Obsessed With This Dialogue Of A 38 Year Old Man Bickiering With A 13 Year Old Boy

The “Kris is a Good Kid” December Holiday Theory

Great Big Massive Spoilers under the cut.

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*shuffles shyly into your ask box*

Hello! Your writing is so fun and juicy and I was just wondering if you'd be willing to write a Hero x Villain where Hero is trying to deny their feelings for Villain and Villain is just flirting relentlessly. Maybe Villain kidnapped Hero just to have them alone??

"You think I have feelings for you?" the hero demanded. "You kidnapped me."

"Are you telling me that the big, bad superhero can't break free of a pair of cuffs?"

"That's not the point."

"Isn't it?" The villain smiled, coming to a stop between the hero's splayed legs. "Because if you can break free, gorgeous, it means you're choosing to stay."

The hero swallowed. Cuffed to a (admittedly comfortable enough) chair, they had to tip their head up to meet the villain's gaze. They shifted, slightly. They refused to call it squirming.

The villain's smile grew to a wicked grin.

"That's not the point," the hero said again, voice cracking a little. "It's still kidnapping!"

"And of course nothing in you finds it hot that I can get the better of you. You're above such things. The way you shivered when I walked in was pure terror. Is that right?"

"I'm not scared of you! We just established I can get free of these cuffs at any time."

The villain raised an eyebrow.

The hero coloured and looked down. Their mind reeled. They didn't have feelings for the villain. They didn't. Because that would be wrong. It would be morally heinous. It would be...

"Mm." The villain trailed their finger up along the hero's heaving chest, tip tip their chin up again, and the hero's breath gave a treacherous hitch. "So why are you staying, then?"

"You might give an evil monologue and reveal all your plans. Your kind like to do that."

The villain laughed. "Oh my love. You've never met my kind. Maybe if you had, you'd know what to do with me."

"Arrest you?"

"Pin me down and tell me I've been so very naughty?"

"Yes! No - I mean no!" The hero's face was on fire. They glared at the villain.

The villain brushed a thumb over their cheek, almost soothing. Like they wanted to reassure the hero that, if they were mocking, it was not to be cruel.

The hero belatedly realised they should have recoiled from the touch a long time ago. They swallowed again, but they still couldn't quite seem to get any moisture into their mouth. They felt suddenly infinitely aware of their tongue.

No clever comebacks came to mind. Only the image of the villain pressed writhing beneath their hands, breathless and wild and grinning in that way of theirs.

"So. Here you are." The villain got back on track, though perhaps not mercifully, after another all too telling moment of silence. "And it's absolutely not because you have feelings for me. It's all..." They waved their free hand, "strategic. It's not for the fact that part of you knows..." The villain leaned down, close enough to kiss. "That kidnapped and alone with me is the only time you would ever allow yourself to truly act on what you want, instead of playing perfect. If you were brave enough to take it, that is."

"I-" The hero faltered.

Their gaze dipped to the villain's lips, cataloguing the minty puff of their breath, their closeness. They cleared their throat. Something in them ached. Longed. Yearned. Reinvented new synonyms for craning hopelessly, helplessly, for the thing that they were not allowed or able to have.

The hero shook their head.

"Okay." The villain straightened abruptly. They pulled back. Their fingers fell away, leaving the hero bereft. "Sorry for pressing. See you out there, maybe, gorgeous."

"I-what?"

"You're free to go. Far be it from me to inflict myself where I'm not wanted."

"What? No!" The protest left the hero unbidden as the villain turned away.

It was a trap. It was so obviously a trap, and yet the hero stepped in it anyway because...because...

"You are such an asshole," the hero said.

"Villain, darling."

"It doesn't change anything even if I did have feelings for you. I can't."

"Ain't no one here but us to find out about it."

"It will get messy."

"Life does that, gorgeous." Still, the villain's voice was softer than before, quieter. Less the purr, or teasing lilt. "That's what makes it life."

