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melonn-soda · 8 days

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❝GIDDY UP & GO!!... ❞

word count: 3.3k

warnings: subbot! male reader, domtop! boothill, genitals are not explicitly mentioned, grinding, no actual penetration, unnecessary descriptions how much there is of spit (sorry if ur not into that), predator/prey if u squint, nd gunplay if u squint really really hard (is implied), lots of pentnames, praise, save a horse ride a cowboy but I change a factor, cowboy hat rule because RRGHGHGRHRGHHGHGHG

prompt: boothill has made it his life mission to cash in the money he gets when he lands you behind bars. however, when it becomes apparent as to why you let him pursue you, he begins to chase you for an entirely different reason

notes: lost 50/50 to yanqing (he's still my kid nd I love him regardless YANQING HATERS LEAVE!!!!) when wishing for aventurine. now I'm pulling for boothill if I don't get my little gambler (if Sunday is playable and better than boothill then im sorry to my fav cowboy yeehaw) not beta read

fem aligned dni

“Oh, my.”

Boothill hates your guts. That’s a given.

He hates the way you carry yourself, the sly remarks you’ll make if you spot even one hint of insecurity, the slight draw on certain syllables to give a mocking tone- you, in general. Although he’s more on the bothering side than the bothered, you’re just so much more annoying than he thought even possible. Guess that’s why you’re known as a high-end bandit.

He’s been on your tail for weeks, chasing any leads (a lot of them, like you wanted the chase) he could get his hands on. He’s even seen you slinking around taverns, poker tables, run-down hotels- for fucks’ sake, even on horseback racing down a dirt path while attempting to rob a moving train. To feel the satisfaction of seeing the credits Boothill would obtain after putting you behind bars is all he wants to experience because this is just getting ridiculous.

So, why the hell now, is he bound up to the ceiling with chains thicker than his own ankle after finding your base?

The amused smile finds its way upon your lips and Boothill wants to do nothing more than to kick it right off. You were in a vulnerable position before he decided to sneak in, with your chair tipped as your feet were kicked up on a busted wooden table, a bandana resting over your eyes to block out the sunlight that dared to drift into the room. Boothill made the dumbest mistake by alerting you of his presence through triggering a well hidden trip-wire. Perking you up, you began to rise from your seat, swiftly removing the bandana from your eyes and fingers instinctively on the handle of your revolver that sat on the gun holster strapped to your thigh. The trap triggered so fast, Boothill’s sensors barely had time to react to it before the ‘snap!’s and ‘crack!’s echoed throughout the room and he was pressed against the ceiling within seconds.

Sharp glares were stabbing through your form as your hand rested on your hip as you whistled, looking up at the ranger in slight surprise and smugness. Aeons, he hated you.

“Wow, such a reckless move to jus’ prance yer way in here, no? Hey, aren't cha a Galaxy Ranger or somethin’?” You tease, swiveling your chair so that you could sit backwards on it, crossing your arms atop of the back rest so you could rest your chin on your forearms, “Surely, ya coulda suspected that I woulda set up a trap. But why waste all yer precious time on someone as measly as me? I ain’t nothin’ but a lil’ ol’ bandit.”

“You better seal yer pretty lil’ lips, doll.” Boothill hisses at you, his voicebank glitching to censor the words he so desperately wanted to say, “My bullets don’t take too kindly to sweet talkers n’ foxes.”

A laugh echoes throughout the falling apart structure then settles into a hum as you stand up and kick the chair against the wall, “Ya sure like to talk big. Kinda fits ya, though.” The chair slams right under Boothill and you slowly make your way towards it, the clinking of spurs on your boots highlighting every step you take.

Looking up at the suspended robot, your left foot raises and rests on the seat, leaning in to provoke the cyborg even further, “It’s kinda cute how ya keep pursuin’ me despite all these failed attempts. How ‘bout I give ya more of a reason to keep chasin’ me than only doin’ it for jus’ the credits?”

Boothill’s eyebrows creased in suspicion as your hand raises up to his face, contemplating just biting your fingers straight off until he hears the click of the safety and a metal barrel against the human skin of his jaw. His teeth clench in anger as you nearly laugh at his compliance, reaching above his head and snatching his hat right off.

Oh, he was going to kill you for sure-

The hat plops onto your head and you wink at him while sticking your tongue out.

What.

There wasn’t-

There was no way.

“Catch me if ya can, cowboy.” You say dismissively, briskly turning around and walking out of the rundown hideout. However, before you could get out of his line of sight, your head turned to face him and you said, “I’ll be waitin’. As always.”

Dumbfounded and a half an hour later collapsed on the floor from the wooden boards snapping- which loosened the chains, he replays that minute over and over again. He didn’t want to believe that had actually happened but his memory told him otherwise.

There was no way that you...

Whatever. He’ll think about it later. He needs to get his damn hat back.

The first time Boothill finds you, it’s in a more forest-y area. You’re on your trusty steed, talking to some other criminals with little interest. The cowboy watches the interaction, paying special attention to your reactions to see if you’ve noticed his presence. From what he could tell, you didn’t seem to see that he was watching while using the shrubbery to cover him and the horse he was on. The people you were talking to he recognized from some wanted posters, only worth some credits. Not as much as your bounty, though.

...

...You’re still wearing his hat.

“Look, partner,” Your voice dips into an exhausted, low, sigh, “I need that shipment as soon as possible, ya hear? I ain’t got too much time left before she’s reached her time. Ion care how ya get it, I need it in at least a week! Otherwise she’ll get real snappy and I’m gonna hafta put some lead in some poor person's head.”

One of the bandits flashes a worried look to another, “Boss, ya don’t understand! The Xianshou Luofu’s been havin’ sum sorta delay! We ain’t gonna get those packages ‘til some long period of time!”

Boothill’s interest peaks as you begin to snap, “Did ya not hear me? I said, ‘Ion care how ya get them!’ Find a way! Talk to that Trailblazer everyone’s been praisin’ about or somethin’! Jus’ get me my stuff before ‘m gonna start blowin’ some brains out-”

A rustle causes you to pause your sentence as you draw your weapon immediately, the barrel facing his direction and bullets fly. Boothill’s horse had begun to munch on the bush, which gave away his position, but thankfully he moved quick enough to get out of the way.

You decided to book it when you caught sight of the familiar white and black hair, spurs hitting the sides of your horse as you begin to get out of the area to leave nothing but a trail of dust. Boothill doesn’t hesitate to race after you, whipping the reins of his horse to get her going.

Branches and twigs tug at Boothill’s hair as he chases you through the forest, lowering his torso so that he could lessen the wind resistance as his horse’s hooves slam against the ground. You’re quite the distance away, mostly because your horse is pretty speedy. It’s how you get away from crime scenes so fast. However, Nellie, the horse Boothill is riding currently, is also quite fast.

Although, not fast enough because in the end, he still loses you.

The curses he spits all get censored immediately as he slows into a stop, head turning in every direction to see if you left any trail behind. Only to see none. Didn’t expect as much from a skilled criminal.

The second time he spots you is in the tavern, playing a game of poker with people that had their pockets stuffed full of cash. ‘Rich folk,’ Boothill grimaces as he could see them tilt their chin up like the world owes them something. If you rob them, he won’t feel even a sliver of remorse.

He knows that you can see him as he leans against the wall to watch the match, some of the rich getting intensively frustrated as they begin to fold after betting so high. Judging by the scheming smile on your face, he could tell you have a winning hand. Then again, when are you never smiling like you have something up your sleeve?

Finally, in the showdown, you and the person you’re going up against reveal your cards and you win with a four of a kind. Lucky.

The people at the table groan and push their chips in your direction, getting up to leave as their attitudes have just been soured over that singular match. Boothill takes the opportunity to walk over to you and remove the gun from his holster and press it right up against your lower back, hand coming up to snatch his hat that rests atop your head.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

A window shatters behind him and he could hear flames begin to roar but he doesn’t dare tear his eyes away from you. Only when he feels cold metal press against the nape of his neck does his actions falter and his eyes turn to face whoever decided to draw their weapon.

He blinks in shock to see a figure completely made of water, his gaze returning to you and seeing you sitting on the edge of the table with your gun pressed against his forehead. Shit. He’s lost again.

The tavern completely surrenders to the flames as people scream at the sight of fire, swallowing up the alcohol and wood. Boothill can hear his fans whirring to prevent himself from overheating but the attempt is futile as the room begins to get unbearably hot. He’s not sure if it’s just the fire that’s causing him to overheat or it’s because you look insanely good with all this red and orange light.

...

What is he even thinking right now?

“Y’know, it’s gettin’ real fun toyin’ with ya, cowboy.” You speak, completely unbothered by all the heat in the building. He can’t even see a single drop of sweat on your face. Even so, you continue, “But I think ya can do a little better than this.”

The ranger’s lips purse in offense, glaring at you as best as he could. The gun you had pointed lazily at his forehead falls to the floor and Boothill isn’t sure how long he can last in this heat. Before his system could finally shut down because of overheating, he could feel your lips press against the area where your gun was pressed up against. Then, he falls over as his system forcibly turns him off.

The third time Boothill sees you, he’s lying on a metal workbench with cold water floating above him and fans blowing in his direction. He’s confused, obviously, and on his toes as he realizes he’s not in an area he’s not familiar with. He attempts to sit up to find a way to escape only to realize that he can’t move his arm. Now, he’s terrified.

“Relax, cowboy.” Your voice coos from behind a computer, typing away at something as you're taking a tip from a glass. Presumably water. “I’m cooling ya off. You’re welcome... You should be able to move now.”

Boothill shoots up from his spot and rips off the cables that are attached to his left arm, head darting around to look for his gun. He hears a click and once again finds himself with a gun pressed up against his jaw.

“Lookin’ for this?”

The crosshair that replaces his once human pupils flit over to your direction, noticing that you were holding his revolver in your dominant hand. Boothill swears that you must like pointing a barrel in his direction for how many times this has been done. He also sees that you’re wearing his very cropped jacket over your usual attire. ... And you’re still wearing his hat.

“That’s mine, pretty boy.” The ranger gives you a half-assed growl as his censor kicks in once more, already getting annoyed at your sly behaviour, “Ya really got a knack for takin’ stuff that’s not yours, huh? No wonder yer a criminal.”

You giggle at his words, tossing his gun on the metal workbench, “It’s not loaded, neither is your little gun hand.” You tell him, like he was going to start unloading mags into your skin. Turning around, you walk back to your computer and open up a drawer on the desk it sits on, “Well?” You ask after a momentary silence, leaning on one of your legs as you crack open a bottle of whiskey and begin to pour it into your empty glass.

“‘Well’, what?” Boothill narrows his eyes at you, picking up his revolver and shoving it back into his thigh holster. He’ll just have to go to the nearest mechant and buy more bullets.

“Ain’t ya gonna, I don’t know, take yer hat back?” You ask him, taking a sip of the alcohol that gives a slight burn down your throat, “We’re in an enclosed space, barely any room t’move around, exit’s right behind ya ‘n all. Perfect chance t’arrest me, if I dare so say m’self.”

He blinks. There’s got to be some sort of trap if the setup is this perfect. He’s not going to make the same mistake he did before, not again. So, his sensors scan the room quickly, which leaves you unamused, and he sees that there are in fact no traps in this room. Boothill almost doesn’t want to believe it.

“Are ya playin’ some sort of game with me?” Boothill’s eyes begin to squint in suspicion, carefully trying to think of a situation you might pull that puts him on the losing end of the stick, “Yer jus’ gonna let yourself get arrested? Jus’ like that?”

“What? Ya don’t wanna do it? Too scared?” You taunt him again, causing the cowboy’s circuits to boil in animosity.

“Ya know what?” Boothill smiles a tense one, taking long, menacing steps in your direction, “I’ve ‘bout had it with your attitude, pretty boy. Seems like ya didn’t have anybody ta teach ya proper manners.” All of a sudden, you felt yourself being slammed up against the wall behind you with a grunt, Boothill’s right hand keeping your wrists together and his left hand tilting your chin up to look at him, his eyes glowing a dangerous red, “I mean, after that stunt ya pulled in yer lil’ base, it seems like ya wanna be caught by me.”

“Hah.. guilty as charged.” You laugh, attempting to keep your smooth facade up, only for it to crack once you could feel his metal knee nudge between your thighs. A whine rips through your throat as he keeps his knee still, not bothering to give you the pleasure you oh so wanted from the day you saw him.

“How ‘bout it, doll?” Boothill sneers at your pathetic expression, lips getting dangerously close to yours, “I can give ya a better punishment than jail could.”

One thing’s for sure: Boothill’s mechanical body does not have any built in... pleasure devices, he’s nearly as smooth as a doll. However, there is a slightly large bump on his pelvis in the shape of an oval that if you were to grind just right up against, you’ll-

“O-oh!”

Boothill’s lips curve up into a smirk as he sees you push down hard against his metallic form, trying to settle your trembles by wrapping your arms tightly around his neck to stabilize yourself. It’s cute, he thinks, seeing you all desperate for sexual relief. The way you hopelessly cling to him like he’s the last thing keeping you alive. He can’t believe he actually thought about putting you behind bars if getting you wrapped around his finger was this satisfying.

“How’s it feel, pretty boy?” Boothill whispers in your ear, causing a shiver to rack your spine as his grip adjusts to settle on your lower waist, pushing you even further against him, “Feel like yer gonna explode yet?”

Whimpering in response, your shaky fingertips grip onto his shoulders as your forehead now presses against his. Soft pants fill the room and Boothill can practically see the hearts in your eyes as your hips continue to move against his. You both still have your clothes on but this all still feels so intimate, probably better than actual penetration.

The ranger’s hand reaches up to tug his hat that still rests on your head, fixing it back from its tilted state, “Ya look like ya wanna kiss, doll.” He teases, bringing your chin closer to the point where your noses brushed up against one another.

“Pl-please..” You say breathily, gently tugging at his hair.

“Attaboy.” Boothill snickers in response, “Looks like yer finally learning.” His freakishly long tongue slithers past his lips as soon as they press against yours, slipping into your mouth as saliva begins to spill down your chin. Aeons, you’re just so cute.

Soft moans are swallowed up by Boothill’s greedy mouth, his thumb coming up to pull against your bottom lip before he pulls away and the only thing that connects your mouths is the thin trail of spit. His robotic thumb pushes into your mouth, pressing against your tongue as drool continues to spill down your pretty lips. He could get used to this.

He notices how much faster your hips move, calculating that you were close as whines and whimpers flood the room. The smile on Boothill’s face only widens even further, bumping his hips up to catch you off guard. He knows he succeeds when he hears a shaky squeak come from your mouth.

“What’s wrong, pretty boy? Ya gonna bust?” The ranger sneers, the thumb in your mouth shifting so he widens your lips by pushing at the sides, “Y’know, I could easily deny ya of that relief. Ya kinda deserve it for teasin’ me this whole time.”

You shake your head violently, already too close to be pulled away now. Boothill snickers in response, “No? What makes ya think you can tell me what to do?” A pleading look flashes across your features and Boothill has half the decency to make you beg for release. He decides to have mercy on you, though, “Mmmn, I mean, I guess ya have been pretty obedient. Go on and blow yer load f’me, pretty.”

With a shudder and a slight bite on Boothill’s metal thumb, your pants get soaked in your fluids, staining the fabric. Your hips jerk a couple of times to ride out your orgasm then you started slumping onto his chest in exhaustion. Boothill’s other hand rubs at your hip to soothe you, letting you rest in place to calm the trembles that still cause your body to twitch in overstimulation.

“Good boy.” He says softly, pulling his thumb out of your mouth, watching as it dripped since it was slick with your spit. Letting you catch your breath for a moment, he waits before he decides to ask, “So, what package were ya waitin’ for?”

“Baby stuff.” You sigh, face burying into Boothill��s neck, “My sister’s expecting ‘nd her wife’s been tellin’ me to get that stuff as soon as possible. The Luofu has been delaying their packages for a bit, somethin’ about shippin’ difficulties. Can’t believe ya’d remember something like that, though.”

The cowboy huffs in response, “Bein’ a cyborg’s got some perks. The only bad part is that ion got a dick to fuck ya with. Woulda been nice to see ya unable to walk for a few days.”

You sit up and give him a weird look, hands resting on his shoulders, “Ya do know strap-ons exist, right?” The way you said that made him feel much stupider, like you were pointing out the obvious to him.

“...Oh.” Boothill’s face flushes embarrassingly hot as his fans kick in once more.

Aeons, he hated you.

#x male reader #male reader #x bottom male reader #bottom male reader #hsr x male reader #hsr x reader #hsr boothill #boothill hsr #boothill honkai star rail #boothill x reader #boothill x male reader #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail x male reader

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pinchofhoney · 6 months

Text

be careful what you wish for

coriolanus snow x fem!reader

word count: 1.7k

warning: platonic relationship, quite angst-ish, text in italics is a flashback

summary: Turning in a district boy to the authorities felt like the right thing to do for Coriolanus. But what if, in doing so, he betrayed you as well?

a/n: absolutely no one asked for it, but i'll deliver it to you anyway<33 i'd say have fun but i'm not sure i'd be appropriate here

pages that may interest you: masterlist ♡ taglist ♡ who i write for

taglist: @watercolorskyy

gif is not mine, credit to the owner

The moment Sejanus shared Billy Taup's escape plan with you, there wasn't much hesitation on your part. It's not that you acted without thinking; it's just that you didn't need much time to decide.

The summer was scorching, feeling like an unending oven. The sun never let up, and even when you hoped for cooler nights, the heat lingered. You've gotten used to the coal dust that's practically become your second skin in District 12, but what truly got to you wasn't the clinging dirt. It was the musty scent of men's sweat, a scent that clung to the air, heavy with the hard work that defined your daily life.

Being one of the few female Peacekeepers among a crowd of men wasn't your ideal situation. Many other girls had come and gone, unable to stand the sacrifices the job demanded, but you stood your ground, determined to prove yourself in this role, even if serving in this particular district wasn't your dream come true.

At least until a certain point.

When you first arrived in District 12, your main goal was to pass your officer's exam as quickly as possible and secure a transfer elsewhere. But when young Plinth kindled the idea of a life beyond authority and rules, the seed of belief in freedom took root within you. The very thought of it resonated in your mind, sounding truly incredible, and you couldn't wait to leave the filthy district behind, escaping through a gap in the wire mesh fence.

But, of course, life wouldn't be too easy if everything just went as planned, right?

One moment, you were getting ready with Sejanus and the other rebels, gathering the basics for your escape north to the supposedly destroyed District 13. The next, you found yourself standing behind one of the empty houses on the Seam with Coriolanus. He held onto your shoulders, telling you urgently that you had to leave the District as soon as possible.

“What?” was the first word that slipped from your lips, your brows furrowed in confusion as you looked at your friend. “Isn't that exactly what we're working on?” you added, slightly amused, pushing Coriolanus' hands off your shoulders.

Shaking your head, you were about to update him on your progress when he caught your forearm again. “I think you misunderstood me, Y/N,” he said, his face dead serious. “You need to get out of here now,” he continued, and seeing your raised eyebrow, he almost gritted the last word through his teeth.

