amongst the earlier crowding, you’re only now able to fully take in the way he’s dressed. His compression shirt sculpts against him, with the soft lines of his muscles pressing against the fabric. Shorts barely hanging loose against his thighs. A backwards cap sported to tie it all off. It’s enough to make you want to break your silent promise. 

Your eyes can’t help but fixate on him the entire time they circulate with everyone in the room. And while Sebastian tries his damn hardest to remain polite and focus on the conversation at hand, he can’t help but flicker his eyes towards you, making sure you won’t disappear on him again. 

“Thank you so much for your time. We won’t keep you guys any longer, but best of luck with the season ahead. Bring one home for us, hey?” your boss beams. Everyone else has headed home, leaving just you and Charlie waiting for your boss to let you go. 

“Goodnight guys. I’ll see you Monday.” 

And with that, it’s just the five of you left in the suite with a few people on the Hurricanes team off to the side. 

“Well, we better get going if we want to make it to that restaurant,” Charlie says turning towards you. 

Sebastian tenses at this and you see the way Jordan and Brady shoot each other a look. 

“I said I’m going home, Charlie.” You’re shutting this down. 

“I’ll give you a lift then,” he presses. 

Before you can open your mouth to counteract, Sebastian interjects, “You’re not far off from my place, I’ll take you.” 

“Yes, please!”

You’d be embarrassed with how quick you are to jump at his offer if it weren’t for the fact that you so desperately wanted to avoid being confined in a car with Charlie. 

“Thanks bro, but we’ve got it from here.” 

“Actually, I don’t think you do, bro.” 

Charlie looks between you two. Growing annoyed at the situation, he grabs his coat and retreats out of the suit. “Whatever. See you Monday.” 

A sigh leaves your lips and you don’t realize how taut your body is until it eases under the feeling of Sebastian's hand on your shoulder. 

“You guys all good if we take off?” Brady asks, expectedly. Sebastian nods and you all bid goodnight. 

“I just have to grab my things but if you’re tired I can just come back for them tomorrow,” he offers, as Brady and Jordan make their way out. 

You shake your head, “I can hold on, you’re doing me the favour.” 

It doesn’t take long to get back to the locker room, and you can’t help but think about how good he looks when he emerges with his hockey bag hung over one shoulder and a garment bag thrown over the other. 

As you lean against the passenger door, waiting for him to throw his things into the boot, you can’t help but start to grow nervous at the realisation that Sebastian may want to talk about that night. But your nervousness is cut short by Sebastian moving in front of you with a small disc in his hand. 

A puck. 

He looks down at it, fiddling with it between his hands, “It’s from the warm-up. I thought you might like it.”

It’s the puck.  

Your mouth falls open slightly, as you gingerly take it, as if you’re afraid it’ll break if you handle it too hard. 

“I can’t believe you still do that,” you breathe, turning it over, feeling the ridges where the ice has chipped the edges. 

“Of course I do. It changes the game.” 

Your eyes dart up at his choice of words - he remembers. 

“Why did you stop seeing us?” he puts forward. 

You sigh and lean back against the car, turning your head away. 

“Was it because of that night at Jarvy’s birthday? Did you not want to…” he trails off. Even he’s not sure what that night was meant to be. 

“This world that you’re in Sebastian, I just don’t know if it’s for me.”

“I know that we’re away a lot but I-” 

“It’s not that,” you quickly cut off. He returns a confused look and you know, as his eyes search you for an answer, that you owe him this explanation. 

“Before you came back to the table, I was talking to Nykki about how difficult it can get to be involved with a hockey player.” 

“But you’re already involved with us? You were friends with Seth already” he presses.  

“And look where it got me last time. I was forced to leave a job after six months because all anyone cared about was being closer to the Canes than me,” you lamented. 

“I just don’t want to spend the rest of my life feeling like I’m second to the person I’m with; I want to feel equal to them. I want to know who is genuinely trying to be my friend. I want to exist outside of my relationship. I don’t want to have to hide in public because I’m scared to run into people from work.” 

You close your eyes, feeling exhausted by the flood of words leaving your mouth, and you half-expect Sebastian to get into his car and drive off. 

“I didn’t know.” 

You nod in understanding. How could you expect him to know? 

“I would never put you in a position where you wouldn’t feel safe,” he says softly.

“But if that’s what you really want, we can move on from everything. But I need you to know how I feel first.” His hand wraps around the side of your jaw and pulls your gaze towards him. 

“I wanted to know you the moment Seth pointed you out our game for the first time. And then we spoke at the charity gala and I only wanted to know you even more. And then you were around us more, and I got to know you beyond just being Seth’s friend. And what I know I know is that you’re smarter than you let on but you’re still kind. You’ve remained so grounded that you see me as more than just this job. You make me think more deeply than I ever have with anyone else and I don’t want to go back to a life before I had that.” 

You don’t know whether to cry or charge forward. Because after the endless rounds of almosts and what-ifs, you’ve finally caught each other. And the confessions that pour from his mouth left you knowing one thing for certain: you had both waited long enough.

And for the second time, you bring his neck down and finally close the gap between the two of you. Sebastian presses you against the car with his hand wrapping up to rest on the back of your neck, his lips deepening against yours. You never doubted it but his arms feel secure around you, afraid to let go and let the moment be over. 

But you pull away just long enough to let out a murmur, “Take me home, Sebastian” 

****

Six gruelling months pass by and you find yourself at a potential playoff-clinching game with your colleagues. 

Granted your relationship with Sebastian was still very much under wraps, but you had learned to navigate your feelings of discomfort towards the publicity of his job. Sebastian had accommodated your cautiousness. Careful to never spend too long in your section during a pre-game warm up. Made sure to drive around the quiet side of the arena to pick you up afterwards. He had never pushed you to do more than you needed to. 

