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#but i think that malevolent does is very well
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One thing that I personally find super frustrating about Taylor Swift is the way she plays into the myth of the "lone genius" artist. Without collaboration, nothing gets done; or, if it does, it's typically of low or inconsistent quality. And this is true in pretty much ANY field or discipline you can think of: scientific research, advocacy work, etc. The fact that Taylor considers herself above that and persists in selling the myth of her "lone genius" to fans honestly feels malevolent and arrogant to me.
It's truly ridiculous, at the end of the day, that people call her a "poet" and "genius songwriter" for doing everything on her own. I think it really showcases how little she understands when it comes to poetry as an art form. Most legendary writers and poets have multiple people look over their work and go through many stages of the editing process. One of the purposes of art is to communicate, and it's honestly hard to tell sometimes if what you've written has meaning and communicates well outside of your own brain. Peer review is ESSENTIAL for writers.
I think it's also very telling that she considers herself a legendary poet and actively plays into that mythology by circulating the fact that she's distantly related to Emily Dickinson. As someone who has loved and studied literature for many years, I can honestly say that Taylor Swift's closest comparative when it comes to writing is Rupi Kaur. Pinterest poetry, and nothing more. And she has the arrogance to compare herself to one of the most important poets in American literary canon!
I'm reminded of something I heard Hozier say a little while back (I'm forgetting now which interview) about people praising his lyricism as poetry. He essentially called those claims an insult to poetry, stating that there are structural rules in music (rhyme scheme, beat, etc.) that he adheres to that poets don't have to, and that poets can be much more experimental and revolutionary in form (at least when it comes to the written word vs. the sung word). Only someone who genuinely loves poetry would say something like this; plus, it shows that he thinks about the different impacts that form can have on art the messages it communicates. And this, coming from one of the best singer/songwriters currently working!
TS and Hozier aren't writing in the same genre, but I do think it's interesting to compare them as artists in their respective approaches to lyricism. When it comes to Taylor, I think she cares more about the aesthetic of poetry as an art form than the actual art itself. Her writing doesn't actively interact with the literary canon that inspired it, like Hozier's does (or other great lyricists, like Kendrick/Florence/Mitski/Elton). Her writing feels very hollow and devoid of meaning to me.
i just want to say your ask and analysis was so well written 😭 thank you for sending this in!
Completely agree that Swift's solo songwriting genius is a myth. Only 2/16 songs from TTPD were solely credited to her...which means 12.5% of the album is solely her own writing. That is not a songwriting genius. That's just a songwriter. She already knows her fans are completely sold and convinced on her songwriting genius so of course she would drag out her ancestry.com results and up-play her relation to Emily Dickinson to help sell the aesthetic of the album. Everything for her is another marketing strategy. She has no respect for poetry, let alone writing as a craft itself. If you view her behavior through the lens of another writer, it's absolutely abhorrent, but if you view it through the lens of another capitalist, it's absolute genius.
I love your Hozier comparison because Hozier is only 4 months younger than Taylor yet the quality of their lyricism are oceans apart. Hozier has proven himself to be a talented writer time and time again throughout the course of his career, and the best songwriters often know and understand the power of other writing mediums. (BTW I know what Hozier interview you’re talking about! Here it is :))
What makes a great writer is knowing the canon, and knowing other writing mediums very well. It's why the greatest songwriters incorporate canon not only of their own genre and medium but of other texts as well (I'm biased because I listened to Kate Bush's Wuthering Heights today and I know its an adaptation but still its relevant here). Intextuality is the foundation of a great work, and Taylor's work has none.
As the other anon(s) have pointed out, Taylor no longer makes music as art. She makes music for money. I don't think any artist who likes what they do or cares about what they produce would put out an album like that, with lyrics like that, and its content. At least Rupi Kaur's writing impacted poetry in bringing it into the mainstream; I don't exactly understand what ttpd could offer as a text or in pop culture.
TLDR: hozier makes music for people who eat it from the back and then handfeed you grapes afterwards. taylor swift makes music for white girls entering their first day of 7th grade send tweet
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thatumbrellaoni · 14 hours
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hey. so what were ryous thoughts while witnessing all of That?
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what was going through ryous head seeing yugi choose to literally sit inside that inferno to attempt solving the Puzzle again with no guarantee he would?
what does ryou think of the fact that his friend refused to leave the Puzzle behind even at the cost of his life?
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but you know what, ryou risks his life everyday by choosing to wear the damn Ring so. context is a bit different, but, I mean, the stakes are the same.
actually, lets use this frame to compare/contrast the yugis and the bakuras.
here, yugi has very beautiful feelings for atem.
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YUGI: I'm so sorry, Other Me... Your soul ended up shattering... Hold on, okay? I'll solve the Puzzle... And when I do, we'll meet again... then I can tell you how sorry I am (lit. I owe you an apology)...
when the yugis come together, its always heartwarming, isnt it? meanwhile, whenever the bakuras come together, its always tempestuous
see this post for the comparison.
so I wondered then... what would happen if the situation were flipped? lets say it was ryou and the Ring trapped in that burning building...
lets be honest now, ryou is sentimentally attached to the Ring, not bakura. ryou really doesnt like it when you badmouth his cursed pendant lmao see here and here.
so what would ryou be saying to the Ring? to bakura, even, if ever?
the interactions the bakuras have are always quite confrontational, so I assume itd play out the same in this scenario. ryou would be yelling at bakura in that burning building 🤭 actually, Id like him to.
RYOU: (desperately trying to unhook the Ring from where it's trapped while communicating with Bakura) Do you want to burn, Spirit!? Come on!
BAKURA: I believe in you, Landlord. You do some of your best work under intense terror after all. Remember Monster World? You're unbelievably resourceful. You always find a way, so surprise me.
RYOU: This is not the time to be petty! 💢 Don't annoy me right now, or I'm going to leave you here!
BAKURA: Heh. You won't.
bakura doesnt like endangering his host if its out of his control (see first BC match up), but he also believes in his host's abilities (see memory world)!
as this other write up I did pointed out, the spirits in the Items are bound to protect their bearers no matter the cost. on the other hand, the bearers develop sentimental attachments to their Items. its quite the symbiosis. also, as dsod said, in ryous case anyway, one must be faithful to the Ring's will.
tbh these Item bearers are mad lads for their Items in their own ways. ryou just greatly overshadows yugi in this aspect because ① ryous spirit is malignant/malevolent so its emphasized, ② ryous a natural denpa (aka he has the occult thing going on with him too).
also I just wanna say, bakura fucked off when he got what he came for.
he was seeing all this happen through ryous eyes, no?
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you think bakura was like, "how do the flames taste, pharaoh!? (maniacal laugh)"
cuz yknow. kul elna.
for all the monologuing he did about needing yugi to be the bearer of the Puzzle, bakura sure was ready to let them burn lmao
well, then again, like I said previously, bakura knows how fucking robust Item bearers are.
all of that to say, I wish the story explored and delved deep into how the yugis and the bakuras were foils of each other, individually and as pairs.
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can I tell you guys that I usually hate canon-multiverse media and the weird kinda nihilism that often accompanies it? can I tell you that I hate it when stakes are incomprehensibly high and that I hate how the goals of saving/taking over the world blow things out of proportion?
can I tell you that with it's brilliant world- but especially character writing, I don't feel that way about Malevolent?
sure I'm biased as fuck because I've been listening to this show since 2021 but I can't help it. I adore this story and this world and I adore the themes that are ever-present within it.
so can I tell you that both the subtle and very (very) straightforward ways Intermezzo introduces multiple universes to both the listener and the characters themselves, is probably my favourite way it's been done?
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millenianthemums · 1 year
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Golden Boy 💛
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masuchu · 5 months
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“𝐈𝐓 𝐈𝐒 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐒𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐑𝐘 𝐁𝐋𝐄𝐄𝐃𝐒” [GENSHIN MEN]
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ways that the genshin men fuck you on your period ‧₊˚
genre. filthy smut, period sex, mentions of blood (obv), mentions of overstim (childe), cunnilingus (childe), mentions of punishment sort of, body worship (kaveh), sort of brat taming ?? (wriothesley) reader is femaleeeee
characters. childe, zhongli, kaveh, wriothesley
love, masu. aaaaaa i am on my period rn so this is so so self indulgent . it is also filthy . felt very very shameful writing this . (◞‸◟) neuvillette was also supposed to be in this but i have bigger plans for him …
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(公子) 𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐃𝐄 ‧₊˚
We all know Childe is a menace on the battlefield. Obsessed with combat, addicted to duelling. Can not form friendships without fighting the person first. Needless to say, his bloodlust is perpetual and never ending.
You never really expected it to traverse into the bedroom, though.
Childe looks feral. His eyes are wide and hungry, unfocused and utterly hypnotised by your pussy. He presses a thumb into your clit, ignoring your cries and pleads of sensitivity, and watches as a large glob of blood ooze out of you.
“Ajax, please. M’ sensitive, it hurts…Agh!”
He completely ignores you. After a moment of intense staring, his mouth is back on your throbbing pussy, slurping both your juices and your blood. It is filthy, completely taboo. So why do you like it so much? Why are your thighs clamping down onto his head, as though you wanted to squeeze him into nothing? Why are your moans echoing and rattling the room, surprising even yourself with the depth and pitch of them?
You are broken out of your daydreams by a malevolent bite on your clit. A compressing pain spikes across your body, yet with it comes such an addicting pleasure that your pleads become garbled and unintelligible.
“Ajax, please! Too much, please, please, p—please!”
“What are you begging for, pretty girl? You get what you’re given. Now, fancy shutting your pretty mouth before I shut it for you? Feel free to stop wriggling too!”