“What do you mean, Coryo?” you asked, breaking the silence after staring at him for a while, tired of him speaking in riddles.

Now Coriolanus was the one staying silent, his cool eyes fixed on you. You couldn't decipher his expressions; it felt like he was betraying a hundred feelings at once and, at the same time, nothing at all.

“I… um, there's…” the blond man started, stumbling over his words, unsure how to share the information he needed to tell you. “There's a chance that the talk Sejanus and I had, which you joined not long ago, about your escape plan, might have been fully recorded by one of the jabberjays.”

You seemed not to grasp the gravity of Coriolanus' words, so you stared at him, searching for any hint in his eyes that he might be joking.

“Okay, so what?” you eventually asked, once again furrowing your brows, this time with a bit less intensity.When a twig snapped around the building's corner, you quickly turned, thinking it might be someone eavesdropping, but finding only a small hedgehog, you shifted your attention back to the boy in the bluish uniform.

“So what?” Coriolanus repeated your question, unable to believe your difficulty in connecting the dots. “Y/N, these birds are headed to the Capitol. To the lab of the woman who’s the Head Gamemaker of the Hunger Games. And do you know what the Capitol authorities do to rebels?” he asked the question, not waiting for your response. “They hang them on the hanging tree, Y/N.”

You stared at Coriolanus, steadying yourself with a hand against the wooden building. With every word he spoke, you felt the color drain from your face.

“How… How did this happen?” you asked, trying to keep your emotions in check.

Coriolanus happily took care of the mockingjays, moving their cages, tagging them, and passing them along. As Bug left with the fiftieth cage, Sejanus burst into the room, full of excitement. He shared the good news about the upcoming package from his mother with his friends, watching Bug leave with a smile before turning to Coriolanus, who had just finished dealing with the bird marked as number 1.

The bird chirped in its cage, mimicking the last mockingbird, but once Bug was gone, Sejanus' cheerful expression faded, replaced by a troubled look. He glanced around the hangar to ensure they were alone before speaking in a quiet voice.

“Listen, we've only got a few minutes. I know you might not like what I'm about to do, but I need you to at least understand it. After what you said the other day, about us being like brothers, well, I feel I owe you an explanation. Please, just hear me out.”

This was the moment, the confession.

Now was the time for the pieces to be explained, especially about the alliance with rebels and money that he found in Sejanus' belongings. Once Coriolanus heard it, he'd be as good as one of them, a traitor to the Capitol.

Panic, running, or trying to silence Sejanus could be expected, but Coriolanus did none of these things. Instead, his hands moved instinctively. His left hand adjusted the cover of the jabberjay cage, while his right, hidden from Sejanus's view by his body, reached for a remote on the counter. Coriolanus pressed RECORD, and the jabberjay fell silent.

Turning his back to the cage, Coriolanus leaned on the table with his hands, waiting.

In the middle of Sejanus' explanation, you dashed into the hangar like a hurricane itself.

“There you are!” you exclaimed, both happy and a bit annoyed to find young Plinth. “Why didn't you wait for me? I said I wanted to go to Coryo with you,” you added, crossing your arms on your chest as you closed the gap between the boys and yourself.

It seemed that Coriolanus, noticing you in the hangar, tensed up a bit. He glanced briefly at the cage with the bird recording the conversation on the table, but neither of you or Sejanus noticed, and together, you continued explaining your plan to him.

During your report, where you and Sejanus competed over who could give Coriolanus more details, he lowered his head and rubbed his brow with his fingertips. It looked like he was trying to gather his thoughts, unsure how long he could stay silent without seeming suspicious.

But Sejanus rushed on, “I couldn't leave without telling you. You've been like a brother to me. I'll never forget what you did for me in the arena. I'll find a way to let Ma know what happened to me. And my father, too. I'll let him know the Plinth name lives on, even if it's in obscurity.”

The mention of the Plinth name was enough.

Coriolanus's left hand found the remote, and he pressed the NEUTRAL button with his thumb. The jabberjay resumed its earlier song.

Something caught Coriolanus's attention. “Here comes Bug.”

“Here comes Bug,” the bird echoed in his voice.

“Hush, you silly thing,” he scolded the bird, secretly pleased it had returned to its normal pattern. Nothing to alert both of you. He quickly covered the cage with a cloth and marked it with J1.

“I swear, I have no idea,” Coriolanus lied, wearing a worried expression. “While rearranging the cages, one of them must have snagged the remote control.”

You lightly bit your lower lip, eyeing your friend. Without any reason to doubt him, you finally let out a shaky breath.

Gazing up at the sky, you counted to three in your mind to steady your nerves. Then, you looked back at Coriolanus.

“Does Sejanus know?”

“Of course, I told him first,” he lied again, his gaze fixed beyond your shoulders without losing the concerned look on his face.

“God, what are we going to do now?” nerves took over every cell in your body as you asked another question. You leaned against the wooden building, slowly lowering yourself until you were sitting on the ground.

You lifted your head to meet Coriolanus's eyes, and he crouched in front of you, placing his hand on one of your knees.

“Hey, don't stress. You're heading back to the base now. Pack what you need, and tonight, you'll slip out of the district just like you planned with the rebels. You'll meet Sejanus at the lake, alright?” he spoke with a calmness, almost like talking to a kid, trying to reassure you.

Even though Coriolanus despised rebels — those who went against the Capitol's rules — he didn't want you to suffer the consequences that would surely befall Sejanus. He had nothing against you; in fact, he genuinely liked you. Your innocence about a better life beyond the Capitol's control wasn't his concern because you hadn't caused him any trouble, unlike young Plinth who had stirred up problems more than once.

“But won't it be suspicious if I suddenly vanish? They'll be searching for me, Coryo. They'll find me and punish me,” you said, placing your hand on his.

“I told you not to worry, remember?” Coriolanus replied, a bit sharper but still maintaining his reassuring tone. “I'll figure something out. No one's going to harm you.”

“But Coryo, you-” you began, but he quickly cut you off.

“Enough, Y/N,” Coriolanus said firmly, standing up from his crouch. “Get up. We're heading back to base,” he reached out a hand to you, which you took after a moment's hesitation. He helped you stand, silently conveying to act naturally before stepping out from behind the building.

You had no choice but to go along with Coriolanus' questionable plan, clinging to the hope that he knew what he was doing.

Little did you grasp the reality—that he was the cunning architect behind the recorded conversation. Sejanus wouldn't show up at the lake beyond District 12's boundaries. Instead, his fate would take a dark turn as he dangled lifeless from a tree in a matter of days.

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faexfilms · 24 days

Note

i need need NEED whiny, whimpery, desperate nerd!anakin. like yes baby, you’ve never felt the touch of a woman, i’ll ride you like a cowgirl now🙏🙏

Ask and you shall receiveeee<3

—————-

pairing: reader/nerd!anakin

a/n: Oml I don’t know how this ended up so long. Also this isn’t proofread so ignore any mistakes.

You almost didn’t know what to think when Anakin offered to tutor you. He sat beside you in class, more often than you had realized. Kept his eyes on you longer that you had even paid attention to, yourself in your own little world. But when he kept noticing your inability to focus in class, your dwindling grades shown on the papers and short assignments you submitted being handed back to you, he couldn’t even help himself from inserting himself into your little world.

So when you had agreed on a whim, you didn’t know what to expect. You and Anakin had never really talked much, occasional glances here and there, maybe asking to borrow a pencil every once in a while but that didn’t prepare you for the two of you being alone together.

You had almost forgot about his offer until he showed up at the door of your campus apartment late in the afternoon, some apology on his pretty plump lips about being caught up with his roommate. His blonde curls a mess on his head as if he had been dragging his fingers through it, the button up he had been wearing all day hanging loosely off of his body, even when it was usually all put together and tucked into his pants.

Your fingers played with the doorknob to your apartment door, a sudden wave of nervousness washing through you as you let him in. The black lacey tanktop you wore suddenly feeling too small, too bare without something to cover the pieces of your skin. But when you noticed the way his eyes traveled your body, you felt it go away…

The words spoken from his lips falling on deft ears, the numbers and names passing through his pink lips all being forgotten as you watched him struggle slightly. His fist clenched gently around the pencil within his hand, the small glances across your bare shoulders and the nervous looks back to papers in front of him. The way that he couldn’t help but let his eyes travel the curve of your breasts, a small stutter escaping him as he cleared his throat. Letting a small deep laugh fall from his lips, making you laugh softly too even if you found your own self distracted by him.

God, why didn’t you see this all before?

He was beautiful, more that you had given him credit for. Even with the wire-framed glasses sitting atop his face, shielding parts of his eyes, the deep blue of his irises drew you in. The way his pupils dilated as he looked you in the eyes, as his eyes traveled down your body. You didn’t understand why you hadn’t truly seen him before…

Maybe that’s how you ended up the way you did.

Stopping him mid sentence, the words halting from his lips as you dragged your fingertips gently down his forearm. Heat pooling in the pit of your abdomen at the small inhale he took simply at your touch. The way he looked so confused and flustered down at you as you touched him, your innocent doe eyes staring up at him as if you were doing nothing wrong. Looking as if you were simply waiting for him to finish explaining whatever he was talking about…But then you got impatient.

“Can I be honest with you, Anakin?” You asked softly, your dark eyes meeting his own as your fingertips traveled down to his wrist. Grazing against the soft skin near the sleeve of his shirt, loosely grabbing ahold of him. Watching as his eyes darted down to where you made contact with him, his eyebrows furrowed in the cutest little look of confusion.

He blinked as if he didn’t believe this was happening, looking as your fingers wrapped around his wrist, the way you were leaning into his body. The curve of your breasts visible from the hem of your tanktop. Two small peaks pushing out from underneath the dark fabric, Anakin wasn’t even sure if he remembered how to breathe in that moment, nevertheless remember how to form words…

He nodded so fast as soon as his brain started working again, his eyes fixated on your body. The curve of your hips, the way the long skirt you were wearing was riding a slit up your thigh. God, he couldn’t find the words when it came to you.

You couldn’t help the small curve to your lips, your eyes traveling the expanse of his face, enjoying all of this too much. He was so easy toy with. One glance, one movement, a few words escaping you and he was already yours… Even if he didn’t know it yet…

“I’m having a little trouble focusing…I don’t know why, I don’t know if it’s just because I’m sort of in a mood but I don’t really think we should study anymore tonight.” You said innocently, tilting your head softly as your fingertips grazed his own. Traveling the back of his hand, grazing the rough but soft skin of his palms. The words soft like velvet and forming on your tongue so easily, almost as easy as it was to make Anakin stop all together.

His eyebrows furrowed intensely, his eyes blinking faster than he could even take in what was going on…Your fingers on his own, your touch against his body. The way he watched the fall and rise of your chest across your skin, his breaths much more shallow than your own. What are you doing to him?

His eyes could barley meet your own, not when you were toying with him like this. He knew your game but he couldn’t bring himself to believe it. Why him? Why now? This couldn’t be happening…

“W-what would we do instead? Of studying I mean…” He muttered out, a small shake of his head at the way all the thoughts were pouring through his head. Too many, too fast. Too many possibilities and yet he still only wanted one.

You couldn’t help but let out a soft little laugh, your eyes meeting his own once again. Burning into his, feeding that desire that filled him. Drawing in further and further out in him. He always wanted you, there was no secret in that for him. But now, he couldn’t even describe it.

That draw he felt towards you, like a moth to a flame he followed you. He couldn’t stand his day without seeing you even if you didn’t see him back. He knew you even when you didn’t want to be known…He knows you enough, felt you enough that you didn’t even have to say the words on the tip of your tongue. That very alive desire that lived in you, that was burning beneath your skin, he felt too. He could feel it on you. That burning touch as your fingertips grazed his skin, the heat of you gaze falling across his lips. It was a miracle he didn’t give all of himself to you then…

Anakin couldn’t fight the pathetic little moan that slipped from his throat as your lips finally met his. His hands eagerly making their way up you body as you settled onto his lap, neither one of you wanting to take this slow. The taste of your lips, your sweet scent filling his nose, it was enough to drive him mad.

“Please…” He begged, his voice so soft and airy as he pulled away from your lips for the slightest moment. His warm breath fanning you lips, his hardening cock protruding so painfully from the confines of his light pants. Dragging and pushing up against you with movements of your body against him, struggling underneath the tightness of his belt.

He needed you…There was no sense in denying that.

His whiny little voice brought a small smile to your lips, only egging on your want to tease him. To make him bend and snap to your will as you knew he would so easily do for you. Even if you knew what he wanted, even if he asked so nicely, nothing could make you give him anything so easily. That small break in his voice, the breathless words falling from his lips. It was all worth it to deny him even if you could give him all he wanted so easily.

“Please what, baby?” You questioned him softly, your voice taunting him as you traced your thumb so gingerly over the side of his cheek so sweetly. Acting as if you cared so dearly for him even if you weren’t yet giving him what he so desperately wanted from you.

He spoke your name like curse from his lips, the softness of his skin underneath your fingertips as you chuckled at his frustration. Only drawing him closer and closer to the precipice of insanity as his hands bunched up in the fabric of your black tank-top, his fingers brushing up against your hips. Completely ignoring the way your skirt bunched up around your thighs, just solely fixated on your lips and the heat between your legs that rested against him. His lips drawing closer and closer to your own because he couldn’t get enough of you. His palms wrapping around the curves of your hips, dragging them against his clothed cock. A small whimper escaping his lips at the warmth of your core even through the layers between you. His lips just barely grazing your own.

The suddenness of his movements caught you off guard, a small pleasured gasp making its way out of your lips at the friction between your legs, your body falling into his movements, your mind dizzied with the way he felt against your heat.

He chased after your lips with his own, the heat of his breath fanning against you as his eyes burned into your body. So eager, so desperate to taste you, to feel you…

But you couldn’t let him go so easily…

You tilted your head gently away from his lips, watching his face change as he pouted silently. His pretty plump lips closing around nothing in defeat as his eyes left the gaze of your lips and looked dazed into you own. Not missing the way his tongue darted out and licked his bottom lip, wetting it as his tried to connect your lips again. Silently daring you to meet his tongue with your own, to have your tongue against his lips.

“You’re a good boy, aren’t you babydoll?” You questioned softly, a small curve to your lips as your fingers brushed his messy curls away from his forehead. Your left hand burying itself into the curls at the back of his head, brushing your fingers through it.

He let out a small disgruntled sound at your words, feeling so humiliated to be beneath you like this. Begging for any ounce of attention, for more of your touch. Your lips…But at the same time, he couldn’t deny the fire it lit inside of him. The burning feeling he felt all the way down his body, his cock twitching in his boxers at the mere sound of your voice.

He nodded, not trusting himself to open his lips but still a small whimper escaped him anyway.

“Then use your words…For me?” You gingerly asked him, his pupils blown as he stared up at you. Nodding again in acknowledgement. “Now what is it you want, Ani?”

“To-to use me…Please…I need you.” He pleaded.

“Use you? You poor little thing…You want me bad, baby, don’t you?” You teased him, you fingertips caressing his face as you looked down at him. You were so in awe of him, the way he begged so nicely for you. The way he gave into you so easily. He liked so pretty beneath you that you couldn’t even resist his words.

You guided his hands to the buttons of his shirt, watching his nervous hands fumble with them. His eyes flickering up at you as his chest heaved shallow breaths. The sight of him struggling so obviously made you smile, you hands clasping over his own and getting them done in half the time. Your lips molding over his, his tongue eagerly meeting yours.

There was something about the way he pulled off you rshirt, his hands nervously tracing up your ribs. Clasping over your breasts as he kneaded them within his hands, his mouth gently sucking and tasting each one. Eager eyes meeting your own before you pulled him back into our lips. Kissing him all teeth and tongue as you grasped him within your hand. Running your fist down his warm length, your thumb tracing over to sweet drops of precum at his tip. Trying to contain yourself as you felt him pulse within your palm.

The way he writhed as you let beads of your spit fall onto his length was enough to make you go dizzy. Obsessed with the way he pulled his hips back from it but also bucked himself into your hands, a small moan falling from his lips as a small sheen of sweet coated his forehead. The corners of his glasses fogged up ever so slightly because of the heat of your bodies, the warm breaths he struggled to contain between his lips.

He stilled completely when you slid down on his length, his whole body tensing at the feel of your heat wrapping around him. Suffocating his cock, your warm velvety walls draping him in your slick. He was afraid to move, afraid to make a sound besides the small struggled cry that escaped his throat as your hips met his own. The feel of you driving him so much closer to what both of you were chasing and he was far from ready yet. He didn’t want to disappoint you.

Anakin’s hands clutched your bare thighs, fingertips pressing into your skin. Holding you in place while you let out a small pleasured gasp as he bottomed out inside of you. Your eyes met his as you felt your hips connect, both of you lost in the feeling of your bodies meeting.

Your fingertips made their way up the bare expanse of his chest, gently caressing his skin. Feeling his body relax into your movements, him looking up at your eyes. Watching the way you cared for him in the way your fingers slid across his body, the way your eyes met his own. He knew he would never be able to move on from this, to think of anyone else this way. Not when you felt so good around him, not when you buried his length so deep inside of you... He was yours, completely and utterly yours…

“Relax baby, you’re such a good boy…” You praised him, your fingertips brushing across the the soft skin of his cheek before you gently took of his glasses. Setting them on your nightstand before you looked back down at him, a new look passing across Anakin’s eyes before his lips parted. His hips bucking into your own, drawing out a soft moan from both of your lips.

You braced yourself on his shoulder, drawing your hips slowly together. Fixating on where he ended and you began, feeling the heat flow from his body into your own. You loved the way he kept closing his eyes ever so softly as you slid down against him, his body lost in the newfound pleasure you gave him. So utterly lost in the feel of you, your body molding against his.

You drew your lips together as you started riding him at a faster pace, a whimper against your lips as your tongue slid across his. Tasting him on your lips, wanting so desperately to be a part of him, to be closer to him than his pulsing cock inside of you. In your frenzied haze, through the small moans falling through your lips, it hardly felt like enough. To be this close to him drove you crazy but you couldn’t help but want more. More of his body meeting your own, more of his pretty cries against your lips.

You couldn’t get enough of the way his eyebrows furrowed as your hips met, his eyes clenching shut as you started to become too much for him. Not being able to focus on anything else but the way he fit inside you so perfectly as you wrapped around him. His pretty lips open and ready and you couldn’t help but bring your teeth against his bottom lip, biting the skin softly as he groaned into your mouth. Bucking his hips into yours.

That burning coil inside the pit of your abdomen kept getting stronger and stronger, lost in the way he felt against you. Lost in the way he looked so pretty beneath you as his cock pulsed inside of you, him not being able to hold back the sounds of pleasure coming from the depths of his throat.

Both of you were so close, chasing the high of each others bodies. Chasing the warmth that filled you as he hit that spongy spot deep inside of you. Moans falling from your lips as you wrapped your arms around his neck. Moaning into each others mouths as you both gave yourselves to the desire that burned through you

Anakin’s lips parted as he grasped your hips, looking up at you between furrowed brows, nibbling at his lip as he tried to hold himself back. “Don’t stop…Fuck.”

