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pandoraslxna · 1 year

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Dark!aonung who gets obsessed with shy & quiet reader. She is the daughter of 2 avatars (while in their avatars) but they didn't view her as theirs, since she was born to the avatars. The Sully's sorta took her in.

He bullies her like he did Kiri, enjoying when she gets all teary, but Aonung gets pissed when he finds some other Metkayina boys harassing her.

So he stakes his claim on her, so everyone knows she belongs to him.

Mine to tease

Adult Dark!Ao‘nung x female Sully reader

Words: 4.2k

Summary: It’s one thing when Ao’nung bullies you. It’s a complete different thing when someone else dares to lay their hands on you.

Warnings: explicit smut, mean Ao’nung, shy / cry baby reader, enemies to lovers (kinda??), biting, super heavy dacryphilia (crying kink), bullying, obsessive behavior, harassment, rough oral sex (m receiving), come eating, reader probably has a huge degradation kink, praise kink, dub-con (idk about that I’m still adding it just in case)

Notes: this is super messy and the plot barely makes any sense because I wrote this with way too many breaks in between ugh I still hope you like it!! 🫣

Ao’nung was obsessed, that much was pretty clear. Obsessed with you. In what way though, you didn’t know. Not yet, at least.

"Hey freak, where are you going?"

Your shoulders visibly tensed upon hearing this stupid nickname, not having to turn around to see who was calling you. Only one person ever called you like that anyways. It was either freak or cry baby… how suitable for you.

You began walking a little faster towards the beach, like you had intended to collect some shells for Tuk. Not wanting the said person to pester you so early in the morning, you tried not to pay him any attention. Unfortunately, that didn’t always work.

"Aww come on now, don't ignore me," a strong hand grabbed at your arm and turned you around, making you squeak. Now you could see him, just inches away from you and with a dark smirk plastered to his face.

Ao’nung obviously had a strange hobby of bullying and teasing you and your siblings ever since the day you set foot on his island. And while your brothers had finally gained some of his respect after their little fight, Ao’nung still didn’t ease up his teasing when it came to you. A part of you thought that the reason for this might be that you just didn’t had the guts to fight back like the others did. Well, you weren’t exactly wrong about that.

While Lo‘ak and Neteyam had their fists and Kiri had her smart mouth, all you could do was let it happen and try your best not to cry on spot. It was true, you were a cry baby. You‘ve just always been such a sensitive person, to shy to stand up for yourself. It was especially hard to keep your eyes from watering, when neither of your brothers were around to protect you from his mean words, since you often failed to do it yourself.

And it felt like Ao’nung was aiming for just that. He was always pushing you a little further than he did with your siblings, always following you around whenever he spotted you alone and teasing you over the simplest things. It wasn’t just your looks, not your extra finger or your slim tail. Everything that you did, while trying to blend in with the metkayina clan, was just another reason for him to laugh and call you names.

You really couldn’t help yourself with him. And there was this thing, like a sparkle in his eyes, whenever the tears started to dwell in your eyes and when your cheeks and the tip of your nose got all rosy. He would tower over you, watch the tears roll over your soft cheeks and the way you nervously chewed on your bottom lip and it was like something kindled in him. Yes, Ao’nung was definitely obsessed with you.

It didn’t help that you had this stupid little crush on him. Him of all people. You felt stupid to even think about him like that. And your siblings would probably drown you in the ocean without hesitation if they would ever find out you had eyes for the man that gave you such a hard time every second of the day. Why him? You didn’t know the answer to this yourself. You mostly blamed it on his looks– obviously his charming personality had nothing to do with that. It was unfortunate how stupidly attractive Ao’nung was, considering he was such an asshole. An asshole that enjoyed teasing you.

And that’s how it always went. Usually, it was just Ao’nung giving you a hard time. From time to time, but especially when your siblings were around, he was accompanied by some of his goons too, but they never spoke directly to you. It was always just him. Apart from that, none of the other villagers around your age had interacted with you in any way so far. They all seemingly avoided your family. At first you were a bit sad about that, longing to make some new friends within this clan. But you were also glad that no one else paid much attention to you. At least like this, you only had to deal with Ao‘nung and his dumb friends.

Well, that’s what you thought at first.

Words must have gotten around, probably Ao’nung bragging about how easy to tease you were, how funny it was to see you cry, because later that day, a new group of metkayina decided to show their sudden interest in your alien features.

"Look at that, she‘s getting all shy now", one of the men laughs spitefully as you try to hide your hands by crossing your arms over your chest. What was up with them today? This day hadn’t been long, but it had been so overwhelming already, as if your encounter with Ao’nung this morning wasn’t already enough for a day.

"We don’t bite, c‘mon show us your hands", another one chuckles and then reaches for your wrist. With a firm hold on your wrist he then waves your hand around for all of them to see and it’s just so humiliating. "Stop that", you protest as you yank your hand from his grip, "Don‘t touch me…" It comes out weaker than you intended, your voice already trembling. Where‘s Lo‘ak if you need him? He would’ve thrown a good punch at that asshole, silencing him once and for all.

"That’s so freaky", the third one grimaces and that finally gives you the rest. "Aw look, she’s crying! What a ba—" Whatever that guy wanted to say dies in his throat quicker than any of you can proceed. You look at them with furrowed brows and it seemed like a shadow casted over all of their faces. They looked… frightened?

Turning around to see what they were all staring at in such pure horror, you expected and honestly hoped for one of your brothers to be there. To your surprise, that wasn’t the case. No, it was in fact someone you would’ve least expected now. Could this day possibly get any worse?

With the way Ao’nung was towering behind you, glaring at them, one could mistake it as the possessiveness a man had over his mate. And you were painfully obliviously about that fact. But that’s exactly what these guys thought the olo’eyktan’s son was doing. They thought they must’ve mistaken the way they saw him treating you. Maybe he was courting for you all this time or it was just affectionately teasing? Whatever it was, they knew by the look of Ao’nungs face that they were walking on very thin ice right now.

"Back off", Ao’nung snarls without second thought, "Or I’ll make you."

"Sorry we, uhm, we didn’t know she‘s yours", the one that had yanked your hand up for them to make fun of apologized quickly.

What? Your gaze flicks back and forth between them, utterly confused about the whole situation. But Ao’nung is only staring them down, not even paying any attention to you.

With a few snickering glances in your direction, they all then finally leave the scene. Now that it was just you and Ao‘nung left on the shore, you took a deep, shuddering breath. Gathering all your courage to look at him, you mumbled a quiet, "Thank you."

Ao’nung then finally turns to you, as if he was only now acknowledging your presence. His eyes skim over your limbs as you stand there and it felt like he was judging you. Well, knowing him, he probably did. You mentally prepare yourself for him to continue where these guys had left, but nothing of that sort comes. Peeling his eyes off of your body, he spots your reddened eyes and the obvious tear streaks on your soft cheeks.

"Don’t let it get to your stupid head, you cry baby", he says ever so nonchalantly. You’re truly confused. One second he’s calling you names and making you feel the worst you’ve ever felt and the next second he’s acting like it’s his responsibility to protect you. Protect you, mind you that, from a bunch of guys that did the exact same thing he did –just this morning!

Blinking away the tears, you begin to frown again and for a second, a wave of confidence hits you. Its enough to speak out the question that’s lingering on your mind ever since he showed up.

"You bully me just as much as these guys did, so why protect me? You could’ve just…", you pause for a moment and sigh, "I don’t know, join them or whatever."

Ao’nung is silent for a moment, letting your words sink, before he finally responds, "Is that what you want? Want me to team up with these pricks so we can bully you together?" He scoffs, his arms now crossed over his chest and you visible tense at the reflection of your own words.

You couldn’t help but feel dumb, cursing yourself for your poor choice of words, because he was right. It definitely sounded like you wanted him to bully you. Great. Now he had one more reason to make fun of you. The freak that had a kink for getting treated like shit. Great mother, you prayed that’s not what he thought of you now. Lost in your thoughts and drowning in your own shame, you let your head hang low again, all confidence gone as quickly as it came. Trying to avoid his intense gaze, you begin to count every grain of sand below your feet, hoping he would just get bored and leave if you were quiet for long enough.

"You are mine. That’s why", Ao'nungs voice suddenly slices through the awkward silence and your eyes fly right back up to meet his own, "I won’t let any of these guys harass you ever again."

His.

The words hang heavy in the air.

"Wha– Why?", it bursts out of you before you can even think about it. You don’t even know what exactly you’re asking for or what answer you would’ve preferred here, but his response still catches you off guard.

"You’re cute like that. I like that face you make when I’m mean to you", there’s a sharp grin on his face and he shrugs, "kinda gets me going."

A look of puzzlement crosses your face and it’s not until Ao’nung tilts his head teasingly, that you realize you must’ve stared at him with a pretty funny expression. Embarrassment rushes to your ears, fills your cheeks with red and you quickly advert your gaze to the ground again, nervously biting on your lower lip. What should you say now? What should you do? The air around you is thick enough to cut it. It’s so uncomfortable, you can’t help but pray for the ground to open up and swallow you whole. You nervously shift your weight from one foot to another, fiddling with a loose string of your loincloth.

But Ao’nung says nothing. It’s the second time he’s silent in your presence and it’s so untypical of him, it makes you feel uneasy. It’s like he was waiting for you to respond, but what should you even say to him now? The embarrassment makes you feel dizzy and you start to chew on your lip harder. It’s a stupid habit your mom always told you not to do, not wanting for you to ruin your pretty lips. Well, it seemed like Ao’nung must’ve thought the same thing.

"If you bite your lip one more time I’m going to do it for you", he says, voice laced with what you guessed was annoyance and your eyes widen. Daring to look up at him through your lashes, a small, "Sorry", escapes you.

There it was. A cute little sorry. Ao’nung couldn’t help but scoff as his eyes roamed over your features once more. Now how was he supposed to hold back any longer, especially when you looked at him like that? Rosy cheeks and swollen lips and teary eyes. And on top of all, you apologized to him. It was like you were begging for him to make a move, but you didn’t even realize it.

Ahh, fuck it, he thought.

A smile spread over Ao’nungs own lips as he took a step closer and then reached out to cup your jaw and tilt your head up to meet his eyes. "What are you doing?", you gasp and the trembling in your voice travels down his spine like an electric shock.

"I told you I’ll make sure they won’t ever touch you again, didn’t I?"

His hold on your jaw is firm, as he tilts your head some more and leans down enough so his lips brush against your ear.

"You‘ll let me, don’t you?", satisfaction thrums through his veins when your entire frame jolts in his hold, "You‘ll let me mark you as mine and nobody will ever lay a hand on you ever again. Nobody but me, of course.” He licks the shell of your ear and you shudder, before he makes his way down the curve of your jaw, nipping the length of your neck.

“R-Right here?”, you whimper softly and Ao’nung chuckles. "So it’s a yes then?"

Before you can open your mouth to respond, Ao’nung leans in and gets his mouth on yours.

He can feel the tension under his hands melt away as he finally, finally bites down onto your bottom lip and deepens the kiss, earning a breathless moan that he gratefully swallows down. He hums against your mouth when he gets to suck on your tongue and you can’t help but stand up on your tip toes to meet his touch.

When he pulls away, so you could catch your breath, his dark gaze meets yours. You’re heaving and spit still connects your mouths in a thin string. The flush from your tears give way to the pinkish tint that spreads on your cheeks and nose, lips shiny from spit and bright red from all the biting. What a sight, he thought.

And your eyes, your pretty fucking eyes, they’re still slightly wet from crying, pupils blown and taking over his gaze, hazy yet completely focused on him. They stare so deeply into his own and if he looks attentively, he can see his image reflected in stark black. There’s a glint of innocence and shyness behind it, but above it all, your big eyes spell adoration towards any and everything. You really wouldn’t hurt a fly and that, that makes power rush through his entire body and fills his mind with thoughts of swelling these pretty eyes with tears as they look up to him.

Brushing a few braided strands of hair over your delicate shoulder, he places a kiss to your soft skin. He enjoys the way your breathing hitches when he lets his canine graze over your collarbone and where he left wet kisses earlier, he then suddenly bites down. You gasp, feeling his sharp teeth almost pierce your skin, while Ao’nung contently hums against your flesh. You know the bite marks are going to bruise, but that’s exactly what he was intending here. He wanted them to be seen. He really did put his mark on you, just like he said.

"Get on your knees for me", Ao’nung then whispers against your neck, from where he can feel your throat swallowing.

"W-Why?", you stutter, his sudden command taking you aback. He straightens to look at you properly and with a smug grin on his face, he tilts his head. He’s seemingly amused that you wanted him say it out loud.

"I said I’ll mark you as mine. And I’ll do it in every way I can think of."

At his words, you feel a completely new wave of arousal pool between your legs and you don’t even hide the excited little smile, coyly appearing on your lips.

Stepping back, he lets you kneel down, his hand moving to caress the back of your head, watching as you eagerly lean into his touch and let your eyes flutter close for just a moment. "Good girl”, Ao’nung coos, watching the red blush across your cheeks become even darker. "You’re so pretty like this. Who would’ve through, hm?"

Feeling heat build up in your core at his unexpected compliment, you squeeze your thighs together and sit on your heels to keep looking up at him. The anticipation behind your teary eyes went straight to his painfully hard cock, already straining his loincloth. Ao’nung inhales a breath to steady his racing heart as he slides his thumb against your bottom lip, urging you to relax your jaw. He slides his digit in once you open your mouth, pressing his finger against your wet tongue. His eyes are transfixed on the wetness of tears that are still present at the corners of your eyes.

"I‘m probably more of a freak than you are", he chuckles, making you frown a little, much to his amusement. Ao’nung can feel the wetness of your saliva gliding down your chin and staining his hand, sliding in between his fingers. He changes the single thumb to his index and middle finger and presses down on your tongue, hard enough to make you open you mouth wider. "You look so fucking good like that", Ao’nung mumbles, more to himself, "You have no idea how much you turn me on." He shoves his fingers as deep as he can manage, feeling the way your throat spasms, gagging to accommodate them as your eyes fill up with tears again from the effort.

God this was going to kill him.

"There it is", he says lowly, "Such a pretty girl and all for me, hm?" Your face flushes redder. Ao’nung then retracts his fingers just a bit, watching with half lidded eyes as you suck on his fingertips before allowing them to leave.

He’s quick to undo his loincloth, taking his achingly hard cock in hand before he nudges the tip against your plump lips. "Come on, wet it for me."

He watches you lick your bottom lip before taking hold of his cock, sticking out your tongue to lick the underside of his cock and then suckle on his fat tip like it’s a candy. Ao’nung lets your kitten licks wet his cock, teasing the slit and making him leak into your open mouth.