You can tell that the pause he took from devouring you angered him immensely, and though his words were spoken as if he was asking nicely, you know him.
You know him well enough to know he would not hesitate to ruin you if you didn’t listen.
“God, your blood is so pretty. Would never hurt you, so let me have this, yeah? Makes me so fucking horny, you don’t understand.”
And with that he is back to devouring you. Your wide eyes peer down and find that he is in fact, not looking at you. No, his attention is entirely on his meal. Blood is smeared all over his face, making him look so horribly sexy. It pains you to admit it. His pupils are dilated, you only just now notice his nails digging into your hips. Keeping you anchored on the bed. Keeping you vulnerable for him.
You think— as best as you can in your state— on his words. Of course, the throb in your core and desperation to cum makes you biased, but you conclude that maybe you should let him have this. He is focused on you, so the worst you will deal with is a few more orgasms than necessary, right?
You know what they say, never make decisions while you’re horny!
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(钟离) 𝐙𝐇𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐋𝐈 ‧₊˚
Zhongli loves you unconditionally. His love neither wavers nor falters, no matter what challenges the two of you face together. May it morph and evolve? Of course, but it is firm and loyal to you. And only ever to you.
So what does he care that you are on your period? He is still hungry— greedy — for you, and no amount of blood will stop him from having your sweet pussy sheathed on his cock.
“Zhongli, you really don’t have too— Ngh..”
The man in question presses a thumb onto your lips, effectively quieting you and leaving you shy and flushing. Hips roll up into you once more, his length hitting exactly where you love it. His eyes burn into you, filled with infatuation and lust. How is it possible that those eyes are locked onto you, of all people? You don’t dare question it, an endless fear of jinxing it.
“Do not have to what? I do not have to love my partner? To pleasure them, hm? I would rather lose everything than never be able to have you like this again, my dear.”
Zhongli’s hips roll into you again at the most opportune time; damn tease, he knows how much his tender words get to you. Unable to do much but take his punctual thrusts as and when they come, you wrap you arms around his neck and nuzzle into his chest. His own palms find themselves gripping your waist, carefully lifting you up with ease and hauling you down again, slamming his cock into you at the same time. The feeling paralyses you, but the worry of your blood still lingers in your mind.
“Are you sure you don’t mind? My blood will get every—Oh!” It’s a vexatious thing he does often, silencing you. Divesting you of your ability to speak coherently, and enkindling your heart slowly and maliciously. You aren’t sure you have ever finished a sentence he hasn’t wanted to hear. Not in bed, at least.
“I have seen enough blood in my days. Though, I am admittedly much more pleased to see yours in this way, rather than another. Do not worry yourself, I want to ravish you always. A little bit of blood will not put me off.”
At this his hips resume at a much faster pace, splitting you open on himself with no care of your hoarse whimpers. With each frantic thrust, he breathes heavier and your body is bounced higher and faster. His hands are always there to guide you, dropping your aching body down onto him again, again, and again. You allow your moans to fall out of your mouth and reverberate throughout the room, not at all coherent enough to fathom the mountain of pleasure you are feeling, let alone the noises you are making. All your can think about is that delicious pressure building up inside of you, and the slam of his cock in and out.
Needless to say, new sheets were purchased the next morning. And it has been harder to doubt Zhongli’s love for all aspects of you ever since.
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(卡维) 𝐊𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐇 ‧₊˚
“Does this feel better? Tell me what you want, love, I’ll give it to you.”
Kaveh’s fingers ruthlessly plunge into you, hitting places you didn’t even know existed. He had instructed you a few moments ago to hold your thighs for him, to allow him easier access. It didn’t register that it meant not only you couldn’t hold back your obscene moans, but also that he could bury himself so deep into you that you could taste him.
“You’re so beautiful like this… I wish I could sketch you. Another time. Keep moaning for me, pretty.”
The blonde in question had felt horrible all day. When he saw you occasionally hobble out of your room, hands gripping your stomach in attempt to stop the pain, his frown sunk deeper into his face. He had brought you everything you asked: ice cream, water, medication, kisses, new towels. Every deed was appreciated, but he couldn’t help wanting to do more. To take the pain away like a lover should.
A fitting explanation for how you found yourself in missionary with Kaveh’s fingers ambushing your pussy like no tomorrow, hm?
The blond in question traces his free hand along your shuddering body— squeezing any plush skin there is to squeeze, caressing absolutely anywhere you will allow him. Eyebrows furrowed, eyes concentrated. His pays attention to every beauty mark, every curve, every detail.
“Fuck, you’re so beautiful. Every part of you is provocative, you know. Can’t believe this body of yours was in such pain, it’s cruel!”
His delicate fingers thrust into you again, such pretty hands turning you into a mess. It’s a humorous juxtaposition, really. His effortless beauty, and you— a moaning heap, heaving and sniffling like a whore. He wouldn’t agree, you knew he wouldn’t.
Before you can even contemplate how dirty and blooded his fingers will be, let alone complain, his lips press into yours and strangles your cries in a passionate kiss. He is not usually a biter, but he nips your lower lip and watches in awe as it bounces back, swollen and jutted. He swears on the Seven that you will kill him one day. You’re too goddamn sexy!
“Had me running around all day, when all you needed was this? Don’t worry, I’m not complaining, baby. Would run—fuck, a million miles around Sumeru City if you asked me too.”
A second hand rubs at your clit. Your body has been pushed so far up the bed from his fingers, that when your back arches from the new sensation, your head slams into the headboard. Writhing, wriggling, screaming. Nothing frees you from him, from what he’s giving you. Both the fingers in you and on you continue their ministrations rapidly, and all at once, everything becomes nothing, and then too much. The taut string in you core snaps, and a flurry of arousal overcomes you entirely.
You ignore how Kaveh’s eyes widen, how he bites his lips and groans out a slow ‘Fuuuuck..’. You have no mind to worry about how you look right now, every bodily function betraying you as you lay lifelessly on the satin sheets. Mindlessly, your eyes attract like magnets to the beauty of a man still above you. Though, what you see immediately rekindles the flame of arousal in you.
Kaveh, his fingers in his own mouth. Sucking, slurping, devouring the lewd mixture of your blood and slick. It’s completely vulgar, almost foul. And yet you can’t help the way your mind goes crazy for the potential of having his dick inside you.
“Ngh, you taste so good on my fingers. Gotta make you do that again…”
“W—what did I do…?”
“You squirted, love.”
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(莱欧斯利) 𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐒𝐋𝐄𝐘 ‧₊˚
Don’t get him wrong, Wriothesley feels extremely sympathetic for you. He can’t imagine having to undergo what is often excruciating pain, bleeding heavily and treacherous mood swings on the daily. Not to mention on top of his regular workload! It’s hell on earth, he’s sure of it, and he will do anything in his power to make life even a smidge easier for you.
But he can only withstand so much of your bratty behaviour. Only so many ‘Ugh, you’re so annoying!’s before he starts to tick. You are in pain, yes, but it isn’t his fault! You can only bully him for so long before it begins to get under his skin.
“Just needed something to fill you up, huh? Does it make it feel better, sweetheart? You’ve certainly lost your— ngh, spark now.”
Wriothesley slams into you so hard you body writhes, and the bed you were thrown upon only a couple of minutes ago seems to disappear beneath you. A floating sensation engulfs you, and you grip the sheets in a fear of loosing all ground. A chuckle leaves his lip and taunts you, but you can’t imagine snapping back before he is, yet again, pounding into you and plundering all ability to breathe.
“Where’s that brattiness gone now, hm? If it’s still there, be sure to let me know. I’d be happy to fuck it out of you. Fuck, my cock is covered in your blood…”
The sight of your ichor coating his length entirely spurs him on, if his borderline monstrous thrusts are anything to go by. An overwhelming nothing settles in your brain, absolutely nothing except him, him, him, and the pleasure he is blessing you. Your lewd moans echo throughout the room, intensifying when his fingers travel down to press mean circles onto your clit. A divine surge of arousal flows through your body, and all at once, an orgasm swallows you whole.
“Cum for me, that’s it. Good girl.”
Lifelessly, your body flops onto the bed, no longer able to sustain the position on your hands and knees. With a few more bone rattling thrusts, Wriothesley finally reaches his peak and fills you up with his thick cum. He rides out his high with short little grinds, before joining you in succumbing to the comfort of the bed. The pads of his fingertips traces patterns along your arm before travelling up to caress your face. It’s hard to talk with the helplessly lovestruck and spent daze your brain is under, and with your face pushed into the pillow, but you meekly moan out;
“M’ sorry for shouting at you, Wrio. Didn’t mean it, I promise.”
“It’s perfectly okay, missy. Wouldn’t have an excuse to feel how tight you at this time if you didn’t.”
You scoff into the bed and let out a muffled insult, something along the lines of “dirty scoundrel.” Wriothesley pinches your hip, but he isn’t angry. He just chuckles breathily. The silence is tender and soft, until:
“Fuck, will this blood stain my clothes?”
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2024 © masuchu , do not repost, reword, plagiarise, take inspiration, translate or share my work anywhere!
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pollyanna-nana · 10 months
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Louie isn’t evil.
Or: what Pikmin 4 tells us about his character.
BIG WARNING FOR PIKMIN 4 SPOILERS! (and the rest of the series)
———
I want to preface this by saying that I am in no way trying to be the end-all, be-all of character interpretations, but Pikmin 4 to me, at least, confirms the suspicions I’ve had since playing Pikmin 2 and 3 all those years ago that Louie ISN’T secretly evil, or possessed, or whatever else. He’s just… Louie. And I think that’s interesting in and of itself.