But even though he’d never tell you, you know he’s quietly envious of the way the guys can openly skate with their partner at family skates. Or how they can sit and openly touch at company events. He had afforded you comfort at the expense of his wants. You wanted him to have more than this. And more importantly, you wanted to show him that you wanted more. 

So when the buzzer sounds off and the Canes skate away with another return to the Stanely Cup Playoffs, you can’t help but let go of the discontentment you have about being found out. So before you even know it, you find yourself moving towards the ice where Sebastian is wrapping up his post-game interview, ignoring the calls of Maddy asking where you’re going. 

And when you reach the board that separates you and your boyfriend, he doesn’t hesitate to skate over, collecting a puck from the equipment manager on the way. 

“Always nice to meet a fan,” he winks, offering his pre-game puck. 

You grin, pulling him forward by his jersey, “I appreciate it but I’ve gotta tell you that I’ve got a boyfriend.” 

His eyes melt at the sound of your public announcement and he catches your lips against his, “I love you so damn much.”

#jo writes #nhl fic #nhl imagine #sebastian aho fic #sebastian aho imagine #carolina hurricanes fic #carolina hurricanes imagine #sebastian aho x reader #nhl writing #sebastian aho fanfiction #sebastian aho fics #sebastian aho imagines #nhl fics #nhl imagines

[danieyells]

So my current suspicion.

I think Kaito is the spy.

I think this for a few reasons.

The first is that Kaito doesn't really seem like the type to have a demonic pact.

Leo says that it's pretty understandable that none of the ghouls listen to the player--they're all selected by demons. While this doesn't apply to Luca either, he made his pact for noble purposes and generally is of noble disposition. Kaito is a coward who doesn't really fit the idea of a pactmaker. If he's instead working for demonkind to possibly sabotage the efforts of ghouls and darkwick, or just monitor them to understand what they're doing and see that they don't pose a threat, I think that'd make sense. He was probably scared into it, or forced into it somehow.

This also leads me to something else--Hyde seemed uncertain as to what Kaito's stigma even was. He sees auras sometimes, he thinks.

He's been here for a whole year and you aren't sure??? I know he avoids missions but surely you'd've found out at some point?

Kaito's ability to see auras explains why he saw the monster that the pc saw when enhancing Luca's stigma--except if he could only see auras, surely he'd see a ton of energy rather than actually seeing the thing and his reaction wouldn't have been as intense as this.

Because everybody else just saw a big red shield

Even for Kaito that's a bit of an overreaction, I think?

What was Kaito afraid of if he couldn't see the giant houndoom looking thing? He very clearly saw it. It's not likely he was using his stigma at the time either--he didn't just see its aura, he saw the monster.

Next, it's likely to be a second year. Several third years so far(namely Tohma, Alan, and Taiga) seem to be aware of the spy--if it was someone who came recently(as the third years only came in the past three or four months) they probably wouldn't know yet or really be working so dedicatedly to find them, and if it was someone in their year they probably would know more certainly already. Tohma is a red herring because of his naturally eerie nature. Haku also strikes me as a red herring--Taiga peobably would not have trusted him in the prologue if he felt like he was suspicious. (On the other hand Taiga may have simply cared so little about your wellbeing that he didn't care if someone suspicious dealt with you.)

Another thing about Tohma. . .he used to be in Vagastrom. But he transferred to Frostheim, and is keeping up with Alan about the spy(and they had a meeting about this after Luca tried to fight Sho and Leo over insulting Kaito, inciting unrest among the general students about the ghouls). . .which leads me to think the spy is in Frostheim. And I don't think it's Jin. His sword letting him teleport and that he barely leaves his room anymore and Tohma is very attentive to him does lend some credibility to it possibly being him but I don't think he's the spy--Tohma is doing that to get Jin's trust to keep a better eye on Kaito, I think.

Subaru is naturally the next suspicious person due to being introduced and shown behaving oddly a little while after Taiga told you about the spy, but I think Subaru is too. . .obvious.

Also, Taiga's specific use of "keep letting him fool you" leads me to believe it's someone we already know and trust.

We don't know Haku well enough for it to be him. Luca hasn't been around long enough for him to be suspicious. Kaito's around the casino enough that Taiga could reasonably be suspicious of him.

There's also Kaito's pendant. It's extremely valuable--though why, we don't know--and it means a lot to Kaito. He won't give it away even when threatened, even if it'd save him from other suffering.

Another thing. . .while it makes sense for Kaito to be scared of Mortkranken on the basis of being a coward and that Yuri experiments on people(most people don't wanna be dissected after all!), I also wonder if he doesn't wanna go there because he's afraid of being analyzed by someone who'd probably be able to tell that he's either not a normal ghoul/human, or that he's some sort of demon or anomaly. Like he passed the stigma test and basic health checkups but could he pass closer examination?

I dunno. I also think it's possible that Kaito isn't even aware he's a spy. Like his pendant is monitoring the world around him while he's blissfully unaware. He never consumed or subjugated his demon--it's just around his neck, listening to everyone or something.

I just absolutely believe that Kaito would turn out to be the "bad guy". Even if not on purpose. It just seems like it's someone we already know and trust, somebody who's in Frostheim, and somebody you wouldn't suspect at all.

#danie yells at tokyo debunker #Tokyo Debunker #kaito fuji #BUT THAT'S JUST A THEORY OF GAMES. #i also haven't checked the japanese to see if word choices like 'his aura does rhis i think' #and 'let him keep fooling you' actually line up #i'm hopeless with jpn listening comprehension lol so i'd have to see the text #BUT. YEAH. IDK THAT'S WHAT'S IN MY HEAD. #i guess i could also tag this #tokyo debunker headcanons #but it's less a headcanon and more theory/analysis.