Your eyes flutter close but then he grabs a fistful of your hair and gently tugs. "Eyes on me. I wanna see your pretty face," he commands. You nod from your position and then slowly start to take his length deeper into your mouth.

Ao’nung groans at the feeling and he can’t help but thrust his hips forward, forcing you to take just a few more inches of him. It earns himself a moan that reverberates on his cock, making him hiss. His dilated pupils spell satisfaction from making you react and these are the final nails on the coffin that drive him to his next move.

"I’m gonna fuck that pretty face of yours", his voice is low and strained and he doesn’t miss the way you clench your thighs together at his words. "Just tap my leg if you wanna stop, okay?" Again, you nod as best as you can.

You barely have the time to blink before your head is pushed into his crotch and your throat is completely filled with his cock.

"Oh fuuck", Ao’nung curses as he holds your head there for just a couple of seconds. You quickly find purchase by grabbing his thick thighs, keeping your gaze fixed on his blue eyes that look down on you with such a ravenous expression that it makes your whole frame shiver.

You could hear the squelching sounds from the wetness built up inside your mouth as Ao’nung begins to thrust into your mouth over and over again. You couldn’t really concentrate on breathing through your nose and the way his cock was hitting the back of your throat repeatedly brought you painfully close to gagging. Your eyes immediately begin to tear up, but you still try your best to take him.

"That’s it, ah- fuuck, fuck your mouth feels amazing!" He shoves your head down on his cock again, watching your eyelid flutter, the tears he’s been so fixated on clinging to the corner of your eyes and daring to spill over.

"If I knew how fucking good you are at this, i would’ve done this sooner", he chuckles. Your throat tightens and throbs around his cock, your eyes not leaving his, even as the first tears finally streak down your face– so pretty, small and vulnerable. Just like you.

"You’re gorgeous when you cry, you know?"

Ao’nungs cock thrusts into your mouth just a little faster, your spit mixed with his salty pre-cum begins to leak out from the corner of your mouth as he moves and it dribbles down your chin and onto your cleavage.

"Such a pretty mess", he groans at the sight.

Your vision is blurring from the tears that swell up in your eyes and you don’t know for much longer you‘ll be able to keep it up without breathing, your chest already spasming and craving for air so you give a gentle tap on his thigh. Ao’nungs grip on your hair eases up and he steps back to retreat his cock from your mouth. Instantly, you inhale a sharp breathe, filling your lungs with some much needed air before you begin to cough.

Ao‘nung grins as he crouches down to be eye level with you, taking your face in his big hands before he says, "You know you’re mine, right? And I‘m the only one who gets to see you like this."

"Y-Yes, yes of course", you tell him nodding and then he leans in to capture you in another deep kiss. His tongue curls around yours and there’s just something so insanely hot about the fact that he could probably taste himself on your tongue. It’s a quick kiss and you desperately chase his lips when he breaks it to stand up straight again. "Good. Now open wide, pretty. I‘m not done with you yet", he smiles and you eagerly obey his command.

One of his hands is right back in your hair again as he slides his cock back in your mouth. He hums at the warm heat surrounding him once again and you can feel him twitch, his cock laying heavy on your tongue. You can’t help but gag when he thrusts forward not even seconds later, holding your head firm against his crotch and keeping it there.

He allows you a few second to adjust to him, before he begins to pick up his pace, fucking your throat hard and fast. You feel dizzy and for a moment you don’t even register how loud you are– moaning around his cock, mixed with the squelching sounds of spit and pre-cum spilling over the corner of your mouth as he brings himself closer to the edge, using your mouth like it’s just a little fuck toy to him, recklessly seeking his own pleasure.

Your head is spinning like you’re about to pass out, but you could feel that he was close, his cock throbbing in the depths of your throat, almost blocking any oxygen from reaching your poor lungs. Distantly, you can feel new streams of tears running down your cheeks.

Ao’nungs gaze is entirely fixed on yours and you feels the smallest you’ve ever been, as if you’re about to be eaten up— and you absolutely love it. It’s a shame to admit, but you love how he’s using you. Love how he makes you feel, love how he gets off from the look of your face and you love how he looks at you, like you’re his. Because you are.

At the same time, Ao‘nung thinks of how hoarse your voice will sound tomorrow and how the phantom weight of his cock on your tongue will come back every time you will talk. Everyone will know that you belong to him. They will see his marks on your body, they will hear you voice and they will know.

The sheer thought of him fucking your tight little pussy next, in the same intensity as he was fucking your throat right now, is what finally gets his hips twitching. He holds you still as he cums, cock buried to the hilt in your mouth as you feel him fill you. "Ah f-fuck, there you go. Make sure you swallow it all, yeah?", he groans above you, but his cum, warm and sticky like syrup, runs down your throat without having to swallow, thanks to how far deep he was nestled in your mouth.

"Holy shit", Ao’nungs heaves a breathless chuckle once he had emptied even the last drop of his seed down your throat. The hold on the back of your head then slowly fades into gentle caresses, circle-like movements guiding your neck into relaxation before he steps back and you gasp for air once again. "You did so fucking good", he coos and his thumb swipes over your bottom lip to clean it from any remaining spit. "But I‘ll make you feel so much better now. Like I said, I‘m gonna mark you in every way that I can think of. So lay down and spread those pretty legs for me, yes?"

#Ao’nung #ao’nung x female reader #ao’nung x female reader smut #ao’nung x reader #aonung x sully!reader #aonung x female reader #aonung x you #aonung x reader #aonung x y/n #aonung #avatar the way of water #avatar smut #avatar 2 #avatar ao'nung #avatar aonung

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wordsinhaled · 8 months

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the thing about crowley’s confession is… he must have thought about it in the bit of time he had before doing it. i mean... he went and sat outside marguerite’s with his wine, and thought. he thought very hard about how there was a threat—a sleeper—a ticking time bomb in aziraphale’s bookshop that could explode at any moment, take away all their hard-won peace, their safety, their comfort.

but most importantly, a threat to aziraphale. gabriel had tried once to destroy aziraphale already, and only hadn’t because they'd swapped bodies. and crowley's clearly terrified that this time, what they're doing feels reckless, feels like playing with something far too important at stake. it's like... already knowing someone is so important to you—and then having the possibility that it could really be something dangled in front of you—and then knowing there's an existential threat to that potential? awful. horrifying. no wonder he can't find the words.

we know crowley is a romantic. we know how much joy it brings him to see other people fall in love. and... honestly... i'm not sure it’s that nina needed to spell the nature of his feelings out for him, exactly. crowley's known where he stands towards aziraphale for a long time if we're to judge him by his acts (which are always acts of service, care, and attention, which always speak louder than his words). so i don't think it was that, as much as just—the experience of being perceived by someone else, sort of jostling something for him.

because crowley's watched the romance films, hasn't he, he knows the exact tropes he's working with, but the idea that they could apply to him—to him and aziraphale? i don't think he considered that until it was offered to him as an option. and once it was, there was crowley's mind far exceeding the speed limit trying to wrap itself around all of this.

and so he must have looked at it, and all signs, all signs, were pointing to aziraphale being receptive.

crowley probably thought about all the times aziraphale had touched him in the last day alone. all the little glances and looks aziraphale had been giving him, which crowley surely hadn’t missed because he’s always staring right back. he probably thought about how aziraphale thinks the bentley is their car and the bookshop is their shop, about how aziraphale told him that he thought they’d carved a peaceful existence out for themselves. and after the ball, he probably thought about how aziraphale asked him to dance, at this event that was meant to get other people to fall in love, but aziraphale had wanted to dance with him.

so crowley most likely looked at all of this and thought he’s finally ready. he’s finally caught up. when i ask this time, he’s going to say yes. and he watched aziraphale so warily, too, after the realization, because there's a way that it feels, to be holding on to a truth so direly important and so terribly exciting and so very requited, as far as crowley can tell. it's like, am i holding myself differently now? can he tell? has he always been able to tell? am i about to muck it up? i'm about to muck it up. i muck everything up, but not this. not this. he's the center of my universe so it's worth it. and it's alright, even if i muck it up, because he's going to say yes. dear god: i'd only ask if it was important.

and so he queued up their song in the bentley and he talked to muriel like they’re a them, like they’re going to be a couple, a couple who needs us time. he gave himself the luxury of imagining it, of planning it all out in his mind—how everyone was going to finally leave off pulling them toward some greater purpose and just let the two of them be together, and aziraphale was going to at last let crowley be to him what he’s always wanted to be—what he’s been being already, evidently, to the point where strangers on the street ask how long they’ve been together.

and then in the end, to be rejected like that. to be rejected even while the love is pouring off aziraphale in anguished waves—and if he loves me too, then why won't he say yes? to be rejected and to know this isn't how it's supposed to go, even though it's the way it's always gone. crowley always asks and aziraphale always says no. somehow, this time was supposed to be different. he'd dared to hope properly. and how had he misjudged it so terribly this time? how much of it had been wishful thinking? and he had to have felt aziraphale's hands grasping at his shoulders, had to have felt the start of a kiss returned, and thought that maybe there was a spark of hope yet.

but there wasn't.

because nothing lasts forever. apparently.

#aughhhhhh #good omens #good omens 2 #ineffable husbands #aziracrow

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wannaeatramyeon · 4 months

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Jake Kim x Reader: Cinema

G/N. Soft and fluffy feat Big Deal a lil.

"You on a date, boss?"

Jake says yes without missing a beat, flashing you a grin and snaking his arm around your waist.

He sees the smirk on Jason's face, the light nudge Lineman gives Brad, and the pride and approval on Jerry's face.

The grin soon melts away though, when Brad follows up with "You going to see Rocky XX too?" and Jake only just manages to hide his grimace.

The answer to that is also yes. But he would prefer to not have a date crashed by the rest of the crew.

Heavens above, you're patient enough with Big Deal and so sweet to everyone. Gotten to know the street and the occupants like the back of your hand, spending more evenings and weekends there than not.

However. Even with how much Jake lives and breathes Big Deal, he misses some one on one time with you.

Away from everyone, he thinks as he takes in the sight of his boys in front of him. He can't exactly tell them to go away though, can he? A rare weekend off work where they get to just be.

He succumbs to his fate.

Imagines everyone huddled on the one row together. Seated next to each other. Cosy. A family affair instead of a romantic date. Probably won't be able to sneak you some kisses here and there-

"We're not seeing Rocky!" comes the unmistakable sound of Lua's voice. "We're going to watch The Boy and The Pigeon! Enjoy your film!"

She disappears as quickly as she arrives. A whirlwind of hair and a force of nature. Giving you both a small wave, mind laser focused on reading the goddamn room and shoving the boys towards a different screen.

"B-but we already got the tickets!"

"I wanted to see Rocky XX!"

"Why does Jake think seeing Rocky is romantic anyway?!"

Why?

To be honest, the Rocky franchise died off somewhere along V. Who knows how the hell these films are still being greenlit. Nevertheless, the newest one is a low stakes film where Jake doesn't care what happens apart from you cuddling up to him and some kisses if he's lucky.

It's calculated and planned and Jake mentally pats himself on the back for how things have turned out.

Except-

What he didn't expect was the score to be good, the script to be great, the choreography to be amazing, and the acting to be even better. Neither of you could take your eyes off the screen. You laughed and cried and gasped together.

Thoughts of cuddling and kissing and even making out completely out the window as you're both on the edge of your seat for the entire two hours.

It was fantastic. Perhaps the best movie he has ever seen (and he could practice some of those moves too).

You're both still talking about it as he walks you home-

"When he came back as a zombie to fight that vampire?"

"And the lizard joins the fight to win the title?" Jake chuckles, at your enthusiasm more than anything else, "Yeah. I liked that."

But as your apartment appears on the horizon, he can't help but think that maybe this was a bit of a waste. That the day is over and as good as the film was, maybe he should have arranged something else, after all it’s been a while since both your schedules have aligned. A date where you can actually talk and be in each other's company. Instead of being captivated by the screen, your attention could have been held by him.

Jake tries to shake off the doubts and recapture the lighter mood from seconds ago.

He's not entirely successful.

You realise something is amiss.

You peer over at your boyfriend. His sudden subduedness. The small line forming between his eyebrows that you hate so much, because it means he's unhappy about something. You pause mid step and he stops alongside you.

"Don’t overthink it. I had fun," you tell him. You always have fun with him. "Thank you."

Jake's smile returns when he sees the expectant look in your eyes. The way you stretch up towards him. press yourself into his space, and he leans down; meeting you halfway.

Your lips lightly press to his, eyes closing, eyelashes fluttering on his cheeks and his own falling shut. Strong arms encircle you, pulling you ever closer, deepening the contact.

There'll be a next time, your kiss reassures him.

You tastes like popcorn. Sugar and butter and salt. Sweet and savoury and perfect.

#admiring respectfully once again #respectfully might be a lie #lookism #lookism x reader #lookism webtoon #lookism manhwa #lookism fic #jake kim #jake kim x reader #kim gimyung x reader #kim gimyeong x reader #wannaeatramyeon

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fandoms--fluff · 26 days

Note

Hello i know that i resquest so much but I love your work so can you do more of little Mikaelson baby sister with Hayley where yn is with her and baby hope Hayley treats yn like other daughters because she love her so much that she is sad when yn cry

If I Were Your Mother

Baby Mikaelson sister reader x Hayley Marshall (and everyone else)

Warnings: Mikael being an ass, death?

A/n: This is set during later season 2, we're gonna forget about Jackson and Hayley together. We're gonna pretend that everyone is happy and Klaus and Hayley don't fight about what's best for Hope or try to take her away from each other every other episode and are actually good together.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mikael is back. Davina brought him back from the other side almost a year ago. You've seen Kol and Finn in their new bodies and were completely freaked out by Finn. He had tried to kill you. You wouldn't leave your brothers or Hayley's side no longer than five minutes for almost two weeks.

Mikael had boomed into the abattoir, white oak stake in his hand, ready to kill. He laid his eyes on you the moment you ran into the room where you heard a familiar man's voice yelling. You regretted it as soon as you saw your father. The same father who had been tracking you and your siblings down for the past millennia.

You had thought Nik had already killed him, he told you he had. Did he lie?

Mikael went straight to you. You loudly screamed and tried to vamp speed out of the way, but he was too fast for you. He had caught you in his arms and pressed the stake right at your tiny chest.

As soon as your loud scream pierced the walls of the old building, the room was immediately full of your older siblings; Bekah, Nik, and Lijah, as well as Marcel and Hayley, whom you'd grown really close with since she was pregnant in the early months.