1. Olimar himself vouches for him, and clearly doesn’t think he’s a bad person.
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Say what you will, but I’m inclined to think Olimar is a decent judge of character. Clearly he’s worked with Louie for enough time to see that while he’s not very good at his job, he’s not intentionally so— at least not in a malevolent way (will get more into this later). He also wants you to forgive him for Olimar’s sake, which can be read as self-sacrificing (as Olimar is known to be) but I also think hints at the soft spot he has for Louie.
It's also worth noting that he states during a end-of-day conversation that he told Louie that, since he's a new employee, he should do everything Olimar does... including throw castaways into the onion. Interesting that Louie took this so literally, but it does provide an explanation for why he kidnapped the Koppaites beyond "he's evil and crazy".
2. He really, REALLY loves his grandma.
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Like, wow. He talks about her SO MUCH both in his Piklopedia entries and also elsewhere in the game. It's interesting. Worth noting is that he never mentions any other family members- unlike Olimar, who talks about his wife and each of his children independently. I've said this before, but the content of a lot of these entries implies to me that Louie was mainly raised by his grandma, likely since birth. And given some of her emails in Pikmin 2, assuming they're also canon to Pikmin 4's timeline... Well, Louie certainly had an interesting upbringing. But he clearly loves her all the same.
3. He has a mischievous streak and tends to do things on impulse.
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This was already fairly obvious from the previous games, but I think it's worth noting that this game confirms that he's... would immature be the right word? In any regard, he doesn't seem to see himself as a "grown-up"- when in all likelihood he is. Personally, as a 22-year-old, I find that pretty relatable as I often think of myself as younger when in reality I am by all definitions an adult. This, along with his grandma still being around, makes it pretty much certain that Louie is a lot younger than Olimar and the president, likely in his early to mid twenties. Being a bit of a goofball isn't really out of the ordinary, all things considered.
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THAT BEING SAID, he's clearly capable of practicing self-restraint when he wants to. What he says here about the red Pikmin is pretty significant, since we know he's willing to eat just about anything- but clearly he has some reservations about creatures that are friendly and helpful. Which leads to...
4. He loves dogs and fluffy things.
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Same. But he doesn't even consider eating Moss, Oatchi or the Ancient Sirehound, showing that his creature-eating habits stop at things he recognizes as useful. He clearly also holds affection for things that are soft and fuzzy, and says as much.
5. He is so autism.
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He plays with fidget toys. He loves certain textures and sounds. This guy is stimming all over PNF-404!!! I think this also lends some explanation for why his behavior is what it is- things like taking Olimar's suggestion to do as he does super literally even after crashing on an alien planet, his hyperfixation on cooking and tendency not to communicate and incorrectly interpret situations (thinking the Koppaites are kidnappers in 3, running away from you in 4). He could even be low or no empathy as well, explaining why it takes a hot minute to get him to understand why people are upset with him about something.
Interestingly this game also makes it clear that Louie wants to live on the planet, or at least thought he did while you were chasing him down, which makes a lot of sense when you consider that he doesn't really seem to fit in back on Hocotate. I, too, wish to run away to an alien world with all of the things that I like and no other people, so I get you, Louie.
6. He hates his boss and his job, and the golden pikpik carrot incident was likely premeditated.
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This probably looks bad, but honestly? As a fellow work-hating anti-capitalist schmuck I get it. The president is for all intents and purposes a huge asshole, from sending Olimar straight back to the planet after selling his ship to not caring that Louie got left behind, just wanting to find the rest of the treasures. I doubt he is very kind to his employees, and doesn't seem very good at running the business. Definitely a funny character, but if he were my boss I would absolutely want to punt him into the sun.
From some other entries he clearly wants to sell certain things to accrue money, but it's for things like getting better kitchen tools and following his dream to have his own cooking show. Clearly being a freight driver isn't what Louie actually wants to do with his life, and he could not give less of a shit about what happens to the company. Very short-sighted on his part, but also again, yeah I get you Louie.
7. He... doesn't like the color red for some reason.
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Honestly, I'm not even really sure what to make of this. Is it because it reminds him of the Hocotate ship? Or does he just not like the color? Would be very interesting considering that it's Olimar's signature color. Perhaps that's at least part of why he attacks you in Pikmin 2- though that's speculation for another day.
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Also funny to me is his comments on the black-colored treasures. We know blue is his favorite color, but I guess he's also a bit of a goth at heart. Lol.
In conclusion.
I think Louie isn't written or intended to be evil, and Pikmin 4's portrayal of him was intentionally written to confirm this. He's just, as some have said, an agent of chaos, but that doesn't make him a bad person. Just an autistic 20-something working a shitty job he doesn't care about, who loves his grandma and has a mischievous streak and a hyperfixation on food. At least from what I can interpret, ymmv!
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skzdarlings · 6 months
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vexatious vixen ; felix x reader ; part 1/2
masterlist.
PART 1/2. READ PART 1 HERE. ( READ ON AO3. )
You always get what you want. When an unassuming security guard named Felix stops your latest venture, you escalate the stakes until he has no choice but to put you in your place.
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pairing: lee felix/reader content info: romantic comedy. strangers to enemies to lovers. handcuffs. cat-and-mouse. eventual smut will be kinky dom/sub dynamics, dom!felix and sub!reader. (chapter word count: 7400 words.)
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Seungmin is one of your best friends and also a conniving master of manipulation.  Being a malevolent source of wicked verbal wizardry, he convinced you and Minho that it would be totally super easy to sneak into the Hwang Hyunjin concert.  It’s only the final night of the pop-star’s sold-out world tour and the most anticipated concert of the year.  What could go wrong?  
It sounded like a good idea when Seungmin said it.  Now the three of you are standing in a pushy crowd of overeager fans with some very intimidating looking security guards at the end of the queue. 
“Reconvene,” you say.  You grab the boys by their scruff and drag them out of the line. 
“Ah, hey!” Minho snaps at you like piranha.
You release him to grab Seungmin by his collar.  “You better have an idea for getting us past security,” you say, “because I do not like the look of the Incredible Hulk up there.”
The three of you look at the shortstack beefcake who looks like he could bench all three of you at the same time. 
“Yeaaaah,” Seungmin says.  He flashes you a not-so-innocent smile as his strawberry-pink bangs flop into his eyes.  “I didn’t really think this far ahead.  I thought you’d have a plan.”
“Why would I have a plan?” you ask.  “This whole thing was your idea.  Seungmin.”  You drag him close so your noses touch, going cross-eyed at the proximity.  It does not lessen the severity of your frustration when you state, “I waxed for this.  And you know how I feel about waxing.” 
“You waxed?” Minho asks loudly.  It draws a few glances your way which might be because Minho is so loud, or might be because he’s so good looking, or a combination of the two.  His dark eyes narrow at you like you’re a completely alien creature.   “Why would you wax for a concert?” he asks. 
“Wax,” Seungmin parrots.  Your hands are on his collar like you intend to shake him up but it doesn’t deter him asking, “Like… like wax-wax?  Like your human body waxed?”
“Like your human pussy?” Minho asks.  “For a concert?  What did you think was gonna happen?”  He is on the very visible verge of hysterical laughter when a thought lights his eyes.  “Wait,” he says.  “I know how we can get in—”
“Oh my god,” you say.  You shove Seungmin and grab Minho by the collar instead.  “I’m not fucking our way in.  And I waxed,” you drop your voice, “just in case.”
“Just in case…?” Minho tips his head.  “Just in case you had to fuck your way in…?”
“Oh my god,” you say.  You push him away too.  “Never mind.”
“Did you think Hyunjin was going to summon you out of the crowd for a green room quickie?”  Seungmin asks with a shit-eating grin. 
Minho cackles.  “No way she’d even go,” he says.  “She doesn’t get summoned.  She likes to be chased.” 
“She is walking away now,” you say.    
“Bet she’ll walk away quickly,” Seungmin says.  “She waxed so she’ll be aerodynamic.”
You stomp away from the stadium but only make it a few steps before Seungmin runs in front of you. 
“We can’t just give up here,” Seungmin says.  “We made it this far already.”
“One bus stop?” you ask dryly.  “We literally live like five minutes away—”
“Exactly!” Seungmin says.  “That’s called destiny.”
“We might as well try,” Minho says.  He cups a hand over his eyes to look at the stadium in the fading light of the sun.  “We all got dressed up.  Seungmin skipped a class.  You waxed.” 
“There’s no way we’re getting through those doors,” you say. 
“We’ve done it before,” Seungmin says.  He turns you to face the stadium and massages your shoulders like a boxing coach, all the while regaling you with tales of your past victories.  “Remember all the other concerts we snuck into?  The sports games?  That celebrity wedding—”   
“Well,” Minho interrupts, “we did get arrested at that one.” 
“Yeah and we got arrested together,” Seungmin says, “because that’s what friends do.” 
“I don’t know why,” you say, “but for some reason this is working.”  Maybe it’s Seungmin’s words, or Minho’s cologne, or maybe it’s the soft glow of a perfect summer sunset as it pours over the stadium like a pink-orange waterfall.  Or maybe it’s because this really is the concert of the year, and you love a challenge, and you fucking waxed. 
You throw your head back and sigh, soulfully resigning yourself to your imminent fate.
“Fine,” you say.  “So how are we doing this?”   
“Don’t worry,” Seungmin says thoughtfully.  “I think I have a plan.”
Seungmin proceeds to explain the plan.  It is hardly the pinnacle of heist endeavours but is more feasible than rappelling down the stadium walls into the concert arena.
Basically, the plan is to find a group of people with a solitary ticket holder and leech onto their tail with the hopes security will miscount the party and let you sneak past.  It means you will have to split up because security will definitely notice three extra people.  You will then hopefully reunite inside the arena.
You scamper around the periphery of the stadium, perusing lines for oblivious groups of excited fans with an e-ticket-wielding ringleader.  You also double-check which security guards seem the most lax or checked out. 