The sound of the curse falling from his lips drove you wild, your cunt clenching around him as you felt his body intense beneath you. The muscles of his abdomen contracting as he bucked his hips into yours, brushing his hips into yours as he couldn’t hold himself back any longer. A struggled gasp coming out of both of your lips as shots of his warm cum filled you.

You couldn’t help but cry softly as his cum filled your walls, contracting around him at the sheer and utter filthiness of it. Meeting the peak of your own release as you buried him so deep inside of you, coaxing both of you through your orgasm. Burying your fingernails into the skin of his back, loving the small little hiss he let out. The small involuntary cry that fell out of both of your lips as his hips moved on their own accord and bucked back into your cunt when your bodies were still so sensitive.

Both of you tried to regain your breaths, your bare bodies clasped to one another’s. His arms loosely held over your waist, your hands resting against his chest as you rested your forehead against his as you tried to calm down your beating heart. Finally pulling away to look down at him, his eyes looking so deeply into yours. A bunch of emotions swirling around in his, his lips parted as his breaths started to become less shallow, feeling the rise and fall of his chest underneath your fingertips.

You couldn’t up the corner of your lips as it upturned, a small smile making way onto your lips as you looked down at him. “You look so pretty like this…”

Your words were enough for him to smile back, a small deep chuckle falling from his pretty plump lips as he looked back up at you. Everything said in his eyes, everything said in his body still against yours.

He was yours…

#nerd!anakin #thnxs for the msg!#fae’s asks<3 #anakin skywalker #star wars anakin #sw anakin #anakin fanfiction #hayden christensen #anakin smut #anakin x reader #anakin x you

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horsechestnut · 23 days

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Batfamily Chronological Reading List

Here it is, a massive list of Batfamily comics all sorted by issue release date so you can read them in the order they were originally intended to be read in, or easily reference back to what happened when. Do you want to know what Dick was up to during A Death in the Family? Need to know if Cass was around yet when Steph had her baby for your fan fic? Just a completion-ist with too much time on your hands like me? Then this is the list for you!

About six months ago I was trying to read my way through some old comics and getting insanely frustrated trying to figure out the order they went in. There are lots of reading lists online, but none of them gave me what I truly wanted: the order of individual issues rather than comic runs or collections. I also couldn't find any that featured all of the Batkids. So I took all of the reading lists I was using, found the On-Sale-Date for each of the issues mentioned, found a few other lists to fill in some gaps, and complied them into chronological order.

This list features what I consider to be the main 8 Batfamily members: Dick Grayson, Barbara Gordon, Jason Todd, Tim Drake, Stephanie Brown, Cassandra Cain, Damian Wayne, and Duke Thomas. It is by no means every appearance of these characters, but it is hopefully all of the important ones and then some. By no means do I suggest reading all of these (unless you're slightly insane like me), it's more of a reference guide than a read list.

Some Disclaimers:

This is still a work in progress. You'll notice that the first third of the list is much more detailed than the more recent entries. That's because I haven't read them yet. As of now I've only reached Batgirl 2000 #15, but will continue updating as I go through (I'm hoping to finish sometime within the next 12 months).

This is not a Batman list. I have included some issues about Bruce that I feel are important to the overall story, but if I were to include all of his important issues it would make the list unusable. You should still be able to follow his character arcs through his role in the comics listed here.

I needed to cut off somewhere, so anything released after December 31, 2023 was not included. I may go back and change this later, but not any time soon.

I do not want to discredit any of the Batfamily members not included here (ie Kate, Helena, Jean Paul). They are all important to Bruce and Gotham in their own way, but again I needed to cut it off somewhere or I never would have found an end.

For any edits you wish to suggest, please do so through this form. Any suggestions given not through this form will not be considered, and as it says in the form, I also will not consider any that don't have an explanation.

Finally I need to say thank you and give credit to the people who's reading lists I used to create this:

cazzam - New and Improved Cassandra Cain Reading Guide Comic Book Herald - I used both their Complete Robin and Complete Batgirl Read Order Lists. The Comic Book Treasury - I used both their Robin Reading Order and their Duke Thomas Reading Order Comic Book Wire - The Signal Reading Order Daily Jason Todd - Jason Todd's Reading List Stephanie Brown Wiki Chronology Page

The Unoffical Guide to the DC Universe was also an incredible help with sorting out timelines, and all of my On-Sale-Date information comes from Grand Comics Database (GCD).

I hope you guys enjoy and find this useful! I'm happy to answer any questions, and if something isn't clear feel free to let me know!

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matchesarelit · 8 months

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Imagine If You Will… (Trinkets, Spencer Agnew x gn!Reader)

Being in love with one Spencer Agnew was tortuous for all the reasons it was undeniable, he was kind and thoughtful to a fault. So how do you bury feelings like these? Badly and in a way more painful than you realize.

Warnings: Angst, Fluff, Happy ending, primary school insults, heartache, Unrequited requited feelings.

Wc: ~2.8k

Permitting your legs to give out you flopped down onto the tiny couch, dramatically shielding your eyes from the harsh fluorescent lights. You released an exaggerated sigh to announce your entrance and two feet away, Spencer eagerly watched your performance, shaking his head at your regular antics a giddy smile danced across his lips accompanied by a giggled greeting.

Often growing tired of the plain nature of your own workspace, you often ventured to the gamer zone, as you called it, whenever you found yourself in need of a break. The variety of figures and art littered around the makeshift room was comforting, this was in part due to the presence of the man just a few steps away and his interests. Many hours worth of breaks were spent listening to explanations of his collections, his ramblings were comforting and the spark present in his eyes while Spencer spoke put a warmth in your chest. Looking at the man beside you as you did now, however, was something you had tried to avoid every time, and every time, you failed within seconds.

Peeking tentatively through a small gap, you studied every minute detail of his presence, hoping, begging your mind to commit it to memory. Dark curls sprawling in every which way caught the light like a halo. Inked sketches stretching out from beneath his sleeves coated him in his personality. Gleaming gemstones are trapped behind his wire frames yet still sparkle like stars in the countryside.

Although a supremely comfortable couch, for an office space at least, your favorite position to sit in his presence was nestled into his side at his desk. That placement however was not as comfortable as it seemed as it meant you were sitting on an old desk chair made of plastic that dug into every ounce of flesh it touched. Spencer's warmth was worth it nonetheless, the trance he put you in allowed your mind to drift; more often than not to a scene of the two of you curled up together lips moving in sync as your hands tussled through his hair. You'd fallen for him hard and fast over your first year at smosh, now six years later you still needed to wrestle your wandering mind away from such thoughts almost every time the two of you were alone. Over the years you had caught yourself fantasizing of spending your life with Spencer in all sorts of ways, all of which only managed to twist the knife in your gut, your own mind reminding you of the life you could never have.

You hadn't dwelled on these feelings for the whole time you'd worked together, Selena and Rock were a godsend as they pushed you into blind dates and nights out in an attempt to give you a reprieve. To their credit you'd been in a couple of relationships, one lasted just months but the other continued for a year and a half before he called it off in a cacophony of insecurity and accusations. Although Spencer and you had no history of romance, your status as best friends and hard-to-hide admiration for the man had wrought a bout of concerns from both of them and while they weren't entirely wrong the accusations had wrought an unshakable cloud that eventually tore both relationships apart.

In the aftermath of your breakups both Rock and Selena had held you as you cried, terrified you would have to choose between finding love and having Spencer in your life. As weeks turned into months, they grew more astute in their advice, urging you to end the suffering of not knowing, "If you told him how you feel you could make the decision, I know the thought that it might come to losing him is painful, but you can't continue this way. It's paralyzing you and hurting you in the long run."

It was a conversation the three of you had had time and time again throughout the years, it often left all of you in tears; you were terrified of losing him, and they were heartbroken witnessing your pain over and over.

Craning your neck from the arm of the couch you admired the back of his head; he'd recently let his hair grow out and your attention was continually grabbed by the way his curls bounced at his smallest of movements. At this moment however, a small blurry pink blob obstructed your view, shifting your attention to the small figure on the side table you noted a small piglet sitting atop a toilet while reading a newspaper.

An absurd snort left your nose as you brought it up closer to inspect it, the sound pulling Spencer's attention to you and the focus of your giggles. What was strange about the little pig was that he had been placed inches from where you lay your head in a place where no one who worked in the department could see from their desks, the toy was also angled to face you. Soon enough, as you moved to return the figure to its place Spencer spoke up, "I knew you'd think Chaddius was hilarious. That's his name by the way; Chaddius."

"I like it, it's very dignified and it suits him well."

"I-uh, I got him in a gatcha a few months back and found him again over the weekend and thought you would get a kick out of it, so I thought I'd put it there for you."

"Y-you put him here, for me? Spencer I-" mouth agape you looked back and forth between the small figure and the man above you.

"Well, you're in here all the time, and you said you struggle to have Knick knacks on your desk as you either get distracted or they get in your way so I thought I could brighten up the little breaks you spend in here." The awkwardness of his rambling passed you by as you sat dazed by the sentiment. You wasted no time in thanking him but finding it difficult to stop yourself you continued. "I love him. I do, but you should know I come here because it makes me so happy to hang out with you, being here is plenty bright for me, so you don't need to worry about me, okay?" he turned back to his computer a short "ok" leaving his lips before being followed by a whisper too quiet for you to hear.

The rest of your time there was spent in an uncommon silence before you left with a wave. Stopping by the bathroom on the way back to your department, you glared at yourself in the mirror before murmuring mockingly, "PlEnTy BrIgHt FoR mE... dOnT wOrRy AbOuT mE." Christ why couldn't you just leave it at thank you, he was being so kind and you felt the need to stop him. You knew his kindness came from friendship and your mind was already twisting it into something more and that felt wrong.

Are you really his friend? You clearly have ulterior motives that's for sure, but being completely honest if you saw him marry another girl, sure your heart would break but every other part of you would be ecstatic at his happiness. Does that make it better? or just more pathetic?

Jeez, this line of thinking was only ever going to hurt. Putting on your most aggressive metal music selection on your headphones, you sat at your desk and started to work, trying absolutely anything to stop your mind from returning to him for the rest of the day.

At the end of your workday, you moved to leave, Gluing your eyes to your phone screen you kept your head down as you speed walked past the game desks and out of the building.

Over the weekend, despite your inner conflict, you had settled on spending your breaks at your desk, perusing Instagram and Reddit threads. That only lasted about 5 minutes.

A Slack message lit up the corner of your monitor; "You okay?". This was unexpected, you always thought you were a nuisance, up till your last visit at least, that you were more of a bother than he let on, you never expected him to notice your absence let alone worry enough to ask you about it. Typing out a quick excuse a cringe of guilt twitching your face and closing your eyes as you hit send; "Yeah I'm okay, just chatting with Tommy and Rock, probably won't make it over today." You even hazarded a glace in the two men's direction where you had seen them earlier talking by the window. Feeling a slight discomfort at the lie you went to join them, hoping the conversation was one you didn't have to put a lot of thought into.

The rest of your days were spent in solitude, finding yourself dissatisfied with the company of anyone but Spencer you quietly slouched deeper and deeper into your chair as the hours passed you by.

Until the day of the third hide and seek.

At this point it had been over two months since you stopped visiting the scruffy gamer in his zone. You'd felt withdrawals for a while and had caught yourself walking almost all the way there more than a few times. Movement on the other side of the office tore your attention from Kiana as she announced filming was about to start, little above a blur as he scurried from his desk. Your eyes however lingered on the space. More specifically on the end table by the couch. The top of the dilapidated wood piece was consumed by dozens of figures. Some alongside Chaddius, animals atop a latrine. Some birds perched in various precarious yoga poses. All of varying sizes and colours yet all sharing one. notable. trait. Every single character was turned to face the couch. Your couch.

There were over 50 little dudes.

Well beyond fifty work days since you kept yourself at your desk.

More than five-zero days that that curly-haired gremlin king must have gently placed a new figure there.

Just.

For.

You.

To leave them lonely and purposely collecting dust. Just for you to leave him hangin. To leave him clearly missing your presence. But wait. I hear you say,Surely if he was missing you this much he would have reached ou-. He did though Didn't he? You were the one who left. You were the one who lied. You were the one who avoided him like the plague.

A hand jostling your shoulder broke your spiraling thoughts Tommy was eyeing you suspiciously from your side not stopping as he passed you. "Come on, there's thirty seconds." calling back as he strolled backwards towards the kitchen he continued. "And you're right by the way; what you were thinking. Silly plan my guy."

Leaning forward into a hurried scamper you rushed to find somewhere to hide, your clever spot and disguise long forgotten and much too far away. A hand shot out from the nearby cupboard pulling you to stumble inside. Following the hand, and connected arm up you met Spencer's pouting gaze. Mind still a haze the yelled countdown drowned out by the thumping of blood through your ears, you turned on the spot to leave the small space.

You never took a step, hand on the knob, feet refusing to budge. Casting a glance down you noted the boots that covered your own, the toes of his shoes pinned our own to the floor. The sight would be comical if he didn't look as defeated as he did, a new glistening shine visible in his eyes despite the darkness.

"Please. Don't."

"Spencer I-"

"You're avoiding me. Why?" his voice was harsh but that dissappeared quickly as he shuddered, dragging a forceful hand down his face, his features warped and spread the wetness that had quickly begun to pour down his cheeks. "You never come by on your breaks. You barely look at me in meetings and all but flee when I try to talk to you. Please just tell me what I did. I'll understand. I just need to know. please. I miss you."

"Spencer I- I- haven-"

"Yes, you have been. At first I understood you might be busy but week after week you never said a word to me. I noticed, Everyone noticed."

"He's right we all noticed"

Your jaw hung open as your eyes scanned the darkness, "Who-"

"God, now tell the truth! or feel my fur-" The voice fell into silence as voices were heard outside.

Taking a moment in the silence as the man in front of you was, for the moment, distracted by the game, you collected your thoughts before beginning in a whisper; "You're right, but you know that. I just couldn't let myself do it anymore. Every moment around you was torture, every kind act was a punch in the chest. It was getting worse and worse and I couldn't keep letting it happen. I hated it all."

Allowing yourself a breath you lifted your eyes from your shoes, and the sliver of light illuminating your shoes from under the door, to his eyes. A hurried gasp darted into your chest at the tears streaming down his skin, gathering to drench the neckline of his tee, you stuttered incoherently, frantic to calm his distress.

"That's not what they meant. Give them a moment." The voice, seemingly coming from above, soothed Spencer in a hushed coo before morphing into harshly spat mutterings directed at yourself. "Jesus Christ, tell him plainly you maniac."

"I'm in love with you." If your voice before was a whisper, this was the fluttering of butterfly wings in a thunderstorm, yet your tone remained even. "I've loved you for years now, I knew it was useless; you are so perfect you have this glow of joy and beauty that never leaves and I could never compare. I tried to stop loving you this way, I wanted to be the friend you thought I was. But every kindness was twisted into something more and my mind ran rampant. I felt-I feel disgusted by myself, You have always been nothing but an amazing friend and instead of treasuring what we had I couldn't help but dream of more."

"There we go"

"Yo-" He was interrupted by a sudden light that blinded the pair of you. His grip on you tightened at the shock, only softening as the new voice sounded through the space and your eyes began to adjust.

"Gotcha! Final ten and nine you guys" Arasha, the seeker, had found you yet as you resigned to leave the space at your loss you found the man inches away from you still, a shocked expression stained his cheeks until it didn't. Suddenly he was animatedly talking to the cast member about being upset at being found so fast and vowing that next time he'd win.

Prying your feet out from under his own you turned on your heel all but running from the space feeling more crowded than you ever thought possible. The hand that had encircled your arm fell to his side as you left him there, but he was not far behind as he jogged to catch up with you.

You burst through the door of the bathroom, stumbling to brace yourself against the sink chest heaving with harsh sobs as your cheeks were flush with tears. Hatred saturated your expression as you glared into the mirror, You cursed yourself for all that had happened over the last twenty minutes. Over the last two months. And over the last seven years.

Then the door flew open. Then there he was looking into your eyes. And How on earth could you blame yourself, not only did he look amazing even in the worst of situations, but here he was checking on you despite your-

No,

Stop that,

Stop thinking.

Listen to him his lips are moving,

He's talking,

dumbass.

"I can't believe we could have worked this out so much sooner. Seriously you think way too highly of me, There is no world where I buy 62 Gatcha toys and give them all unique names just for a friend, Not that you aren't a friend. I Just- Funnily enough, I felt the same way, thought I was tainting our friendship with my pining, But I also think it just makes what we have deeper, we know each other so well and care so much."

"Wait, what ar-"

"JESUS FUCK!" The voice from moments before was joined in a sort of chorus from the other side of the door.

the door opened crashing against the wall, a large group, presumably those already found, led by Jeremy, stood with a mixture of exasperated and laughing composures studying the pair of you over the threshold.

Jeremy alone continued; "Y/N You love Spencer in a-" The group behind him turned their backs arms stretching around themselves as they erupted in kissy noises. Jeremy mimicked those same noises as he continued, "In a mwehmwemme way and Spencer you love Y/N, also in a mewmwemwe way. Now kiss!" He stepped back and let the door swing shut with a slam, leaving the two of you more or less alone.

"Look, I'm sure they're just a bit carried awa-"

Your rationalization was interrupted by his lips against yours, the tension had boiled into an overflowing need. His silken lips left your own almost immediately as he wound his arms around your shoulders holding you tight into his chest. Wrapping your own around his chest your hands fisted his shirt as his did yours. All space between you was gone as you pulled each other impossibly closer, sitting in the silence you held back tears unable to shake the lingering stress and fear. Head buried in the nape of his neck you failed to remain silent for long, yearning to hear the words come from him, desperate for confirmation to quiet your racing mind, "Does this mea-"

"I love you, with everything I have, please never doubt that."

#spencer agnew x reader #spencer agnew #spencer agnew imagine #smosh imagine #smosh x reader #the chosen x reader

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2dmax · 2 months

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2dmax commissions info spring 2024

last updated april 12th

to place an order for a commission, you may PM me; if you prefer, you can also fill out this form or commission me through fiverr.

text and additional info below the readmore.

thanks for reblogging, even if you aren't interest right now!

Packages

These are excellent starting off points for most common commission types. Additional specificity and complexity can be purchased. All basic packages are artist's medium of choice, include simple backgrounds, minimal/no props. All include full color, fully finished works.

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here’s what to expect when you order:

Send me a PM with basic info; what you would like me to draw, your budget, and if you have a deadline.

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Your sketch is typically ready within a week; I’ll always update you on my progress. After we agree on the sketch, payment will be due. After it’s paid, I will give you an estimate for when I will be finished with your piece.

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You may not use my art to promote anything hateful or illegal. You may not claim it as anyone else’s creation. You may not use it for commercial uses, or to edit, adapt, trace, or directly reference, without getting permission. I may use my art in my own promotional material.

➽ navigation desktop view ★ F.A.Q. browse my finished art ★ sketches ★ other media look at buyables & adoptables fan art ★ ttrpg art ★ flight rising art ask me a question ★ browse my archive visit my toyhou.se ★ follow me on instagram

#spring2024 #art commissions #artists on tumblr #manga art #manga style art #anime art #nostaligiacore #webcore #furry art #traditional art #digital art #artist alley

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thistledropkick · 9 months

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Last year, Kasai Jun was interviewed as part of the interview project DEATH, which interviews various people about death in order to find a better understanding of how to live and appreciate life.