"LET HER GO" Klaus bellowed, his eyes flash a striking amber. His anger is through the roof, no one touches his baby sister and lives, no one. He starts to stalk his way over, followed by Elijah.

"Don't come any closer, boys" Mikael spat at them. You whimpered loudly as tears ran down your reddened cheeks. All you want is your big brothers.

"No" You hit your father's shoulder and tried to pull away from him. All that does is make his grip on you tighten to a painful extent. Even with your vampire healing, it hurts tremendously.

Veins appear under Hayley's eyes, enraged at Mikael for even going near the poor little girl. She uses her hybrid strength and lunges at him. She knocks the white oak stake out of his hands and bites him on the shoulder opposite you. She takes you into her arms and quickly vamps you back over to Marcel before returning to Mikael, along with Elijah, Klaus, and Rebekah.

Your big sister grabbed the stake into her hand and vamped towards where Elijah and Klaus were pinning Mikael down each on one side and Hayley's arm was wrapped tightly around his neck. She shoved the stake right through Mikael's heart. Flames blaze across Mikael's body and clothing. His screams echoed through the whole compound.

They all backed away from the burning corpse of the vampire who hunts vampires, watching as he burned from the inside out.

Marcel had you tucked against his chest, hand on the back of your head so you didn't have to watch the fight going down. You sobbed into his shirt, scared out of your mind. You want, you want Hayley.

She was the one who took you from Mikael. You pull away once Marcel's grip slackens a bit after Mikael burns.

You outstretch your arms towards the hybrid. Hayley quickly comes over to you and brings you into her arms gently. She turns back around to the other three originals, Klaus has a hurt look on his face, clearly wishing you had wanted him.

Hayley feels guilty, mouthing 'I'm sorry' to him. Elijah nods in response to her before looking at his younger brother and Rebekah places a hand on his shoulder.

"She has no means to hurt you, Nik. Don't think about it too much. She loves all of us" Rebekah whispers to him. Klaus takes a deep breath before nodding in response to her. He knows he shouldn't hold it against you, you may be over 1000 years old, but you're 2 years old, with a mind and thoughts that come with it, even as a vampire. And he knows you love him, he shouldn't hold it against you.

He nods to Hayley, a smile twitching at his lips, before turning to the burnt to a crisp corpse.

"Well, we should tend to the trash, shall we, sister?" Klaus smirks towards Rebekah. "We shall" She smirks back to him.

Klaus walks over to your tiny, shaking body in Hayley's arms and places a hand on the back of your head before kissing your forehead. He then goes over to their father, putting his arms behind his back as he brainstorms what to do next.

Rebekah walks over to the two of you next and places a kiss on the crown of your head. "I love you, sweetie" She runs her hand through your soft hair before going over to where Nik and Elijah are.

Hayley walks towards the stairs, nodding at Marcel, to which he nods back before walking off to the room he was in before Mikael showed up.

She bounces you in her arms, trying to soothe and calm you down. "Oh, It's okay, Baby. He's gone. He's gone now" She holds you close. you lean into her warmth and grip your pudgy hands on her shirt.

"No need to cry no more," She says, starting to tear up herself. She walks into her room and opens the door to the nursery. She goes over to the crib where a baby Hope lays, eyes open, looking up at the mobile. And now her eyes land on her Mama and you.

You hear the tiny mewling sounds from Hope, and look up from Hayley's chest to the baby. you let go of her shirt with one hand and reach to Hope.

Hope sits up from where she was lying down, looking up at you. She has loved you from the start, even though she can't talk yet, but knows that love is returned back from you

"You want some time with Hope?" Hayley asks you. You've been obsessed with the baby girl since before she was born, you love her just as much as Hayley and Klaus. You immediately nod your head, "Hopey" you say and let out a grin even with the tear tracks on your face.

Hayley lowers you into the crib with her daughter and watches how you immediately get into a silent conversation with her. You both giggle and play together with the small toys scattered in the crib.

She watches as you both play, a smile on her face. If she could adopt you as her own daughter as well, she would have no second thoughts and do it in one fell swoop. But she knows that your family loves you a great deal.

If she were to be your mother, she would love you so much. She would give you the childhood and life you deserve. She would care for you as a mother like she has been for over a year. There's no way she can express just how much she loves you.

"I love you both so much," She tells you both, watching as you cuddle with each other into the soft blanket. Hope has two pacifiers in her hands. She hands one over to you the best she can and you take it in your tiny from her just as tiny hand.

Hope puts the other in her mouth, just as you put the one she handed you into yours. You both suck on the pacifiers, tiny suckling noises filling the room.

Hayley tries not to physically aww at the action. Both of her babies sucking on soothers. She knows you're older than a normal age of a 'baby', but you're just as a baby as Hope is in her eyes. And the same goes for the eyes of your big siblings.

Klaus walks into the bedroom not long after you and Hope doze off, curled into one another. He looks around the room, "Where's my baby sister?" He asks, worried about you after the event of earlier in the day.

"Shh" she holds a finger up to her lips before nodding down at the dark wooden crib.

He follows her instructions and looks down at the crib, his face softening right away. He watches as his two baby girls sleep, sucking on the pacifiers.

Hayley pulls him into the other room, closing the door so she doesn't wake you two up.

"Is Mikael dealt with? Gone for good?" She asks him. "Yes, he shall not return, never again. the look on her face, I- I froze, he was going to kill her. And it was my fault" His voice wavers.

"Hey, it's not your fault, and nothing happened. That asshole deserves what he got and everything that's coming his way in hell. You're her big brother, Y/n loves you so much" Hayley pulls the elder into a hug.

Klaus stiffens at first before melting into her arms, breathing in her scent. After ten more seconds, he backs away, looking into her eyes, vulnerability shining through them. He covers it back up before his eyebrows scrunch together and a glint in his eyes.

"Was Y/n using a pacifier?" a smile plays on his lips. "Yeah, our daughter thought she would want one and gave one to her.,. Obviously, she was right. I have a feeling they're not going to allow us to separate them for a while" Hayley chuckles lightly.

"I assume that's the same for you with her as well" He crosses his arms, eyebrow raised in amusement.

"Fair enough" Hayley smirks back to him.

You don't leave Hayley and Hope's side for a little while. You love it when you're all having a cuddle session with Hayley or Klaus, or both of them. The pacifier also is starting to seem like a constant. The only one to have a bad word against it is Elijah, saying that you don't need to develop a bad habit of always wanting one. But that's quickly stopped when Rebekah dragged him out of the room and nicely explained how their baby sister using a soother is at the bottom of the list of their concerns.

You love Hayley, Hope, and your siblings to the moon and back.

#hayley marshall #hope mikaelson #klaus mikaelson #elijah mikaelson #rebekah mikaelson #marcel gerard #mikael #klaus mikaelosn x reader #hayley marshall x reader #hope mikaelson x reader #elijah mikaelon x reader #rebekah mikaelson x reader #marcel gerard x reader #hayley marshall x baby reader #hayley marshall x baby mikaelson sister reader #hayley marshall x little mikaelson reader #hayley marshall x baby mikaelson reader #baby hope x reader #baby hope mikaeelosn #baby hope mikaelson x baby mikaelson reader #hope mikaelson x little mikaelson reader #hope mikaelson x baby mikaelson reader #klaus mikaelson x little sister reader #klaus mikaelson x baby sister reader #elijah mikaelson x little sister reader #elijah mikaelson x baby sister reader #rebekah mikaelson x little sister reader #rebekah mikaelson x baby sister reader #marcel gerard x baby reader #marcel gerard x little mikaelson reader

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cakenpiewhyohmy · 7 months

Text

So I slept on it, and I really think Tav is Halsins fated one.

So not going into super specifics but in dnd lore, elves typically do sleep around l, go through multiple relationships etc UNTIL they find their fated mate.

Man’s there’s so much evidence (either intentionally or unintentionally) that Tav is. You could literally do absolutely nothing besides saving him, (sometimes not even that) and his grove and man’s is head over heels for you.

In all his dialogue while he’s waiting in camp he’s flirting with you almost every chance he gets and makes it clear that he wants you.

But if it’s just a fling or casual sex, why wait?

Well I think it’s because Tav is is soulmate essentially so he’s actually so in love with them that they consume his thoughts constantly. BUT he has a lot of guilt and Trauma that he’s burdened with and he feels like he can’t even think of being happy with them until he’s righted what he feels is his biggest failure. And after it’s defeated he even has a line where he says something like “I’m yours” before trying to correct himself and saying he’s yours in battle etc. (I could literally picture him blushing at his slip up)

We don’t really get anything till act three because with the shadow curse lifted he feels free to try and follow his heart (which is now with Tav) but is a little nervous to do so. Like hes been with tons of people before Tav is the first one that hes actually in love and feels connected to (soulmates) and hes trying to pace himself. Unfortunately the world is literally at stake so he doesn’t have the luxury of time

So what does he do? Blurt out a really bad confession and then gets so giddy he wildshapes.

Like that whole scene has him so out of breath you can practically see his excitement and nervs. (He even says he feared that it was too soon)

And about the whole poly thing, for one I do think he’s mildly traumatized, a free love hippy Druid , and someone who genuinely is poly and maybe a swinger lol.

However I also think he has no intentions of seeing anyone else. Like Tav is it for him. There’s multiple lines of dialogue suggesting so, he says “you are all I want” but encourages you to share your heart with others even though you already have his (man’s even calls you “my heart” I-) I think this could be interpreted a couple different ways and proly has multiple meanings.

But if we’re running with the soulmate idea then it’s because he’s both scared and traumatized by losing almost everyone he’s loved in his life, and also afraid of being rejected outright. Like he would rather have a part of you than none at all.

Because elves that do lose their fated ones typically don’t last long without them.

The only issue is the devs did him dirty with his ending….which again can be added for angst in this HC cause why not.

-he’s secretly hoping tav chases after him (my fav so far) he doesn’t feel like he is enough and he’s so ill suited for city life that he feels he would make Tav miserable and he would be miserable and that’s the last thing he wants. Especially since the big bad is over now. He feels like he doesn’t have much use to them anymore and fears being truly discarded.

- he feels a sense of obligation towards helping others and fear of screwing up the one genuine connection he has with his soulmate like (he feels) he has with all other things he has in his life. Losing thaniel, killing the turned Archdruid, failing his grobe etc. he fears it so much he’d rather run away than have that become a reality.

-and if they’re with someone else? Even more reason to leave. I feel like they treated him like a side piece when it came to his poly romance with Astarion or Shadowheart (especially since shadowheart and him didn’t really get along lol) and this coupled with his feelings of guilt and inadequacies? Yeah man’s said quit while ur ahead.

-the same way Astarion needs reassurance, I think Halsin does too. Reassurance that he IS enough for them, wether that’s in a poly relationship or in a solo one (I still think hes a swinger but I digress).

Man even has a line when asking him about himself where he says that people look at him and think that his feelings can’t be hurt.

Long story short, Halsin has been in love with Tav since they freed him, but Is Going Through It too and doesn’t know how to cope.

#halsin #bg3 #halsin romance #my sweet bear #hc

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bookofmirth · 3 months

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Can I ask who's side you were on from the Ember bonus chapter? Or are you kind of neutral on it?

Oof this is so complex, anon. This is going to be so long. And I doubt that this conversation will be settled any time soon.

I wouldn't say that I am neutral because I have Thoughts and Feelings, but I think Rhys and Nesta both had good points and did dumb things. I know this post leans in Nesta's favor, but it's not anti anyone. It's more my thoughts about how complex the situation was, and why I think people did the things they did, what was motivating them. Let me explain:

Should Nesta have consulted someone about giving the mask to Bryce, even just to borrow it? Yeah, I think she should have. I knew that she had done that prior to having read the bonus chapter, and in the back of my head I thought it was so... weird for her to have given this important object of power to Bryce without asking for anyone else's opinion? I felt like I was missing some context, like why does Nesta just hold onto these objects all the time and do with them what she wills? Guess my unease was right, because other characters do NOT like how she handles the trove.

The stakes from Nesta being wrong about this were insanely, astronomically high. And "astronomical" isn't even a metaphor in this case, it's literal. She wasn't wrong, but that is a huge, gigantic, ridiculous risk to have taken. Everyone in acotar knows that the Daglan/Asteri are the beings who oppressed them thousands of years ago, and now they have proof in Bryce's arrival that the Daglan are still up to their old tricks. For the Daglan to then have these objects of immense power, potentially?? OOF. And Nesta is newer to the fae world, she may not fully grasp the gravity of the situation, so she probably wasn't working with complete understanding of the implications.

I mentioned that the group chat has been ACTIVE on this topic, and @areyoudreaminof (I think it was Kelsey, if not correct me) said that perhaps Nesta was thinking that by doing this, she could help humans in some way. Maybe not the humans she grew up with, but somewhere, Nesta thought, maybe she could do something good for other people who are effectively powerless. So I understand why Nesta did it. This was also after she had spent a bunch of time with Bryce, they learned about each other's worlds, and I think they had attained a sort of understanding.

Also side note, but people didn't trust Nesta with Made objects in acosf either and that was condescending as fuck - maybe she didn't want to be just as shitty to Bryce as everyone had been towards her. I get why people don't trust them with these objects, but in a way it comes down to underestimating them and not understanding their intentions.

Was Rhys right to have lost his mind about the mask going to another world? Absolutely. The Night Court is his responsibility, which means that everything that happens there ultimately falls to him. His fears about the Daglan invading again have been real since he saw Aelin falling through the sky. He's been thinking about these very real threats for a while. Merrill is researching other worlds and although this hasn't been confirmed, I feel like she was brought there for that reason? To give him answers? Whether or not that's true, Rhys is the High Lord and the fact that some of the most powerful objects in their possession were off galavanting in another world without his knowledge, in a way that could literally lead to the destruction of their world - Rhys being understanding and nice about it in this situation would be totally unrealistic.

Rhys has also Been Through It in terms of war, court politics, fae bullshit. He has a much better grasp of what the consequences could be if Made objects get into the wrong hands. His fears aren't hypothetical, they are very real.

HOWEVER - was Rhys right to have treated Nesta the way that he did? Absolutely fucking not. I am honestly so sick of him being a dick to Nesta just because of shit she's done to other people. Not to him. It was so hard to read descriptions of Nesta's body language when they came back into the scene, after their fight. "Nesta's shoulders tensing, her head bowing". For Nesta to have been so thoroughly chastised by someone who already has a history of treating her like shit, it made me so mad. For Nesta, who has gone through so much growth and made so many strides to not hate herself, to regain confidence and better awareness of herself, to have been made to feel small - it makes me so, so mad honestly.