“I get that one,” Minho says. 
He points to a trim, athletic guard with floppy brown hair and a giggly smile.  You and Seungmin protest because that guard is an easy mark so you all want him, but Minho takes off running for the queue. 
The thing about Lee Minho is that he never hauls ass.  He coasts through life with a casual slouch, but he is completely capable of annihilating everyone if he deigns to do so. 
He does.  So he did.
You and Seungmin look around.  Your grin widens when you spy the next easiest target.
“Aha!” you say.  “I call dibs on that one!  Good luck, Seungmin!”
“Hey!” Seungmin bellows.
He is far too late.  You are already booking it towards the line with a pretty, chipper, skinny security guard.  He is in jeans and a loose windbreaker that says SECURITY across the back, about the only indication he is a man of any authority.  His hair is a vibrant, neon blue and is delicately styled, long enough to pull back in a pretty half-ponytail.  His features are sharp, cheekbones sloping, but there is a natural tenderness to his whole countenance.  He doesn’t have a mean bone in his body. 
Also, he really is lean.  Worst case scenario, you can probably push your way past him and disappear into the crowd before he can do anything about it.  
You find a group of girls to sidle alongside anyway.  You are satisfied you will easily slip into the stadium. 
The group reaches the front of the line, a couple of them giggling at the security guard’s friendly attention.  His name tag reads Felix, a cute name for a cute guy.  Up close, you can see a smattering of dark freckles across his face, as well as a few playful glitter stars for the concert.  He is admittedly pretty but as a professional gate crasher, you refrain from distraction.  You successfully avoid his gaze and stick close to the girl in front of you. 
Felix gives them each a friendly nod, smiling brightly.  He laughs at one of their comments and it’s a charming, low sound. 
“Enjoy the show, ladies,” he says, his voice about a hundred decibels deeper than you expected.  
Maybe that’s what trips you up.  It has to be something, because you were doing everything right.  But just as you go to follow the girls into the arena, a skinny arm shoots out and you smack right into it.   
“Sorry,” Felix says.  He drops his arm and smiles.  “I just need to see your ticket.” 
“My…?”  You look ahead at the group of girls, but they are already gone.  Oops.  “Ha, ha,” you say, looking at Felix. 
He is staring back at you, still smiling a close-lipped smile.  He blinks a couple times then lifts an eyebrow.
“Uh, ticket?” he says.  He holds out his hand.  
“Right,” you say.  You smile at him with all the saccharine sweetness you can.  “I have funny story about that, Felix,” you say. 
“Hm.”  His smile turns into a line, eyes narrowing as he looks at you.  “And what’s that?” 
“Well, you see…”
It’s all you say before you bolt, fast on your feet.  You sprint for the entryway behind the guarded queue.  There’s a crowd inside and you’re an expert at disappearing into a crowd.  You just need to get in there and find your boys then you are home free.  Hwang Hyunjin, here you come. 
There’s just one problem.  
Felix is fast.  
Like, track star fast.  Like, road runner fast.  Like, you’re that dumb coyote getting an anvil dropped on your head, except this anvil is a skinny blue-haired Australian with a voice like a god and the apparent hidden strength of one too. 
You make it a few desperate steps before Felix literally sweeps you off your feet.  You shriek when he hauls you under his arm, dragging you away from the stadium door.  He deposits you a few feet from the queue then swiftly resumes his position. 
“Hello,” he says to the next person in line.  “Sorry about that.  Ticket?”   
Your mouth is agape.  
No one has ever got the jump on you like that.
“Hey!” you say, but Felix has moved on.  He is smiling at the next guest as he checks their ticket, not paying you any mind.  “Excuse me,” you say, despite the people between you and him.  “I think there’s been a misunderstanding.  I do have a ticket.”
“Uh-huh,” Felix says.  He doesn’t look at you, scanning someone’s e-ticket with a little device.  It lights up green and he smiles at them.  “Enjoy the show,” he says. 
You jump into the queue, cutting off the next person.  Felix’s smile vanishes and is replaced with an astoundingly sassy expression.
“Uh, this line is for ticket-holders,” he says. 
“I have a ticket,” you say.  You unzip your purse and spend a minute rifling around, ignoring him when he sighs.  He apologizes to the people behind you.  You turn and offer a tight-lipped apology of your own.  “I was in line,” you say, as if they didn’t just witness this ten-pound bully haul you around like a sack of potatoes.  “There was just a misunderstanding.”
Felix rolls his eyes. 
You pull out your cell phone and flip through a folder of fake screenshotted tickets, hoping at least one of them marginally resembles the tickets for tonight.  You pick one and flash it at Felix. 
“Happy?” you say with a lot of false indignation.  You turn off the screen when Felix goes to grab your phone.  You give him a snooty, squinty-eyed look, then saunter right past him. 
This time when he comes after you, you are better prepared for his speed.   You zig-zag and he stumbles, cussing very unprofessionally.  You make it all the way to the door before he grabs you.  You have no idea where he is getting all that muscle because he feels like a sturdy stick when you grab at him, but he puts you over his shoulder like it’s easy. 
“Um, excuse me!” you shout.  “Hello!  Someone film this!  I’m being assailed!”
Felix intentionally jostles you on his shoulder.  He is even less gentle when he drops you this time, though you do manage to keep your footing. 
“Try that again,” Felix says, “and it will be trouble.  Got it?” 
Felix is very good looking.  He’s an incredible combination of pretty and handsome, not to mention that voice, guh.  But what gets you going is how much you are clearly pissing him off.  It’s hot.  Out of nowhere, the freckled sunshine sweetheart is just oozing confidence, standing square and pointing at you with a very stern expression.  And if you get a little hiccup in your blood, a little skip in your heartbeat, a little stampede southward that makes your pussy hum like the interested kitten it is, well.  That’s not your fault.  It’s his.  Asshole.
You flip him off.  He ignores you, shaking his head as he returns to his position.
“Sorry,” he says to the queue.  “Some people are so inconsiderate, aren’t they?”
Ugh. What a sexy bitch. 
You text to check in with the boys.  Minho made it inside, no surprise, but apparently Seungmin is also struggling for an in. 
what is with these security guards, Seungmin writes, are they military trained? fuck 
maybe you’re both just losing your touch, Minho replies.
never, you say.  we still have lots of time.  we'll get in there.  seungmin, meet me by the benches.  we need another plan.  
Usually, the best way to crash an event is with minimal attention and no theatrics.  It’s all about pretending you are exactly where you are supposed to be.  If you act like you belong, then you will.  
A spectacle is a desperate measure, but you are desperate people.  After a few hushed whispers on a bench, you and Seungmin spring into action. 
“Help!”  Seungmin shouts.  “My wife needs help!  Please!” 
“Your wife?” you whisper through gritted teeth, opening one eye to look at him.  You are currently laying on the pavement in a dramatic swoon, Seungmin hunched over you. 
“My companion of ambiguous relationship is hurt!” he says.  “Ouch,” he adds, because you swat his arm.
Fortunately, he does draw attention.  A few people run over, the beefy security guard one of them.  His nametag reads Changbin and he is in a black t-shirt at least two sizes too small.  You do not begrudge him this, as you would do the same if you had biceps like that.  
“What happened?” he asks, crouching down beside Seungmin. 
“My friend just passed out,” Seungmin says.  He hoists you into his arms as your tongue lolls out of your mouth.  “Is there somewhere inside I can take her to sit down?  I think all the chaos out here overstimulated her.” 
“One second,” Changbin says.  He pulls a walkie-talkie out of a holster.  It buzzes with static as he turns it on.  “Hey, we have a collapsed woman in front of Entry Door B.  Can I have back-up clear a path, and someone with First Aid training?”  The walkie-talkie buzzes again and Changbin puts it away.  He stands up, waving away the small crowd that has gathered.   “Yah, everyone back up!  This is an emergency!” 
“It’s really not,” Seungmin says.  He scoops you into a bridal hold then struggles to lift you off the ground. “I just need – whew – somewhere I can – agh – put her down.  I can just – AH! – carry her myself.”
Naturally, it is at that moment a familiar voice descends from above. 
A familiar, deep, Australian-accented voice.
“Move aside, please.”  
“Oh no,” you say, eyes closed.   You open them just in time for a glitter-faced, freckled, blue-haired pretty boy in a SECURITY windbreaker to cut through the crowd.   
Unfortunately, Felix is just as good looking at this angle.  He waves away the gathered onlookers as he approaches, but looks at Changbin first. 
“I have First Aid,” he says.  “What happened?”
“I just found her collapsed,” Changbin says.  “Her friend thinks it’s the crowd.  Should we bring her inside?” 
Felix looks at you.  The concerned furrow in his brow immediately gives way. 
You smile innocently. 
“No,” Felix says, frowning.  “We shouldn’t.” 
“Oh come on,” you say.  You smack the ground.  “I collapsed!  I need help!”
“No, you need a ticket,” Felix says.  He crosses his arms and stomps a foot.  “Seriously, what is wrong with you?  Some of us have a job to do, you know?”
“Naaaur ya need a ticket, mate,” you say in a mockingly deep chest voice. “Some of us have jobs ya knaaaaur!”
“Do you guys know each other?” Changbin asks, looking between you and Felix – who is growing increasingly red in the face and breathing much harder. 
“I have no idea who this guy is,” Seungmin says. 
“Ah!”  Felix yells, spinning to Changbin.  “She doesn’t have a ticket!  She’s just trying to sneak in!”
“She doesn’t have a ticket?”  Seungmin asks, gasping.  He drops you onto the concrete, ignoring your yelp of pain.   “But I thought she – she told me we – I – I –“
You watch in betrayed horror as Seungmin pretends to faint, flopping down beside you on the concrete.  You sit up, very tempted to slap him across the face but not wanting to give Felix more reasons to accost you. 