[fumifooms]

hey i have a lore discussion for ya. so. basilisk chapter: laios is like 'wow monsters that are a mix of multiple animals are so cool! i used to have this fake monster that had all these cool attributes. but i've realized now that i'm older that it's better if a chimera only has two or three animals, instead of a bunch.' however, the Ultimate Monster has about 12 animals in it. and because chilchuck says 'i thought he grew out of this', it's clearly not a continuity error. 1/2

So. Do you think this Ultimate Monster transformation was influenced by the Winged Lion, and it's evidence that the Winged Lion was specifically preying on the fantasies of laios when he was a kid dreaming about being a monster? i've never seen anyone talk about how odd it is that despite laios saying 'chimeras are better if it's just one or two monsters', he still likes his Ultimate Monster design, and even adds the third head to it during the story. 2/2

You’re right that this is a layered topic, but no I don’t think it’s a fantasy he only had as a kid that the WL had to dig for. Below we have a EverydayHeroes Scans glossary page plus the final chimera sketch. As you said, the third head is added during the story. "That scylla sure was cool, let’s add a wolf head in there." Something which he has to note down before going to fight the Winged Lion.

Notice the emphasis on "cool". I think the familiar chapter is the other major relevant bit for this plot thread. It shows us with no ambiguity that Laios does care about aesthetics. It shows us that he can build a monster through logic and be reasonable about it, but he’s also not immune from getting carried away.

Ultimately, it’s still Marcille who builds the perfect familiar that succeeds for the situation, and Laios undermines it for its looks before seeing it in action. Marcille here ALSO mentions how he ‘should have grown out of this phase’.

So yes I mean, I think it’s clear that Laios’ fantasy is a fantasy, it’s not rational or logical or even something good that would work out, and even he knows that. Kind of like how when the winged lion showed him visions of a golden kingdom he reigned over during the succubus-induced dream he ended up saying "yeah… Things wouldn’t be so simple". The winged lion draws from deep seated desires, wether or not the person knows it’s stupid or that they shouldn’t, morally or otherwise, doesn’t matter. The winged lion is brute forcing through enticement for them to cave in. I don’t think Laios thinks becoming a monster would be all that he’s hoped for rationally, especially after seeing the whole chimera Falin situation. It’s like people irl saying they’d like to be a housecat and lounge all day; it’s a fantasy but not something that would really work out, as most people can acknowledge while nevertheless still keeping that pleasant daydream. The winged lion calls it out too! "If you’d wanted to be another kind of monster instead of animal, you’d be invincible right now". His preference for chimeras itself is a matter of taste and not practicality. It’s not well thought out, it’s a craving. Laios wanting to be a chimera is a soup mix of comfort fantasy and childhood coping mechanism and special interest hobby and idealization, and more.

And!!! That’s the point! What saves the world, how Laios saves the world, isn’t a flawless plan! What saves the world is Laios’ most authentic most flawedly human desires, ones he couldn’t control or repress. It’s the weird interest that everyone shamed and denigrated, his uniqueness and feeling of disconnect towards humans, that ultimately saves humanity. Because he genuinely desired becoming a monster, genuinely had that hungry curious nature in the deepest corner of his soul.

The Winged Lion doesn’t work through thoughts and the brain but through wants that are more primal, in your guts, in your heart. It doesn’t seek to checkmate you through logic, it wants you to surrender yourself willingly through manipulating your wants, your weaknesses, your emotions.

It’s like Laios’ curse at the end too, and even the succubus. If Laios were to rationally go through these desires-based trials, it’d reflect his actual wants, instead of just desires and cravings: the curse would have been that Falin can’t be revived, and his most alluring form would have been Falin safe. Dunmeshi in this way is kind of about the struggle of rising above our animality and these deep seated desires that go against productivity and what we actually want, like say, always feeling physically hungry even if you’ve eaten more than enough and knowing you should stop there. Like, it’s why we’re talking about allure and enticement.

Like aughhhh!! Why Laios got to eat desires is because he genuinely wanted to see how it tasted so bad, it wouldn’t have been granted by the lion if it wasn’t something he truly desired, like <3 it’s not something he could have simply strategized he needed to genuinely want it. It wasn’t the plan. It wasn’t plan A or B or C.

Laios my favorite fucked up cinnamon roll who saves the world through his authentic selfish desires

But no I don’t think Winged Lion was preying on his kid fantasies as much as like. The remnants of it that are still there and repressed in him. Kinda like how Marcille’s desire is also about childhood trauma, but if it’d been processed better it might have been different. I do feel like irl we carry a lot of stuff with us that was shaped in our childhoods, often some level of unhealthy and irrational that we have to kinda work through and be like ok that’s enough of that let’s be serious now. And yeah! Yeah. You’re very right that his chimera is strongly associated with his childhood desires though. It’s just that these desires really do stick, and sometimes they can overtake logic, wether or not you’re an adult and wether or not you have a demon on your shoulder telling you to let yourself be tempted.

So yes! Laios knows that a chimera with fewer animals is logically better, but a True Heart’s Desire isn’t always rational or good and his heart yearns for the Rule of Cool.