The thing is, we don't actually know the content of their argument, what Rhys, Cassian, and Azriel said to Nesta. All we have gotten thus far is the aftermath. Maybe Rhys tried to be tactful and then Nesta pushed his buttons, as she's done in the past. All we know is how Nesta acts afterwards, which doesn't make me feel charitable in terms of how Rhys handled it.

I think - and again I'll need to read more of the context of this fight which I assume we will see in acotar5 - but I think that one of the main reasons Rhys was pissed off and reacted the way he did was because of his ego (and fear, even if it's justifiable). He's so used to calling all the shots, to having everything under control, that I think he's not used to anyone else having power on the same level as him. Power in this sense refers to authority, the ability for other people to make these kinds of decisions without consulting him. He's used to being the Big Man in Charge and Nesta is clearly a threat to that. This is all my headcanon/assumptions about how he's feeling, but... I'd be surprised if I'm off the mark, based on his past behaviors and the way he makes executive decisions without consulting the IC, who ostensibly exist in order to support him.

Basically, I think that Nesta was on shaky ground in letting Bryce borrow the mask even though it did turn out okay in the end, but Rhys was wrong for acting out the way that he did.

This is only somewhat related to your actual question, but I think that this is one of the scenes that we will see in acotar5, made possible by having Azriel's POV, him as the main character.

#hofas spoilers #spoilers #house of flame and shadow #house of flame and shadow spoilers #ask #anon #rhysand #nesta #acotar #acotar/cc #crossover stuff #hofas bonus chapter

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forays-into-fiction · 2 years

Text

Why Don’t You Put on a Show

This is a fic for anon who sent in this request, I hope it lives up to your expectations and it’s at least somewhat what you were after. I know next to nothing about Playboy so I’m pulling most of this out of my ass lol

Part 2: When It Rains, It Pours

Minors DNI

Contains: Rockstar!Eddie x Reader, All smut right at the end, Protective!Eddie, Honorifics/ Petnames (Sir, Babe, Baby, Sweetheart, Princess), Dry Humping, Strip Tease, Oral fixation, Slight Dom!Eddie/Sub!Reader, Slight Degradation/Name-calling (Slut), Dirty Talk, Unprotected Sex, Some Aftercare

You had been relaxing with Eddie in a moment of downtime, he was sat on the couch strumming away on his acoustic guitar working on something new for Corroded Coffin. You were curled up with a book, glancing at him every so often admiring his look of concentration, his little tongue poking out between his lips. The moment is interrupted by the phone ringing and you move to answer it.

“Ok, yeah. Thank you. Bye.” You hang up the receiver in the cradle a little shellshocked.

“Who was that, sweetheart?” Eddie pauses his strumming to ask, looking over to you.

“So… uh… I just got a call from someone at Playboy. They want me for a photoshoot.” You explain numbly.

“What?!” He exclaims incredulously.

You rush to assuage any of his concerns, “They’ve said it will be very tasteful, nothing to worry about. And we’ll be doing an interview too, you could… you could come with me for support.”

“No, I won’t let you.” He says firmly.

You cross you arms over your chest, tensing at his response, “Let me. Let me, hmm…it’s not up to you to let me or not. I am my own person and I am sick and tired of all the rumours people keep spreading about me… about us.”

“I’m just trying to protect you, y/n. You don’t know what it’s like doing these interviews. They pick apart every word you say, twist it around so it means something else entirely. I don’t want you to have to go through that, people aren’t entitled to you, or us… or… or…”

You soften at his tone, moving to sit beside him on the couch, rubbing his arm, “I know, babe, but maybe this’ll help satiate everyone’s curiosity, maybe it’ll die down after this.”

“I just don’t want you getting involved in something that could hurt you, there are people out there that can be so nasty. You know how people were to me before all of this, I don’t want anything like that falling back on you.”

You grasp his hands between your own looking into his eyes deeply, “People already say some shitty stuff about me babe, I know. I can ignore it, what’s some random person on the street matter? I’ll be ok, I want to do this.”

“You’re sure? There’s no talking you out of it?” He persists.

“Yep, I’m sure, I’m gonna do this interview. Really stake my claim on you, shout it out to the world ‘I love Eddie Munson’ and maybe that’ll finally shut everyone up.”

The two of you stand before the sprawling mansion, “It’s very ‘Gothic-Tudor’.” You muse, staring up at the impressive detailing.

Eddie wraps an arm around you drawing you closer and pressing a kiss to your neck, “You wanna live in a place like this one day?”

“Oh, god no what would we do in a place this big?”

He smirks devilishly, “I think you know what we’d be doing in a place like this…” he wiggles his brows at you suggestively before continuing, “…sex, I mean sex.”

You roll your eyes at him, “Obviously you mean sex Eds. When are you ever not horny? Jesus.”

“Jesus ain’t got nothing to do with it babe, I may have the hair but that’s about it.”

You give his shoulder a shove, “Oh, ha ha real funny guy you are. Come on let’s head in.”

He grabs your wrist as you turn towards the door, tone shifting more seriously, “You sure you’re ready for this? No going back once everything is out there.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m sure.” You assure him.

“Alright then, let’s go.” He gives a sweeping gesture, indicating for you to proceed and follows along behind you.

The man who greets you at the door introduces himself as Lawrence, he’ll be the one conducting the interview. As you step into the great hall, you can see straight through to the terrace on the other side and the backyard beyond, to your left there’s an ornate double staircase, chandelier dangling from the ceiling before it. You are led through an archway to a living room, you take in the art on the wood-panelled walls before taking a seat with Eddie on the three-seater couch.

“Ok, so the way we’re going to do this is, Mario is going to take y/n for her photoshoot.” Lawrence gestures to the man who has just entered the room.

“Now y/n is definitely the focus of this issue, but we were hoping we could get a few questions in with Eddie over here, while we have him.” He turns gesturing to your boyfriend.

“Once the photos are all done, y/n can join us for her interview. How does that sound?” He glances between the pair of you waiting for a response.

You’re a little nervous, shifting uncomfortably, you thought you’d be able to have Eddie there while the photos were being done. He gives your hand a gentle, reassuring squeeze before answering for the pair of you, “It’s not exactly what we expected, but yeah that’s fine, right, sweetheart?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I think I’ll be ok.” You say more to him than the interviewer.

“Great! That’s perfect.” Lawrence claps his hands together and Mario motions for you to follow him, you drop Eddie’s hand a little reluctantly and rise from the couch.

You’re led to a bedroom that’s been decked out for the photoshoot, lighting, those white reflectors, a backdrop screen, camera positioned on a tripod, the works. A team of people stands waiting with a rack of risqué outfits, another waiting to do your makeup, you’re feeling a little overwhelmed but they guide you through explaining, “You have a very mysterious image and we want to bring that out with these photos. How do you feel about…”

The whole process passes by in a whirlwind, you feel like you’re barely absorbing anything they say, just reacting. Before you know it you’re slipping back into your own clothing and heading back to the living room.

When you are reunited with Eddie, he moves to stand beside you pressing a kiss to your cheek, “How was it babe?”

“Uh… it was good, I think. It all went by so quick, I’m not sure I even had time to take it all in.”

He rubs your shoulder, “That’s ok, you ready for the interview now?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

He leads you back to the couch, Lawrence grins at you and you give him a small smile back, before beginning hesitantly, “I… um, I’m not really sure how this is supposed to go. I’ve never done one of these before.”

“Just answer the questions, be yourselves and have fun… I’ll take it from there.” He replies, that doesn’t sound too bad you think to yourself.

“Ok, y/n how do you think you’re handling your new found fame along with your boyfriend’s rocket to stardom?”

“It has been kind of a wild ride. I don’t really know why anyone is interested in me. I mean he’s the rockstar… I’m just like his little groupie, like I don’t really have anything to do with the band.”

Eddie interrupts to add, “Oh, sweetheart you are so much more than that, I don’t know what I’d do without you… without all your support and love throughout all of this.”

He turns to Lawrence, “You know, back when we were only performing at that little dive bar just outside of Hawkins. To no one mind you, but a handful of sloppy drunks with nothing better to do. She was out there putting together posters and making shirts and singing our praises to anyone that’d listen. She was our number one fan from day one. Well, that was after I finally convinced her to come see us play.” He chuckles.

You feel yourself beginning to flush with embarrassment, “Oh shush, that makes me sound so bad… so desperate.”

“No, it doesn’t, I think it’s cute.” Eddie says, slinging an arm around your shoulder.

“Yes, very cute…” Lawrence mumbles offhandedly scribbling away in a notebook. “Do you have a favourite Corroded Coffin song, y/n?”

“Oh, that’s a hard one…” you giggle, “I love all their songs really, but a favourite… hmmm, I’d have to say it was the one Eddie dedicated to me on their first album.”

He scribbles a little more before looking up, “So, everyone is dying to know, how did you two meet? How did all of this start?”

“We, uh… we actually met in high school. Started dating our senior year,” you look to Eddie for support and he nods, squeezing your hand in his breifly, “Eddie had to repeat his final year a couple of times and I became his tutor and friend at first. I know a lot of people thought he was dumb because of that but that is so not true, he is soooo smart, just has a little trouble concentrating sometimes.”

They let you continue rambling, “And he is so talented, I mean clearly… but I remember one time we were sitting in his bedroom, he was sat on his bed strumming on his guitar along to a song he put on the radio. He’d said it was some new song by Metallica he was trying to learn. His hair was gathered up all low, messy in a hair tie, a pencil tucked behind his ear. Every now and then he’d pause the cassette, to make some notes in the book beside him, his tongue poking out between his teeth. I just couldn’t look away, I remember thinking ‘how could someone be this pretty’.” You sigh and look up at him.

Eddie gapes at you, “Babe, that was way before we even started dating, I had no idea.” He chuckles then continues in a teasing, singsong voice, “You had a crush on meeee, that’s embarrassing for you.”

You slap him playfully, “Oh, shut up we are literally dating it’s not like you didn’t have a crush on me… and you’re the one that admitted it first so ha.”

You poke your tongue out at him and he does the same.

“Awww, you were high school sweethearts that’s so precious.” The interviewer responds in a patronising tone. “Do you think you guys will last? How do you handle all these women throwing themselves at your man?”

You feel a heat rising in your cheeks, tensing at the question. You ball your hands into fists trying to control the emotions that threaten to overwhelm you, he’s definitely hit a sore spot for you, one of your biggest insecurities. Eddie places his hand over yours rubbing gently before springing to your defence.

“That was a very rude question, how dare you imply I would cheat or leave the love of my life for some stupid hookup. I love my fans, don’t get me wrong, but that is never happening.”

The interviewer presses on, “Yes, of course, but we want to know how she feels. It must be hard even-”

Eddie cuts him off firmly, “No. If you continue with this question we are leaving.”

Lawrence throws his hands up in defeat, “Ok. Ok, I’ll stop. So, how do you think your relationship affects the band?”

The next question does little to brighten Eddie’s sour mood, but he answers, “Well, I for one think it’s great. She gives us all so much support, she inspires me and I think that is great for the band. They all love her too, she’s like family to them.”

Lawrence turns to you, “And how do you feel about it, y/n?”

“I don’t know I’ve never really thought about it, I just… I guess I just want whatever’s best for them, whatever that entails. I am so proud of all of them and all their hard work, it’s really paying off for them.” You answer honestly, if a little shakily.

“So, you’re not worried about having a Yoko situation?” He presses.

“What? No, why would I be worried about that? I would never do anything to interfere with the band.” You answer slightly taken aback.

“What’s he mean, babe?” Eddie whispers in your ear, a little confused.

“He’s talking about Yoko Ono and John Lennon, people say that she’s the reason The Beatles broke up.”

“Ok, man what the fuck?” Eddie jumps to his feet, “Are you really that desperate for some scandal, some little juicy tidbit that isn’t even true? Why can’t this just be about us, who we really are? You know either way the issue is gonna sell. No one cares about the shit that you write anyway.”

“Then why are you here?” Lawrence counters.

“Because she thought… you know what never-mind we’re leaving.” He grabs your wrist pulling you from the couch and stomping away.

“You know what they say, any publicity is good publicity…” Lawrence shouts after your retreating forms. Eddie pays him no attention dragging you out of the mansion.

You’re speechless for a moment but when you get back out to the front door as it slams shut you tug on his arm bringing him to a halt.

“Eds, what if… what if they don’t run the issue? What if all of that was just for nothing?”

“That ass will probably find a way to work our little storm out into it, spin it like we’re the bad guys. Or maybe he’ll just make up some other lies it doesn’t matter to them really as long as they get their cut.” He scoffs.

“Come on let’s get back to our room.” He huffs out.

You spend the rest of the trip back to your hotel in silence, Eddie quietly fuming, you sitting there numbly.

He opens the door to your room ushering you in and closing the door behind him, turning to face you and sighing, “How’re you doing?”

The floodgates burst and tears stream down your cheeks, he pulls you into his arms and you blubber into his chest, “He was so mean… I di-didn’t think it would be like that… so confrontational…so demeaning…”

He rubs soothing circles into your back, pressing kisses into the top of your head, “I know. I know, it’s ok. Don’t pay any attention to what that idiot said. I love you. I’ll never leave you. You are the best thing in my life.”

“Y-you promise?” You ask shakily, tilting your head up to look at him.

“Oh, sweetheart of course I do. And you know me man of honour, man of my word.” He jokes.

You giggle, breaking out into a watery smile, “How do you do it Eds? Why do you do it?”

“The interviews, the publicity? It’s hard, but I love the music more and that feeling of stepping out onto a stage and performing… it’s exhilarating. It’s also good to have people looking at me like I’m not just some loser freak-”

“Hey, what have I said about calling yourself that?” You admonish him.

He waves a hand dismissively, “Yeah, yeah. But the rest that’s the price I gotta pay and I hate that I gotta drag you into that. Tried so hard to keep you away from that part of my life.” He sighs heavily.

You lean back into his chest and he rests his head on top of yours, you mumble into him “I wouldn’t trade it for the world, you know? I love you, Eddie. I have always loved you. I hope you know I’m here for you when this stuff does get bad.”

“I know, it’s good to hear it though.” He sighs.

“Guess what came in the mail today…” He waves an envelope in your face as you step through the door.

“Uhh… I don’t know were we expecting anything?” You hum searching your memory for some clue.

He pulls out a glossy magazine and you see your own image staring back at you, along with the words ‘Inside the lives of rockstar Eddie Munson and his Mystery Girl’. You cringe, “Oh god! That’s out now? How bad is it?”