“Seungmin,” you say.  You grab him by the shirt and rattle him around like a ragdoll.  “Seungmin, you bastard, don’t even think about it!”
“You.”  Felix stomps up behind you.  “Get off the ground and come with me.” 
“No,” you say.  “I don’t want to and you can’t make me.” 
You shriek – again – when Felix grabs you under the arms and hoists you to your feet.  He manhandles you with only a modicum of effort, dragging you away from your stupid traitorous best friend. 
You step on Felix’s foot deliberately and he swears.  For such a pretty thing, he sure has a filthy mouth.  You grab a fistful of his hair and tug, to which he cusses up a storm and pries your hand off his head.   
You hear the distinct buzz of Changbin’s walkie-talkie.    
“We have a collapsed man in front of Entry Door B.  Can someone who isn’t going to start fighting the patrons come help me move him?”
“He’s faking it!” you cry in protest, watching Changbin scoop Seungmin off the ground. 
Changbin disregards your outburst.  Seungmin gives you a thumbs up behind his back.  Felix, of course, doesn’t see it because he’s too busy dragging you away.  You are left to sputter in bewildered protest at the injustice of it all. 
Felix marches you to the sidewalk, far away from the stadium queues.  You are both out of breath by the time you get there.  Even so, you attempt to manoeuvre under his arm to run away.   In a few quick moves, he knocks you onto your ass. 
 “Holy fuck!”  You are panting now.  A line of sweat dots your hairline.  You wipe at it and stare morosely at this stupidly competent minimum wage security guard.  “What are you, like some kind of karate master or something?”
“Taekwondo, actually,” he says, brushing off his jacket.  Then he tips his head and stares down at you.
You would be lying if you said the intensity of his stare didn’t have your heart racing for an entirely new reason.  Danger and desire have always danced a close dance for your tastes.  Felix is not helping matters, tucking back loose strands of vibrant hair as he looms over you, wetting his bottom lip and staring. 
You cross your arms and feign nonchalance, but you can’t look away from him.  When he crouches down slowly to meet you at eye level, everything below the belt goes pitter-patter. 
“No ticket,” Felix says slowly.  “No concert.  Do you understand me?” 
You stick out your tongue.
“Wow, mature,” he says.  His departing farewell is another snarky eyeroll.  He shakes his head as he stands, muttering to himself in obvious frustration. 
So much for not a mean bone in his body.  That bully is all business.   
So hot. 
You huff and puff for a bit.  Your phone is going berserk in your purse, probably the boys trying to reach you.  Eventually you succumb to the necessary confession of your twice thwarted efforts.  Minho teases that you are losing your touch for real.  It makes angry little fireworks pop out of your ears.  
Plenty of occasions you have assessed a situation and deemed it unreasonably complicated, but quitting while you’re ahead is not the same thing as admitting defeat.  You do not lose.  This isn’t even about the concert anymore.  Fuck Hwang Hyunjin, he was never worth the pain of a wax in the first place.  No.  This is about your pride.   This is about your dignity.  This is about your honour. 
You are getting into that concert, one way or another.   
First, you gather intel.  This comes in the form of snooping, running between queues to figure out the easiest mark.  You don’t judge the guards by their appearances this time, because apparently this security team has secret taekwondo masters hidden in their midst. 
You watch their every move, calculating and determining your odds therein.  Based on visual research and Minho’s confirmation, it seems your best bet is the smiling guard who let Minho through.  His nametag reads Jisung and he is a veritable flirt. 
Flash him your tits, Minho texts.
Uh, no, I’m not that desperate yet.       
Second, with your intel now acquired, you get into the dwindling line.  The sun is almost set and a breezy summer chill dances across your cheeks.  The concert will be starting soon.  You shuffle behind the other stragglers, adjusting your outfit.  The jean shorts hug your hips and flash a nice chunk of thigh, and your shirt is already low cut but you figure another tug won’t hurt.  You also pull your flannel down your arms to look as flirtatious as possible. 
Jisung is barely looking at the tickets as he scans them, chatting merrily to the guests as he lets them through.  You pull up a random ticket on your phone, something to hold out while you distract him. 
“Hi,” you say. 
His eyes flick down to your chest, then back up.  He smiles brightly.
“Hi!” he says.  “You look nice.  Excited for the concert?”
“Oh, absolutely,” you say.  “You have no idea how much I’ve been waiting for this.  It wasn’t easy to get in.”
“I know what you mean,” he says.  “Tickets are hard to come by, and so expensive!”
“Ugh, tell me about it,” you say, leaning in while he scans your phone.   This was a bad idea because he looks down at your chest again, just in time for his little device to flash red.
“Oh, oops!” he says.  He smiles at you as he shakes his device.  “Sorry!” he says.  “I think you showed me the wrong ticket.  Could you pull up the right one?”
“Ohhh!” you say, looking down at your phone with fake surprise.  Life is so unfair.  “I’m so sorry… Jisung.  Hehe, that’s such a nice name.”
“Haha, thanks,” Jisung says.  “My parents picked it, but, yeah, it’s cool.  Anyway.”  He wiggles his device.  “Ticket please!” 
You keep smiling and giggling, even as you turn around under the guise of searching through your phone.  You glare down at the stupid device, keeping your back to Jisung while you do so.  How the fuck are you getting out of this?  You flip through screenshots then open your text messenger.  Minho’s last words of wisdom blink up at you. 
Apparently, you are that desperate. 
With a sigh, you put your phone in your purse and zip it shut.  You shrug your shoulders and plaster that fake smile on your face again.  With a swift of flick of your thumbs, you lift your shirt and bra up over your tits and spin around to look at Jisung. 
“How’s this for a ticket—”
Jisung looks surprised and delighted.  Jisung, however, is standing a few feet back.  Probably because he was told to step back.  Probably by Felix who is standing in front of you with his arms crossed and an unimpressed look on his face.  
“Wow,” Felix says.  “Just committing crimes now, are we?”  
You shove your tits back into your bra indignity, not even embarrassed, just annoyed. 
“Tits aren’t a crime,” you say. 
“Public indecency is,” he replies.  
“You’re… publicly indecent…”  Not your best comeback.  You glare at him while fixing your shirt.  “There’s no way they pay you enough to be riding my ass this hard.” 
“They don’t,” Felix says, grabbing your arm.  “Believe me when I say riding your ass has been my pleasure.”
“Twisted fuck,” you reply. 
You wave at Jisung as Felix tugs you away.  He waves back but does nothing to rescue you, because all men are traitors. 
You groan loudly as Felix leads you away from the stadium yet again.  “Just let me innnnn,” you whine.  “Why do you hate meee.”
“I don’t even know you!” Felix says.  He deposits you on a bench and takes out his phone.
“What are you doing?” you ask, eying the device.
“What do you think I’m doing?” he asks.  “You tried to break into a ticketed event three times.  You faked an injury.  You flashed yourself in a public place—”
“I wouldn’t have done any of that if you just let me through in the first place!”
“You cannot be serious.”  Felix looks ready to rip his hair out.  “You don’t have a ticket!  Why would I let you in, why would I – AH!  Why am I arguing with you!  Be quiet, I’m phoning the police.”
“The po— the police?!  How dare you!” You try to stand but he pushes you onto the bench one-handed.  He holds you there, palm on your shoulder, still way stronger than someone this scrawny should be. 
“Fine!” you exclaim.  “Fine!  You win!  I’m sorry, Felix, I was wrong.  I was wrong and you were right.”
Felix pauses.  “Really,” he says, sounding unconvinced. 
“Yes!”  You look up at him with the saddest, most watery eyes you can muster.  “I just wanted to see the concert but it was stupid to think I could break in.” 
He turns off his screen.  Success.   You watch him slip his phone in his pocket. 
“It’s not about being smart or stupid,” he says, the ire gone from his voice.  It takes a lot of willpower not to bite his fingers when he pats your shoulder.  “It’s about the fact we can’t always get what we want,” he says kindly as he crouches in front of you.  His hand goes from your shoulder to your knee, still patting it in a friendly manner. 
You bite your tongue because you want to tell him you liked him better when he was being a mean bitch, but that would be counterproductive to your escape attempt. 
It turns out, you don’t need to say anything, because he decides to be a bitch again anyway.  Felix looks at you with a too-sweet smile and says, “It’s about time someone taught you that lesson.”
“Um, excuse me?” you say, aghast.  You clasp your hand over your heart.  “Just who do you think you are?  First of all, you taught me nothing, I’m still a horrible bitch and I lied when I said you were right.  Second, you absolutely can get everything you want, you just have to want it enough to get it.  But you wouldn’t know anything about that.  You know why, Felix?” 
He rolls his eyes and shakes his head like he expected this, which he probably did, but you’re too far gone to retreat. 
You reach out and cup his face in both hands, turning it to you.  Those sharp eyes are unflinching, even with your fingers on his face.  You try really hard not to gulp. 
“It’s because you are a good boy,” you say.  “You always do what you’re told.  You always follow the rules.  I bet everyone thinks you’re the nicest guy on the team, don’t they?  I bet they call you cute little nicknames and all the nice little girls think you’re a sweet, innocent baby.  And you are, aren’t you, Felix?  You’re just such a good, good boy.  But me?  I’m not good.  I’m not bad.  I just like to win.  When I want something, I get it, because I chase it, and I don’t stop until I get it.  Until it’s all mine.”  You lean in close.  “Get it?” 
His gaze darkens, brows pinching.  You take his fleeting moment of vulnerability to shove him onto his back.  He sprawls on the ground with a surprised yelp.  You sprint away at top speed and flip him off over your shoulder. 