It’s, again, like the succubi! Laios is interesting for this because the thing with succubi is that they freeze people: they make the prey freeze and not want to resist/run away, but they don’t make it reciprocate either. They don’t- they don’t usually have to reason with them and be like "no i swear we’re totally real <3". Like no one in the party thinks there’s any chance of hot naked blonde women, general Hareus or Izu’s mom actually walking out of the darkness in the dungeon, especially since they were already on guard and knew succubi were going to attack. But with Laios it was more complex than that. And I think it’s way less "oh haha yeah what you’re saying makes so much sense" and more "I want to believe this is real so for a lack of a better reaction I’m just going to not do anything, maybe just maybe it might be". Again it’s enticement, it appeals to your desires. Again it doesn’t operate on a rational level, and that makes sense because the succubi are monsters who seek to trigger your fight or flight or freeze instinct and make it land on freeze; it doesn’t operate on a rational level but a deep seated one that seeks to shortcircuit logic and better instincts. And part of that was Laios’ succubus going "oh your party members have 4 heads each!!!! Ain’t that cool!!!" like, his desire for chimeras and many headed monsters is so not rooted on a logical level.

It’s a silly fantasy. He thinks several heads are cool and he wants them, like the familiar he makes with Marcille. He chooses aesthetic over practicality becahse he wants to try and believe it’ll work out so bad, and truly I can’t blame him.

#Dungeon meshi #spoilers #dungeon meshi manga spoilers #Laios touden #meta #More stuff i’m gonna talk about in the marcille & chil’s arc analysis gdbdggd. Ideals vs wants vs desires. It’s getting convoluted over her #Ask #sorry everyone who sent an ask i’ll get to you i just needed an easy win today #I have more analyses on the succubi and the importance and meaningfulness of monsters for Laios if you dig around my blog #Ahh this is a post where the image composition gets messed up for no reason I see. Sorry can’t do anything about it it’ll stay long af

[buwheal]

Anon that was probably saying sorry, I said sorry because I find what clown roll was saying judgy, it's not easy being broke and not being able to afford food, the last thing a poor person needs is a lecture on how unhealthy their lifestyle is. Like of course it's not healthy, you think someone would CHOOSE to live like that? To eat nothing but trash? Pretty sure if spamton could be eating something not out of the trash he WOULD, he doesn't need someone rubbing how awful his life is in his face when he doesn't really have a way to make it better, like "oh yeah just get some food not in the trash" for free??? Or if you're expecting him to pay, with what money??? I swear financially well off people seem to just forget you need money to do almost anything because of how much they have. If clowny roll really cared so much they should give him some damn money to buy something, granted maybe they can't because of askbox rules, but still.

THAAANKK YOU DUDE arrghhhhh,, frustrates me a little because theres some people in this box talking to him like he has a choice!!! HE DOESNT!!! I already did a WHOLE nasty thing with a whole bunch of the asks rubbing that shit in his face as if it were an apology,, reminding CONSTANTLY with stuff like "I had trouble finding sucess once!" sorry but that doesnt help guys... This isnt some one time thing where hes down in the dumps cause he got fired or smth HES HOMELESS... thankfully ive stopped getting those, but now its THESE ones about how unhealthy his lifestyle is............... like yeah......... hes not fucking stupid he knows....... they talk to him like hes a child waaghhh /lh Like, heres some examples, sorry to these anons, but if i had chosen your ask you'd get yelled at by Spamton AND the audience anyways,, so heres some that i think maybe... they forgot he cant really do a whole lot....

...do you see the irony in this one......

guuuyyyysss do you see the freaking issue here???? "EAT HEALTHER!"

huh.

what.....

WITH WHAT FOOD????? WITH WHAT OPTIONS???? sorry lmfaoo... but like. "doesn't mean you shouldnt try to do better!" WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOUSAYING RIGHT NOW... HES NOT CHOOSING TO????? HES ALWAYS "TRYING TO DO BETTER"... DID YOU GUYS MISS THE POST POINTING OUT THAT HE EVEN HAS TROUBLE FINDING SOMETHING GOOD TO EAT /REGULARLY/??? pleeaaseeee dude save me pleese wauughh

But. Dont go after anyone,, esp Clowny Roll!!!!! I think a lot of them dont ....really think about it. I also have a tinge of a feeling that Clowny Roll has a bit of bait intention with theirs!! nothing wrong with that!

#NMDRVDNMKNKFGNKFGNGNGGGRHHHH #GUYS READ WHAT YOURE FUKCING SENDING TO HIM PLEEAASEE #ALL LIGHTHEARTED BUT GODDDD #Hes really trying NOT to eat straight garbage if he can #He JUST opened and ate some canned stuff #which is pretty damn good for what he can get #and earlier in the askbox he ate a CD bagel #OFC the cake slice too #like hes really trying #when its not bare minimum addison scrap diet hes trying #really really hard #YOU DONT GET IT GGRHHHHRGHH #and the thing is you guys have barely scraped the surface of that big reference sheet theres so damn much #esp with like #the way everything works w his condition or whatever the hell it is #[ygm!] questions #RATTLING THE BARS OF MY CAGE #PUNCHING THE BRICK WALLS #SCREAMING YELLUING INTO A TIN CAN WITH THE YARN CUT #LET ME OUTTTTTT /J

[communist-ojou-sama]

Perhaps people who play gacha games are shamed for the same reason people who fall for ponzi schemes and lure other to also fall for it are shamed

I don't know how to tell you that people don't deserve to be dunked on by self-important ignoramuses for enjoying a game just because of one aspect of its monetization strategy, which might not even be a major one, especially when, and I will point this out again, random lootboxes in western games are Exactly The Same Thing. Belittling people doesn't help them make better decisions and even if it did, you're not belittling them for that because the gacha is often not very important. You're belittling them because you're an ignorant racist shithead who dislikes anything they consider "too anime". Hope this helps :)

[nico-di-genova]

A Lesson in Braking

Chapter 2

Read on Archive of Our Own

A/N: hehehehehehe (my only thoughts while writing this fic).