“Nah, not yet. We got an advanced copy, didn’t bother reading that stupid article, who gives a shit what that asshole has to say about us…” He lets out a low groan, “…but babe I looked through it and God damn is it sexy. Those photos of you, so hot I almost couldn’t wait ‘til you got home.”

“What do you mean, I wasn’t even doing anything in those photos… you definitely have more racy photos of me than that.”

“Yeah, but you’re in Playboy that’s really fucking hot, my girlfriend’s a model.” He grins at you broadly.

You giggle, smiling back bashfully, “Shut up!”

He pounces on you, kissing you fervently, groping at your ass.

“How about we take this to the bedroom?” He grinds his hard length up into your clothed core and you whine nodding your head against him.

He leads you to your bedroom, you don’t need to see him to know he’s grinning from ear to ear.

He sits on the bed grabbing your hips and pulling you to stand between his spread thighs. You lean into him and tilt his head back, pulling him into another kiss, your hands fisting into his curls. His tongue slides over yours insistently as he reaches around you, kneading the swell of your ass between both hands, you feel the hard press of the rings around his fingers. The two of you break apart gasping for breath, he’s pulling you to sit, straddling his lap. You move to steady yourself with your hands on his shoulders, but he grabs your wrists holding them crossed behind your back. He uses the leverage he has over you to pull you against him, conveniently dragging your mound over his persistent erection. Repeating this action over and over as your head falls against his, your eyes flutter closed as you moan breathily.

“That feel good, sweetheart?” He teases.

You hum with a nod, “Mmhm… so good.”

He chuckles at your response, “It’ll be even better once we get rid of these clothes.”

With the grip on your arms, he pulls you further down his legs til you’re just resting on his knees. You whine and open your eyes to look into his, his dark pupils encapsulating majority of his irises.

“How ‘bout you put on a show for me? Just like in that magazine.”

“Really?”

“Absolutely. If I got the real thing in front of me, why would I bother with anything else?”

“O-ok…” he lets you pull away from his grip, sliding off his lap, “…wait here a minute.”

You disappear into your closet, re-emerging shortly with something clasped in your hands.

Eddie leans back on the bed, resting on his elbows as he watches you curiously, “What’s that you got there, princess?”

“You’ll see.” You reply evasively, making your way over to your vanity. You slip a cassette into the radio on the vanity, pushing some buttons…

♫Step inside

Walk this way

You and me babe

Hey hey♫

You turn back around to face him and he laughs bodily, “Oh babe, you had that queued up perfectly, if I didn’t know any better, I would’ve said you planned this.”

You give him a sly smirk, “Maybe I did plan this… well not exactly like this, but you know… I had it on standby.”

“Oh, so my dirty little girl wants to strip for me… interesting, well go on the song’s not gonna last forever.” He smirks back devilishly.

You sway your hips to the music, running your hands over your body, slowly moving towards him. You strip off your clothing piece by piece, teasingly, seductively. You move to straddle him once again, now only clothed in a matching black lacy bra and panties set adorned with little pink bows, one nestled between your cleavage the other at the middle of the waistband.

“So, you weren’t planning anything today huh? What’s this then?” He hooks a finger into the waistband of your panties.

You pout back at him, “Just wanted to feel cute today, that’s all.”

His fingers move to toy with the bow positioned above your crotch, “Well, you are. Look at you all wrapped up, bows and all, just like a little present. And it’s all for me.”

You whine, dropping your forehead to rest against his nodding against him, mumbling, “Mhmm, all yours, baby.”

He pulls you into another heated kiss as you grind down against him, the music continues in the background, another song having started up. You tug on his shirt whining into his lips, he pulls away hooking a hand in the collar of his shirt slipping it over his head smoothly. You latch onto his neck kissing and sucking your way down his chest leaving red marks in your wake. When you get to his pants, you’re unbuckling his belt without hesitation as he looks down at you pupils blown wide and with a lopsided smirk. Just as you’re rolling down his boxers to follow along with his pants, he’s pulling you back up, “No time for that now.”

You pout at him, “Awww, but why?”

“’Cause if I don’t get my dick in that wet, little cunt of yours I might just explode. You can suck my dick some other time.”

“You promise?”

He huffs rolling his eyes “God yes, just get over here.”

He drags you onto the bed, flipping you over so that he’s hovering over you. He presses soft kisses into the swell of your breasts, his hands snaking around you to undo the clasp. He tosses the bra over his shoulder pausing to suckle at your nipple and nipping on it gently to your strung-out moans. “What… what happened… to… to ‘no time for that’.” You pant out as your hands twist into his curls.

“I’m getting there.” He mumbles grinning against your skin before continuing to trail teasing kisses towards the elastic of your panties. He grips the fabric between his teeth dragging it down your legs, before popping up proudly grinning with your panties still clamped between his teeth.

You snatch them away from him tossing them across the room, “Alright, that’s enough come on and fuck me already.”

“Ohoho, someone’s got bite. Settle, or you won’t get anything.” He reprimands you.

“Yes, sir.” You mumble back faintly, eyes downcast.

He presses you back into the mattress, drawing back down between your thighs with his head, “Just want a little taste, ok.”

He runs his tongue between your folds, collecting the slick that has gathered there, “Oh baby, you’re always sooo wet for me… so sweet too.”

He plunges his fingers into your heated core, you can hear his rings clink together at your entrance as he pumps them in and out slowly, they come away sticky with your juices.

“Wanna taste?” He presses his fingers to your lips, not waiting for an answer, “Come on suck on them, you wanted something to suck on, didn’t you?”

Your mouth falls open of its own accord, tongue darting out to lap at his fingers and he replicates his earlier actions, dragging his fingers in and out of your mouth. You whine around the digits, your tongue swirling around them as you imagine sucking on his cock.

“That’s it sweetheart… alright enough now.” He pulls his fingers out of your mouth and you pout back at him.

“Don’t look at me like that… ok, maybe I’ll let you suck on them some more later.”

You grin at him with those words, humming in response, “Thank you.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He rolls his eyes, but you know deep down he enjoys it just as much as you do.

Gripping his shaft at the base he drags the head along your folds briefly nudging at the bundle of nerves that sets you shivering in anticipation. You don’t have to wait too long before he’s plunging his length into your wet heat, your walls stretching easily to accommodate his size. He grinds into you firmly with a groan as his head falls forward, eyes fluttering closed and drawing your lips into his own in a burning kiss. You whine into his lips as the motion of his hips stimulates your clit even further, “Move, please.”

He pulls his hips back accommodating your request, pulling almost all the way out before slamming back in, “Like that?”

“God, yes… please… just like that.”

He chuckles darkly, repeating the motion a few more times before his hips slow into a steady roll.

“You know every guy in the world is gonna be jerking it to you when that magazine comes out.” He teases and your walls flutter around him, “Oh, you like that do you… thought you were my little slut-”

“Yes Eddie, I’m yours… only yours.” You gasp.

“Then why does the thought of other guys get you going so much hmmm?” He presses his thumb into your clit in lazy circles.

“Dunno…” you whine.

“That’s ok, I like it too… knowing that I have something everyone wants and it’s just mine… all for me… they can all dream, but this little pussy belongs to me.” He punctuates each sentence with another thrust. You’re tightening around him, lust coiling in your belly like a spring just waiting to release.

“You’re close, baby… I can feel it, the way you’re squeezing around me. You wanna cum?”

“Yes, please sir… need it…” He’s right, you are close, so close, you can feel little shocks of electricity emanating throughout your limbs. Right on the precipice, just need that little push.

He groans, “Love the way you beg for it, do it again.”

“Pleasepleaseplease sir… Please let me cum.” Your whines jumble together, tears gather in the corners of your eyes.

“That’s it cum for me, baby.” He growls.

That’s all it takes for you to come apart on his cock, screaming his name and he’s following along right after you spilling his seed into you as your cunt grips him like a vice. He collapses on top of you, both of you panting heavily, you relish in the feeling of his weight pressing into you, pinning you to the mattress.

“God, I love you Eds.” You breathe out.

“I love you too, sweetheart.” He mumbles in your ear.

You feel him shifting, about to roll over, but you wrap your arms around him keeping him in place.

He looks down at you curiously, “Can we just stay like this for a minute?” You sigh.

He brushes a hair out of your face, pressing a kiss to your temple gently, “Of course we can princess.”

You stay there until his cock is softening and slipping out of you, your combined releases dripping out between you onto the bed. He hums into your hair, “Come on, lets get cleaned up now.”

He’s pulling you off the bed gathering you up in his arms and carrying you into the ensuite.

He lets your feet fall to the ground and you lean against him as he begins running a bath, adjusting the temperature to suit and adding some bubble bath liquid. As you wait for it to fill, he rubs along your back soothingly, “Well, that was something wasn’t it, babe?”

“That was amazing Eds, always is with you.” You hum back.

The bath is mostly full and he helps you in, sliding in behind you, still leaving the tap running to fill even further. He scrubs a loofa over your body pausing as you lean forward to shut off the water. Then proceeds to wash your hair, massaging your scalp comfortingly. Once he’s finished his routine you return the favour, giving him the same treatment.

#eddie munson fic #eddie munson smut #rockstar!eddie #rockstar!eddie x reader #eddie x reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie x y/n #eddie munson x y/n #request #anon #anon request #dom!eddie x sub!reader #protective!eddie

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witchwyfe · 2 months

Text

here with me - tik

pairing - college! Tom ‘Iceman’ Kazansky x female reader

précis - mav makes a bet during the soccer's teams getaway.

content/warnings - language, annoyance towards maverick, fluff

word count - 933

a/n - college soccer player ice series

“Okay, you know this is actually really stupid.” You complain, curled up in the backseat of Carole’s car. “Everyone else wants to sleep together, why can’t we?”

“You know how the guys are,” Ice huffs from the other end of the phone. “They’re turning it into a competition.”

“Yeah, and who’s idea was it?” You scoff. “Maverick’s. He’s single and an asshole, he doesn’t have any stake in the game, of course he would propose something like this.”

Something like this being, for your autumn break trip to a cabin, sleeping arrangements are all girls together, and all boys together. Despite the fact, that the trip is made up of some of the soccer team, and their girlfriends. Mav even thought it would be funny to have whoever caves first, buy everyone dinner on the last night.

You sigh loudly, ignoring Carole’s chuckle from the driver’s seat. Her and Goose finally got their shit together, and they’ve been happily dating since summer.

“And of course you won’t crack, because you love to win.” You whine pitifully, more to yourself than your boyfriend. “I’ll see you when we get there.”

You hang up and shove your phone into your purse, leaning your head against the window, watching a flurry of orange as you pass a multitude of trees.

Not much more time passes before you’re pulling up at the cabin, clearly the last ones there, if the amount of cars shoved into the dirt driveway, is anything to go by.

Ice, Goose, and Slider are quick to come out and help with the bags in the back of Carole’s trunk.

“Hiya honey,” Goose greets, before dipping Carole in a dramatic kiss. You turn to see Ice, and pout, before falling into his arms.

“Hey baby,” He murmurs, pressing a kiss at your hairline.

“Icey,” You whine. “Missed you.”

“Pretty girl.” He coos. “I missed you too.”

Following a week of mid-terms, you’d barely gotten to see your boyfriend. Both of you had stacked schedules with exams and papers, and Ice had a big game right before break began. You were looking forward to a long weekend with him, snuggled into his arms while you sleep, the way you hadn’t been able to.

His arms squeeze easily around your waist, and he lifts you a bit until you can’t help but smile. You fist your hands in the material of his sweatshirt.

“Was lookin’ forward to sleeping with you this weekend.” You tell him quietly. “I didn’t sleep well last week.”

“I know, me too.” He says, lips at your temple. “I’m sorry angel.”

“Not your fault your friends are stupid.”

He chuckles, squeezing you one more time before setting you down. He grabs your duffel bag and purse, waiting for you to shut your car door, before heading inside.

“Carole and I are sharing a room, I think,” You frown. “That’s what Marcy said in the group chat.” Marcy, Slider’s girlfriend, was also very upset about the sleeping arrangements, had coordinated which room everyone is staying in. Your boyfriend nods and continues in, before stopping at a room and gently setting your bags down.

You notice two beds, neither much bigger than a twin, but still an upgrade from the college dorm bed Ice had snuck in, to share with you countless times the previous year.

“Look baby,” You whine. “We could totally fit in here, you always cuddle up anyway.”

“I know, sweet girl,” He soothes with a kiss to your temple.

Carole comes in a second later, Goose rolling her suitcase while she spouts similar complaints that you had.

“Just because Mav isn’t getting any, doesn’t mean he has to ruin it for the rest of us.” She huffs, crossing her arms against her chest. Goose barely bites back his snort, throwing his head back in laughter before Carole sticks a withering glare on him.

You nod in agreement, turning towards her. “That’s what I was just telling him, I mean why did anyone invite him anyway? He’s fucking annoying.”

“Okay,” Ice warns softly. “Not that I don’t currently share the sentiment, but Mav’s room is right down the hall and I’m sure he can hear us.”

You roll your eyes but oblige, leaning into him. “Are we allowed to sit together on the couch at least?”

You packed everything you need for your night time routine and to sleep. Your face is washed, teeth are brushed, and now you’re scrolling on your phone, trying to chill before bed. Carole had long snuck out of your room and into Goose’s—you wish your boyfriend didn’t take everything so seriously. Goose laughed in Mav’s face when he proposed the competition—so it’s too quiet and you don’t have anyone to talk to. Right in the middle of your scroll through Tik Tok, your phone buzzes with a text.

I miss u

You smile, imagining your boyfriend curled up in his bed, missing you enough to send you text.

Come in

You respond.

Carole left. We can push the beds together :)

He sends back:

We don’t need that much room.

Less than a minute later, your door is being pushed open and your boyfriend, clad in boxers and an old crewneck is suddenly sliding in behind you, arms circling your waist.

“Missed you.” He mumbles into your neck, the tip of his nose cold against the skin.

“You’re not allowed to agree to any of Mav’s dumb bets, ever again.” You grumble. “Last time you had to bleach your hair and now this.”

“I know baby,” He coos. “No more, I promise.”

#mine #my work #my writing #witchwyfe writing #witchwyfe #tom iceman kazansky #tom iceman kazansky x reader #tom iceman kazansky x you #tom iceman kazansky imagine #tom iceman kazansky oneshot #tom iceman kazansky fanfiction #tom kazansky x reader #tom kazansky x you #tom kazansky imagine #tom kazansky oneshot #tom kazansky fanfiction #iceman x reader #iceman oneshot

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future-island-egghead · 5 months

Text

Man I have so many thoughts on the Seraphim and since it's been over a year since their introduction I've had a lot more of them but overall I kinda.. feel bad for them, more than anything else?