I thought it was a fascinating interview, so I decided to translate it.

Please go visit the original interview - the photography accompanying it is absolutely gorgeous.

Also, please don't repost this whole translation elsewhere. If you want to quote an excerpt of my translation for something, please make sure to also credit the original team behind this interview and link back to the original interview.

Deathmatch Fighter Kasai Jun - 4/27/2022

“It’s not a deathmatch until you return home alive” The reason this 47 year old Charisma Wrestler continues to shed blood in the ring

Within pro wrestling, there is a genre called “deathmatch.”

An extreme set of rules that allows deadly weapons and has no disqualifications. Brawls with fluorescent light tubes, and dives onto barbed wire boards. Without hesitation, wrestlers stab their opponents in the head with fistfuls of bamboo skewers. When wound-covered bodies violently collide, shards of glass and sprays of blood shower the ringside seats.

Upon first seeing it, surely everyone thinks “Why are these people hurting each other like this?” “What the hell am I looking at?”

This is the world of the man known as “Charisma,” professional Wrestler Kasai Jun of the independent promotion Pro Wrestling Freedoms.

In November of 2009, he had a “razorblade board plus alpha deathmatch” against Ito Ryuji in Tokyo’s Korakuen Hall. Kasai, 35 years old at the time, dove from the second floor balcony, a fall of 6 meters, onto a table, aiming for his opponent Ito.

Afterwards they continued to fight with various weapons, in a match that concluded 15 seconds before the 30 minute time limit. That year, this match was awarded the Best Bout award. And Kasai, the winner of that match, became a living legend overnight.

12 years have passed since then. Kasai is now 47 years old, and he continues to rule over the world of deathmatch wrestling. Under the weight of many literal life-or-death battles, Kasai’s body no longer moves the way it did when he was young. Even so, why does he continue to set foot in such a dangerous place?

We asked “Charisma of Deathmatch” - a man who makes the crowd go mad in the space between life and death - about his views on death and on life.

Desiring to truly feel alive

- Normally, people try to avoid pain and suffering. Kasai, why do you continue to shed blood in the ring?

Hahaha. From an outside perspective, you must really wonder “Why do you keep doing something so painful” huh? That’s a normal way to feel. But from the wrestler’s perspective, it’s completely different.

In your normal daily life, do you ever feel like “Ahh, it’s so glorious to be alive”? You’d almost never unconsciously blurt out something like that.

But in a life or death battle in a deathmatch ring, after you step down from that ring, that’s exactly what you feel. “Ahh, I’m alive. I’m so grateful to be alive.” Because of that, I can’t quit.

Mountain climbers and stuntmen probably feel like this too, don’t they. Stepping into a situation where their life could end, and returning home safely. I wonder if they’re searching for that feeling of being “truly alive.”

This feeling is passed on to the audience too. Fans often tell me “Watching Kasai Jun’s deathmatch gives me the strength to continue forward.”

They say things like, “I’m being bullied at school so I wasn’t going to go any more, but now I feel like I can keep going.” Or, “It’s exhausting to keep going to work, but after seeing Kasai persevere while shedding blood in the ring, I can persevere and keep going to work.”

Recently I can’t do this much because of covid, but in the past when I’d sell merch, fans would often say things like this to me.

Because of this, it seems to me that deathmatch wrestling is simultaneously a way for wrestlers to feel truly alive, and a way for those who watch it to feel more positively about living.

- Because of the sensational way “death” is shown in the ring?

Probably, yeah. Because it looks like we’re doing something really painful.

But don’t get me wrong. We aren’t in a particular hurry to die. And we aren’t wasting our lives either. What I always say is, “It’s not a deathmatch until you return alive.”

[Note from me - this phrase (生きて帰るまでがデスマッチ) is a play on a well-known Japanese phrase 家に帰るまでが遠足 “The field trip isn’t over until we return home.” This started as something a teacher would say to students in their care, and Kasai has altered it into his motto towards both himself and other deathmatch wrestlers.]

- It’s not a deathmatch until you return alive.

If you get in a ring where you might die or get seriously injured, and you do die, or you do get seriously injured, you’re no different than a rank amateur, right? But a guy who dives into a deadly dangerous situation and returns from that ring unharmed, he’s the absolute greatest and the absolute coolest.

Like a stuntman, right? If he returns home alive, people say “amazing,” but if he dies, he’s no longer a pro.

At 35 years old, his view on life did a complete 180 during a match

But, when I was young, I thought about it completely differently. I never thought “I’m grateful to be alive.” In the ring, I did dangerous stuff and defeated my opponents. I just thought of it as my job.

The more dangerous stuff I did, the more people said “Kasai is amazing!” That felt really great. Every time I stepped into the right I thought, if something goes wrong and I die I guess that’s how it goes. I thought “Deathmatches should be a memento mori.”

- What caused such a big change in your values?

That match against Ito Ryuji in Korakuen, in 2009. It changed my mental state by 180 degrees.

The truth is, I went into that match thinking “This is my last match before I retire.” Because it was my last match, I would do everything I wanted to do. Win or lose, I went into the ring thinking “I’ll retire.”

But during the match, my feelings completely changed. I thought “If I quit like this, I’ll be half-dead.” There’s nothing else I want to do, and I’ve never felt joy like this anywhere else. It was just too much fun.

So, after the match ended with 15 seconds remaining, I announced my decision to continue wrestling. “I was thinking of retiring but, I’m gonna keep going.” That’s what changed.

- Since your values have changed so significantly from when you thought it’d be good to die in the ring, what’s your “ideal death” now?

Spending the day with my family as I always do, watching tv with an after-dinner drink as I always do, getting comfy in my futon as I always do, and passing away. That’s the best death, isn’t it.

I’ve said it before but, people who say “It’s my ambition to die in the ring” are just trying to look cool. For a pro, it all comes down to returning home alive. And so, I believe that when the life of Kasai Jun the human being comes to an end, Kasai Jun the wrestler will die as well. I want to be a pro wrestler until I die. That’s how I feel now.

When I was young, I thought the best time for a wrestler to retire was when he could still move, when people would say “It’s a shame, because there’s still more he can do.” But if that’s true, I’ve already missed my best time to retire.

Since I’ve come this far, maybe it’s better to keep doing this until my death. Since around the time I turned 40, I started thinking this way.

Gaining years = leveling up. I’ll reach my peak just before death.

- Since you’ve been doing this for so long, it’s inevitable that your body has become weaker. Kasai, how have you dealt with aging?

The word “elderly” is a concept created by human beings, isn’t it? Since that’s the case, I believe it’s something we can absolutely overcome. I don’t think increasing in age is the same as becoming elderly.

Look, it’s true that my physical stamina has decreased and my muscles have gotten weaker than they were when I was younger. But my will and my spirit have continued to grow. Instead of just breaking even, I think I’ve leveled up. 47 years old is level 47. I now see growing older as a positive, like leveling up every year.

Because of that, my peak has yet to come. I’ll reach my peak just before I die. I’ll be at my strongest just before my death. That’s the ideal I envision for myself.

There was a time when I felt insecure about my age. When I hit my mid 30s, I hated that my body was becoming weaker.

But then, while drinking at home and watching a documentary on TV about (rock musician) Yazawa Eikichi, I realized something. “If you think about it, uncool young people are uncool, and cool guys are cool even if they’re old.” Since then, my way of thinking changed. I started calling getting older “leveling up” at around that time.

[Note from me: Suzuki Minoru also refers to getting one year older as “leveling up” in the exact same way. They are friends, so I assume Suzuki got it from Kasai.]

- I'm surprised that a pro athlete who uses his body as a weapon would think of aging in that way.

Pro wrestling and deathmatch are unique among sports. Unlike say, track and field, or swimming, it isn’t a competition where every second counts. I can’t move the way I could when I was young any more, but through my facial expressions, pauses during matches, and so on, I have many ways to express myself.

A guy can be handsome, macho, with great muscles, and completely suck as a wrestler. In contrast, a guy like me who’s ugly, short, and middle-aged, can get support from the fans. It’s a completely different genre, and that’s what makes pro wrestling so interesting.

- What about your emotional struggles? In your documentary film you said you were having some difficulty maintaining your motivation, which you described as “Deathmatch Erectile Dysfunction”

Yeah, well, that can definitely be a problem. When you’re young, you’ve just got piles of hopes and dreams and things you want to do. But as the years go on, and as you accomplish those things, you can kind of get lost.

What’s helped me increase my motivation has been the existence of people who make me think “I absolutely don’t wanna lose to this guy” or “I don’t want this guy to take all the best stuff for himself” In my case, for example, that’s been (fellow PW Freedoms deathmatch wrestler) Takeda Masashi. Or, although he’s from another organization, New Japan Pro Wrestling’s El Desperado.

That’s why for the past 3 or 4 years, I’ve been asking people to “stimulate me.” I want intimidating people to keep approaching me. Well, on the other hand, if they take the most delicious part for themselves, that’s a problem.

A fear of death led to a “selfish life”

- Incidentally, perhaps it’s too late at this point, but do you worry about being injured or dying?

I said it already but, “It’s not a deathmatch until you return alive.” Since I’m a pro, I have the skills required to do this without death or injury.

But, it’d be a lie to say “I’m not afraid.” Even now, for several days before a match I get so stressed that I can’t sleep. Despite how I look, I get plenty scared. Much of my life has been driven by a strong fear of death.

- How do you mean?

It sounds silly, but when I was in grade school I believed in “The Prophecies of Nostradamus.” Have you ever heard of it? “In the year 1999, all of humanity will be destroyed.” Every night I shook with fear in my futon, thinking that my life would end at the age of 24.

Propelled by that fear, I concluded, “If the earth is gonna get destroyed anyway, I should quit studying. Instead I should use the rest of my remaining lifetime to do stuff that I like.” I completely quit studying, and instead spent all my time watching pro wrestling, which I loved.

Conversely, my fear of death also led me to become a pro wrestler. After graduating high school, I got a job in Tokyo as a security guard, but I gave into temptation and visited brothels daily. One day I happened to be reading a magazine with an HIV checklist inside, and almost every item applied to me.

At that time, I still thought “AIDS = death” so I thought “Oh, this is AIDS.” “Oh, this is how I’ll die.”

Luckily, when I got tested the result was negative, but after preparing myself for death, I thought “I really should do what I want” and knocked on the door of Big Japan Pro Wrestling. My life has always been influenced in this way.

- I get the impression that many wrestlers die at an early age. Since then, your fear must have increased.

Nah, that’s not really true. I’m surprisingly practical about the deaths of others. I just accept it, like “That’s the kind of life you lived.” I suspect my fear of death isn’t a fear of death itself, but a fear of becoming nothing.

- A fear of becoming nothing.

I’m no (actor and spiritualist) Tanba Tetsuro, but if after you die, you go to the spirit world, and cross the Sanzu river, that’s not all that scary is it? I wouldn’t go so far as to say “it’s fine if I die” but there’s some kind of hope or meaning. But if “After death, you become complete nothingness” “After death you feel no joy or sadness” I think that’s really scary.

But these days, I don’t experience that fear of death as much as I used to. If after this interview a dump truck hits me and I die, I wouldn’t have any regrets. I could say I did what I wanted to do.

Pro wrestling is a business where you depend on your popularity with an audience, but I’ve never tried to flatter the audience to get sales or support, or thought about how to increase my popularity. Ultimately, Kasai Jun puts himself first. I’m my own number one.

To die without regrets is to win at life

- But, if someone wanted to imitate your way of life, I think most people would be profoundly afraid of not getting by financially, or of being rejected by society. Why do you think you remain stoic in the face of such fears?

What’s there worth imitating about me? If you’re selfish like me and you can change it, you should want to!

But, this is probably related to that “fear of becoming nothing” I mentioned earlier. Ever since I was little, I’ve thought stuff like “This whole world isn’t real” and “Maybe all of this is just a dream.”

Nothing in this world is certain. Since that’s the case, all you have are your own body and your own feelings. In short, I don’t believe in anything but myself, so I put myself first.

- So in order to “feel truly alive” you throw yourself into the painful world of deathmatch wrestling, which leads us back to where we started.

That’s right. I guess you could say that pain is the only thing I believe.

But when I was young, I did understand the fear of not making enough money to survive. When I was around 30 and my son had just been born, I was seized by that fear.

Really, I was broke, and I couldn’t even pay into the National Pension Fund like I was supposed to, so I went to the ward office and said “I do intend to pay, so please wait a little.” I thought to myself, “Living is so expensive and so difficult.”

- A deathmatch fighter scary enough to quiet a crying child, with such an everyday problem.

Three years after my debut, when I was around 27, I was badly injured. I quit Big Japan, and after a year’s absence, I transferred to a different group called Zero-One.

Zero-One was founded by ex-New Japan Pro Wrestler Hashimoto Shinya, and the pay was good compared to Big Japan, and they held a lot of shows, so I could wrestle frequently. The environment there was very pleasant.

But, due to the policy of the organization, I couldn’t do the deathmatches that I love. During that time as a “salaryman wrestler,” I survived, but I think deathmatch fighter Kasai Jun, pro wrestler Kasai Jun, was completely dead.

“I really should do the pro wrestling I want to do,” I thought, and I quit Zero-One, and persisted with the pro wrestling that I love. Maybe that’s why I feel like I can now “die without regrets.”

Ultimately, if you live your own life as you wish, and think “I have no regrets” when you die, you win. Maybe people today have lost sight of the essence of what it means to live. It’s fine to work hard at your job, but if you’re spending every day miserably, is that kind of life really okay with you?

I’d rather live for 20 years and laugh every day than live for 100 years and never smile. If you’ve lived for 100 years and never laughed, that’s the same as being dead, isn’t it?

写真：本永創太 ~ Photographer: Motonaga Souta

執筆：鈴木陸夫 ~ Author: Suzuki Atsuo

編集：日向コイケ（Huuuu）~ Editor: Hinata Koike (Huuuu)

#kasai jun #jun kasai #pw freedoms #pro wrestling #deathmatch #my translation #This is definitely the longest thing I have ever attempted to translate!#I've got nobody checking over my work or anything like that so as always apologies for any typos or errors that I didn't catch

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m1d-45 · 2 months

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pankration

summary: wriothesley has come a long way in his life, ascending the ranks of the fortress in merely a handful of years. yet, after it all, it always seems he ends up right back where he started.

word count: 3.7k

-> warnings: lots of mentions of blood and violence, major spoilers for wriothesley lore/story quest

taglist: @samarill || @thenyxsky || @valeriele3 || @shizunxie || @boba-is-a-soup || @yuus3n || @esthelily || @turningfrogsgay || @cupandtea24 || @genshin-impacts-me || @chaoticfivesworld || @raaawwwr || @ryuryuryuyurboat || @undrxtxd || @rainswept || @wanderersqt

< masterlist >

pankration was a core part of the fortress of meropide.

it started as a collective term for the various brawls around every corner, a whispered term when guards were present. all fights had to be reported, but if you bet on someone winning pankration, those that knew pretended they didn’t and those that didn’t didn’t have to pretend at all. anything goes within the impromptu battlefield, cut up gears into rough brass knuckles, scrap metal as a shiv, blood and bruises blooming in equal proportion. fighters would take out whoever you wanted if you had enough credits, or maybe they wouldn’t and take both your money and the reward from the administrator for reporting you. pankration had no rules, no boundaries, no set time or place.

wriothesley knew this, and figured out early on the best ways to win. when he first arrived at the fortress, he was young. not exactly scrawny by anyone’s standards, but certainly at a disadvantage among those with decades of experience. he kept his vision close to his chest, and when another prisoner’s knife dug into it instead of his heart, he knew he had to change.

he was never taught how to fight, but he learned how to cheat, and fast. he swiped spare wire and scrap parts, formed points for his punches to drive through. he couldn’t beat his opponents through pure strength at first, so he forced himself to be quick. even the toughest fighters had their weak spots, and he was determined to find them. it was life or death, if not for the immediate battle then for long term food.

a small corner of his mind flinched at the violence, hated that this was how things had to be, but he silenced it quickly enough. he was fighting for money, he told himself, to win reputation, to earn his spot within the bolted steel walls. he fighting to be able to eat well, to sleep comfortably, to walk when he needed without his hands twitching for his gauntlets at any sound. he fought to stay alive, not only because of his vision’s added strength but of his own, every scar across his body a lesson learned.

slowly, his reputation grew. slowly, people began to recognize him, the oddly proportioned teenager —only barely, but he wasn’t about to correct them—with steel hands and silvered hair. rumors were as important a currency as coupons, and he took great care to keep the ones about him in his favor. that was his life for a while, cycling between picking fights and patching himself up, collecting coupons and earning favor. he listened to the shadows, and if someone had something to say, he challenged them in the light.

soon, though, these whispers began to change. gossip bled through the walls about a ‘duke,’ speaking with such reverence that it had him worried. they spoke about him like a deadly weapon, all sharp edges and jabbing cuts. the duke, highest in rank second only to the administrator, a force of nature stronger than even the sea itself. he’d never met or even heard of duke, had they been intentionally avoiding him? how much did they know? he only hid his pankration from the guards, he’d be at a major disadvantage if they knew all his tactics.

it’s almost funny how concerned he was over a ghost, the thin week between who he was and who he became spent with a knife tucked in his sleeve.

someone had tried to trick a new prisoner into being his toy, saying that it was part of the prison’s “orientation program.” wriothesley thought he’d made his point perfectly clear to all who knew him that newbies needed time to make their own place, but a well-placed punch did the rest of the job. he wasn’t paying much attention to what he was saying, spouting off the usual nonsense about not taking advantage of others while an itch at the back of his neck told him he was doing the same thing.

it’s different, he told himself, even as his boot pressed into their chest. they tried to push it off, wheezing out an apology, but he let them squirm a bit before letting up. it’s different, because he’s doing it to protect someone else, isn’t he?

“that’s our duke,” someone whispered behind him, and he whipped around so quickly he nearly tripped over himself. he searched for an unfamiliar face, trying to find who spoke, but all eyes were on him.

his hands began to shake within his gloves, uncomfortable dots connecting in his head. he stepped forward to push his way through, but the crowd parted like the tide around a ship, nobody resentful on behalf of the man with bruises rapidly forming across his ribs.

he spent nearly an entire day alone after that, pacing within his room. how could he be their duke when he didn’t want to rule? not out of fear, not when a sharp enough glare could make another prisoner pale, not when he had just managed to convince himself that his violence was a necessity. his gauntlets lay on his desk and he didn’t even want to touch them, conflict taking place of his blood.

he was still doing good, wasn’t he? protecting those who didn’t know better, forcing vendors to lower the cost of basic necessities, discouraging violence against the guards to defend those he could tentatively trust. he did not have an ‘inner circle,’ not like the other groups that came before him, and part of the reason was that he was not part of any one gang. he had no affiliation but himself, no family but the steel that wrapped around his wrists, no name but the one he’d chosen.

but here he was. the duke of the fortress.

he wasn’t the first to know when his coupons were taken. a massive leaderboard hung in the center of the main level, the top ten positions a brawl. his place had long since been cemented, and yet he returned from his breakfast to find a massive crowd surrounding the board. part of him wanted to ignore it, as he was leaving—was he? he was avoiding the topic as best as he could—the fortress the next day, but he knew better. as before, the crowd parted, allowing him to see that his space on the board had been filled, with a note to the side explaining that his had been confiscated for “poor behavior.”

he almost laughed. almost, the corner of his mouth twitching, but he remained firm. the crowd had turned to him for an answer, and he needed to find one fast.