Warnings: NSFW and a brief mention of anti-harm dorm furniture.

“I fucked an old guy last night,” Lance says to Esteban, when he’s lying on the floor of his dorm room, head resting on the Spider-Man pillow he bought Esteban for his birthday last spring. “Behind the Barnes & Noble. Hand job.”

Esteban hums. He’s  sitting at his desk that he’s moved to slot beneath the single small window of his room, curled over his laptop and working on some complex string of numbers. Three weeks into the semester and Esteban is already drowning in assignments – Lance doesn’t envy him.

“He ate my cum,” he continues, picking at a fraying edge of the pillow. When he pulls at the red string it snags on the fabric and then releases, growing longer in Lance’s grip. He should buy Esteban a new one, maybe a whole bedspread to match. The thought occurs that he could buy a matching set, just to sleep on during the nights when he’s too drunk to get back to his own place and crashes in the living room.

Esteban hums again, pushes his glasses further up his nose, keeps clicking away on his laptop so that the number sequence only grows longer. Lance can only catch pieces of it from where he’s lying on the floor, head angled backward to stare up at Esteban as he works. But even the small bit he can see is enough to give him a headache.  

“When I kissed him I tasted it.”

That gets him.

Esteban sighs, leans back in the chair as far as it will go given its anti-tip design – dorm furniture made to prevent kids from hanging themselves from their light fixtures – rubs at the bridge of his nose and then falls back forward with a groan.

“You’re telling me this, why?”

Lance pouts, tips his head further back on the pillow so he can get a better look at Esteban with one arm on the back of his chair, leaning down to stare at him with mild judgement.

“You don’t want to know about the old man sex I had?”

“I can barely tolerate hearing about the normal sex you have.”

Lance laughs. The spider-man plush, also bought by Lance from the birthday trip to Disneyland last spring, rises and falls on his stomach with the movement. Technically, he has homework for his intro to Marketing class, but it’s more fun to laze around on Esteban’s dirty floor, talking about his sex life, than it is to learn about how to make people buy things. Besides, he’s grown up listening to his dad rant about his successes in the industry, so much so that his first word might as well have been entrepreneurship. It shouldn’t be a hard class to pass.

The dorm room is so tiny he almost runs the whole length of it, one foot nearly to the door, his head at the base of Esteban’s chair, one knee propped in the air. One of his arms is spread wide enough that it’s laying underneath Esteban’s bed, fingers toying with the shoelace of a sneaker that’s been kicked off underneath. It’s a familiar sight by this point, Lance taking up space in Esteban’s room, his life, with ease and spreading out enough that he can be found in nearly every corner of it. Esteban always makes room for him, sometimes will join him on the floor when his course load isn’t too much. But junior year is already different from the two prior, kicking off with a speed that is giving Lance whiplash.

He misses Sovi, the freshman dorms that once made him feel caged, but provided infinitely more freedom in that they weren’t tied to the paths that had led them here.

“My normal sex life just involves Pato, you’d rather hear about me fucking Pato?” He asks, smirks, just barely dodges the pencil Esteban flicks down at him.

“I don’t want to hear about you fucking anyone! Get a journal!”

Lance muses, “I guess there was also that one guy a few weeks ago. From that party in Q,” the building a few doors down from Esteban’s. It sat on the shore of the lake and far enough away from the central hub that university police tended to overlook it. Esteban had called Lance four beers deep a week into school and told him to get there quick, didn’t specify where ‘there’ was, so Lance had to use Find My to even locate him. When he’d pulled up the party had been in full swing on the third floor, and he was welcomed into the cramped apartment by Esteban who reeked of alcohol and weed. Lance ended up fucking one of the guys who lived there, riding him hurriedly and enduring the guy keeping a sweaty palm pressed to his mouth so he didn’t make too much noise in the room they’d locked themselves in.

 Esteban squints at him, “You said that guy was shit.”

“He was.” He came first and then didn’t even bother to get Lance off.

“So why the fuck would you want to talk about it again?”

“Because you don’t want to hear about the good old man sex.”  

Esteban’s nose crinkles in disgust, “Well how old was he?”

“I didn’t ask.”

The mechanical engineering is quickly forgotten, Esteban spinning around fully in his chair and staring at Lance with wide eyes. Lance grins up at him innocently, flutters his eyelashes, scoots over on the pillow as a silent invitation for the man to join him on the ugly blue carpeted floor. Esteban doesn’t take it, yet, Lance is still confident he can convince him.

“How old did he look?”

“I don’t know, forties maybe?”

“Forties?! What the fuck, Lance!?”

“What?”

The deadpan stare Esteban gives him isn’t new, it’s pretty standard actually. “You are insane. And stupid.”

Lance, because he likes testing his luck, pushing at the boundaries of his and Esteban’s friendship, seeing where the line is so he can be prepared for when it snaps, keeps going, “I’m seeing him again tonight.”

He wishes he’d been filming, just so he could preserve the way Esteban’s eyes get impossibly wider. Finally, Esteban gets out of the chair, but he doesn’t join Lance on the floor, instead he paces the length of the room, hands held on his head and mumbles a rapid string of words that Lance doesn’t quite get but he thinks are mainly swears.

“You are joking, yes? Tell me you are joking.” Hands on his hips, towering over Lance, he looks like a giant. Tall and lanky with big eyes behind his wire-rimmed frames.

Lance hadn’t been. He’s been texting Fernando since late last night, ignoring calls from his dad in the process. So far the conversation has consisted of little substance, just enough to establish that Lance is a junior, Fernando is retired, and lives in one of the mansions on the other side of the lake that is right outside Esteban’s prison cell-sized window. Mainly they’d talked about Fernando’s cock, how Lance is upset he didn’t get to see it, taste it – how he’d like to return the favor preferably outside of the backseat of a car and somewhere a bit more comfortable.