After a beat, the villain moved back over to them again. They slipped one finger beneath the hero's chin.

"You're tied to a chair, kidnapped by a supervillain," the villain said. "So just this once we can pretend you don't have a choice. Can I kiss you?"

The hero nodded, heart pounding in their chest.

It was a mistake, another trap of as much as any tale of honey and flies, because they immediately wanted more of the sweetness. The villain's mouth on theirs was a more perfect thing than any of the pedestals that the hero had made a home on.

When the villain pulled back, the hero broke the cuffs thoughtlessly to chase, to slip fingers into the villain's hair and drew them back in closer.

The villain's breath hitched that time.

The hero wanted more of that too. They just wanted.

"Tell me again," the hero said, as they recklessly kissed the villain deep, "that I don't know exactly what to do with you, asshole?"

The villain laughed again and it was one of the best sounds the hero had regrettably ever heard.

Somehow, when the two of them were alone, the villain was a choice that the hero kept not making after that.

It always warms my heart to see this show get some love, it's criminally underrated. When I'm at work and nobody else is around I always seem to catch myself singing the "Archeologists" song from the first couple episodes

(Also I'm glad your cat is healing well, hope he's okay)

There is a World Doctor's quote for everything, I promise.

Also, Shadow is healing up well since I posted this :) He just decided to fist fight a raccoon at 17 years old or whatever, dumbass cat.

Because it is the anniversary of his death, I wanted to share a small story about my grandfather.

Before I knew that I was intersex, I identified as a trans man. And I went the way any trans man has to go if he wants to transition in my country. My parents thankfully were supportive but I was afraid to tell my grandparents. My grandparents were German and lived/were raised during the third reich. While both of them never said or acted in a way that suggested that they had fascist views (my grandfather was until he died part of a leftwing political party), but there still was this fear in me. "They are old, they grew up surrounded by abhorrent beliefs...". And then there was my aunt. Who would constantly claim that my grandfather was homophobic.

The problem was, back then, there were no openly out gay people in our area, so I never got the chance to see my grandfather interact with someone who was queer. So I just believed her. Because she was so insistent on it. And because it confirmed my fears and my brain loves to be constantly afraid.

But I knew I wanted to come out. I had to, eventually, because I had stopped my estrogen treatment (back then, I did not know that I got that because I was intersex) and went on testosterone instead and first physical changes began to show. We all lived in one big house, so my grandparents would eventually notice.

I was so afraid that my father at some point offered to talk to his parents. I waited outside in the hallway that led to their kitchen and listened.

My father explained, easy to understand, that I was going to transition from female to male because I felt terrible in my body. My grandfather asked, "Is that why the child* is so depressed all this time?" I had been in and out of multiple clinics for manic depression at that point. My father gave a yes. And my grandmother made the incredibly selfish comment, "Can't that wait until I am dead?"

Before I even got time to be upset, my grandfather slammed his fist down on the table. I had never seen or heard him do anything like that before. He was a very calm and collected man who preferred to leave the room before he got too angry. "No, it can't wait. The child gets to get well now. And if that is what is going to help, then it needs to be done."

From that day on, he never used my deadname again or used the wrong pronouns for me. Sometimes, he would stop in a sentence to think and remind himself, but he did always address me correctly.

He celebrated with me when my name was legally changed. He built the bed frame for me and my boyfriend's bed when we moved in together, just like he had built the first adult sized bedframe for me when I outgrew my small bed. He drove my boyfriend to his chemo sessions because my grandfather also had cancer and knew how terrifying it was to go alone.

Did he fully understand what it means to be intersex? To transition? No. But he understood that one of his loved ones was suffering and that he could help to alleviate that pain. And so he did.

He taught me calligraphy. He taught me how to sew. He taught me bookbinding. He gave me many gifts.

But the biggest gift he gave me was, that when someone hated me for what I am, I could stomach it. Because this man was willing to unlearn the bigotry he had been taught for decades so he could love me for who I am.