“that could have been anyone.” he didn’t know where he was going with this, turning around and crossing his arms to appear bigger than he was. “is that how you want to live?”

roars of agreement met his ears, most of the prisoner body gathered under a flag of need.

“underhanded sabotage is not the answer to the failure of authority,” he had declared, well aware that the hand he was waving was stained with years of bloodshed. “i’ll take care of it.”

he didn’t know how. nobody asked, hundreds of voices assenting that their duke would handle it, that if anyone could it was him, again parting to allow him passage. his hand was raised, knocking on the administrator’s door before he could understand what he was doing. he didn’t even register their face, heart pounding. he was saying something, asking- asking for a duel he’d surely never receive. he may have some sort of authority over the prisoners, but he surely had none over the administrator.

when they called for those who thought the challenge was unjustified, the only sound was the water circulating beneath their feet.

they agreed. tomorrow at noon, in front of their office. he nodded, the doors closed, and he was left in front of a crowd he didn’t know how to face. people were smiling, patting each other’s shoulders, expecting him to win. he knew if it came down to a physical fight he would, but they could have just as easily slipped word to a palais garde, and his sentence would be extended for threatening a public official.

would he mind? was freedom what he really wanted? did he prefer living in the fortress, or did he just like that he’d already established a foundation? what did that say about him, if he liked living in blood and oil more than he did fresh air?

he hardly slept that night, not that it mattered. the administrator was gone the next morning, and his life had changed.

another crowd had gathered, trying and failing to be subtle. iron doors stared him down, the knocker weighing twice as much as it should. when it hit the door, it shifted inward just the smallest amount, as if inviting him in. his heart was in his ears as he pushed the door open, wondering about the hundreds of options that could be awaiting him inside, but the office was empty. the lower level had no coat on the rack, the stairs missing the bright red rug that used to run down it. the shelves up top were empty, the only sign someone had lived in there at all taking the form of a gramophone sitting on the edge of the desk. no record lay inside.

people had figured out what had happened, now, metal echoing as people climbed the stairs. the chair was a plush velvet, a rapidly forming headache burning behind his eyes.

the prior administrator had people call them by their title and last name, a rule nobody followed. they were simply the admin, nameless and faceless and only ruler in title alone. wriothesley’s name was well known throughout every inch of the fortress’ walls, and yet now that he was in their chair, everyone still called him the duke.

his position as duke did not make him fit to be an administrator, and his new seat could only be secured as he proved himself worthy of it. he had no idea how to manage the fortress. he was running blind for a half of his first year, off the cuff intuition somehow getting him what he wanted. he feared every day that someone would find out, that his incompetence would be put upon the world’s stage, but either nobody noticed or nobody cared. he timed shipments wrong? apologies for the hold-up. guards weren’t following the uncoordinated patrols he arranged? forgive us, your grace, for allowing your orders to slip our mind. he waited for the day that people realized they had no tangible reason to respect him, waited for the revolt, but it never came.

why? he wanted to ask, watching as guards saluted when he walked by. what part of me has earned your respect?

he made it a point not to strong-arm prisoners now that he was in a higher position, did his best not to rule with fear. as a prisoner, he could allow himself to survive, but now he had no reason to. to wriothesley, true respect was not bought or fought for, and only true respect could keep a fortress full of criminals in line.

welfare meals earned him respect. standardized jobs, base level housing, small quality of life changes that he hated as a prisoner. he worked from dawn to dusk—as much as one could when buried hundreds of feet beneath the sea—and even then, it took him years to feel as if he’d finally earned his keep. much like his time as an inmate, wriothesley could not feel comfortable until he had prepared for everything, until every problem had either been gotten rid of or improved.

pankration could not fully be outlawed. fights would still happen no matter what rules he implemented, so he skipped banning and went straight for regulation. the least he could do was ensure it was safe and organized, to provide a stage for formalized challenges. it only resembles its original form in name, changing from fistfights in shadowed hallways to a tournament sport held next door to the infirmary. a new elevator was installed, a dedicated section of the sub-level below sectioned off to keep the main area of the fortress somewhat quiet. prisoners’ hobbies had little to do with how the fortress functioned externally, but he was finding himself with more and more free time. it was supposed to be a good thing, less work for him meant that the systems he’d implemented could hold their own, but he was left restless. even now, his schedule was cleared for the rest of the day, desk empty of paperwork. nothing to do and nothing more urgent needed improving, so it’s not like he had anything better to do than pay the ring a visit. he was getting antsy sitting still for so long anyway.

he pulled his jacket from the back of his chair, lazily draping it over one shoulder. guards and prisoners alike dipped their heads as he passed, a gesture he returned with a faint wave. the elevator was empty, the clanking gears his only company as the cart slowly twisted. the shouts and cheers from below grew louder and louder, echoing up the tunnel. the doors hissed open and he stepped out, the sound of his boots on the metal floors drowned as bets were won and lost.

he could nearly pinpoint the moment that people recognized him. the flicker of uncertainty over their faces, credit coupons tucked into pockets and hidden away, someone subtly trying to loosen the springs on the training dummies. he spent years trying to lead without terror, and yet here in the pankration ring, none of it seemed to matter. blood and sweat mixed in the air, his mind automatically associating the smell with memories. if he were to close his eyes, he could almost pretend he wasn’t wearing his cloak, pretend he was about to enter a fight he knew he could win, pretend that he could see his would-be opponent curled up in a pool of their own blood.

“is there a problem, your grace?”

he blinked, and he was back to the present. “just wanted to check in,” he lied, waving over to the group of training equipment. “you could tell me if you needed new dummies.”

and the group relaxed, oblivious to the fact that their duke’s fingers were digging into his arm, the memories lingering like an infectious disease.

he came back the next week, helping set up the new equipment. the old ones were worn out and poorly repaired, and everyone was happy that they were being replaced. it was a safety hazard more than anything, and a need he was more than willing to meet.

again, setting up a small stall for water and snacks, for both contestant and observer. a more official platform for those managing the bets and standardization for the referees, better padding over the poles of the ring, jokes passed around that if he spent any more time in the arena, he might as well compete.

he had told himself he was better. that he was only a fighter as an inmate because he needed to be, that everything he did worked to prevent power by way of fear. he told himself over and over that he was different, that he didn’t want that, and now he was wondering if he ever believed it. now he wondered why he ever tried.

his coat was left in his office this time, the various pins and layers of his outfit stripped away. wraps were now purchasable, but his hands were covered in the same roughly cut cloth he’d always used. he stretched, watched as his opponent hyped himself up, gaining cheers from the crowd on his side of the arena. he had wanted his first show to be a surprise, to listen to the shocked silence that would undoubtedly follow his debut. he reached, pulling himself up and over the railing in one fluid jump, and was met with the silence he expected.

and then the room exploded, coupons changing hands—why was he surprised people were betting on him competing?—as his opponent turned around. with the entire arena as his witness, wriothesley smiled, adrenaline tingling in his palms at the flash of fear over their face.

for the good of both pankration and the fortress as a whole, he’d hired a proper, in-house nurse. her name was sigewinne, a melusine with more intuition for the human body than most would give her credit for, her work neat and diligent. she was hellbent on getting him to take care of himself, which included stopping his habit of returning to the ring day after day. when he went to fix himself up (that she always insisted on doing for him) she often asked why, asked if there was really nothing better to do with his time than to continue to fight as if he were an inmate, all teeth and claws and dirty tactics. he knew if he was honest with her, pouring out every thought and craving in his head, she would have some fancy name for his desire. there was some book she could point to, some moment in his life that was at fault, but he never bothered trying. why would he, when he already had his answer? this rush, this high as he dashed forward, feeling the prisoner’s balance shift beneath his fist, it wasn’t a stranger to him. he was well familiar with the pride that came with a fight well won. wriothesley had spent years convincing himself he had earned his power outside of beating someone else for it, but now he wondered why he had used that conviction to avoid fighting as a whole. this was what he was meant for, barely feeling the blows across his chest in favor of kicking out their feet with his own, pouncing as they fell. there was no crowd around him, no harsh lights, just him and the head locked beneath his arm, elbows jabbing backwards in weak protest.

the bell rang. he’d won. he didn’t care.

again and again, he returned to the ring, the bruises from his last fight not yet fully healed. scars already crossed his body in a net of victories, he barely noticed a few extra spots of blue. he wanted more than anything to believe he was better than those who raised him, that he wasn’t someone who wanted others to live in fear of them, but he couldn’t deny the enjoyment he felt when someone regretted signing up. that brief, blink and you miss it instance of cold feet, lingering just for a moment. there were rules to pankration now, rules that he followed to the letter, but that didn’t make him any less intimidating and everyone involved knew it. a lifetime of fought for muscle and a glare sharpened to a point, barely an icy flash beneath his hair. the deafening cheers, the dim lights, his split lip he barely noticed and a bruise on his side that pulsed when he breathed. beat up and dirty, the prime example of some street rat he’d normally condemn, smiling a bit too wide when he won.

what was the point of being a duke, his mind whispered, if he wasn’t allowed a little fun?

that’s what it was to him. fun. he put up a front and pretended that he was whole on the inside, that it was just a time-killer to keep him in shape, the sick pride that came with it a secret kept locked far, far away. maybe he wasn’t better. maybe this made him just as bad as his host family was, maybe his enjoyment should have him locked up in a different kind of institution. maybe that was all true, but his gray morality was something he’d long since come to terms with. he didn’t regret killing, he didn’t regret rising to the tops of the fortress’ ranks, and he certainly didn’t regret taking part in this new pankration. what was one more sin added to his tally? wednesdays always had a cleared afternoon, but it wasn’t enough, his feet bringing him back to the arena again and again. day after day, the elevator’s whine already setting his heart pumping faster, chasing the high that the control gave him.

his current opponent struggled beneath his hand, an iron grip around their neck that wasn’t tight enough to do any permanent damage. they could still breathe, their pulse thundering beneath his fingers, and he waited a split second too long after they tapped out to let them go.

it was bad, but it was fun, their eyes tearing up with a subconscious doubt that they’d leave the ring alive. he was bad, but he was already in prison, and nobody had to know about what went on behind the scenes of his actions. nobody ever ended up hurt, after all, and he still did somewhat pull his punches. he stood, then helped them up and patted them on the shoulder, making some blanket comment that they needed to focus on defensive techniques more. most of the contestants did. he waited a moment to make sure they got out of the arena safely before returning to his corner, waving off someone offering him water. it wasn’t as if he didn’t care his prisoners, far from it in fact, but…

wriothesley made a bit of a show of fixing the wraps on his hand, watching that familiar regret light up his next challenger’s eyes.

what was the point of being the duke, he thought, if he wasn’t allowed a little fun?

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third-arch · 3 months

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Law Rambling-“I love you”

A small rambling based on Life After Death by Adam Mcilwee, and my thoughts on Law sincerely being told, “I love you”.

When do you think the last time Trafalgar Law was told, “I love you”?

A cremate? An admirer, perhaps?

Was it genuine?

Does it terrify him, or cause his chest to swarm with happiness and head to overflow with emotions?

Does his heart soar or sink?

He might brush it off and forget about it.

Silly little emotions, a silly feeling in his chest, maybe a sting.

It came and went.

Snuffed out.

And the words would sit like smoldering ashes inside the chambers of his heart.

How are you even performin’

With broken voice and shattered spine?

The smoke would leave his lips, leaving behind a bitter taste in his mouth.

He’d wordlessly wash it out and carry on.

Or maybe he’d leave it burning in his throat.

The foul taste lingering on his tongue and irritating his nostrils.

Or maybe it was sweet, perhaps bitter.

His body left in a strange state of momentary bliss, while his heart vulnerable to the lowered iron cages that surrounded it.

And if you really adored me,

You’d cut me up with razor wire.

You’d call me passionately again,

And never say that you were tired.

I took a quick glance at Law’s novel, and found out that words like “kind”, “love”, and “affection” are rarely used. But, the words “I love you” are never spoken.

Not once.

Was Corazon the last person to tell Law “I love you”?

What would happen if someone told him, “I love you?”

Would he overthink it or simply ignore it?

When would he say it? Would it come naturally or splutter from his lips?

And she knows I keep secrets,

And secrets kept me on my own.

Well, to me, if someone sincerely told him "I love you",

I think he’d be curious.

You love me?

Why do you love me?

What did I do to deserve this?

He’d over think it.

Is that really what I heard? Did they really say that? Do they really mean that?

Why do they love me?

He’d doubt it.

There’s no way. I’m not worthy for it. They’ll get hurt. I can’t open my heart for them. How could they possibly love me?

The words would get stuck in his throat.

Why can’t I say it? It’s so simple, just say it. Eight damn letters.

What’s holding me back?

He’d deny it, perhaps.

It’s not real. There’s nothing here. I need to be certain.

When did I even start feeling these pathetic, silly emotions?

He couldn’t say it.

Just say it.

Damnit, Law, just say it.

He wouldn’t say it.

“…”

Why? I think because he’d be terrified.

His heart would throb, a gentle, rhythmic pounding in his ears.

The ocean would drain, the world would stop turning, the stars would fall out of the sky for Law.

If after life, there’s only death,

Beyond the smoke that’s in my chest,

Beyond the stress, only more stress.

But, one thing’s for certain.

Whoever told him those words, a friend or admirer,

Whoever meant it with all their heart,

I think deep down, somewhere within him, he’d love them back.

And no matter how hard or little he might try to forget,

He wouldn’t.

Song Credits!!🌸🌸🌸

Life After Death (Stress Beyond Stress)-Wicca Phase Springs Eternal (Raw and Declawed, 2017)

#one piece #op #trafalgar law #one piece art #trafalgar one piece #trafalgardwaterlaw #trafalgar d law x reader #law x reader #one piece law #law one piece #op imagines #one piece imagine

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suzie-shooter · 24 days

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Alex Rider season 3 unhinged liveblog ramblings scribbled during first watch. Spoilers, obvs. (also fair warning, I am not particularly a fan of Tom or Kyra lol)

Episode 1 - Widow

S2 recap trivia - Alex's therapist is Molly Doran from Slow Horses and married to Alan Blunt IRL

Malta: Ok, so we're not just going to pretend it's Venice lol.

Creepy old men already hitting on Alex. Standard.

"After this we're out of leads." How do you even have any leads in the first place? Oh ok, Smithers' phone. Terrible security protocols from him, leaving that much historical classified data on it.

"Find the Widow - surely he could have given you an address?" First thing Tom's ever said I've agreed with lmao

Aaaand within a second he's back to being deeply irritating, okay.

Yassen living rent free in Alex's head, you love to see it.

"They've got this picture of me being the responsible one." Have Tom's parents actually met him?

Ooh Razim mention.

You maybe want to clean that wound before whacking a dressing on it Alex?

"Do you think you'll ever lose your appetite Nile?" Spat my drink.

Damn, no harem pants then. Scrubs up well tho.

Listing Levin in the opening credits than having him be only a S2 flashback should be a warcrime.

Episode 2 - Lab

"This weapon is called pork sword, wait, no, shit, wrong USB."

"Julia Rothman. Definitely a wrong un." Spat my drink again.

Do Crawley and Pritchard not warrant helmets and visors? Are they somehow immune to shrapnel?

So, room 6, wired to blow, yes? It's what I'd do…

Oh yeah sure guys, they're going to still be sitting there, all unmoving in the dark, for sure that's a person, and not a Massive Trap.

Thereeeee we go. Agent mince. Top of your class huh, well you're certainly at the top now, and down the sides and partially out of the window.

I know there's the whole 'characters don't know what genre they're in' thing but you are literally in the 'working for MI6 genre', you are up against people notorious for booby traps and blowing shit up, why the fuck would you touch something that hadn't been declared safe first? Apart from anything else you're fucking up the scene before forensics get there.

"I love you man." Vom.

Alex: breaks into super sekkrit lab. Also Alex: doesn't have the faintest fucking idea what he's looking at, so not really helpful.

COMICALLY LARGE BOMB KLAXON.

Episode 3 - Enemy

"Welcome to Malagosto." OooOOooh.

Maybe I'm just looking at it from a fic writer's perspective but it does seem a massive anticlimax to immediately let Tom and Kyra know Alex is okay? Like, you could have got a good couple of episodes of angst out of that uncertainty.

"Do you want me to kill them?" Oh God yes please.

Why the fuck have they plugged the USB directly into the network rather than an isolated PC? 'Hur dur we checked it first', you literally believe Scorpia are smart enough to not be bluffing about the nebulous death threat but you don't think they could hide something on the hardware? Fuck's sake lads. Amateur hour.

Is this Home Secretary meant to be Suella Braverman? Or Priti Patel maybe lol. (Equal rights and all that, and if it had been a white male character I don't think I would have thought twice about the dialogue but having both your two new female characters be immediately proved wrong/ massively patronised/ blown up ain't hugely comfortable viewing tbh).

HOW MANY FICS INVOLVING ALEX GETTING FUCKED ON THAT BED HAVE JUST BEEN BORN?

"Are you suggesting we break into a dead man's house?" "It's not like he's going to be there." 😂

"He became a very close friend of mine." Fnar.

Omg making Alex read his father's love letters is hilarious.

Alex: you could have faked that news report Also Alex: handwriting can definitely never be faked (how is Alex even familiar with his dead father's handwriting? wouldn't recognise mine)

Ugh please stop trying to make Alex/Kyra happen.

Alex up the vent shaft. I hope they're sitting casually at the top going - you could have just taken the stairs love.

If he's climbing upwards, why is his hair dangling like he's upside down? Have they filmed this like 60's Batman, and he's just crawling along a horizontal set lol.

Alex never once asks about his mother does he. Given the shagger-John route they seem to have gone down you almost think Julia would be in a better shout of getting Alex to switch sides by claiming to be his mother.

And - yeah, Alex's recruitment just doesn't feel that convincing here. Adding Tom/Kyra/Jack so much to the mix has changed the feel of his life a lot, and TV verse Alex has had a lot less fucking over by the Department by this point too. And Rothman feels too creepy to be effectively convincing him of anything.

"I want you to meet your tutor." FUCK YES FINALLY 🙌 (may have rewound that part several times lol)

Episode 4 - Recruit

Nicaragua: 18 years ago OH MY GOD IT'S HAPPENING

Baby Yassen is adorable, I'm in love.

OH MY GOD THAT'S SO MUCH BETTER THAN THE FUCKIN SPIDER THING

OH MY GOD THE REVEAL OF HIM STANDING OVER THE SLEEPING ALEX I'M DEAD

(Ok, I'm calm again. For now. We continue.)