No matter how powerful or scary or cool they are, one thing always remains the most important and unforgettable aspect of them.

They're sentient. They're sapient. They're aware and alive. They're people.

Not just people. But children.

They're just children.

And they have to grapple with being the crossover of two terrible things to be.

A clone of someone else, who's life has already been lived and decided by their own terms, and forced to follow it to the letter, and having no fundamental identity independent of them. only footprints of memories that aren't even their own, purely for the purpose of making them better fighters. How can they be anything more than simple variations or derivatives of "real" people? Can they even consider themselves "real"?

A pacifista. A human weapon. No agency. No humanity. Stripped of everything from will to dreams to freedom to even self-expression and forced to follow commands and never ask questions. Like a soldier. Like less than a soldier. Like a tool.

Like a gun.

Vegapunk said that Kuma's lack of free will would force him to obey, even if they asked him to murder a child. But he originally had free will to begin with. Kuma's life as PX-0, a sentient being with no will of his own, nothing more than a passenger in his own body is a nightmare. S-Bear has known nothing but that nightmare since birth.

People said that Doflamingo was born evil, but in reality, his life was shaped by the events he lived through more than anyone in-universe wants to admit. I wonder how S-Flamingo must feel, forced to carry on Doflamingo's legacy as a monster to the core, regardless of how monstrous he himself might or might not be. i wonder if the pressure of being the clone of a demon will cause a self-fulfilling prophecy.

Hancock's worldwide status was one even she did not want. It was a curse she herself learned to turn into a weapon. S-Snake does not even get the privilege of encountering OR weaponizing the curse herself. Already forced into the limelight without warning, and the eyes won't leave. Everyone already treating her like a celebrity, without a chance to even know what it was like to be a person first.

All she can do now is follow the same government that traumatized her origin and forced her to destroy her home.

Similarly, what of S-Hawk? Moreso than any seraph, any creation of the World Government, surely all eyes are on him to succeed. to be the strongest of the Seraphim and a symbol of total global safety. The world's strongest swordsman, new and improved, right? And what if he isn't? What if he's not as strong as Mihawk? What if he never is? What if he can't do it?

And what if he does? What if he ends up even worse than his origin: a bored god sitting on an empty throne with an empty title, with no one left to challenge him?

Jinbei wanted nothing in the world more than discrimination towards Fish-Men and Merfolk to end, to the degree he'd stake his life on it without hesitation. I wonder how S-Shark, a tool of the World Government, partly born from a race nearly extinguished by them, and forced to uphold their fascist, discriminatory rule against his will feels.

If Crocodile's secret is indeed his transgender identity, then what does that mean for S-Croc? At least Crocodile got the opportunity to keep it under wraps, even if some people do know. S-Croc will never get that opportunity, ever. the whole world on him from birth. Will they even let him be.. him? or will they force him to live in a body and identity that not only isn't even his own, but isn't anybody's at all?

and if it isn't, sure! I suppose he won't have to worry about that. but what of his intelligence? his own ambitions? It's said that Crocodile's greatest attribute was his mind, but the seraphim aren't allowed to break from the orders of others or formulate strategies, so S-Croc would be forced to take orders from people less experienced or intuitive. The footprints of a forgotten dream of wealth, fame, power, and freedom still sputter in his chest. A natural-born leader, forced into the role of lowly weapon, emptily paraded as a hero. How pitiful.

And S-Gecko? Always the runt. The last one. The weakest of the bunch. The world government never cared enough to hide their disdain and contempt for Moria. I can't imagine this won't bleed into how they treat S-Gecko. No matter how hard he works, being treated as nothing more than the worst of the best. Being equated to nothing but failure because his origin was one and constantly put down as "obligatory" and only existing at all because they couldn't get a better warlord to clone instead. Sure, he's not traumatized by the loss of his crew like Moria was.

But at least Moria had a crew.

The Seraphim are scary, and they're powerful. They're not naturally-born organisms, and they're programmed to follow the words of the World Government, even if told to kill in cold blood.

But they're still people.

They're still alive.

They're just children.

For the love of Nika, they're only children.

#egghead arc #seraphim unit #one piece spoilers #s-hawk #s-snake #s-shark #s-bear #s-flamingo #s-croc #s-bat #s-gecko #s-crocodile

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daboyau · 11 days

Text

And another rise hunger games chapter! Wow, just training and interviews to get through, and then the real fun begins. First person to correctly guess who the president is gets a prize or something idk

tag list! as always, let me know if you’d like to be added or removed. 💚 thank you to everyone who reads and interacts with my stories. I definitely wouldn’t be updating as often or as eagerly without you guys.

@boots-with-the-fur-club @theonlybrightowl @dandywonderous @dandylovesturtles @elijah-doodle @fredquinn @sady-is-secretly-an-alchemist @heckitall @beannary @brightandfullofglory @purplepixel @pomelined @imagionationstation @daughterofskylark @eb177 @lilysplash @burritello3000 @midwesternvibes @justchillininthebackground-06

The roar of the crowd is deafening as they emerge into the City Circle. Donnie doesn’t drop to his knees and cover his ears, no matter how much he may want to. Kendra presses herself subtly closer to his side, making his skin crawl as she tests her weight slightly against his arm, and once she’s confident that he isn’t going to let her fall, she lifts both arms high in the air in a dramatic flourish that has the crowd going wild.

Well, that just won’t do. The competition for attention (and for their lives, though he’s trying not to think about that right at the moment) has begun, and Donnie has been a middle child for far too long to let someone else win. With a hand still bracing her, he lifts his free hand high to call attention to himself, then sweeps into a graceful bow as he uses that hand to flip the train of his costume and show off the way the scales shift and change with his movements. The excitement that gets him makes Kendra elbow him hard, digging into the leftover bruises from when Kendra had tackled him. Despite the slight sting, he turns to smirk down at her, smug as she glares back. He’s grateful for the distraction. It makes it feel a little easier to ignorr the ever increasing urge to start screaming.

White and yellow chrysanthemums rain down all around them, carpeting the streets and getting crushed beneath the wheels of the chariots. Donnie sputters as one nails him in the face, and when Kendra tilts her head back and laughs, he forces himself to do the same, all too aware of the eyes and the cameras trained on them. Kendra plucks it from where it had fallen to his shoulder and tucks it behind her ear, grinning at him with a gleam in her eyes before turning a bright smile towards the cameras. More cheers, and suddenly the flowers raining down around them feel a lot more intentional. Oh, she is good.

There’s not much room in the chariot for them to do much more than wave or bow, or make a few subtle gestures at one another as they try to disguise jostling and thrown elbows as incidental closeness. Every time either one of them does a little half-twist or bows, the crowd goes crazy as their costumes ripple and change in a complimentary dance of beautiful colors. For one stupid moment, Donnie can almost forget what’s at stake; this just feels like hassling April or his brothers over the last piece of a birthday cake or for their dad’s attention. It is stupid and childish and all the meanness without any of the malice. It’s almost nice.

And then the feeling of a new set of eyes on him sends a prickling up his spine. This gaze is different. It is not the attention of the thousands of cheering fans, or even the grave watchfulness he can almost imagine he feels from the District people settled in their homes, watching the proceedings on their holoscreens. It is cold and dangerous and close.

Donnie snaps upright from his latest sweeping bow, careful to maintain his facsimile of a smile as sharp eyes sweep the crowd for the source of the gaze. He knows that it is foolish to actually believe that he can pick out or even feel a single glare amongst a crowd of over one hundred thousand, but he doesn’t know how else to classify the sudden creeping, choking sensation that has crawled up his spine and circled his neck like a noose. Alarm bells are ringing inside his head, drowning out all other sounds.

He scans the crowd, taking in the gleeful smiles and hungry excitement, before his eyes finally settle on the massive raised platform that they are barreling towards. The presidential mansion looms above them, bright and beautiful and utterly sterile. Lights are projected onto its side, fake fireworks exploding over the bone white surface in a colorful facsimile of true celebration. Standing high above them all, the president stares out with an expression that Donnie can only think of as regnant. He is impassive as he watches the proceedings, and indifferent to the fact that he holds so many lives in the palms of his hands. He is completely confident in his control of the situation and the people as he stares down at 24 soon-to-be killers. The distance between the procession and the presidential manor is still far too great for Donnie to delude himself into thinking that their eyes can meet, but he still shudders when that cold gaze passes carelessly over him. He knows where that sense of danger is stemming from now.

Though his features are wizened and long greyed with age, the president still cuts an imposing figure. He has not let power make him soft. The cushion of Capitol living hasn’t done anything to dull his sharp edges.

Not that Donnie is surprised, really. The man has been in power since before papa was born; an impressive feat, considering the immense power struggle that had occurred after the first rebellion failed. From what papa has told him - and what the cobbled together and highly sanitized history lessons have conveniently left out - there were an impressive number of assassinations during that time. He would have had to be sharp to survive. Unless, of course, he was the one ordering said assassinations in the first place.

Donnie narrows his eyes as they draw closer to the man who has created an age of prosperity for Panem, and has kept the Districts crushed thoroughly beneath his heel. He’s always looked minatorial during every holoscreen appearance he’s made, and papa used to warn them all of his propensity towards cruelty in hushed, fearful whispers. Donnie had never questioned his father’s words, but he hadn’t realized before now just how accurate those statements had been.

He keeps the smile in place, even as the lump in his throat grows and threatens to stop his breathing. He can’t tear his eyes away from the platform, or the figure standing atop it, flanked by his counsel. They watch the procession with a detached interest, like the children they are sending to their deaths are nothing more than pawns to be moved across the board.

Those cold eyes settle upon their chariot, raking over the beautiful costumes and sparkling gems, assessing the Tributes encased within. The president doesn’t seem impressed. He turns his attention on to the next set quickly, and Donnie feels tension prickle across his muscles as their chariots begin to slow, raising goosebumps across his bare skin as each one settles upon its predetermined spot before the presidential mansion.

The crowd falls silent as the president steps closer to the podium, the slight electronic feedback of his microphone enough to have the entirety of the Capitol holding its breath. Donnie does his best not to wince at the sound as it needles at his skin and scratches uncomfortably inside his brain. The president’s eyes sweep over the gathered tributes again, slow and thoughtful. He does not smile, but he does incline his head at each chariot, as if acknowledging each individual District.

“We gather today, to welcome our tributes,” he says, his deep voice soft but commanding the attention of the crowd with enviable ease. Donnie can almost feel each onlooker sit up a little straighter. “We salute each of you for your courage and your strength.”

The crowd erupts into applause, more subdued now than the previous raucous cheers and screams, but no less enthusiastic. The president smiles, just the slightest tick of his lips, and his gaze moves slowly over the crowd before snapping back towards the gathered tributes once again.

“We honor our tributes,” he says slowly, as his eyes come to rest directly upon Donnie. “—and their families. We recognize the sacrifices made for the sake of peace and prosperity. We thank you.”

His gaze moves on, but the feeling of it lingers. Donnie stays frozen, fingers digging hard enough into the handrail that he can almost feel the flimsy metal warp beneath his grip. His heart is pounding. The lights are too bright. Everything is so loud.

He just wants to curl up in the familiar comfort of his own bed, tucked beneath the weight of his blankets. He wants Mikey to sit on his thighs to to provide much needed pressure while he hides away in the darkness of his covers. He wants Raph to hum and rub careful, comforting circles on his back. He wants Leo—

Well. He just wants to be home. He wants his family.

“We wish you all a happy Hunger Games,” the president says serenely. “And may the odds be ever in your favor.”

The crowd cheers. Fanfare plays. The fake fireworks pop and explode all across the walls of the mansion, painting it bloody red and fire orange. Donnie stares at the bursts of color, wishing the fires were real. The president stares back, eyes narrowed like he knows the thoughts inside his head.

The chariots begin to move with a lurch that nearly sends Digi and Gizmo stumbling off the back of theirs, and has Kendra clutching at his arm to keep her balance. He can almost feel that chilling gaze lingering as they ride away. Kendra bumps him gently with her shoulder, and when he turns to look at her, she gestures for him to lean down. He obliges, mostly out of the desire for a distraction from the creeping unease.

Her lips brush the shell of his ear as she whispers, “That speech was total bullshit, huh?”

His smile feels a little more real all of a sudden.

There is a stranger waiting for them when the elevator doors slide open to reveal their fourth floor apartment. He is seated primly upon the pristinely clean and stupidly shaped sofa, ankle crossed over his knee, hands folded in his lap, head held high. He is invading the only marginally safe or private space afforded to them within the Capitol, and it rankles how much he looks like he belongs within this stupid fancy apartment.

He assesses them as they pile off the elevator, Donnie and Kendra both shuffling awkwardly forward as they clutch at the trailing fabric of their costumes to keep it from getting caught in the elevator door. They each keep a wary eye on him, suspicious of the interloper in their apartment. Atomo goes silent when she sees their visitor, her excited chattering about their Chariot Ride and the burgeoning sponsor interest cutting off with a sharp gasp. Donnie glares at the stranger, who surveys him with an expression that he has no idea the meaning of in return. He looks…excited, maybe? But that doesn’t quite fit. Certainly not upset, but not happy either. There’s a strange shininess to his eyes as they focus on Donnie’s face. He wishes Mikey or Leo were here to tell him what that expression means.

The stranger doesn’t stand until papa steps out from behind the cover of their small crowd. His eyes light up, yet his lips pulls down into a frown. He smoothes the fabric of his skirt and crosses his arms, muscles bulging in a way that even Donnie can tell must be purposeful. Yikes and gross. Talk about desperate.

“Draxum,” Yoshi says, his voice low and full of a quiet rage that Donnie rarely gets to hear. His hands flex at his sides before curling into tight fists. Donnie steps to the side, train dragging in his wake and shimmering even in the dim apartment lights, intent on keeping both of them in his sights. As if sensing the brewing danger, Kendra and Atomo both hurry to join him, standing a few feet back like they hope he’ll act as a buffer.

“Yoshi,” the man returns, sounding more amused than angry, which tells Donnie all he needs to know about who holds the power between the two of them. The stranger’s eyes narrow as they move slowly up and down Yoshi’s body. It’s something that he’s seen done to his father before, but it makes Donnie’s skin crawl worse than usual this time. “I see you are as pathetic as ever. Maybe even moreso than usual, considering the…special guest this year.”