*in my grandpa's dialect it was normal to refer to children as just 'the child' (genderless)

trying to pinpoint the professor layton series in any particular time and worrying over ‘historical accuracy’ is soooo silly they are deliberately anachronistic! and ridiculous! this is not a series set in the 1960s this is a series playing with period aesthetics to create timelessness. if professor layton adheres to any chronology it’s actually the 2010s and that’s just what britain is like then in the ace attorney universe

I’ll be honest regarding Double Exposure the journal’ UI broke my heart more so than Max and Chloe breaking up (I was never that invested I got sick of them around BtS release)

To me it just signals the death of stylization in LiS, the sketches are well made and I have nothing against the poor soul who had to draw them but this isn’t Max Caulfield’s art style

How dontnod used to draw the sketches and paint other assets was to trace over models or existing pictures and I won’t crap on the art style on the right it’s fine but I don’t think of it as a natural evolution for teenage maxs sketching style

Idk I feel like it would’ve cost less for DE to trace over photos with the character models, heck i tried it myself

i took a stock image and stuck adult max face on it, next i tried to replicate the original art style from her old journal

i used pencil/marker textured brushes from clips studio for the shading

then i basically i used an empty notebook for the background while adding in watercolors (like the og did), i did not like the grey journal pages from DE i wanted something that looked vibrant but not adolescent- I sketched random stuff and even added a white pen highlighting to stay consistent with double exposure's art design

the gold star sticker is there cause duh max is a teacher now and she's being quirky about it

My other gripe with the new journal was how barren it looked, i expect max to stick random stuff like she used to.

anyways im not trying to be a smart a33 or anything, im crazy hyper fixated on user interface design stuff and im trying to show you that you can still be stylistically consistent on a zero budget cause this only took me half an hour and zero dollars

"Don't," your girlfriend says, yanking your arm. Your thumb was up in the corner of your mouth, and you were gnawing on it slightly.

"Hey!" the grab was jarring, and honestly you weren't even aware you were nibbling your thumbnail, too focused on the movie in front of you. "Cut it out," you try and wriggle out of her grip.

She grabs the remote and pauses the movie. Her wrist is still around your arm and she jerks it up and towards your face again

"Look. Your cuticles are all peeled away and your thumb is wrinkly and red," she says.

"So?" you avoid eye contact, suddenly finding a loose thread on the couch very interesting. The hand not clenched by your girlfriend picks at it.

"So, it isn't good for your finger. Or clean, when was the last time you washed your hands?"

"Uhm..."

"That's what I thought. Next time I catch you doing it, there will be consequences."

Consequences, you think, yeah right. What's she going to do, cut my thumb off?

---

It's been bumper to bumper for what feels like forever. Your navigation app says there's an accident, on top of typical commuter traffic, plus an off ramp being worked on means you're late. Really late, for dinner with your girlfriend's parents, nonetheless.

There's a sudden tight burning feeling on your thigh. Something, or rather, someone, is pinching you. It breaks the anxious spiral you were in and you yelp, finger falling from your mouth.

"What was that for?" you turn to your girlfriend in the passenger seat, looking smug.

"Finger in the mouth. Consequences, remember?"

"Not while I'm driving! I could have crashed!"

"I wouldn't say you're actually driving right now," she says, indicating the sea of stationary cars around you.

You roll your eyes and huff, "semantics."

You consider just shutting up and letting it go, but the anxious tension in the car is making you a little edgy.

"It's not a big deal if I chew on my fingers or bite my nails. I don't get sick from it, my fingers don't get infected. Plus, I think it helps me focus sometimes."

"Not infected yet. But, that's not all it does."

"What do you mean?"

"You really haven’t noticed? Anytime you're sad, or scared, or stressed you start gnawing on your fingers like a beaver," she's smirking now, like this was some grand revelation she'd been hiding from you. "It's pretty obvious you find your fingers comforting. I'm surprised you've got any nails at all!'