"You killed my uncle" - all the hundreds of ways this conversation has been written over the years and Yassen's just like lol get over it 😂 (here for it tbh)

Rothman: He's one of our best Yassen: One of? Bitch.

Yassen watching Alex train like 👀👀

"Did he ever tell you you're no fun?" Oh you want to have FUN with Yassen do you?

Yassen bitchslapping Alex to fuck, both hilarious and hot.

Oh, you want to be WET wet.

"Matteo's the guy with the blanket." Why is that so funny.

Omg Yassen stepping in to protect his boy and humiliating Nile in the process lol. And Alex doing what Yassen tells him, because of course he does 🥰

"This one is my responsibility" 🥰🥰

"What about love, friendship?" Alex has only known Yassen five minutes and is already down bad.

"Kind of lonely though, right?" Yeah, Yassen needs you at his side Alex, so step up and stop being a whiny little bitch about killing people.

Never get in the first taxi, rule one of espionage.

Yep, called it. Tom's like: I'll have my fucking tip back in that case.

This scene is so dark I have no fucking idea what's going on, I thought Nile had attacked Alex, but apparently not. Is Nile officially part of this exercise or not, it seems really unclear lol.

The power of friendship and sparklerabbits saves the day, apparently. Yawn.

Jesus, we really ATE with this ep, huh.

Episode 5 - Revenge

"Would you rather your arms around me, or my arms around you?" Way to make it creepy Tom you skeevy fuck.

"Can we focus please?" "We're multi-tasking."

Sure Grendel, rock up to the super sekkrit spy base in a massively conspicuous car why don't you?

"Yassen will give you everything you need." Oh I BET he will.

Feels sloppy them not removing the diffuser from the vent tbh.

"What does this say?" Alex hasn't inherited John's neat handwriting then lol. Alex leaning into him like that > me making noises only dogs can hear.

"You've put lockpick?" "I left my last one in Nile."

Ooh, suicide pill, nasty. Kind've pointless though, given they've been left with the evidence anyway.

Yassen in Alex's bedroom again, likely place for him to be.

"I don't want you to fail. I don't want you to die." 🥹💕🥰

Yalex roadtrip, let's goooo.

Disappointed they're not making Alex do the Entrapment infrared acrobatic sequence here lol.

If this is Yassen's idea of a date it definitely needs work.

So no surprise scorpions then? Can't have shit in Detroit Malta.

"Why? Why did she kill him?" Well taking things at face value here he was a highly murderous member of a terrorist organisation, so you know, kind've her job.

Yassen does like a casual lean, doesn't he.

Episode 6 - Target

Alex and Yassen have shacked up in London, hope there's only one bed.

Now they're in the back of a van, SO many opportunities for shagging, they're spoilt for choice.

Yassen's impressed look when Alex reels off all the security details, so proud of his boy.

"What happened to my mum?" Finally he wonders lol.

"And I'm good at it. You could be too." 🥹

"You think Alex killed him?" I mean, he was also there with a notorious assassin, so probably not, y'know.

Domestic Yassen cooking Alex's dinner and also cooking him a gun lol.

Smithers' "How I've missed you" ahahaha. Smithers/Kyra much better pairing tbh.

"He's actually quite good at this stuff." Smithers' little snort lmao

Time for Alex to be blacked up/ dunked in a teabag bath/ gussied up. Although he still looks exactly like Alex afterwards, which feels less useful lol.

"You love him, don't you?" Yassen loves him more. I have to say Alex had far more chemistry with Syl, and frankly for that matter with Tom. I really don't get the Kyra agenda.

"It's a dry hole." Alex's worst nightmare.

Is Alex going to look through Mrs Jones' knicker drawer?

Episode 7 - The Shot

Mrs Jones and her tall murderous hobbit son lol. Otto really looks about 58 here.

Hope they bill him for her fucked up fridge.

Is that Bath? Oh, it is.

Mrs Jones casually throwing Alex back into play lol. Maybe she can have a little revenge for him trying to shoot her.

"Everyone breaks into houses." Jack's face lol

Ewww put him down, you don't know where he's been (Yassen's bed, almost certainly)

"Remember they can't hurt you unless you invite them in." "That's vampires."

Yassen arguing in favour of going to rescue Alex MY HEART

"Sit down. I'm going to tell you a story. About your friend, John Rider." HOLY PLOTHOLE TIMELINE PATCHING BATMAN

"John was embedded inside Scorpia for three years." Not the only thing he was embedded in by the sounds of it.

Alex seems to be hallucinating again lol.

Yassen, maybe psychoanalysing your insane boss isn't the safest thing to be doing?

"It's quite mad Julia." Yassen really gives no shits omfg

"I know my place." Yes, at Alex's side.

I like how Julia thought telling Yassen she'd killed John would do anything other than piss him off lol.

Episode 8 - Invisible Sword

"But you do owe me a new fridge." LOLLLLLL

Crawley feeling like a spare part during this lift convo, hahaha

"Smithers, you can do me some kind of tracker, right?" "Yeah, if you promise to keep it on you this time."

Alex is like ohshit I'm gonna die fr

"Not for the agents. They undid their seatbelts." Eyyyyyyyy 👉

Aww they've given him a little baby assassin outfit, how cute.

Where's Yassen, has he just fucked off to the pub?

"For the head of Scorpia, you're a really bad liar."

Laughing at all the other Scorpia agents having to listen to this convo about their boss like we are not paid enough for this shit 😬

"Everyone else is getting what they want, let me have my cereal."

Protecting his boy to the last. Yassen really is purely on Alex's side, we love to see it.🥰

And OMG HE LIVESSSSSSSS 🙌🙌🙌🙌 (I voted yes in that poll, I had faith lol)

Well that was - far more fanservice than I dared hope for, after the meagre pickings we got in the first two series. Yalex supremacy to the motherfucking end, let's go.

#alex rider #alex rider spoilers #alex rider season 3 #yalex

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lilmisssammy · 1 month

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The Path Iceberg

This is an Iceberg for The Path- created by myself with editing help from my good friends Samhain, Torr and Gloria. If you don’t know what an iceberg is, it’s a chart to discuss different levels of knowledge for a specific topic, the farther you go down, the more obscure or dark the topics become.

Before you read, I need to state that there are discussions of Rape related to people aged 9 to 19, Death, Potential Triggering content within links, and Spoilers for The Path.

Thank you! And Enjoy!

Before you read, I need to state that there are discussions of Rape related to people aged 9 to 19, Death, Potential Triggering content within links, and Spoilers for The Path.

Thank you! And Enjoy!

Tier 1 - The Sky

The Path is a psychological horror art game created by Tale of Tales, now Song of Songs, in 2009. It follows a modern retelling of Little Red Riding Hood as it's experienced between six sisters, the wolf-loving 9-year-old Robin, the precocious 11-year-old Rose, the tomboy 13-year-old Ginger, the brooding 15-year-old Ruby, the confident 17-year-old Carmen and the responsible 19-year-old Scarlet. Each sister takes turns walking to their grandmother's house, with the only rule being to stay on the path. And the only way to win is by dying. The Path is a walking simulator and is seen as one of the best representations of the fact gaming can be art.

Tale of Tales was a Belgian game development company that ran from 2003 to 2015. It was founded by artists Auriea Harvey and Michaël Samyn in an effort to bring art to an interactive medium. They're known for games like The Endless Forest, Graveyard, Fatale, Sunset, and especially their cult classic The Path. In 2015 they ceased making commercial video games after the release of Sunset, and now work on art projects together under the name Song of Songs. Currently, they’re working on a remake of The Endless Forest, which is currently in its beta stage open for patreons!

Little Red Riding Hood is a fairy tale about a young girl with a red cape who meets a wolf on the way to her grandmother's house. The basic story has Little Red walking through the woods to bring food for her sickly grandmother, where she meets the wolf who wants to eat the food and her. The wolf tricks her into telling him where she's going while she stops to get her grandmother flowers. When she finally gets there, the wolf has eaten her grandmother and tricks her into getting into bed so he can eat her as well. Depending on the version, a hunter may come in and slay the wolf saving the granddaughter and grandmother from his stomach, or the grandmother could be unharmed in the wardrobe.

Auriea Harvey is a digital artist and sculptor currently living and working in Rome. She’s one half of Tale of Tales and is specifically credited for Design, Direction and Character Design on The Path. She was also the author of the post-mortem on The Path which you can see I’ve heavily referenced throughout this whole post. She currently has an art exhibit at the Museum of Moving Image called My Veins are the Wires, My Body is Your Keyboard which features images, models and the ability to play the path!

Michaël Samyn is a graphic designer and digital artist specialising in VR from Belgium, currently living and working in Rome. He’s the other half of Tale of Tales and is specifically credited for Design, Direction and Programming for The Path. His most recent work, apart from actively working on The Endless Forest, is The Viriditas Chapel of Perpetual Adoration, an utterly stunning VR experience you can get on Steam.

Tier 2 - Tip of the Iceberg

The Path as a game is about building your own interpretations of the character's struggles via item reactions and rooms in Grandmother's House. There are generally two main interpretations believed by most who play the game. One is that the game shows each girl's death, Robin being mauled to death by a wolf, Rose drowning after she falls off the boat, Ginger being strangled/electrocuted on the flower fields wires, Ruby getting into a car accident, Carmen being killed and chopped up, and Scarlet being hung by the string seen on her wolf’s claws. However, these are also usually viewed as metaphorical examples of the sisters feeling like they died after extreme traumas. Using the items and images as clues, there is a common consensus of what each sister went through that made her feel like this. Robin's is learning about death and the consequences of actions, Ginger's is getting her first period and being forced to grow up, Ruby's is falling in with the wrong crowd and getting into harmful behaviours, Carmen's is getting taken advantage of while drunk, and Scarlet's is falling under the weight of responsibility placed upon her to look after her family.

Some places reported that the game would be about rape or pedophilia, like this spread in a Dutch gaming magazine. Something that gives credence to the rape interpretation is the basis of Perrault's version of the tale where the wolf tricks the sister to take off her clothes and get into bed together, as well as the uncomfortable positions the sisters appear in after their encounter. Though, this is how Auriea addressed it in the post-mortem- 'Some say blindly that the game is "about rape." And while that could be one of the interpretations -- and I understand it -- for me, those black-out moments after meeting her wolf are the moments of realization. Those are the times when a girl grows. And what happens in Grandmother's House is not a murder but a shedding of childhood and an initiation to womanhood. Each girl is one step closer to her fate.'

The Path may have intended answers that are mostly agreed on, but the format of the game is purposefully set up so there is no wrong or right answer, allowing for more personal or specific interpretations. You may notice I didn't mention Rose in the last section- and that's because there isn't an accepted answer. The most popular ideas are either her blooming spirituality, or dealing with illness, though those are both contested. There are other popular interpretations for each character- Robin having a family member pass, Ginger being a lesbian or trans man in love with her wolf, Ruby's experience with ableism or addiction, Carmen experiencing society's sexualization of teenagers, Scarlet having extreme psychological issues, with Rose's ranging anywhere from the struggle of a gifted child, actually dying or even the creators not having an actual set intention!

Each sister you can play as has their own Live Journal- Robin's is named Kid Red, Rose's Innocent Red, Ginger's Tomboy Red, Ruby's Goth Red, Carmen's Sexy Red, and Scarlets Stern Red. Here the sisters post about their lives and talk to one another and sometimes other people, there seems to be a group of people who didn't know these were fictional characters, and one person talking about the Rio World Cup. Nowadays, this blog project could be seen as an early form of an ARG, considering its interactive nature.

The Company of Wolves is a 1984 gothic horror film about a grandmother warning her granddaughter about straying from the path and never trusting charming men. Multiple stories are told about girls falling for people who are secretly wolves and how it became their downfall. There are similar themes of femininity and sexual awakening, as well as the usage of Charles Perrault's Le Petit Chaperon Rouge at the end of the movie and in the trailers for the game.

If you've played The Path in recent times you may notice that there are various bugs that range from bearable, game-breaking, beautiful or simply funny. The creators have an image folder of beautiful glitches from developing the game and the VK fanclub has compiled some glitches found themselves.

The game is turning 15 this year- and as time goes on the web aspects that hosted information about it are slowly going out of date. There's been an effort to archive images, the character models for the sisters, and object textures.

Jarboe Devereaux is an experimental rock musician probably best known for being an early member of the group Swans, who co-composed the soundtrack for The Path with Kris Force along with lending her voice to some narration in the soundtrack and trailers. A lot of her music is experimental and I honestly recommend listening to it if you want! At the moment she’s working on her next solo album to come out in late 2024, as well as considering a tour in Europe after the album is released!

The Path of Needles or The Path of Pins is a line from one of the earliest versions of Little Red Riding Hood, the wolf asking which path she will travel down, the needles representing maturity while the pins represent childhood. It's said to be based on a French village in which a girl was sent off to become a seamstress for a year, as a sense of sexual maturation. This features heavily in the trailers as well as being part of The Grandmother’s Tale read by Jarboe, with it being referenced to by Ruby in her reaction to the needle.

The Prologue is a short free version of The Path you can find on their website where you play as the mysterious Girl in White. You're unable to interact with items or go to grandmother's house in this version- but you are much more able to explore and find your way back to the path on your own, something you cannot do in the full game.

Izzzyzzz is a YouTuber who makes commentary videos who posts deep dives on things like famous fandom stories, old media and internet legends. In late 2021 they posted a video covering The Path which now sits at 1.4 million views, introducing a good chunk of the modern fan base to the game, as well as causing a surge in new content for the game, with a follow-up video in 2023! Their most recent video is about the game Palworld and it’s plagiarism, as well as having a new line of merch out.

Despite being released in English and Dutch only, The Path very quickly grew a fanbase in Japan and even more so in Russia. Screenshots from Auriea's post-mortem showed Russia was the second biggest purchaser of the game. The European social networking site VK has a fan club of 5.4k members as of writing this- as well as having produced 251 fanfictions on ficbook (for context, Rule of Rose, a game with similar themes and an overlapping fan base has 5 fanfictions on it) Japan's is a lot less archived, but on niconico you can find a lot of fan videos for The Path that is simply not there on the English net.

Though not like how it's used in other games- The Path has an inventory system in which you can collect, store and view items found in the forest. These are deemed "Distractions", and you're able to use these to unlock parts of grandmother's house. There are 30 items you can collect, the bread and wine are already collected which unlock the house and gate respectively, but there is also: A Knife (Unlocking a knife on the kitchen table), a Bullet (Unlocking a deer head), a Feather (Unlocking a Cage with a bird), a Mask (Unlocking the curtains in the kitchen), a Dead Bird (Unlocking a tv), Treasure (Unlocking a stack of money), a Needle (Unlocking pills), a Two-Headed Teddy Bear (Unlocking the bear in grandmother's house), a Boot (Unlocking a table), a Record (Unlocking a stereo), Flowers (unlocking hanging flowers), a Balloon (Unlocking Balloons on the ceiling), a Piano (Unlocking a Cobweb), the Playground Tower (Unlocking a picture frame), a Bunker (Unlocking beer in a fridge), and a Grave (Unlocking a Vase). Each sister then has three special items that unlock secret rooms. For Robin, an Open Grave, Swing and Shopping Cart unlock a crib with a birds-nest, a side staircase and a birthday party. For Rose, a Living Crow, a Skull and a Well, unlocking a long corridor of bathroom stalls, a flooding hallway of doors and a greenhouse. For Ginger, a Twisted Fence, a Climbable Tree and a Shed unlock a hallway, a bedroom and toys under the bed. For Ruby, a Scarecrow, a Wheelchair and a Car unlock a hallway, gymnasium and giant cage. For Carmen, beer, campfire and bath unlock a bush corridor, a basement and a row of fire. And for Scarlet, a cobweb, a clothing line, and a tv unlock a music room, a library and a hall of books.

Tier 3 - Beneath the Surface

Kris Force is an electroacoustic composer, performer and visual artist you'd probably best know from her work as Amber Asylum and with Neurosis. She’s an extremely talented multi-media artist, including such skills as painting, sound and photography. At the moment her most recent release was The Embrace, with Jarboe whom she collaborated with on The Path!

1001 Video Games To Play Before You Die is a spinoff book from 1001 Albums You Must Hear Before You Die, featuring games from 1970 to 2013, with The Path being listed right between Punch-Out for the Wii and EyePet the pet simulator. Listed as being so effective due to its interactivity.

The Girl in White, the mysterious forest girl who brings the sisters back to the path, seems to be tied with two of the sister’s Wolves. Ginger’s, The Girl in Red, and Carmen’s, The Woodsman. The Girl in White has a small tent next to the Woodsman’s area, as well as sharing the same skin colour, hair colour, eye colour and similar-looking boots. With the Girl in Red it’s much the same, the only things being different are the colour of their dresses, and the directions their pigtails point, and is directly named as the Girl in White’s twin. There’s even art of all three together named “The Woodsman’s Daughter” but not saying which one is his daughter.

Fey Wolf, if you aren't familiar, is the name in the files for Scarlet's Wolf, the white-haired pianist found in the theatre. You'd not be faulted for seeing them as either an older woman or a long-haired man, or even a genderless ethereal being. The Fey Wolf was never specifically gendered by the creators, but insights about The Girl In Red Wolf reveal that she is intended to be the only female wolf.

Laura Raines Smith is an extremely prolific animator specialising in modelling and textures and was the main animator in a lot of Tale of Tales games. Some of her Tale of Tales animations can be found here, but she's also worked on games like Borderlands 3, Rage of the Gladiator and NHL 95. Her most recent work from what I can find was the animation and rigging on Saturnalia in 2022!

If you’ve been in the community or if you’ve seen people discuss theories for The Path, you have probably seen the interpretation that Ginger is a lesbian, or transgender. This goes beyond just a shared headcanon, there’s a mountain of evidence for both camps that seems potentially intended. Starting with Ginger being transgender, just out of respect, in this section Ginger will be referred to with gender-neutral pronouns. Their appearance is particularly androgynous compared to their sisters, with a short bob cut and a black shirt and shorts- along with having the gender-neutral name Ginger that doesn’t quite fit the family naming theme that could be seen as a chosen name. Ginger also is associated with things that are seen as more masculine, their favourite video game is an action-adventure called Ico, they enjoy exploring the forest and trying to blow things up or fake crop circles, as well as having “boy” toys under the bed, little army men and dinosaurs. Ginger also notoriously dislikes things that are more “girly” like dressing up pretty, going as far as to make their entire family forget their birthday to avoid it. Their wolf can be seen as a manifestation of that, of all things girly and feminine, literally being only known as a Girl in Red- and the GIR’s obsession with barbed wire could be how they feel their feminity is trapping them. Ginger getting their first period is near-universally considered to be the “proper” interpretation of their route, but people who believe in Ginger being transgender use their overwhelming reaction to their first period being a sign of gender dysphoria, and fear of now believing they will be stuck to becoming a woman. This can be summed up in this image, of Ginger clutching their legs together with what's supposed to be in the middle being completely absent, instead with a drawing of flowers in place and barbed wire across, a clear sign of how they see their period as trapping them into womanhood. For the lesbian side, Ginger never specifically states that she doesn’t like men like Scarlet, but more shows her complete disinterest in them and romance in general. She mentions how she hates that “kissing stuff” and describes Carmen as “Hot, if you’re into that kinda thing.” While that does seem to show Ginger isn’t into romance at all, there are some things. The recurring image of two girls holding hands as a doodle can be found all over the game, and her general identity as a tomboy is sometimes seen in young lesbians yet to have come out, but most of the evidence lies within her wolf and their relationship. They’re clearly close, they have a handshake, and Ginger is more comfortable with affection with her than compared to her own grandmother, with the two girls hugging deeply and the GIR even lifting her into the air. The Wolf Encounter is comparably tamer and almost sweet compared to every other wolf encounter, ending with the Girl in Red grabbing Ginger’s hand and pulling her down to lie together in the sun. The final flashes show an image of the GIR leaning in, almost looking like she’s kissing something. On the GIR’s development blog, their relationship is described as “They are what is missing from each other's lives” as well as describing why Ginger was chosen to have a female wolf as “And the girl most likely to be attracted would be Ginger.” These development notes as well as the general tone of the wolf encounter seem to apply that Ginger and her wolf’s interactions weren’t as antagonistic as the others, almost as if her goal was not to hurt, but to trap her, seemingly to stay in the relationship.