He wants to be called beautiful again, reverently, spread out on silk sheets and spread open by Fernando’s fingers. He blames the accelerated horniness on the dry summer he’d just had, the time spent at his father’s house with little else to do and no one to hook up with because Lawrence had insisted on spending as much time as he could with Lance. They’d gone to the track to watch a few races, the office where Lance was meant to be shadowing, galas and banquets, and the golf course most mornings so Lawrence could ensure Lance actually had something to show for the tuition he was fronting. Lance knows it was mainly a last ditch effort on his dad’s behalf to maintain their relationship, before Lance slipped off back to Florida and began predictably sending him to voicemail. Which is why he had even bothered enduring it in the first place, when he just as easily could has gone off to the Mykonos with a group of guys from his frat.

He'd refrained from debauchery all summer, was paying the price for his abstinence now. But, like always, the cost was something to which Lance paid very little, until the bill began to raise eyebrows, as Esteban’s now are.

“Lance. Tell me you are joking!”

“Why would I be joking?”

Esteban glares down at him, while Lance sprawls out further across the thin carpet, concrete flooring beneath digging into his shoulder blades, and smiles. It’s wide, lazy, slow to draw across his face. The sort of shit-eating, self-assured, smirk that Esteban hates.

“It was good sex, Este! He did this thing-“

“Stop! No! Stop! I don’t want to know.”

Lance stops, goes quiet, but continues to smirk. In his pocket, he feels his phone vibrate, probably Fernando again. They’re meant to be meeting in a few hours, once the suns gone down enough that being outside doesn’t make him feel like he’s melting. When Fernando can take him to the bar in the shopping plaza nearby and treat him to a beer before he fucks him senseless, as he’s been promising all day.

He doesn’t tell Esteban this, figures he’s maybe traumatized him enough for the day. Instead, he changes the topic to Esteban’s course load, feigns interest in the math still open on his laptop. Esteban is all too willing to explain it to him, to turn his attention away from the phone Lance pulls from his pocket and grins at with cheeks turning red.

Fernando has sent him a photo of his outfit, button of his slacks undone, zipper pulled low,  hand holding the waistband below his hips. He has a tattoo on the inside of his forearm, close to his wrist, something Lance hadn’t noticed in the dark of his car last night, but that he now can’t draw his eyes away from. It’s a cross of some sort, produces the sort of sacrilegious thoughts that he can’t linger on for too long for fear of losing his religion.

‘Wear something nice,’ Fernando’s text says, when he manages to read it.

Lance doesn’t own much that fits the description, other than a suit he saves for formals, but he figures it maybe doesn’t actually matter that much. Fernando promises to rip whatever it is off of him anyway.

Esteban throws another pencil at him when he tries to show him the photo, holds his hand up to block the view and then lands the writing utensil right on Lance’s nose.

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

His dad calls when he’s fresh out of the shower of his own apartment, steam curling in the air around him and his phone vibrating steadily against the granite countertops of his humid bathroom. He answers before it goes to voicemail, figures he owes his dad this because it’s the third time he’s called since that morning, and he doesn’t want to risk pissing the man off too much.

“Hey,” he says as he’s wrapping a towel around his waist, slicking his wet hair back out of his face with his free hand. He leaves the phone on speaker, lets his dad’s voice fill space as he busies with getting ready.  

“I’m going to assume you’ve been ignoring my calls because you are going to class.”

He only has one class on Tuesday’s, and it’s finished by noon. Advanced golf merchandising, a pointless elective where he’s meant to be learning the management of a retail location. He takes notes, enough to retain the important bits, but he already knows management isn’t where he’s going to end up. His dad would secure him some corporate position within his company before that was even an option. Which, he doesn’t want either, can’t stand the thought of being forced to wear a shirt with a collar every day.

“Yeah, I just got back from campus,” he lies, he’s been hiding out at Esteban’s since class ended, it’s seven now. The lie comes too easy, but the truth would only hurt the both of them – that Lance is avoiding his father because their conversations hurt more than they help these days. That Lance is growing, but it’s in a direction away from Lawrence, from the idea of who his dad thought he would be.

His dad wishes Lance were still small, and Lance wishes that too, but only because when he was a child hurting his dad only resulted in a brief scolding. Now it leads to awkward silences that neither of them know how to fill.

“Class is going well?”

“Um, easy so far, yeah.” They’re only three weeks in. “Other than this financial accounting class, it’s brutal.” He’s already had to ask Esteban for help, already knows he’s going to need to visit the library for tutoring.

He wipes steam from his mirror with the palm of his hand, catches a glimpse of his dripping reflection. Somehow, he needs to assemble himself into something relatively attractive within the next ten minutes, only for it to most likely come undone the second he slides his helmet over his hair. There’s a twisted sort of humor in him wondering how best to style himself for Fernando, while he’s on the phone with his father, pretending to care about classes that had stopped being fun once Lance realized they were actually supposed to lead to something.

“You spent all summer looking at the books,” Lawrence says. Which is true, but it had made more sense when things were hands on. Now it’s just a jumble of words and numbers on a whiteboard, a professor who knows the course is meant for weeding out those who are too weak to continue, and who looks at Lance every time he shows up late with a knowing sort of disappointment.

People didn’t used to look at him like that, it’s a growing sentiment the more Lance stumbles.

“Yeah, I know. It’s just- it’s different. All reading and equations and- I don’t know. I’m not a numbers guy, dad, you know this.”

“You got it pretty well while you were here.”