It’s a haphazard ploy at best but you are fresh out of plans.  What you need is distance between you and Security Guard of the Year, a breather long enough to come up with a final plan.  Maybe you can physically break in somewhere: an office window, a janitorial stairwell, something.  
You keep an eye out for potential openings as you run. 
And run.
And run. 
Hmm.  You’ve been running a long time.   Even with the head-start, Felix should have caught you by now.  You doubt he would have truly given up.  Felix had a deranged look in his eye, similar to the one you get when someone is trying to beat you at your own game.  He doesn’t want you to win anymore than you want to lose.  You suspect it isn’t about the concert for him either; this is a personal battle. 
You come to a gradual stop, hands on your hips as you catch your breath.  It’s quiet on this side of the stadium as the queues were on the opposite end. 
Quiet, yes.  Too quiet.   
There’s a stairwell that leads to second level just above your head.  Felix is good.  You have to give credit where credit is due.  If you weren’t a scheming nightmare with a penchant for con-artistry, he probably would have caught you.  But without turning around, you know he booked it up the stairs and is two seconds from springing an attack. 
You take off running, just in time for him to thump into the grass beside you.  You laugh at his strangled cry of frustration as he scrambles to his feet. 
Around the next corner is the parking lot.  You stop a split second to look over your shoulder and see him hot on your heels.   He discarded his jacket and is in a loose sleeveless shirt, revealing he does have some light toning to his lean body.  But you don’t stop to measure how proportionate it is to his strength, because he is focussed on you like a laser. 
Then he smiles.  A slow, slinky smile like a cocky predator about to swipe at its prey.  That cat has claws, nasty ones, and you almost want to get tangled in them.  Almost.  You want to win even more.   
And he just set you up for success.  There’s a SECURITY jacket on the ground somewhere nearby.  That’s your ticket in.  You just have to lose Felix in the parking lot and loop back around to find where he tossed it. 
You spare no time setting that plan into action, giving Felix a smile of your own before you run.  He thunders after you.
The pair of you weave in and out of parked cars.  He disappears for a second behind a row of trucks.  You whip your head around to figure out where he went, only for him to summersault around the corner and cut you off.  You yell instinctively but narrowly dodge his reaching hand.   He curses, running after you with his arm outstretched.   You duck behind a trailer and lose him, scurrying between some SUVs.  You peek at him through the windows, watching him turn in a circle to find where you went.  Smiling to yourself, you quietly but quickly back away.  
You leave the lot and run back the way you first came.  You find Felix’s jacket draped on a random bush. 
Your heart is practically singing with adrenaline.  Victory is in sight.  You push yourself to run faster and reach out with both hands –
— only to find yourself rolling in the grass, Felix’s arms tight around your middle as he tackles you to the ground. 
You push and pull at each other, cursing and scrambling very ungracefully.  You get out of his arms but he climbs on top of you, then you knee him in the gut so he rolls over, but when you start crawling he grabs your ankles and drags you back. 
Ultimately, he Taekwondo Masters you onto your front, hands clasped behind your back.  You kick your feet and wail despondently into the grass as he kneels over you, breathing raggedly and swearing again. 
“You’re a monster!” you shout.  “You’re a tyrant and a bully and you have no right to – HEY!”
He handcuffs you.
“Ha.”  He leans in close, speaking right into your ear.  “I win.” 
“That’s not fair,” you say.  “You can’t just—ahh!”  You wail in petulance as he lifts you onto your feet.  His grip on your bicep is unyielding so you are forced to stomp alongside him as he escorts you…
…back to the sidewalk.
“You’re not busting me?” you ask in confusion.  You thought for sure he was going to drag you into some shady office and plop you in a chair until the police arrived.   He would probably be super boring and professional about it, staring at you with his dumb horny eyes but not doing anything about it.  Nothing sucks more than being all trussed up by a pretty boy with manners. 
“I just want you to go and never come back,” Felix says. 
“Fine.”  You turn around and hold your arms straight behind you.  “But I’m like a wolf, Felix.  I have your scent for life.”
“Yeah, sure,” he says.  “Not how wolves work by the way.  But fine.”
“Oh wow, sorry.  Didn’t realize you majored in Wolfology.  You got any other fun facts?”  
“You are so—”
You smirk at his grumbling.  You are just biding your time until he uncuffs one wrist, then you whip around faster than he can compute the action.  With one cuff still attached, you grab the second and clamp it down on his wrist.  He sputters in bewilderment, at which point you snatch the keys.
“What are you doing—”  He tries to grab them but your joined hands make the angle too awkward.  You spin around together in a few circles, bonk heads twice, until finally you reel back and chuck the keys as far into the distance as possible. 
He stands there, mouth agape.  You tap your foot impatiently. 
When he realizes what has happened – that you have handcuffed yourself to him and thrown away the keys – he looks at you with fiery eyes, fierce enough you stumble.  He yanks your joined hands, the chain ungiving.  You watch as he goes through several stages of grief in a matter of moments.  Then he closes his eyes and breathes in and out.    
“Why,” he says slowly, “did you just do that?” 
“I dunno, Felix,” you say.  You plop down on the ground and sit cross-legged.  It forces him to bend over, your cuffed wrist dragging him down.  “Guess we’ll have to go inside and get some back-up keys.  And when I’m in the stadium and you uncuff yourself from me, I promise not to run away.”   
“That’s your plan?” he snaps.  “That’s your plan?” 
“What, is there an echo out here?”
“That’s your plan?” he asks again, his deep voice pitching up an octave.  He crouches down and shoves his free hand into his hair, shaking his head.  “This can’t be happening,” Felix says, more out loud to himself than you.  “Why is this happening.  Oh my god.” 
You squeak when he tugs on the chain, yanking you close, nose to nose.
“What if I just called for back-up?” he asks. “Or skipped that and went right to the police?  How would you get out of that?”
“Wait,” you say.  “Why aren’t you doing that?” 
“Because.”
He leans back as far as he can, sitting on his heels.  You duck your head, trying to meet his eye to no avail.  He clenches his jaw.
“Felix,” you say.  “Why aren’t you just calling for back-up?”
“Because,” he says through gritted teeth.  “The handcuffs.  Are.  Not.  Regulation.” 
You look at each other.  There is a long moment of silence. 
Then, “What!”  You cackle with complete and utter abandon. 
A very unamused Felix glares at you while you throw your head back and laugh. 
“You?” you cry, poking your finger against his chest.  “You?  You?  You are just walking around with a pair of handcuffs that you aren’t supposed to have?  What the fuuuuuck—”  You think you might die laughing. 
“Jisung gave them to me before our shift!” he exclaims.  “It was a joke because— Never mind! I don’t have to explain myself to you!  Hello.  Hello.”  He grabs your chin with his free hand and turns your face roughly to his.   He jingles your joined hands.  “Not regulation,” he says.  “There are no other keys in this building.” 
Silence falls again. 
Then, “Oh.”  You stare at him.  “Shit.” 
A minute later, you and Felix are scuttling around trying to find the key.  You must have a very good arm because it landed near the stadium and disappeared in some bushes.   
You and Felix keep forgetting your wrists are connected, reaching in opposite directions only to snap back together.  You are certain you are going to end the night with a few bumps and bruises. 
The entire time you are searching for the key, Felix is grumbling irritably.  He tears his way through a bush, his deep voice pitching up with a miserable whine when he can’t find it. 
“This is so stupid,” he says.  He throws a stick at the wall.  “I am a good worker.  I never break the rules.  I am not getting in trouble for this. You did this.  You did this to me.” 
On he goes, grumble, grumble, grumble, bitch, bitch, bitch. 
“It’s not like the key disappeared,” you say, pushing some pebbles around.  “It has to be here somewhere.” 
It is starting to get dark, the sky a deep purple.  The stadium lights blare down on you.  Felix uses his phone flashlight to beam extra light at the ground.  The only time he stops grumbling is when the noise in the stadium changes, the concert clearly beginning.  He takes time out of his busy searching schedule to give you a mean smile. 
“When we find those keys,” you say, “I’m handcuffing you to that railing over there and leaving you to freeze to death in your stupid tank top.”
“It’s not a tank top,” he says.  “It’s a t-shirt.  I cut the sleeves off.  And when we find those keys, I’m handcuffing you to that railing over there and phoning the police.”
“Well then,” you say, “may the best key finder in a slutty tank top win.” 
“It’s not a tank top.”   
You continue to search.  It is utterly illogical that the keys would just vanish but the longer it takes, the more concerned you get.   It just doesn’t make sense!  Things don’t just disappear!  The keys landed somewhere over here, so they have to be…
You see it first.  You sit there in a stunned stupor.  You swat at Felix with your cuffed hand.
“What?” he says without looking at you.  You continue to slap him until he forces your hand down, tangling your fingers with his.  “What!” 
You point.  He crowds in behind you to look over your shoulder.  You feel him exhale. 
“Please don’t tell me…”   
You both lean to look down the sewer drain.  He flashes his phone light over it.  Something silver glints back in the darkness. 
“Fuck!” Felix says.  He doesn’t stop there.  What follows is a string of cusses so unbelievably foul and complex that you honestly believe it should quality him for Pulitzer in poetry.  When he has exhausted every expletive in several different languages, he plops down on his ass and stares up at the sky with mute despondency.   
“So what happens now?” you ask.  “Do we fuck?”
“What?”  He looks at you with utter bewilderment.  “What the fuck?  Why would you suggest that?  What would that solve?”
“Nothing,” you say.  “But it would kill the time and couldn’t make things worse.” 
“You are insane,” he says.  “I am handcuffed to an insane person.” 