If you’ve lurked on forums about the game for any amount of time, you’ve probably heard the question of “Getting an A” in the game's grading system, and speculation on how it’s possible. Well, I’m sadly here to tell you it’s impossible. Even if you get all of the items, all 144 flowers, successfully succumb to the wolf, and become Grandmother's favourite grandchild, you are unable to get an A. It honestly should not be a surprise- The Path is not supposed to be a normal game that rewards you for your completion, it’s… The Path.

Lisa Falzon is an Illustrator turned tattooer and multimedia artist from Malta. She was originally approached early on in the production to design the box art, though I don’t know if this was ever made or shared, and went on to inspire multiple other aspects of the game, being described as "Awkward Realism." She even drew Ginger when Tale of Tales interviewed her! At the moment she’s working in her own Tattoo shop called Upward Spiral Ink- her tattoos involve amazing detail and beautiful shading, I highly recommend checking it out!

Emriss, Redsbane and Bonedevill are three accounts found commenting and interacting with the sisters' live journals in the comments between 2008 and 2009. Most of Emriss' comments come from 2008, while all of Redsbane and Bonevill's are from 2009. The common through line is interaction with the accounts by the sisters and deactivation. Emriss plays a more neutral role, while Redsbane and Bonedevill lean more antagonistic with them referencing something bad happening to the sisters, Redsbane also seemingly implies the 'Bane' of the 'Red' sisters. With these accounts not archived on the Wayback Machine it's not clear if these were accounts used by the creators to provide interaction, or if they are actual fans playing along.

Ruby’s Leg Brace is probably the most iconic thing about her, with the rarity of video game characters using disability aids, her open usage of one is a welcome sight- but from the beginning of her development it’s not clear if she needs it. In her original plan sheet it’s noted that she may just be using it for show and later her description on the website saying “When asked about her leg brace, Ruby says she’s in pain, but she doesn’t specify where it hurts,” implying she doesn’t need it. Conversely, one of Ruby’s secret items needed is a wheelchair, and the final flashes put an emphasis on her legs and how they’re bent out of shape, seemingly saying she needed the leg brace due to a car crash, or an alternative reading is that Ruby was already disabled before the accident, as she gets violently thrown through a high school gym, as well as being the quickest character in the game, maybe signalling she used to be a school athlete before the onset of a condition or an accident.

Kirin San may be a kind of mysterious figure for non-Japanese fans of The Path, especially if you’ve gone through fanart, seeing a random man or giraffe in a little suit with the red sisters. The truth is, Kirin-San could probably be best described as the Japanese Izzzyzzz, being a big part of how the game became popular over there, with his playthroughs inspiring animatics and leading to a Japanese translation coming in 2010 from Zoo Corporation! This is a weird side note I didn’t know where else to put, but while I was researching this topic I found out that apart from translating games like GTA and Left 4 Dead into English, they also create hentai card games like Pretty Girls Mahjong Solitaire as well as developing medical prescription systems, so that’s hilarious.

144 is described as the essence of the game by the creators, that it represents “a girl's restlessness, the sound of footsteps on dry leaves, the smell of pine trees, dim sunlight through filtering clouds.” The original working title of it was 144, with the original intent to have 144 red riding hoods. This was quickly abandoned due to the scale, but its importance remains, the 144 collectable flowers in the forest are the most obvious example of this, but it's all over the rest of the game. There are 36 items (144 divided by 4 being 36), 18 secret rooms (144 divided by 8 being 18), 3 secret rooms per sister (144 divided by 48 being 3) as well as six sisters (144 divided by 24 being six).

Something talked about in the postmortem but was not mentioned by name in the game is that The Girl in White is quite literally an older version of one of Tale of Tales past characters, The Deaf Mute Girl in The Pretty White Dress from 8. Her models were created based on making them look like the Deaf Mute Girl but at the age of 13. With 8 never coming out; the Girl in White is both the first occurrence of this character and the second time she was in a game.

Tier 4 - Middle of the Iceberg

An interesting detail that 1c changed when they translated the game into Russian is them choosing different names for the main six girls, unlike every other translation which keeps their original. The names are: Robin as Алина/Alina, Rose as Алиса/Alice, Ginger as Ада/Ada, Ruby as Агния/Agnia, Carmen as Алла/Alla and Scarlet as Аврора/Aurora. The translated names are no longer themed around red things, but around the alliterative A’s, probably due to their name puns being lost in translation.

This is an entry that’s probably more well known to people NOT into The Path, in that The Path is featured and shouted out by name in Hetalia. Yeah, Hetalia, that Hetalia the anime about personified countries that once was the second most popular Anime/Manga fandom on Fanfiction dot net, features The Path in both the anime and manga, with Belgium showing off the game as something from their homeland.

Something never mentioned in the games is that each of the sisters was given birthdays. On their livejournals, you can see posts of them celebrating Robin’s, Carmen’s and forgetting Ginger’s, but they aren’t the only ones with birthdays. On their live journal profile descriptions, their birthdays are listed as the 13th of October 2000 for Robin, the 13th of March for Rose, the 13th of September 1996 for Ginger, the 13th of May 1994 for Ruby, the 13th of November 1992 for Carmen, and the 13th of April 1990 for Scarlet. Rose doesn’t have her birth year listed but it’s probably just 1998, due to all of the sisters being spaced by two years. Something interesting is that all of the sisters were born on Friday the 13th, but only Rose would be her actual age as of the game release. Since the game came out on the 18th of March 2009, the actual character ages would be 8 for Robin, 11 for Rose, 12 for Ginger, 14 for Ruby, 16 for Carmen and 18 for Scarlet. Part of me thinks that this is why Rose’s birth year goes unmentioned on live journal, though if she wasn’t born in 1998 she would not fit the profile of being born on Friday the 13th, but it’s possible it was either a mistake or related to another entry on this iceberg.

Only mentioned in one development image and the development blog for Ginger’s Wolf, is the idea that Ginger and Rose were at one point supposed to be twin sisters, both being 13 similar to the Girl in White and her twin The Girl in Red being 13. In the accompanying image found on Flickr, you’re able to see above Rose her age is listed as 11, or as 13 if she was a twin. The thing is- the sister that has age 13 listed above her is very clearly NOT Ginger, it’s Ruby, and it’s Ginger who’s listed as 15. Well, they’re not listed by name, but Tomboy Red and Goth Red are the names used for Ginger and Ruby as seen on Livejournal, and their appearances are nearly identical to those from the final product. Especially weird considering that Ruby was the first character ever made for this game, and she was listed as 15 in that as well!

You probably noticed this if you looked at the image where Rose and Ginger are listed as twins, but they aren’t the only ones with stark differences that go unexplained. The Girl in White is listed as LDMGIAPWD, an acronym for the Little Deaf Mute Girl in a Pretty White Dress, simplified in print as the Girl in White and in fan discussions as the GIW. Another thing you’ll notice is that Scarlet has… A different design. With a long buttoned dress reminiscent of something straight out of a period piece set in an asylum, and a hat with things that look like antennas with flowers. And then it comes to… Rose and Carmen’s original names. Virgin Red and Sexpot Red. We’ll start with Carmen. Sexpot is a more crude way of describing someone who’s sexy, which is what Carmen’s nickname was then changed to. It’s still kind of a touchy issue with fans that Carmen, a minor, uses the name Sexy- but it’s still far more appropriate compared to Sexpot. Sexy gives more of a feeling that it’s self-appointed when compared to Sexpot which is more voyeuristic. And Virgin Red. Virgin has two contexts that are relevant here. Virgin within the context of purity and innocence, related to the Virgin Mary as an example of goodness not seeing bad. And Virgin within the context of never having sexual contact with anyone. Given the fact her name was then changed to Innocent Red and the fact she is ELEVEN- it’s likely that it’s related to that first interpretation, further giving evidence towards the view of Rose’s story being about her relationship to her spirituality.

If you’ve read Rose or Ruby’s live journal you’d find out that on the 2nd of May 2008, Ruby dyed her hair black. That’s not surprising to begin with, you can see her with her hair as black throughout the game (Though sometimes it has a blueish look with some lighting)- a bit weird that it had to be pointed out as dyed due to all of her sister’s also having black hair (You can see Ginger’s black roots), but their live journals give a reason for why. In Ruby’s comment section, she’s asked about her original hair colour, which she replies was Green. It’s not clear if she means her hair was last dyed green, or if she has natural green hair. This seems like a reference to one of her final flashes that’s the same as another but with a green colouring. Anyway- this isn’t what we’re talking about. In the reply of that comment, someone calls her a liar, and says if it really was green, why did she get her sister to lie? What they’re referring to is Rose’s post about it- in which she says that Ruby had made her promise not to tell what her old hair is. There’s still a debate as to what her original hair colour is, and I don’t think we will ever actually get to know.

In 2022 @wammy4 on Twitter began multiple Twitter bots based on the sisters in The Path, posting various things sourced from lines in the game, live journal posts, quotes from grandmother's house and links to the game. It posted multiple times per day, now with so many posts it’s hard to keep track, but as of the fourth of April 2023, none of the accounts other than the creator has posted, due to Musk’s shutdown of free API bots and $100 per month bot subscription.

A staple of fandoms on the internet are Askblogs, where fans can ask characters questions and get a reply, usually with illustrated companions. The Path is no outlier, having a dedicated askblog on VK- with over 800 followers. It’s been active for years and has over 2 thousand different images, and has asks for all of the characters in the game, as well as gender-bent versions. If you can speak Russian I highly recommend checking it out, and even if you can’t, the art is stunning!

The Red sisters aren’t the only ones who have live journals, within the comments you can find Grandmother Red interacting with her grandkids, asking when they’ll next come down to see her. However this livejournal is different from the others given that hers is deactivated, even with the wayback machine- and her livejournal was never linked on the official website next to the others.

Fuco Euda is a Japanese-based surrealist painter focusing on the horrific, sensual and innocent, with girls nearly looking identical as if they were family, or the same girl. She was first referenced all the way back when Ruby was being designed as an artist to look into for inspiration. Her artbook LUCID DREAM is out, with a special bound edition if that’s something you’d be interested in!

Alice Knows Karate is an alt-pop band that takes inspiration from fairytales and J-pop, creating a unique nostalgic sound that feels straight out of a video game. They’ve got various albums you should definitely check out, but what we’re specifically talking about today is their 2018 album Fablewave, with their song ‘The Path’. It was originally posted on the head of the band Keiko’s YouTube channel in 2009, with an updated version coming ten years later. It’s outrageously good, it captures the essence of the game perfectly with amazing lyrics, and I got a bit too attached and it ended up as my number-one song on Spotify in 2023. The rest of Fablewave is also based on other fairytales and fairytale-inspired games, particularly ‘Alice, What Have You Done?’ based on American McGee’s Alice. Their most recent work is Grounded, and they’ve also been featured as the theme song for Penny Larceny: Gig Economy Supervillain!

The Path was supposed to be Tale of Tales' first commercial project, and as so it included advertising, but being Tale of Tales, they did this the most extra way they could. Around where they lived, they made a Tear Off poster, with what I believe is Martha Samyan’s art of Robin. The poster asks the reader to choose the path of pins or the path of needles, while linking to the website. On their blog they provide a blank download of the tear-off poster so you can print it off, to draw on it and place it around you!

The Path was Tale of Tales' first foray into creating commercial games, and because of that, there are various different selections of merch, such as: Signed Posters, USB drives, CDs of the soundtrack, Polaroids, Shirts (via Redbubble) and a sticker. Nearly all of this, save the shirts on Redbubble, are no longer purchasable, being limited items when they came out, and then finally being sold in 2015 as Tale of Tales moved. I am still so mad I never got those Polaroids and am still madly searching for auctions of them.

The Rose Problem is a catch-all term I am using to describe basically ‘What the hell is up with Rose’. It’s no secret that Rose is divisive when it comes to interpretations- so much so that I couldn’t include her in the first interpretation section. So, what is it that makes Rose so difficult? Well, you can barely see her wolf, her house is almost all flooded and she speaks with flowery prose. The reason people seem to view her route as spirituality or disability is because of her continued mention of disconnect from herself. But there have been oceans of other disagreeing ideas, related to her perhaps going through puberty early, her experiencing guilt related to her family, her being potentially molested, or even her literally dying. It’s been put forward by some that Tale of Tales went into Rose not even having an intention in mind, or it shifted from one idea during development and becoming aimless during that period.

Scarlet is known to be the last created sister, Tale of Tales describe the making of her as being the first to be born and last to be made, and because of that, her wolf was the last to be made. The final wolf is named the Fey Wolf- related to the Fae Court. As an Irish person who’s in full belief of the Fae, I don’t see the resemblance. But that wasn’t his final name- maybe it wasn’t his final appearance. His original name, according to a rough floor plan of what Grandmother’s house would look like with the secret rooms was Boy Toy Wolf. That’s… A name change. Especially considering the fact Boy Toy refers to a young man in a sexual relationship, usually with an older woman, and the Fey Wolf is a sort of elderly-looking androgynous thing with a 19-year-old Scarlet who is not into relationships. But because the Fey Wolf’s making has no text, it’s not clear if his appearance or purpose even changed between the name change.

Quest3d was a tool used for making 3D applications, with an intuitive way of programming by using graphs and seeing it in real-time without the need for a compiler. On Mobygames only 8 games were ever listed as created by Quest3d, 6 if you don’t count The Path and The Prologue- with three of them being a Ship Simulator. I say was because it’s pretty much gone. You can’t open their unique file in anything so you’re kinda screwed if you want to do anything with the game files.

The Shrine and the Playground Sign are two interesting objects that you really can’t see in the rest of the game. They both appear along the path but not in the forest, and unlike the crow, you can’t interact with them. Though not immediately clear- the reason why those appear is to signal to the player that the Graveyard and Playground are accessible. That’s probably self-explanatory for the Playground Sign, but for quite a few people the Shrine may come as a surprise, including me before I researched it.

The Path, like everything, has speedrunners. There are two categories- All Girls and Failure%. There have been seven runs altogether, one in all girls and six in failure%. Failure% is reaching grandmother's house without interacting with any wolf, beginning when you gain control and ending when you leave first person in Grandmother's house. Though there are no guides available, the strategy is clear, using Ruby as she’s the quickest. The world record holder as of now is from Krayzar with a one-minute 35 seconds. There's only one speedrun for All Girls, and I’m going to be honest, I don’t think there’s a strategy, at least not one clear from the world record holder Multiwinner who admits that the run they sent in was their first and only attempt. If you want to try this out, go ahead! You’ll have the chance to make history!

In 2020 a zine by the VK fan club for The Path was released- featuring illustrations, comics and stickers, a full collection of all included is linked here. As far as I can tell, this is the only one of its kind! It really is a marvel, and I have said this for like the third time, but if you have a copy of this I would love to buy it from you. I do have to warn you- there is nudity in here of Ruby.

Tier 5 - Bottom of the Iceberg

Tale of Tales references three artists and illustrators that inspired the feeling they were going for The Path, naming them as Lisa Falzon, Fuco Ueda and Ray Caesar. For its first anniversary, three sets of interviews of those artists by the six red sisters. You can find the interviews here, but some highlights are: Carmen asking Lisa if she has a boyfriend followed by Scarlet asking if Lisa is a feminist, Robin asking if Fuco Euda's paintings showed "Good girls or naughty girls", and Ginger just asking if Ray Caesar would ever make a video game.

One of the more confusing things mentioned in the Post Mortem is the fact that Tale of Tales at one time considered creating a mechanic where you would have to dance battle your wolf. No, I am not joking. I just have one question. In a game about exploring your deepest trauma in a wolf-infested forest. Why did you make them dance?

The Path Tribute Project was a group of Vocaloid songs created based on characters in The Path on niconico. The project is from 2014, and due to this and a lack of updating links, I’m unable to find the original organiser of the project and one of the songs, but what I do have, is a Paste Bin of all the found links, the Tumblr blog it was advertised on, and a short compilation of all of the songs reposted on VK!

The canonicity of the grandmother house pages is up to discussion, with Rose, Ginger, Ruby and Carmen all seeming aware they’re in a video game created by these people with Scarlet not making mention of Kris’ involvement with the game. The outlier is Robin, who says not only is Jarboe real in their universe, but that she lives in a black house in their forest- and that she was the one who taught the family the Safe Song. There clearly is not a black house in the forest- the only house is Grandmother’s which is white. Maybe she’s referring to the tent in the Campsite, we never exactly do see the Woodsman go into it, or it could even be the Bunker, as it seemingly has a panel over the door, but neither of those are housey.

Given The Path’s limited characters and interactions, the game’s fanbase has never really been prime with shipping, the most you would see is Ruby and her Wolf along with Ginger and her Wolf. But one pairing stands among them all as the most. Ship to exist. The Woodsman, and the Fey Wolf. There’s a weirdly large amount of fanart for this, despite their status of never interacting or existing near each other, but I suppose what fandoms do best is see two men and decide they should kiss. Should I show examples of this? Yes. Am I going to? No. Just… Take my word for it and understand why I am not showing you a sweaty bald man making out with whatever the Fey Wolf is.

Shamus Young was a game critic and blogger who was an early modder in the Doom Community, and held some infamous views related to parts of The Path. I want to preface this by saying- Shamus Young passed away in 2022 at the age of 50, and out of respect for him and his family, I will be only relaying what he wrote instead of including my opinions. The reason Shamus gained a particular status in the fan community is for his interpretations of Rose and Carmen. Starting with Carmen- he states that he knew girls like Carmen in high school, that would “Find the biggest, strongest, best-looking complete-jerk they could get their hands on, and then endlessly whine about how ‘men are such pigs.’” He then goes on to explain that he believes Carmen was not raped, because despite being drunk she had taken the alcohol without asking, and that it was not rape because “She came on to him.” He does say that it “does not excuse the forester for sharing his beer and hooking up with an (in some states) underage girl-” and then proceeds to say “But I don’t think he’s a rapist.” At the end of the aftermath saying that “Maybe this one bad experience will make her more careful.” Rose’s analysis begins with him prefacing that “I don’t actually want to talk about this one, because it involves stuff I wouldn’t even bring up on my blog.” and then again stating “And I really hope you’ll keep a clinical head on when I bring this up and try to be polite even if you disagree, and furthermore I hope we can keep this discussion civil and remember that this is all open to interpretation.” Before he goes on to explain how Rose’s water motifs are a representation of discovering masturbation- that the reason why her wolf is a Cloudy Male figure is that “She knows she’s attracted to men but she doesn’t know what men look like yet, or how sex works”. As stated at the beginning of this entry and by Shamus himself, I’m keeping this civil and I am not shaming him for his personal interpretations.