Only because he’d felt his dad’s eyes on him the whole summer, felt the pressure and the weight and need to prove he could do something. His professor doesn’t bother to look at Lance once he’s sat at a desk, which means Lance zones out, doodles designs in the margins of his notes and then wonders why the numbers don’t add up while he’s doing homework later.

“It’s different,” the exasperation in his voice is audible, he pauses where he’d been drying his hair with a towel pulled from under the sink. Closes his eyes. Breathes. “But I’m trying. I’ll- I’ll figure it out.”

“I know you will, Lance. I didn’t say you wouldn’t.”

They’re being careful around each other, the eggshells just beginning to crunch beneath their feet. Neither one of them want a fight and Lance can feel the tension of it through the phone, the tightening of something in his chest that threatens to break every time he speaks to his father now. This is why he lets it go to voicemail.

Fernando texts him, he sees the notification come through as he’s staring at the phone, hands braced on the bathroom sink. Probably asking if he’s on his way. Lance’s hair is still dripping water in cold tendrils down the back of his neck, a puddle forming on the carpet at his feet. He hasn’t even bothered to find an outfit or brush his teeth.

“Look, dad- I- um, I gotta go. I have a, uh, a study thing with Pato-“

“Oh, okay, yeah. I’ll talk to you soon.”

Lance closes his eyes again, bows his head, tries not to care about the hurt that’s audible in his father’s voice and finds that it somehow manages to dig between his ribs anyway. He hangs up before there’s the chance for the line to fracture further, and then he busies himself with texting Fernando back.

‘You are still coming?’ Fernando asks.

Lance says he’ll be there soon, and then he focuses on the toothbrush in his hands, getting himself ready, and ignores everything else.

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

“I need a drink!” Lance yells over the music, leaning further into Fernando, who holds him up with ease. “A shot!”

Fernando’s hand on his waist tightens when Lance rocks on his feet. They’re standing in the press of bodies on the dance floor, people on all sides. The crowd makes it easy for Lance to press against Fernando, the flashing lights adding to the disorientation. No one notices the way Fernando’s got one hand gripping Lance’s hipbone, the other on his ass, tucked into the pocket of his jeans and cupping the curve of him.  

They’re the same jeans he’d worn last night, pulled from the crumpled heap on his floor and slid back on because he couldn’t find anything else. If Fernando has noticed he doesn’t say anything, too distracted by the white linen button-up that Lance wear, only half done-up and exposing nearly the full expanse of his chest in the multicolored lights. Lance knows it puts the chain around his neck on full display, makes his collarbones stand out, shows how broad he is, and produces the impressed reaction Fernando had exhibited upon first seeing him.

He’d bought Lance his first drink, and then the first requested tequila shot, leaning on the bar top and staring at the exposed column of his neck as Lance tipped the liquor back and downed it with practiced ease. Lance had seen the way Fernando’s eyes had darkened as his adams apple bobbed, looking from the corner of his eye just to see the response that would be elicited with the movement.  

“What do you want?” Fernando asks now, hand on his hip coming up to pull Lance down to him so his lips just barely brush over Lance’s ear.

He shudders, breath stuttering when Fernando’s fingers tangle in the hair at the nape of his neck and pull just enough that there’s the promise of something better later. He’s been teasing Lance since Lance first arrived, the ghost of a touch, a tongue tracing over the sweaty line of his neck, enough to have him hard in his jeans but never doing anything to solve the problem.

It’s the most public foreplay Lance has ever engaged in, even if everyone is too drunk or too involved in their own games to even notice.

“Vodka?” Lance yells, knowing he probably seems young for only ordering shots, but he’d only just turned twenty-one last October. Most of his experience with alcohol has been bagged wine fountained before entry to a party or the mix of Kool-Aid and whatever liquor could be procured into a giant tub for jungle juice. Shots are simple, uncomplicated, and he knows he can handle them. Plus they hit fast, or at least feel like they do, give him the liquid courage needed to grind against Fernando as Pit Bull blares around them in the crowded bar.

The Keys is a mixed sort of space, half occupied by college kids who were too lazy to drive all the way to Rusty’s and half-filled by the locals who are looking for fun outside of their mansions. It means he and Fernando don’t draw attention, Lance fits in with the group of kids in their backwards caps and low cut shirts, Fernando blends with the guys in their pressed button-ups and black slacks. He just looks hotter than the others, the pants hugging his waist and ass well, clearly tailored. And the peak of a tattoo Lance gets on the back of Fernando’s neck as he follows him back up to the bar, Fernando’s hand around his wrist towing him through the crowd, separates him enough from the older guys smoking cigars outside on the patio. He wants to know what the tattoo is, slide Fernando’s shirt off his shoulders and trace the ink with his tongue.

But that’s for later, for now he lets Fernando guide him, lean him against the bar top, slide a hand back into the pocket of his jeans because the shape of his palm over his ass is becoming familiar. He flags down the bartender, orders two shots of Vodka and then they tip them back together. Lance can feel how flushed his neck is getting, wonders if the red of it is spreading to his chest, his cheeks. His hair that was still slightly damp from the shower is frizzing in the humidity of the packed space, falling over his forehead.

Fernando stares up at him, lips wet with vodka and his own spit when he licks them, Lance follows the movement, starts to lean forward like he intends to taste the lingering alcohol himself. Fernando stops him with a hand on his chest, fingers splayed across bare skin, index finger dipping into the hollow of his clavicle. Lance shudders, Fernando feels it.

“Let’s get out of here, yes?”

“Yes.”