Donnie stiffens as those sharp golden eyes drift towards him once again. Draxum’s lip curls, and if he didn’t know any better Donnie might have said that it almost looks like a smile. He stares back, too exhausted to bother trying to force even the barest hint of emotion into his expression. His papa hisses between his teeth, sharp and deliberate, and Draxum’s attention snaps back towards him immediately.

“What do you want?” he snaps, and though Draxum has a significant height advantage, he somehow manages to look down his nose at him in the way only someone who knows their own strength can. This time, the twisting of Draxum’s lips can only be a smile, small and cruel as it is.

“There has been a report that your son requires medical intervention,” Draxum says, slow and soft, and Donnie feels his stomach drop at the way those words make his father’s face go all twisted and pale. He really doesn’t want to deal with this right now.

So he won’t.

“I’m going to shower,” he announces, refusing to meet any of the eyes that snap towards him. “If you’re still hanging around when I’m done you can look at my back then.”

And then he turns and stomps away, ignoring the voices that call after him as he goes. It feels good to slam the bedroom door behind him, and as silence falls over the room he finally feels like he has a chance to catch his breath. Leaning against the door just in case anyone decides to follow him, he takes a moment to just try to breathe. His eyeballs feel hot and his chest feels tight. He can hear the blood rushing in his ears as his heart pounds, echoing the dull throbbing at the base of his skull. There is an uncomfortable tingling in his fingertips.

Thankfully, no one tries to follow him. There is no pounding at the door or jiggling of the knob. He’s not sure what he would have done if someone did try to get in, but he’s sure there would have been blood. Exhaling slowly, Donnie steps towards the bathroom, mindful to stay close to the wall and out of the range of the camera’s ever watchful eye. Glittering gems trail in his wake, silent as they fall to the carpet. The sting as they’re pulled from his skin feels good. It feels real in a way very little else has today.

He leaves the beautiful, glittering gown in a heap on the bathroom floor. His hands are steady as he turns the faucet, water gushing forth and filling the air with steam almost immediately. For a long while, he sits on the side of the tub and just watches the water as it circles the drain, breathing in the steam and the lingering smell of the shampoo he used when he last showered.

The water burns when he finally steps beneath its strong spray. His back tingles at the heat and the pressure, but it does not hurt. He thinks about the stranger in the living room, and wonders what he plans to do during the so-called medical intervention. His hands do not shake even though his lungs feel too small inside his chest. He takes his time. Thankfully the Capitol never runs out of hot water.

When he leaves the quiet sanctity of the bathroom, he’s not surprised to find Draxum in his room. The man is standing by the floor to ceiling window, which has been made clear again, and is staring at the city beyond. There’s something thoughtful and fond in his gaze, though Donnie couldn’t begin to guess at what he might be thinking as he looks out at the glittering expanse of white and silver. He clears his throat, impatient to get this over with, and Draxum turns slowly to face him.

“I’d rather this be fast,” he says simply, arms crossed tight over his chest, refusing to look Draxum in the face.

“It should be a simple matter, as long as you haven’t caused any undue damage to yourself,” Draxum concedes with a tip of his head. Dark pink hair cascades over his shoulders with the movement, silky and long. Teal lines his eyes and lips, a strangely vibrant pop of color against his dark skin and dull grey clothes.

“Close the window.”

Draxum arches an eyebrow at being ordered around but thankfully complies, and the late evening sunlight is dampened as the window goes opaque again. Donnie grits his teeth and stands by the foot of the oversized bed, wishing there was a chair or a desk or something besides a bed in this stupid room. He feels vulnerable. He hates it.

“Shirt off,” orders Draxum, and the cold clinical tone he uses is actually almost enough to soothe some of the nerves sparking inside Donnie’s chest, screaming that this situation holds the hallmarks of both stupid and dangerous. Donnie shrugs his shirt off, but keeps it clutched tightly in his hands. Draxum slips on a pair of gloves, not looking at him. “Turn so I can examine your back.”

There is no gasp of shock as he takes in the scarred expanse of flesh and the metal exo-spine. He doesn’t even hum with interest or ask how a boy from the Districts could have come into possession of such a piece of technology. All he does is press forward, far too close for Donnie’s comfort. He can feel each of the man’s cool breaths on his back and feel the press of latex covered fingers as he examines the seam where skin and metal meet. Donnie grits his teeth and tries not to snap.

“You don’t seem surprised by it,” he says instead, eyes trained on the ceiling, trying to take deep breaths to calm himself. Draxum scoffs, and his fingers press a little harder, almost to the point of pain. His gloved hands trace the metal spine, and Donnie feels his legs tingle. He hates it he hates it he—

“Why would I be surprised?” Draxum demands as he prods at one of the keloid scars on his shoulder. “I made it, after all.”

#Rottmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #the hunger games #rise hunger games au #my writing #rise of the tmnt #The chariot ride scene kicked my ass #I’ll probably do some edits before i post it to ao3 lol #Side note i love flower language #If i ever mention a flower by name in my writing there’s probably a meaning I like for it

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utilitycaster · 8 months

Text

One of my least favorite types of post in fandom, particularly for actual play, is the "why isn't everyone dropping everything to focus on my blorbo's mental state," and I wanted to talk about why.

The most obvious surface reason, of course, is that unless you are watching something with a very clear single protagonist and that is the character you're talking about, and the story is explicitly about people helping them heal, this is simply not a thing that's likely to happen in most works. It doesn't mean you can't want it; but that want is best explored and expressed through transformative works rather than trying to get the "let's watch blorbo carefully work through every trauma they have" blood from of the narrative stone. (I'll admit my own interest in such works is very limited, but that shouldn't stop you.)

But even when that is the stated purpose, that's just not the sort of story I'm drawn to. It feels too artificial and dishonest to the human experience, and leaves a strange taste in my mouth. I think it derives from a set of intertwined fantasies this represents, and they are admittedly a very seductive pair of lies.

One is the idea that there will come a time, amid seemingly insurmountable external challenges, when everything can pause and during that magical lull all will be resolved. It's the "this weekend I'll get my life together" fallacy. The truth is that this stoppage almost never happens, and in the cases when it does it is rarely a gentle hold, but rather a screeching involuntary halt. The fix is often not enough to truly fix, but rather just enough to get one moving again before being thrust back into the unceasing world. It's magical thinking, of a magic that even fantasy worlds (perhaps especially heroic fantasy worlds, where all the stakes are impossibly heightened) cannot provide: that the world will stop turning long enough for a complete fix, and that a complete fix is even possible or attainable, and that it will not require any ongoing work to maintain once the world has started up again.

The second is the fantasy of being understood without effort: that this quiet period will come without you needing to speak up and say "stop". That your walls will be broken with no contribution from within; that someone else will do all the work and love you despite that. And why not? As anyone who has dealt with any sort of mental health issue knows, it is exhausting. Wouldn't it be nice if someone else just...knew exactly where to place the leverage to pop you out of that rut as you sat unmoving?

It would be! It's also not going to happen.

I am, despite what I say, not against projecting on characters. That's what characters are for. I'm just not particularly interested in seeing characters who get what I sometimes want and know pretty much no one can have. I want to watch characters experience what I might, and succeed, but I do need the struggle to be as real for them as it is for me. I want the character to be in the same hole and know how to get out because they've been here before, not turn to me and shrug and say "honestly, everything went great for me - you're on your own, pal" and levitate out.

There's much more to it too - I love character dynamics, and so the idea of everyone else fading to flat grayscale tools to help one character is uniquely unappetizing. I also find a lot of the discussions surrounding this sort of premise believe that this magical fixing also occurs without anyone ever saying anything even remotely challenging to the person being helped. It really is just essentially reduced to a flavorless hand waving a magic wand over the character in question, which makes for a very short and bad story.

There are other fantasies too, all tied up in this, and all both understandable to have and tedious to watch, most notably the ideas that suffering is purification and that the blorbo who needs help is eternally blameless and never complicit in either their own pain and their actions towards others; and that give and take (and on a meta level, focus within a story) are easily and meaningfully quantifiable and are required to be kept in some cosmic balance (usually one rather heavily tilted towards a fan's favorite character) for a story to be good.

The question ultimately needs to not be "when will everything stop and center and therapize and fix the character I most relate to" but rather "will this character's traumas and issues and past be explored in any meaningful way during the narrative, or, if they are not, will the fact that they are not explored carry its own weight." Ironically, the stop/fix/magic wand wave away fantasy does away with any possibility of meaningful exploration, and that's really why I can't fucking stand it.

#on fandom

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autisticlancemcclain · 1 year

Text

“Yeah. Uh-huh. That’s why your ideas are stupid and we’re all gonna die.”

Keith fumes. Like, actually fumes, making the noise and everything, face bright red and scowl twisting his face so tightly that there’s a genuine concern he’s in pain. Lance, on the other hand, looks completely unbothered, flexing his fingers and checking his nails like he has no stake at all in the conversation.

Hunk exchanges a glance with Pidge. He’s at least glad they know better, if not poor Keith — Lance’s leg is bouncing up a storm underneath the table. He’s just as affected as Keith is, he’s just being a dick for brains because he’s emotionally stunted.

“If there’s something wrong with the plan,” Keith says, carefully enunciating every word through gritted teeth, “then please point it out to me and suggest an alternative.” The ‘otherwise shut the fuck up’ goes unsaid, but Hunk feels the sentiment is pretty clear regardless.

Lance upheaves a big, dramatic sigh, flopping backwards in his chair and covering his eyes with his hand like merely voicing his thoughts is such a struggle.

Keith’s eye twitches.

“You’re going to get a knife thrown at your head,” Hunk warns pleasantly, fully aware that it will do nothing.

He’s right. Lance ignores him.

“Look here,” he says, flicking a hand — with a more than reasonable amount of fanfare, Hunk will add, in fact he’s relatively certain that Lance has painted his fingernails gold entirely so they shine and catch everyone’s attention when he waves his hands around — at the holo blueprints Keith has pulled up of the Empire warship. “I mean, you have a plan that would work well for an EXC-76E-5 ship. Enter through the west hatch, sneak through the side hallways, ambush the gathered crew on the bridge. Except —” he swipes the image to the side, pulling up a file and displaying a photo sent by the Blades of the ship they’re currently planning to infiltrate — “the ship we’re infiltrating is an EXC-76E-4, dumbass. The hallways available to the west hatch opening don’t lead to the bridge, they lead to the armoury. If we mosey our way to the one place on the ship loaded with bombs and trigger happy Empire soldiers, it’s bye-bye Voltron.” He raises an eyebrow, smirking slightly, before parting his hands in faux surrender. “Of course, you’re the leader, though. If you say it’s time to go boom, I say sayonara, cruel word. Your wish is my firm command, Oh Fearless Leader.”

There’s a moment of tense, shocked silence. Hunk hurriedly pulls out his own file, noticing peripherally that everyone else does, as well, and hurriedly scans the report — the Blades have mistakenly noted in the write-up that the ship model is the EXC-76E-5, but the photos show, very clearly, an EXC-76E-4. Lance is right, and is the only one to notice — he must have all the models memorized. It’s a very Lance thing to do.

So is being a smug little shit about it, Hunk knows that for certain.

Beside him, Allura is biting her lip hard to keep from laughing. Over the past few months, her and Lance have gotten much closer, and while that has done wonders for team dynamics, it has also done wonders for Lance’s ego, which is.

Well.

It just is.

Pidge is also notably hiding her face with her hands. Hunk himself has several years of practice keeping his face in check when Lance is right, as is his duty as the number one Lance humbler (and as Lance’s duty with him — Hunk will admit that he can be a cocky shithead when he wants to be), so he’s looking straight at Keith.

Keith’s face has dropped to a deadpan stare. He grinds his teeth, glancing at the file and then back up at Lance, who smiles sunnily as if he’s not the absolute king of being as irritating as possible as often as possible.

“You know what your problem is?” Keith mutters, angrily swiping his hand through his battle plans to delete them and pulling up new blueprints.

Lance grins smugly, placing his hands under his chin and his elbows on the table. He blinks slowly, then opens half-lidded eyes towards Keith.

“Enlighten me,” he says.

“You,” Keith continues, as if Lance had not spoken, “are really cute, so no one ever told you to shut your fucking pie-hole.”

For the second time in the last ten minutes, the briefing room rings with shocked silence. Keith doesn’t seem to have noticed that he said it, or even that he said it to Lance’s face — he’s muttering grumpily to himself, crossing out every other thing he writes. He’s not even looking at Lance.

Lance, on the other hand, looks completely shocked. Shocked does not begin to cover it, honestly. Startled, maybe? His hands have dropped from under his chin, and his brown eyes are wide, looking at Keith in disbelief. His mouth is open slightly, gaped, at a total and complete loss for what to say.

Allura loses her battle. She clamps her hand over her mouth, trying her damnedest to muffle her laughter, eyes tearing with the effort. Pidge’s shoulders have started to shake, too. Hunk, for his part, can’t decide who to stare at, flicking wide eyes between Dumbass #1 and Dumbass #2.

Suddenly Lance’s expression shifts — the shock evaporates from his face, and in its place is something smug, something unbelievably satisfied, like a cat that knows it has its prey exactly where it wants it.

Hunk is generally a mature person, but drama is his weakness. He is straining every part of him so as not to miss a word.

Lance allows Keith a couple more moments of frustration, then starts tapping a nail on the table, a sound that is well known to annoy Keith quickly and reliably. When he, as expected, whips his head towards the sound and glares, Lance smirks, eyes honestly a little salacious between fluttering eyelashes.

“You think I’m cute?” he purrs.

It takes Keith maybe half a second to clock what the hell Lance is talking about, and then he goes so red that Hunk is sure he can feel the heat of his face, from exactly where he’s sitting, ten feet away.

Seriously, he’s glowing.

“Shut your pie-hole!” he snaps. “God!”

Rapidly, he turns back to the holoscreen, enlarging the proper blueprints with his new plans so everyone can see.

Lance cackles, continuing to snigger as Keith tries valiantly to outline his new plan and not die of self-induced heat exhaustion.

When Hunk peeks over Lance’s shoulder to look at his notes, though, he sees that he’s been dotting his i’s with hearts.

———

comic this fic is based on

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undefeated-attorney · 1 year

Text

Here's something interesting I would like to present to the court... But,

Before I go off, I would like to remind everyone what the magatama does.

3. It allows the user to see/read people's hearts.

2. It automatically reacts to people who have secrets within their hearts.

And 3. Allows its user to visualize(psyche-locks) how closely kept that secret is and how close they are to finding the truth(shown by the psyche-locks breaking)

There is just... One thing that bothers me.

When Pearl explains how to use the magatama, she says something that... Piques my interest.

"You must be careful, though, Mr. Nick. If you make a mistake, it will hurt you. If you don't think you have the proof you need, you must have the courage to stop."