“Hey, ‘mate’, you were the one with the non-regulation handcuffs in the first place.  I could solve this problem real quick by phoning the authorities myself and saying some crazy guy put me in cuffs.” 
“I dare you,” he says.  “Try.”
“No,” you say.  And not just because you have a record with the police and they would never take your side.  But Felix doesn’t need to know that.  Well, you suspect Felix is smart enough to guess it, but he doesn’t need the confirmation.  “I’d rather make you suffer,” you say instead.  You sit back in an insouciant slouch like the whole circumstance is beneath your attention.  “Figure it out, pretty boy.” 
“Well,” he says, “apparently if you break your wrists then you can force them through the cuffs.”
“Ew!” You push him in the middle of his chest.  He doesn’t fall, but he does glare at you.  “We’re not doing that!  What a stupid plan!  You’ve been guzzling the hair dye fumes, buddy.  Think of a plan that doesn’t involve injury, thank you.” 
“I didn’t want to do this,” Felix says with another put-upon sigh, “but fine.  I have another pair at home so the keys—”
“Wait,” you interrupt.  “I thought someone gave you the cuffs today?  Why do you have another key at home?”
“I have another pair,” he repeats, “of the same handcuffs.”
“You—”
“Already own a pair, yes, move on.”  He aggressively pushes hair out of his eyes.  “He clearly bought it from the same place so my key should work for this one too.”
“So despite your uppity school boy routine, you do own non-regulation handcuffs and not just as a joke.  Wow, Felix.”  You giggle helplessly.  “Be careful or I might start to like you.” 
He is glaring at you, no surprise, but the tips of his ears blush pink. 
“Let’s just go,” Felix says.  “The sooner I get you off, the sooner I can forget about your existence.”
“You can get me off as fast or slow as you like—ahh!” 
Once more, the secret superman is manhandling you onto your feet.  Without pausing for breath, he turns and marches away.  You are forced to stumble behind his swift strides, your hands swinging close enough that your fingertips brush every so often.   
“How do I know you’re not gonna murder me?” you ask.
“You don’t,” he replies.
“How do you know I’m not gonna murder you?” 
“I don’t.”  He sounds more annoyed than afraid.  “But it sounds better than being cuffed to you forever.  I’ll take my chances.  Come on.” 
“Not like I have a choice,” you grumble. 
He comes to an abrupt halt and you crash into him with a sharp exhale.  He grabs your hand and tugs you close. You blink at him with surprise while he tips his head in that studious way.
“You’re right,” he says. “You don’t.  In fact, it’s almost nice, you forced to finally do what I’m asking.  If you’re not careful, it might even make me like you.” 
It is so cold and sarcastic. 
It gets you so hot. 
Seriously, what is with your stupid brain?  How does it cross the wires of fear and desire like that?  Felix is speaking at you with that deep, dark, nasty voice of his and your heart should be skipping beats in concern, not because you think he’s sexy when he’s being a bitch.  
You hide it from him well enough, glaring at him like he glared at you.  He just snorts and shakes his head. 
“What?” you ask. 
“Interesting,” he replies.  “Very interesting.”   
“What?”
“Nothing.”  He smiles politely, for a moment looking like the unassuming pretty boy you thought he was.  He bats his long eyelashes at you, smiles a coy smile, and squeezes your hand.   “Come on,” he says.  “We tried this your way and it got us in trouble.  Time to be a good girl and do it my way.  No, stop, don’t say anything.  Be quiet.  Just walk.  Let’s go.” 
You stumble when he tugs you after him.  Your mouth is hanging open yet again.   
You are proud to say that in your many years of bad girl shenanigans, you have never truly met your match.  You’ve played pretend a few times, let a couple losers think they won, if only because you liked the game of it.  But no one has ever really taken control.  No one has ever really beat you.  No one has ever come close. 
No one.  Until today. 
You glare at the back of Felix’s head, brain stampeding as fast as your heart.   Because finally, you’ve found him, your perfect match.  Lashed to you through the metal manifestation of fate’s red string. 
You didn’t know what game you were playing before, but now you do.
And you’re going to win.  
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romypearl · 13 days
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The Queen's Pawn - Regina George/Oblivious!Reader | II
Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven
Summary: Everyone is interested and obsessed with Regina George, after all, she is the queen of the North Shore, so why does Y/N barely look at her? The new student, oblivious to her existence, intrigues and irritates the blonde at the same time. And she doesn't know how to deal with it.
Classification: Fluff
Warnings: Slight internalized homophobia
Word count: +2200
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Unrevised
She's always liked strawberries. Sweet, soft and tickling the roof of mouth. And, coincidentally, every now and then it turns pink.
Like the remnants of ice cream that hang around the corner of Y/N's plump lips.
It's hard to ignore, is what Regina tells herself as she turns away, trying to find a random fixed point to distract her. What proves to be more than impossible, out of the corners of her eyes she watches a little speech about Greek culture, something about Stoicism and a guy called Zeno, she doesn't really know, can't pay attention in the long words, only and exclusively in that spot. How could the Miss Perfect and Retainer of All Knowledge miss something so silly? The blonde huffs and crosses her arms in frustration, how has no one seen this yet? The Plastics seemed indifferent, pretending to pay attention to the matter while typing messages, knowing that their respective partners would do all the work for them and be grateful. She had no such luck. When Mrs. Blake, inspired by the... variety of grades, announced that she was going to pair up for assignments, she was sure that had guaranteed a top mark and a pat on the back for the minimal effort, equivalent to a zero. It would have been like that, if she hadn't made Karen switch papers to have Y/N as partner. After all, if she's so clever could easily get an A for both, but it backfired.
"What the hell kind of word is Eudaimonia?" she finally asks, frowning in confusion.
"Did you pay attention to anything I said?"
"All the things you say are very boring." Regina shrugs and turns so that they're face to face "Just like you."
She waits for some reaction, ever since they started studying about an hour ago Regina teases her and pulls all the strings in search of the right one, the one that will snap her out of the calm state of mind or hit her in some way. Nothing. She's rather unreachable. And, just like the other times, totally ignores the petty comment.
"But..." she hates doing it, every lousy second "Can you tell me what it is?"
"Right! For the last time..." Y/N settles back in chair and takes another spoonful of ice cream to mouth, thinking about how to summarize what she's been trying to say for a long time "Eudaimonia is a term from Greek philosophy that means a state of happiness and inner well-being. In literal translation it is "the state of being inhabited by a good daemon, a good genius"."
"Daemon?" I'm getting more and more lost "Did the Greeks believe in that?"
"No, it's daemons, not demons." the newbie's monotonous tone becomes animated as she starts talking, which makes Regina's heart skip a beat and she doesn't like it "In Greek mythology, they were spiritual beings who occupied an intermediate place between gods and humans, they could be either benevolent or malevolent..."
Then another speech begins, this time she tries to pay attention, but gradually the words blur into disconnected sentences and all she can focus on is how they sound on the girl's lips, how she pronounces them, her tongue curling between pearly teeth, the soft sound and, still, that damn ice cream. She tries to remember the last time she ate one, it seems like months, maybe years. What did it taste like? Overly sweet and sickly? Smooth and addictive? Why did her mother have to interrupt them and offer a dozen options? And why did she have to choose just that? Tempting. Lovely. Irresistible.
Y/N gasps in surprise and freezes in place as she suddenly feels something soft pressed against the corner of her mouth, thumb rubbing something that is apparently resisting coming out and her eyes meet sky blue irises, staring at her obstinately. The touch is long, almost purposeful, and they don't realize they're holding breath, unaware of their surroundings, too caught up in each other to notice the curious gazes of the two lackeys.
To everyone's surprise, including her own, Regina rubs the stain, picking up some of the gloss in the process, and brings to her lips, sucking it off. She has to hold back a groan and fight against her body to keep composure, pretending not to be shaken by her own impulsive, totally thoughtless, act.
"If my face was so dirty, you could simply have warned me." she says after a long, thoughtful pause, unable to find any conceivable reason except that "But I appreciate your gesture, it was really kind."
Kind? Has anyone, at any time in life, used that word to refer to her? Maybe her dad, once, just after Kylie was born and before they lost control completely. But there was nothing kind about what she had done, quite the opposite.
"Do you want more?" the blonde points to the almost empty bowl, anxious to mask the situation quickly.
"No, thanks!"
"How about Doritos?"
"I think I've eaten too much junk food today, it can't be good for me." Y/N jokes and opens a big smile, making cheeks stand out along with dimples that are almost imperceptible to inattentive eyes.
"We have strawberries." she says immediately, not stopping to think about those soft lips around the red fruit. When Gretchen looks at her in confusion and frowns, trying to subtly point, the plan comes back to mind and she decides to put it into practice "Also blueberries, raspberries, blackberries. Whatever you like, sweetie."
"You really like berries."
"You can't blame me..." Regina leans on the table, one hand on chin, long eyelashes batting slowly and a smirk, the same one that has won over every boy she's ever wanted "When is your color."
"What do you mean?" the other asked, without even looking up from the papers, missing all the theatrics.
"Red is your color..."
"My favorite color is yellow." she finally abandons the notes, only to find George defeated in front of her, about to slam her head on the glass table to get out of this nightmare "Can I use your bathroom?"
"Of course!" Regina snorts and points towards the corridor "Second door on the right, don't get lost."
Secretly, George hopes, wishes, that she really would get lost so that she could finally have the opportunity to guide her through something, or simply talk to her without two ticks on their backs. When she wants to, Gretchen can be very... clingy and insistent, often taking the brunette as a side effect, not unexpected considering how insecure she is about herself and the stability of her position in the hierarchy of North Shore, a drone that takes pride of function. Most of the time it's acceptable, in fact her presence barely matters to the queen bee in ordinary situations, but now all she wants is for the two of them to disappear at the snap of a finger.