Lance can’t drive his bike, just drunk enough that he knows he couldn’t keep his balance. Instead, he climbs into the passenger seat of Fernando’s Aston Martin, and deposits his own keys in the cupholder, casting a forlorn look back at his gear in the backseat. The same seat he’d come undone in last night, now occupied by his motorcycle helmet with the sticker of a cat waving the Canadian flag – something Pato had found online and ordered because ‘it’s Canada, Lance! You know, you!’. Fernando had asked him about it when he parked earlier, traced the outline of it before Lance had taken his helmet off, lifted Lance’s visor so he could see his eyes more clearly as he did so.

When he looks back at Fernando in the driver’s seat the man is staring at him. Lance knows what it looks like when someone wants him. He knows the way Pato gets all slack jawed and dopey-eyed, eyes flicking to Lance’s lips every two seconds even though he wouldn’t even try to kiss him. But Fernando’s look of want is different, more demanding and all-encompassing. He looks like he’s plotting the best course of stripping Lance out of his clothes before they’ve even reached their destination, like he is thinking of the best way to take him apart.

Maybe it’s because he’s more experienced, or maybe it’s because he’s less. Lance doesn’t know enough about him, anything really, to know if he is the first man Fernando has hooked up with or not. They still haven’t found much time to talk, or maybe just haven’t wanted to make the effort. Lance is okay with that, his idea of foreplay is not long discussions and get-to-know-you’s. He doesn’t have the patience for that, much prefers Fernando’s method of cutting to the quick and easy of it.  Which Fernando does when he leans across the console enough to grab Lance by the chain around his neck and pull him in for a kiss.

Lance is still not used to the kissing, just opens his mouth and lets Fernando’s tongue slide into it because he’s not practiced enough. He’s okay with letting Fernando take control, likes how he doesn’t have to think about it, just follow. Fernando tastes like vodka, and Lance swallows the familiar taste of it when their spit mixes and he can no longer tell whose is whose.

When Fernando pulls back Lance tries to chase him, is stopped again by a hand on his chest, firm and unyielding.

“You are still okay with coming to my place?” Fernando asks, and something in the way he says it is slightly sobering. It makes Lance remember his bike two spots over, prepared to be abandoned for the night and hopefully still there come morning.

“Yeah. Definitely.”

“I will drive you home, instead. If you want. Up to you.”

“No. No I’m good. Trust me.” He’d prepped himself in the shower and everything, knew what he was getting into before a drop of alcohol ever touched his tongue. “I’ve been thinking about this since last night.”

Fernando eyes him, glances down at his chest where his skin is still red and hot and bare against his hand.

“Okay. God, you are beautiful.”  

The praise shoots straight to Lance’s cock, has a quiet moan escaping him, something he only just barely manages to bite back with the press of his teeth into his bottom lip. Fernando catches it anyway, grins like he’s realized the praise wasn’t just a one-off from the hand job last night, but something Lance actually enjoys.

"Don’t worry, pretty boy,” he promises, “Make you feel better soon.”

#strollonso #strollonso fic #a lesson in braking #a lesson in braking fic #my fic #gang they make me maybe a bit unwell #also!! don't say anything about it lowkey being toxic rn #I know! #(it's intentional) #I have a path #let me stroll along it

[myezblog]

Ming's Character

It is apparent how difficult it is to bring out a character on TV vs in a book.

Just sharing a few things about Ming's character that may help people interpret his character better. No spoilers.

*******

Independent Ming -> He is not some pampered good for nothing with a huge ego. When he was abroad, he used to live alone, cook for himself and basically knew how to take care of himself and his home...This is relevant as to why he allows Joe to do things for him... cooking, cleaning, a feeling of a home... its not that he can't do it or doesn't get it at his home... but because the emotions Joe ignites in him are special

2. Not a non sensitive git -> this is a big deviation in drama from the book. From ep 1, in drama, Ming appears to be someone who is still eyeing Tong despite him being his sister's boyfriend. In the book, he didn't do that. He actually went abroad to avoid both his being gay confrontations and being near Tong and his sister (because he knew it is wrong and didn't want to create any trouble for his sister)

Him being gay is definitely a problem with his family. But other than that we don't really see anything else.

3. Toxic love in 2.0 .. not really .. Even the guy who hates Ming (Sol) the most acknowledges and knows that Ming's love for ML (Joe) transcends even his own ... everyone in the book world knows that and don't have even an iota of a doubt..

Its just that they are still angry about what happened in 1.0 .. but then all of them have been a witness to Ming's sufferings and attitude in those 2 years and know better

4. Toxic obsession.. NOT REALLY.. with respect to ep 4, he is not in that home because of some powerplay. Without spoiling, his feelings are very pure, very sorted at this point .. not some crazy obsession.. more like latching onto this 1 single hope that exists.. which everyone else has given up on.. and in the book you can read how every day of holding onto that single thread of hope took a toll on him

5. He does not give up... In the book too, one thing with Mind is that ( i guess this is the part of rich priviledged background).. he keeps repeating that he always has what he wants...

Now he says that always in context fo Joe.. because we have seen him not even try for Tong though he wanted Tong, or try in his career or whatever... but just ML (Joe) everytime he tries to get away from Ming

6. Lastly, there is no trauma going on with Ming in the book.. BUT THAT he has truly ever been in love with just 1 person since he was 16... ONLY ONE PERSON... he has sought sxual releases when he was abroad etc.. but just loved that one person... and that one person is also responsible for his sxual awakening... and it is not Tong

He has loved the back.. whoever has the back is his true love.. is the one who fuels his sxual fantasies everytime... he does not imaging Tong when having sx.. but rather fantasies with respect to that back.. its just that in his mind the back is Tong's

#my stand in #my stand in the series #joe x ming #ming x joe #poom phuripan #up poompat