When you present the wrong evidence, it takes one bar off your "health," and this lines of dialogue appear:

"Ouch?"

It seems like it actually hurt Phoenix, huh?

It's even more supported by what he says next:

Hurt.

What does "hurt" mean? Does it mean hurt physically? Mentally? Spiritually?

Here's what I personally think:

Whenever he makes a mistake, his heart gets hurt. In less cryptic words, mentally.

I mean, he is reading someone else's heart. It's only fair if his heart is vulnerable, too, right?

Of course, I have something that backs up my claim pretty nicely.

I would like to present this line of dialogue that you get if you fail enough times:

"Your soul will shatter?"

Shatter... I wish Pearls had gone into more detail about what that meant. That's bothering me quite a bit...

What I personally think the meaning of this is...

Well, the best way I can describe it is... An equivalent to dying.

To elaborate, I first need to present a few options of what a soul can mean/be. And it can be quite a few things, such as:

an immaterial essence, animating principle, or actuating cause of an individual life

a spiritual principle embodied in human beings

a person's "total self"

the moral and emotional/sentimental nature of human beings

I personally think, again, starting my sentence with "think" and "personally" because I have no evidence to support this claim—

Pearls refers to the "soul" as the embodiment of someone's emotions and morals.

When it shatters, that person loses all that made them. (A neat fic idea just came to me...)

That would make the most sense. To me, anyway.

Could you imagine? A lawyer trying to get a secret out from you and continuously failing to present evidence that supports his claims. Eventually, that man drops dead. His soul shattered.

I guess that raises the risk and stakes, but...

Sigh. I wish we get to see what a "soul shattering" looks/feels like, but alas, Pearls is always somehow there to stop that from happening. Even when she is not nearby.

It most definitely has to do with Phoenix's mental state and health. I think this statement Pearls just gave us proves it, yeah?

Y'know, I could also tie this into what I said earlier— about what the "soul" of a person means here— which is the emotions of said person.

I guess I do have evidence to support my claim.

He seems a little... Panicked? Frustrated here? He's probably leaning more towards frustration.

Well, in any case, afterward, the world fades away and returns to normal.

Going back in straight away starts Phoenix's health at its lowest, and failing again gets you the same dialogue... "Your soul will shatter."

I suppose he needs time to recover. After all, his... Heart? Soul? Sustained a lot of "damage."

...I wonder if "heart" and "soul" are the same thing?

Well, anyway, I wanted more evidence to build my case, so I looked into what Edgeworth says when he fails to break a psyche-lock.

But... It seems like the investigation led me to a dead end. Nothing Edgeworth says implies that he was in pain. Hurt when he presents the wrong evidence.

Failing too many times with Edgeworth gets you the same line shown above, just with a different name— "Mr. Edgeworth...If you push yourself any more, your soul will shatter...Please calm down, collect your thoughts, and try again..."

But a difference response to it. (Blast it...! I've made too many errors...!) However, I don't think I can make any connections with this...

I also looked into other times Phoenix has used the magatama, and again, came back with nothing able to help...

After coming back here with nothing further to add, I had even more questions than before.

Why does this particular line of dialogue stick out like a sore thumb? Did Phoenix just build a pain tolerance after that one? Was this detail forgotten or thrown away?

How does Pearl stop us from going any further? Specifically when she is not nearby... How is her voice still heard?

Are the "magatama sessions" forcefully canceled by her, or did Phoenix and Edgeworth back out on their own after hearing Pearl's words?

(I should note that it is undeniable that Pearls is speaking whenever Phoenix or Edgeworth fails too many times. I also have undeniable proof to back that up, too. "Mr. Nick." There is only one person who calls Phoenix that. Pearls. That is my proof.)

How did she know that Edgeworth had the magatama in his possession(and was currently using it) when Edgeworth had not told her? (Note: See Bridge To The Turnabout)

These are questions I have that I... Cannot answer. Unfortunately. If there are answers to this... I would like to know.

With that, I must end this analysis.

Man... I just don't have enough to go off of...

Oh, well. What do you guys think?

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whateversawesome · 1 year

Note

I really hope this doesn't come off as hate, I just wanted someone else's input - I feel like the eden kids have become more of the main characters than the forgers have. I know we just finished an important arc with them but it feels as though every other chapter is centered around them. We haven't had a chapter with the forgers together since Anya got rescued and that wasn't even a whole chapter. it feels as though the manga's shifted from its core (a spy dad, assassin mom, esper child and a dog that can see the future). I guess this could just be because of the update schedule though making everything feel slow paced and some plotlines random at times. Again, I hope this doesn't come off as hate. I still love and enjoy the story, and was curious to hear the opinion of another.

Hi! Thank you for reaching out. Your question doesn't come as hate at all and it'll be my pleasure to answer it :)

Your feelings and frustration are totally valid. A lot of us got into Spy x family because of the Forgers (and some of us Twiyor specifically) and miss seeing them. So, let me tell you how I see things both as a writer and as a reader.

As a writer: I'm not worried about where sxf is going because I've written plenty of stories and I can see the seams (meaning the construction of the story). However, I know not everyone is a writer, so this illustration may be useful for everyone:

The beginning of sxf had a great exposition of the characters and the story. This is the part where the readers fall in love and get attached to the characters.

I know it's been going for 79 chapters, but in my opinion, we're barely leaving #2 (conflict) and entering #3 (rising action). Endo set the conflict and not quite started the action yet. So we're just entering the middle of the story.

In my experience (both as a reader and writer), when the middle of the story begins is not the most exciting part and, depending on the story and author, the middle can feel long.

In Spanish, the middle a story is called "nudo", which means "knot". This is where the story gets tangled and very complicated. In fact, the more complicated, the better, because it means that it'll be hard to resolve and the stakes will be high during the climax.

The purpose of the middle of a story is to point towards the climax. This is where the author has to build the tension to get there, where the conflict gets thicker and thicker.

Now, has Endo been doing this?

YES.

Evidence of this are the whole bus kidnapping arc: where he told us how the SSS and government behave towards its citizens (even when they're children). THIS will be key in the story. And the latest 78 doggie competition chapter: where Handler and Twilight literally talk about the main plot of the story.

This reminds us the main plot is still about Donovan Desmond and Project Apple. This doesn't seem random to me. And the fact that we've gotten so much Eden makes me think that Eden is key in the main plot too.

As a writer, his job is to point out to the main plot and head to the climax. If he's been doing that with Eden chapters, that means that's where we're going.

The way I see it, Twilight, Yor, and Anya (Spy, Assassin and Esper) are the main characters, but not the only characters. Because of its cuteness and wholesomeness, it's easy to think of Spy x Family is a simple story about a Spy who adopts a little girl and falls in love with an assassin.

It is not.

This is a monster of a story.

Think of it as a big tree. Stories like this have many branches (secondary characters and side stories) that are connected to the main plot and serve to lead the plot towards the climax. Examples: Lord of the Rings, Fruits Basket, Attack on Titan.

My point is that in these Monster Stories, the plot may not always focus on the main characters, but in the end, everything, every little branch and side story came together to let the main characters rule the story and get to that explosive climax.

And I believe that's what Endo is doing here.

Is it the most exciting thing in the world right now? No.

Sometimes development can feel like a total drag; especially if chapters come out every two weeks and we're all eager for more.

As a writer, I recommend patience. We'll get there, it's just going to take some time.

Now...

As a reader (and a fan): *Big sigh* Yes, I miss the Forgers (and Twiyor) so much and every time there's a new chapter I feel sad we didn't get any interaction.

Yes, I want to see the romance, the pinning, the angst, the first kiss. ALL of it!! At least give me the Forgers shenanigans...

But there is no point in getting upset about it.

Yes, we're kind of in a dry spot in the story, but personally I'm still enjoying it. I'm so grateful for all the good friends I've made thanks to Spy x family. On top of it, I've been having tons of fun writing fics analyzing, and discussing things with other fans.

There's so much talent in our fandom and during this dry season, it's the fans with their gorgeous fanarts and awesome stories what is keeping the fandom engaged and happy. There's no need to feel bored while we wait for the Forgers to come back (and Twiyor to kiss!), let's wait together. Let's have fun together!

One last thing worth mentioning...

I've said it before. It's okay to take a break. There is absolutely no hate in this advice: If the story is becoming too frustrating, if it's detrimental for mental health, if it's becoming more of a bother than a source of happiness, it's okay to take some time off. It's okay to get into other things, other stories and other fandoms. And it's okay to come back after a while to check up on any progress and it's okay to move on too.

Thank you so much for the ask. I wrote a long answer because, as you can see, I'm a big fan of stories and writing.

#thanks anon!#thank you for the ask!#spy x family #spy x family analysis #spy x family manga #ask

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lambergeier · 3 months

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silviculture - 13.1k, alhaitham/kaveh

in which alhaitham switches places with his younger self and everyone handles this extraordinarily badly. we will improve this situationship or die trying. now on ao3! first two scenes below for ur reading pleasure.

Alhaitham, being no longer in his living room, decides the first thing he should do is sit down. He does so.

He’s in an Akademiya dorm room. It’s early afternoon. A few moments ago it was late at night and he was speaking with Kaveh, who was in the kitchen of Alhaitham’s own house. Alhaitham was leaning against the couch in the living room and flipping through a book that wasn’t worth the paper it’d been printed on. The book is also gone.

Alhaitham only began dreaming again eight months ago, but he’s confident that this isn’t a dream. It looks, with a great deal more specificity than could be possible even for his sleeping mind, like Kaveh’s dorm room. Books of design, materials science, desert exploration, runic translation, and piano theory are piled on the desk. There is, laying on the bedsheets by Alhaitham’s hand, a cheap but fashionable earring he remembers vividly for the way it had caught the light in their single shared lecture, late afternoon in the hall below the Sanctuary. Semiotics and Glassmaking in Deshret’s Kingdom. He skims the earring briefly with a fingertip then moves his hand to his lap.

He considers what this might mean.

The door swings open and Kaveh says, “Haitham, can you take some of these? I borrowed everything I could find on desert Seelies but it’s really almost nothing, like I can’t tell if we’re running into another ridiculous knowledge restriction again or if genuinely no one’s ever tried to track the Seelie courts in Upper Setekh, which would be so typical, wouldn’t it, so I grabbed everything else I saw on the–”

Kaveh’s face is bright, young, flushed, freckled, happy. He’s wearing an Akademiya uniform and is as tall as the last time Alhaitham saw him (fifteen minutes ago) which means he’s an inch or two shorter than the last time Alhaitham saw him, because the uniform boots are heeled. He’s staring at Alhaitham with the aforementioned flush spreading like dye over the silk of his cheeks.

“Kaveh,” Alhaitham says. “Don’t freak out. I believe I’ve been displaced in time.”

“Oh, I,” Kaveh says. His hands start to go slack beneath the stack of books leaning against his chest, so Alhaitham takes the books from him and sets them on the chair beside the desk.

“You–yes,” Kaveh says, the flush climbing down his neck and up to his ears now. “I–oh.”

He couldn’t be more than eighteen. Which would make it, assuming this is in fact the past Alhaitham remembers, which he really has no way to determine without further investigation, the year Alhaitham himself turned sixteen.

“I developed a bodybuilding habit when I was twenty and attempting to do some metabolic experiments that ultimately proved unfruitful,” Alhaitham says. “You can touch my shoulders if that would get this over with.”

Kaveh, whose left hand had begun to drift with little apparent thought towards Alhaitham’s bare deltoid, snaps back so hard his head smacks into the doorframe. “I’m so sorry!” he says. “I’m so sorry, this is so rude of me, I should never have assumed, I’m so sorry, and you’re so much older, and you never said–”

Alhaitham sighs.

Kaveh stands bent over the kitchen sink, working his jaw and watching his cuticles slowly go to ribbons in the soapy water. Not literally. Literally enough. He should have let Alhaitham buy the stupid gentle dish soap that didn’t ruin Kaveh’s cuticles. Kaveh stops himself from thinking further on Alhaitham’s incredibly domineering dish soap opinions.

Alhaitham has gone quiet in the living room, but that doesn’t mean very much. The state of their immortal souls could be at stake and Alhaitham would still bar himself from Celestia before he continued a conversation he continued boring. Or a fight.

Kaveh works his jaw harder, tension dull and radiant above one eye. It’s not impossible for him to wait Alhaitham’s silence out. He’s done it before and he could do it again. It’s a way to end a fight, and wouldn’t it be nice, ever, to end a fight? Without starting another? Could they hope for that much peace, at the least?

Suds climb up Kaveh’s wrists. The number of nights he’s spent in this same position, mirroring himself like silvered glass over the past year and whatever he’s lived in Alhaitham’s house, frustrated and sad and exhausted by this whole situation, feels suddenly like a millstone around his neck. What a joke.

“Look, I get that you don’t think conversation is worth your time!” Kaveh shouts as he slams the cutting board into the sink. “But pretending like this isn’t a problem just because you’re bored is not actually a long-term solution to the problem!”

Silence. “Haitham, I know you’re still out there!”

“Kaveh?” Alhaitham calls back. His voice ends on a high and uncharacteristic quaver.

Kaveh throws himself through the door to the living room.

There’s a different Alhaitham standing in the soft streetlamp glow of the window. There’s an infant Alhaitham. He’s skinny, teetering, his hair too long over his ears, where are his headphones?, god, look at those stretch marks on his shoulders, red as fresh paint—

Alhaitham is looking up at the ceiling, head tipped back, balancing poorly on his heels as he turns. His head follows the lines of the woodwork. “Is this—” His voice cracks, squeaking in a way that Kaveh was viciously self-conscious of when he was young and Alhaitham never gave a shit about. Alhaitham didn’t start the masculinizing meds until he was at least fifteen, supplies a portion of Kaveh’s heart that very rarely forgets. His voice hasn’t cracked since they were—

Alhaitham looks from the vaulted ribs of his home to Kaveh. His eyes are enormous. He appears full of stars. “Is this the research center… you designed?” he asks. “This is our project?”

“Oh, no,” says Kaveh.

He’s wearing the undershirt and trousers of an Akademiya uniform. The permanent frowning divot between his eyebrows has yet to form. The longer he looks at Kaveh, his pale eyes flickering from Kaveh’s face to hands to chest to belt, the more he appears, ludicrously, to blush.

“Oh, no,” says Kaveh, as Alhaitham trips backwards over the footstool and lands flat on his ass.

and u can get the rest of this over here 👍👍

#genshin impact #haikaveh #hkvh #kavetham #this bitch fought me good but she's finally done and i love her 👌👌

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