There’s quite a bit of Micheal’s Daughter Martha present in the game at various points. Martha made the original pictograms, I believe the poster art was also by her- but the most clear inspiration is Robin herself. As mentioned in her Making of post, Robin’s outfit is based on her, specifically her outfit of her blue hooded cloak and stripey boots. Martha’s actually an artist now too! Martha Samyn is a textile artist and interior architect, with her last exhibit being at Texture Kortrvijk in January! You can actually see the start of her textile art related to The Path, showing off her Ruby-inspired outfit for her doll!

A last-minute change mentioned in the post-mortem was the fact that The Path did not contain any text until the playtest. And when I mean any text, I don’t just mean instructions- until they had people play the games they hadn’t thought to include text for the items, to show what the characters were thinking, because they saw that “Some players had difficulty to let their imagination work.” That’s a wise lesson for you all. Involve Beta testers.

The Path Fangame, titled The Path Fan Project, is a game by Kinder and Doll, a spiritual follow-up to The Path with less of a focus on horror and more on open-world explanation and interaction with the sisters. The graphics are astonishingly pretty, with quite a few new locations like a train, a cave, and a treehouse. The game also involves slight voices, giving the characters voices for the first time! I again urge you to play it, especially since I am unable to because of the age of my computer.

The-Red-Path is a LiveJournal community never officially linked on the website like all the other LiveJournal profiles, with only six members- the six sisters. This account has only three posts, all posted in 2008, between April and August, only one of which I will be bringing up. On the 16th of April Robin asks whose turn it is to visit their grandmother, with Rose mentioning that they’ve all gone down the path already. There's a weird sadness in this post, with the normally boisterous Carmen asking why she couldn’t just go with anyone else.

You have probably heard of the first urban legend about The Path, the ability to get an A, but this one you likely haven’t heard of. There’s a phone present on the road on the other side of the path, calling it will allow you to transport the sister back to the apartment without needing to go to grandmother’s house. The general idea is then, if you go through the wolf encounter, but turn around on the path and walk back to the phone- would you be able to call it and actually return back home without the sister disappearing? There have been testimonies of being able to do it, as well as fanfictions about the concept, and not a lot of checks due to the fact you can’t run after the wolf encounter and your speed is already extremely low. But I am going to come out and say, no, I don’t believe it’s possible. I don’t think the creators would have overlooked that idea, especially since they had a large number of beta testers, but I do really like the idea and I wish it was true.

That’s the end! I have quite a few things I left out, due to it maybe not being interesting or my losing of sources, but I’m glad I could finally do this. In all honesty, The Path changed my life. It’s helped me through a lot in my own journey of healing and accepting trauma, and I will forever be grateful. Happy 15th anniversary!

#the path #the path game #the path tale of tales #the path robin #the path rose #the path ginger #the path ruby #the path carmen #the path scarlet #the girl in white the path #werewolf the path #cloud wolf the path #girl in red the path #charming wolf the path #woodsman wolf the path #fey wolf the path #tale of tales

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kiteou · 4 months

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Actually I wanted to expand more of this au I had since I wanted to talk more about it.(also I wrote it on a piece of paper I had but unfortunately I threw it away :’’) on accident)

I wrote on the post where Bruce was lost/grieving over his dead robins.so he made an artificial intelligence versions of them to keep him company and such,because he knows these versions of them won’t leave him.

In their designs I made them have the numbers 01-04.(as you can see within that artwork.as far as i posted being dick and Jason who share 01 and 02)obviously their supposed to be androids yet still have some parts that have a humanoid aspect.i would say all of them do look human with human faces with an exception of Cassandra and Jason and throw in Stephanie as well.

Because I like to think Cassandra was found in a dump site where she was mauled and ripped apart had no face even if her face plate would most likely ripped off,and she only had a small amount of battery/machine lifespan to see weapons like her get thrown in the dump when they have no use anymore.when Bruce finds her and she ran out of lifespan in the dump he takes her in and makes her new.giving her a new identity and purpose.

Jason used to have a life before he became an android.but now is a ai that sticks to Bruce until he’s given his own physical robot body(the other robins also get their own physical versions of them selves with obvious changes)Like how I designed with dick,Jason doesn’t have a face.if you where to take off that helmet all you’d see is wires and a head/facial “skeleton”.i think deep inside he would desperately want a more “human” face to be more accepted and well liked.(but that’s just my thinking)

Like Cassandra,Stephanie would be found with her robotic body parts scattered when found by android Tim.like the other two she doesn’t have a “face” you could only see her “eyes”.i also like to think that Tim would guide her along to her new and improved body and purpose.Through the world she sees in her surroundings she would learn quickly of human interaction and feelings that she can use in her disposal to help others.

There are human members like obviously Bruce but also Alfred,Barbara,Jim(not technically bats related but still counts because Barbara),Kate,Duke so on so forth.

I am also firm believer that Bruce when programming the AI’s robins limited on what their previous lives were.Meaning that they have no idea on how they died.All they know is that they have a new body and new purpose.

And when I said “scraps” in the post let’s just say it was parts of the body they had before.it’ll be real freaky if there was an actual beating heart and functioning human brain in those robots.

Also credit to this person for influencing my ideas more thank you :D

Also I’ll probably write more but that’s all I have now.i also do want to think more for Tim and Damian and most likely Dick.as well as the others because I didn’t mention them here.

#papalote dice cosa #jason todd #cassandra cain #stephanie brown #bruce wayne #batman #batfamily #dick grayson #to an extent #dc #dcu #dc comics #dc universe #dc headcanon #dc au #batman au #dc batman #batfam #writting

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queenendless · 7 months

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❤️‍🩹Lost in a Moment (AU!Adult!Gojo Satoru x Adult!Geto Suguru)❤️‍🩹

A/N: Listening to Lost In A Moment from Stray Gods the Role Playing Musical helped put me in an emotionally wrecked state.

Yet watching yesterday's new episode ... that topped it. 😢🤧

CW: DEFINITE ANIME SPOILERS; UP TO S2 E9 NOW! AND YEAH IMPLIED MANGA SPOILERS BUT NOT IN MUCH DETAIL! Angst, hurt/comfort, reincarnation into modern age AU with retained memories of canon lives, cliche corny cheesy sappy lovey dovey feels, and yes Imma make more for this AU with the rest of my JJK babies ... and put in some x Reader soon. When the next episode drops... cause God that's gonna be a ride. OF FEELS! 😭

Credit for JJK goes to Gege ... despite all the madness they've put our babies through!

* Please DON'T plagarize, translate, or repost my FANFIC content. Reblog, like, and follow instead.

More JJK content coming as daily as this season runs. I hope you enjoy.

So much blood shed.

So many lives lost.

Panic and disgust at all that carnage yet enjoyment enacting violence against those special grades.

Roughly a thousand transfigured heads rippled through the blood-soaked station, trapped in his Infinite Void, within two tenths of a second.

Then came the Prison Realm.

The cube swishing open to take its true form.

Its wrinkly red skin stretched out into an X, wires stretching out its shrunken warm colored eye dripping with blood.

His instincts screamed to turn tail and get away.

"Yo Satoru."

That waving, closed eye smile sent unsettling, too trusting tremors through him.

"Huh?"

"Long time no see."

A fake?

A transformation technique?

No … the Six Eyes burned it onto his brain.

It all came flowing into him.

Three years' worth of his youth.

Smiling at that face.

Eyes full of hope.

Taking a minute to unfold in his head.

Enough time for the Prison Realm to merge with him, jutting out of him, keeping him hanging and pinned.

"You shouldn't lose yourself in thought, in the midst of battle, Satoru."

I can't sense any cursed energy. I can't get my body to move, either. This is checkmate, huh?

"So, who the hell are you?"

"I'm Suguru Geto. Don't you remember me? How sad."

"Your body, your cursed energy … all the information provided by these eyes is telling me you're Suguru Geto. But … my soul is rejecting all that! Now answer me already! Who the hell are you!?"

"Creepy." Pulling on that near invisible thread. Lifting the top half of his head off. Revealing the mouthed alien brain; juices dripping down his face, his wide ass toothy smile pissing him off. "How could you tell?"

"That's my technique you see. I can pass from one body to another by replacing its brain with myself. Of course, I'm also able to use that technique etched into the body I inhabit. I really wanted this man's Curse Manipulation and this situation, too. You didn't have Shoko Ieiri handle the disposal of Suguru Geto's body that day, did you?"

He couldn't … he just couldn't bear it.

Watching his one and only best friend being buried … or even cremated … after all those years spent apart on opposite sides … his selfish grieving heart had to keep him.

Plopping that head cap back on, squelched noises were made, it all churned Gojo's guts.

"That was an odd time for you to show consideration. But thanks to that, I was able to obtain this body with ease."

Pulling the thread to hold its creped hold back in place.

"You needn't worry. I'll release your seal eventually. A hundred… no … maybe a thousand years from now? You're just too strong. And you're in the way of my plans."

"Hah! Have you forgotten? Who was it that beat the crap out of that body before I killed him?" His stubborn pride and confidence in his distant relative turned aspiring pupil knew no bounds.

"Yuta Okkotsu, huh? I just don't see as much appeal in that boy as you do. Copying techniques without any conditions, and a bottomless well of cursed energy … both of those were just effects obtained from binding the soul of his most beloved with a pact. Sorry to say this, but Yuta Okkotsu can never replace you."

False Geto …

No ….

Kenjaku.

Damn him.

"Goodnight, Satoru Gojo. We'll meet again in the new world."

His pleading hopes that his one great weakness – his greatest strength – would respond to his desperate cries to come back and end the madness were all dashed.

Betting all his hopes that Suguru was still in there somewhere, trying to break free like himself, and that someway, somehow, something blessed would arrive amiss all this cursed madness.

Yet, even as the instincts of keeping him safe ingrained in the overtaken body of his best friend surfaced just to choke his hijacked being, it was a lost cause.

Lost in the moments of the times he missed most of all.

Lost in the song of their laughter, their fights, their banter, when they could be kids and nothing else.

Being each other's strength.

Making up for what the other lacked.

Each other's missing piece.

And to have that cursed Kenjaku make him relive the hell of a life failing Suguru. Tainting his entire being. Not even in death could the suffering end for his lost and lonely other half; matching Gojo's inner suffering for over a decade long in a world without Geto.

The strongest one, the honored one, defeated by the greatest curse that is love.

Failing his moral compass, his one and only friend, who needed someone in his time of need when he fell apart over his struggling morals after witnessing the cruel truth of their world. Expected to protect those that don't deserve it. Losing those that are too pure for that horrific reality.

Unable to protect his students, allies, and friends from the onslaught of hell that came for them that bloody Halloween night.

Unable to resist the moment that monster greeted him in Suguru's voice.

Unable to save the one he loved most of all.

Three years spent trapped.

Trapped in isolating hell.

Swallowed whole in suffocating, soul crushing darkness.

The muffled voice of someone pulled him out of the murky pulls of deep slumber. The jostling shake in his being, the solid digging of fingers in his shoulders, the overwhelming heat shoving back the freezing sunken teeth of the nightmare.

The muffled sound became clear out in the open as the most familiar voice of all was yelling out his name desperately.

"Satoru!? Wake up! Come on, please!"

Rescuing him from that insufferable reality.

Awakening him in a new one.

Blinking his eyes up several times, heaving and catching his breath as he broke out into a sweat.

Non vibrant eyes darting all over as he took in everything. Late at night. The AC humming in the background. Streams of moonlight creeping in through the skinny gap of the curtains. Trickling along the hunched form of Geto over him in their shared bed, wearing a long-sleeved charcoal sleeping shirt, an all-knowing concern written all over his face.

"What was it this time?"

No stitched-up forehead.

No more lies.

Looking into those enriching, trusting eyes.

Gojo shakily breathed out, draping an arm over his eyes. "Me being sealed away."

It is him.

Really, truly, his Suguru.

Breathing.

Safe.

Free.

Gojo felt his walls collapsing.

His vulnerability surfacing.

"The price a do over gives us." Geto murmured somberly.

"Yeah." His throat constricted, his eyes watered up, gritting wrecked grunts left him as his hand enclosed in a shaking veiny fist. Trying to keep it all in, not wanting Suguru to see him falling apart over a bad dream. But the contents of said dream made him want to behold to hold Suguru and never let him go again.

Alarmed by panic, Geto leaned down immediately to lay right atop him, embracing his emotional love with his own tightening grip, shushing him insistently as his hand brushed through those lovely white locks. "It's okay. I'm here. We're both here."

Recollections of their past lives flaring up in dreams is but one of the few downsides to reincarnation in this new modern age. But shouldering that burden with another makes it less of a struggle.

"This better not be a dream." Gojo lifted his arm, revealing the pain flashing in those emotionally teary blue eyes which tore at Geto's heartstrings. "Or I swear to God," Gojo sobbingly hiccupped as he clawed at Geto's clothed back, distraught battling relief within himself as his face nuzzled into Geto's strong neck.

"It's real. All of it. And this." Geto's tender, warm firm lips pressing to his cheek felt too good to be true. "I'm real, Satoru. As are you."

Breathing in Suguru's scent to calm his irrational state of mind, easing down just hearing his name spoken in that cozy voice from the genuine article. "This is real." Whispering that mantra over and over slowly kept Gojo grounded in the here and now as it did with Geto.

Gojo's next words struck a chord within them both. "I … I'm sorry Suguru."

"What?" Geto pulled back enough to look into those normal yet breathtaking blue eyes.

"For everything. For ignoring your pain all those years. For not letting you go when I … I killed you. If it weren't for me, that bastard wouldn't have taken it over and everyone … everything … wouldn't have turned out so wrong. I ... I was never the same without you." Gojo's voice cracked, braving himself to look him right in the eye even in this harried sorry state, when a gentle peck to his lips halted his words.

Geto's almond eyes narrowed as they became murky with lament. "Don't blame yourself. I'm … sorry too. For leaving you. For not divulging all my troubles to you. I just … the weight of the world was already on your shoulders. I believed I alone could find a solution to my problems … and that of our world … even if it meant becoming the worst curse user of our age. Yet after all that time …" His smile had Gojo at a loss of breath as Geto's other hand cradled his tear-stained cheek, rubbing calming circles with his thumb. "You still trusted me to the very end. After all the damage I had caused. After I hurt you … envying your power over seeing you for the person I always knew you to be deep down inside." Geto shut his eyes, letting his own tears trail down freely, sparking from the sliver of moon beams hitting them, mesmerizing Gojo.

To him, Geto Suguru never looked more radiant.

Gojo dug his fingers in Geto's back to pull himself up enough for their faces to be a mere inch or so apart, wiping away his tears in kind. "We've both suffered. All of us did. Doomed in that world from the start. Trying to change it all our own way. Prepared to lay our lives down for that dream. And yet, here we are."

Geto chuckled in wry amusement, resting his forehead against Gojo's. "The irony of it all."

Both ready to welcome death when their times came. On the same day. Their anniversary. Only to reawaken in a whole new world, one with no cursed energy at all. No cursed spirits, no sorcerers, nothing. With everyone else coming along for the ride. And all the memories attained from their past lives. Whatever higher power intervened to bring it all to fruition, neither knew at the time whether to be thankful or resentful.

And yet … finding their grown-up selves seeing each other again in the flesh … instinctually running to each other, collapsing in each other's arms, heart ruled over reason ever since.

Such as now.

Sitting up on their legs and calves, their embrace was as cathartic as the first one shared in the pure light of a new venture. Looking into each other's eyes, the sparks of hope reigniting.

"I forgive you, Satoru." Geto gently rubbed his nose against Gojo's.

"I forgive you too, Suguru … my one and only." Gojo's endearing grin had Geto laughing softly.

"Same old Satoru."

"Of course. It's still me, after all." That cheeky smirk says it all.

"How I have missed that sight …" Geto's gaze gleamed with amour that made Gojo's heart soar. "We have a second chance. We all do."

"Let's not waste it, then." Gojo's sculpted strong hand weaved through those silky raven locks, cradling the back of Geto's head. "I'm willing to fight for this life if you are. Nightmares, memories, and all." The conviction rose to meet his newfound dream.

"I'm not going anywhere. If I must live again, I'd rather live a long life worth living … as long as it's with you." Geto's own firm resolve gave him the urge to just come out and say it.

"We are the strongest duo, after all~!"

Geto's free hand playfully wacked Gojo's white long-sleeved shoulder, chortling, "Idiot."

"You love it, though." That drawn out kiss lingered between them as their half-lidded eyes stayed connected. "Admit it."

"I do." Geto's warm breath made Gojo want to kiss him again, longer, deeper, relishing his taste.

Drowning in the overwhelming pleasure as he pulled Geto even closer by the head, wrapping an arm around his body, meshing perfectly together.

As their tongues battled for dominance, Geto pushed Gojo to lay fully down in their big welcoming bed, laying down atop him once more, parting their panting mouths, connected by a line of their saliva, burning puffs hitting each other's mouths. "I love you, Gojo Satoru. All of you."

His soul told it to be true.

"And I love you Geto Suguru … I always have. In our old life… in this one …. if it's with you, that's the only place I want to be."

"So sappy. Even for you." Geto teased.

"Hey, you're stuck with me for life. Deal with it." Gojo stuck his tongue out, feigning annoyance.

"Like I have any other choice," Geto sighed, resigning to his fate, but his smitten grin displayed how fine he is to it all. The loud yawn released from his taller lover had him cup his cheeks to give a goodnight smooch, moving to lay on his side, cozying up to Gojo. "Good dreams should await you now."

"Having you here with me is a dream come true~" Gojo purred, intertwining their legs together as he wrapped his arms around Geto's shoulders.

Geto rolled his eyes, exasperated. "God the corniness."

Gojo laughed mirthfully before kissing Geto repeatedly, speaking in between the breaks. "I mean it. I do."

Wrapping his own arms around him, Geto could relax completely knowing his dear Satoru was so happy. Thanks to him. Because of him. Return those kisses in kind, humming at how good it felt. "Well, I do too."

Embracing each other under the sheets, lulled by each other's warmth, their even breathing and synchronized heartbeats became the telltale signs that they both fell fast asleep.

The catharsis was profound.

For that night would be followed by many others.

Where dreams come to fruition.

When living peacefully was possible.

Waking up to the early morning sunrise and seeing themselves in each other's arms brought sleepy smiles to their faces, kissing soundly before snuggling even closer to each other, falling straight back to dreamland.

Lost in a moment.

Lost in a song.

Their moment.

Their song.

Of a new beginning.

Together.

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