"I mean, I guess..." you don't want to admit to it, but you know she's right. You do find nibbling your fingers soothing. God, how embarrassing. Who else puts their fingers in their mouth for comfort? Babies.

"This is giving me an idea!" You glance over again and can practically see the lightbulb flash over her head. She starts tapping rapidly on her phone, leaning to the side so you can't see.

"Care to share with the class?"

"No. Now focus on the road."

You're about to argue that there is literally nothing you need to be focusing on, when the car in front of you starts to inch forward. You relax your foot off the brake, and as you pick up speed the whole conversation leaves your mind.

----

"Ready?" she calls from the living room.

"Ready!" you respond behind a mouthful of popcorn. You carry the steaming and buttery smelling bowl into the living room and park yourself on the couch next to her, tossing in another mouthful.

"Before we start, close your eyes," your girlfriend says.

"Why?"

"Just do it!"

You close your eyes. You can hear a faint rustling...maybe she's digging in her pockets?

"Open your mouth,"

"Open my m-mmph!?" You don't even finish your thought before something is shoved in your mouth. It's bulbous, and hollow, and something connected to it is pressed against your lips. It's a...no, it couldn't be. Could it?

You open your eyes and go slightly crosseyed trying to look at what has been, quite abruptly, inserted between your teeth.

"A pashi-," you spit it out, "a pacifier, really?"

"Yeah!" She's beaming, for some reason. "Now you can have something in your mouth when you need to focus, or when you're anxious, or-"

"Um, I don't think so. I'm not a baby."

"This one is for grownups," she says, matter of factly.

"Well, this grownup doesn’t need a pacifier, thank you very much,"

"Says the grownup who sucks and chews their fingers,"

"I don't recall seeing an age limit on the finger-chewing-manual,"

"Just try it? Please, for tonight?"

Her sincerity catches you off guard. She really is trying to help you, it seems, even if her methods are a little humiliating.

"Fine, fine. If I think I'm going to put my fingers in my mouth, which I won't, I'll use the..." you can't quite get yourself to say the word.

"Pacifer? Binky? Paci? Soo-"

"Ok, ok I get it."

---

The popcorn bowl has been long discarded, just a few greasy kernels at the bottom. You're curled up, knees underneath you and head pressed against your girlfriend's shoulder when a particularly tense scene picks up on screen. Automatically, your fingers start creeping up your chin. Your pointer finger is hooked over your bottom lip and your teeth are clamping it in place.

Your girlfriend’s warm hand slowly tugs your finger away, and you let out a soft whine.

"Shh, shh," she says, as if soothing a fussy baby.

She slips the pacifier in your mouth, and you go to spit it out, but her fingers are pressing it tight against your lips.

"Try? For me?"

Her words trigger a deep urge in you, one to do whatever she says. It blossoms in your chest and a warm feeling you associate with blind obedience takes over. You give a little nod of your head and pull the pacifier in further, allowing her to release her fingers.

You rub your tongue over it and gently gnash your teeth on the soft rubber, getting a feel for it. Contracting your cheeks you give it a tentative suck, and find that it glides over your tongue smoothly. It takes barely any effort at all to get into a satisfying rhythm. Before you know it, your attention is back on the climaxing movie and the pacifier is bobbing on an even measure in your mouth. Any tension you'd been carrying from the day seems to melt away as you suckle. The stimulation in your mouth is helping you focus on the movie, and you don't feel the urge to give in to your typical restless squirming.

You don't think your fingers will be back in your mouth anytime soon.

Questions I think to myself a lot when confronted with certain kinds of Online Posting:

Do you want a better world, or do you want revenge on those you think aren’t doing enough to improve it?

Do you want a more just world, or do you want to see bad people suffer merciless punishment?

Do you want a less oppressive world, or do you want the reins of power for yourself?

Do you want to do the right thing, or do you want to feel righteous?