"Karen, Gretchen, I need you to do me a favor." Regina is direct, in a casual tone.
"Of course! What do you need?" Wieners replies promptly, always eager to please.
"Can you go to the convenience store and get some Redbulls?" she smiles and stands up, taking one of the credit cards out of the purse, tossing it for them to take "All the flavors you can find."
"Now?"
"Yes, now. And get some more ice cream too."
They exchange glances, but don't dare deny Regina anything, even if it means half an hour's walk "Right, we're going."
The pair get up and leave quickly, holding their tongues to avoid questioning her about the sudden request, nor about what seems to be an interest in the newbie. Right from the first day, they listed her as a loser, with no social sense and who no one would have the courage to touch without a ten-foot pole, so they didn't understand why she insisted on winning her over. And they had no idea that she would have her as a partner in history and now visiting the George mansion.
Regina smiles triumphantly. The living room is finally quiet and she can turn her attention completely to the plan, she didn't feel shy or pressured to succeed around them, but didn't have all the attention from Y/N as she can have without silly questions and random celebrity gossip. It's the perfect moment.
She stares at herself in the mirror above the fireplace and fixes the smallest details of appearance so that she looks flawless.
"Gina!" her mother calls out from the kitchen, walking briskly into the room, and she rolls her eyes, before feeling blood run cold at the sight of her companion "What a adorable girl! She even offered to help me in the kitchen."
"Mom..." she mutters between teeth, trying to keep composed as her mother steps forward, arms around Y/N's shoulders "She's here to study."
"Oh, of course, of course! Studying is important." June says with a mischievous smile and finally lets her go "Studying what? Human anatomy?" and winks suggestively at her daughter, causing a wave of embarrassment and annoyance.
"Mom!" Regina exclaims, face burning with embarrassment, hoping that the girl won't pay any attention to her mother. At least she didn't offer condoms like last time, which didn't embarrass her like it does now "It's history."
"And philosophy." Y/N adds.
"A lot less interesting, but still important." the woman continues, not letting herself be put down, and turns to the visitor "Darling, would you like something to drink? Juice? Lemonade? More ice cream?"
Y/N, not at all affected by the expansive and slightly invasive personality, nods and opens a shy smile "A juice would be great, thank you."
"Perfect!" June hurries off to the kitchen, but not before taking one last meaningful look at her firstborn, who blushes visibly.
Regina sighs heavily and sits down at the table, this time next to her classmate, trying to regain control of the situation.
"Sorry about that. Sometimes my mom is a bit much."
"It's okay!" Y/N replies, settling into the soft chair, and goes back to concentrating on the notes scattered across the surface. In an almost imperceptible movement, she adjusts her glasses, which the blonde hadn't even noticed were resting on the top of head, and puts them on face, completely transforming her appearance "You're lucky."
It's Regina's turn to gasp, barely feeling the surprised sound escape between her lips. She'd deny it to anyone who asked if she thought the girl was beautiful, deny it to death, but there's something differently captivating that prevents her from lying now. The lenses enhance the Y/E/C eyes, making them more penetrating, as if she could see into the soul through them. The sight makes the older's heart race and her palms sweat, having to concentrate not to let it show, let alone appear enchanted.
"Do you wear glasses?"
"Yes, for years, but I was trying to get used to contact lenses." the newbie says, adjusting the frame correctly, sighing with relief "Which turned out to be a disaster."
"They look... good on you." she comments, trying to sound casual and not too anxious, failing miserably as she stares "Your eyes are beautiful."
"Thank you!" Y/N finally lifts her face and catches the queen bee with a simple glance behind the lens along with the amused smile, rare occasion, the same one Janis gets "But they don't work."
Regina laughs at the witty response, finding her perspicacity and humor interesting, very different from what surrounds her in everyday life. She's not afraid to make a joke about herself, when any of the trio would rather fight a bear than do such a thing, making themselves the material for silly and light-hearted jokes. Y/N seems to be completely oblivious to the effect she is causing, Regina's flushed cheeks being nothing more than the result of the warm weather, the friendly laughter aimed at everyone and the hospitality something routine, perhaps an apology for the not so pleasant first meeting. All the compliments, overly embellished and full of hidden intentions, simple acts of politeness, so she remains unaffected and continues to read the manuscripts, without giving the blonde what she so desperately wants.
"You know, the text isn't going to write itself." she laughs and points to the long-forgotten laptop "And I've already made it clear that I'm not going to do everything myself."
With a disbelieving nod, Regina goes back to work, trying to ignore the signals her own body gives off in the presence of the other. It's hard not to be affected by the sweet perfume emanating from inviting skin, the taste of ice cream she wants to try again, the way she seems so at ease and unimpressed in her house, lips puckering as she encounters a paragraph incomprehensible at first reading and now pushing up the stubborn glasses that insist on slipping down her nose. God, all of this is messing with Regina's head in a way she can't explain, there are no plans that could infiltrate all the sinful thoughts that invade her with this privileged view.
She forces herself to concentrate on the task in hand, which tingles as she feels their arms lightly touching, but a part of her desperately craves more of these moments of closeness, even if it means ignoring the voice of reason that screams in her mind that she's not a dyke and wouldn't be for Y/N. It's just a fucking plan. Nothing more than that.
Taglist: @reginassweetheart @chaengluva @avelynpye @bianchiniomg @royalityofmultifandom @lottiematthewsceo @notjaexiee @mayles @l1lass @bridkesby @newyork1432
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youremyheaven · 3 months
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The Ugliness of Venus
every planet is associated with certain key themes but being under that planetary influence means to experience its very opposite. the extremes of anything is a meeting point for its opposite.
venus is the planet associated with love, beauty, harmony etc therefore it is unsurprising that venusian influence also subjects one to cruelty, ugliness, disharmony, violence and malevolence.
TW: this post will contain mentions of sexual harassment, rape, violence, murder, massacre, genocide, death, suicide among other things so please beware!!!
in my observations I have often found that Venusian natives are often cruel, callous, ugly (i mean this to refer to their actions/behaviour and not just unconventional appearance because "beauty" is a sum of appearance and traits- what we call Venusian refinement) hurtful, jealous and utterly lacking the charisma and hospitality for which Venus is known.
it is disturbing to think of how soooo many well known and notorious sex offenders have HEAVY Venusian influence in their charts. think of any celebrity who has had a sex scandal and they usually have Venusian placements. it's intriguing that no other planet shows up as much (in my personal observations).
Why is Venus so brutal, cruel and embracing of the darkness/ugliness of humanity?
All 3 Venus nakshatras, Bharani, Purvaphalguni & Purvashada are Ugra (meaning cruel or brutal, this is a 7 category classification in vedic astrology) nakshatras.
Ugra naks are known to be action-oriented go-getters and people who are very self-motivated and determined. Any quality can manifest in good or bad ways, so the shadow aspect of this determination and motivation is often ruthlessness, callousness, selfishness and arrogance.
This is also the reason why Venusian naks suffer. Venus seeks refinement, so an individual who does not filter out their own darkness but instead indulges in it, is inviting wrath. More than any other planet, Venus punishes its natives quite harshly and publicly. So many people who have been known to be horrible people, have been exposed, shamed and punished publicly have Venus influence.
Venus energy must be handled with care. Since Venus is love, it has a quality where it loves blindly, completely and without judgement but discretion and judgement are necessary in life. It is not good to be absolutely consumed by someone or something without considering the good and evil inherent in it. This makes Venus natives prone to evil simply because they don't see it as such. They think of it as the depths of their understanding of love, beauty and harmony. Beauty in its extreme however is grotesque, its ugliness, its frightening. Think of all those IG models who have the same face, there is a blandness to their cartoonish perfection to their proportions, it fails to evoke feeling, it fails to be memorable because true beauty is distinct and flawed, its intensity, depth and exaggerated proportions because Venus is not mild or lukewarm, it like to go overboard. Think of Angelina Jolie, her big forehead, large cheekbones, strong jaw, big protruding eyes, its a face that calls attention to itself, its not simple or readily accessible, its the opposite of the IG face where beauty is reduced to ordinary everyday blandness. True beauty is individuality.
Venusian natives are often preoccupied with good and evil, the holy and demonic, heaven and hell, this emanates from a deep understanding of contradictions and the need for their existence. Opposites are an illusion, everything is one. Goodness in its extreme is evil and the extremes of evil touches upon goodness.
So now I'll discuss certain specific examples:
Mao Zedong- Purvashada Rising
He was responsible for the deaths of close to 40 million people who died due to starvation, forced labour and others executed by the state due to their opposition of its policies.
Saddam Hussein- Bharani Sun, Venus in Revati (exalted)
Him and his party used violence, killing, torture, execution, arbitrary arrest, unlawful detention, enforced disappearance, and various forms of repression to control the population. Kurdish people were systematically persecuted and massacred using tear gas.
Hussein was publicly executed for committing crimes against humanity.
Hitler- Purvashada stellium (Moon, Jupiter and Ketu), Mercury and Venus in Bharani
I need not elaborate on who Hitler was and what he did bc we're all very familiar with him but yeah he was a Venusian. He died by suicide.
Stalin- Purvashada Mercury Amatyakaraka
I do not wish to elaborate on Soviet war crimes but Stalin had millions of people die, from starvation, torture, indentured labour etc
R Kelly- Purvashada Sun & Mercury
He is a pedophile and convicted sex offender
Marilyn Manson- Purvashada Sun
He's been accused of assault and rape on more than one occasion.
Idi Amin- Purvashada Sun
Idi Amin was popularly known as "The Butcher of Uganda." Amin overthrew an elected government in Uganda with a military coup, using lessons from the British colonial army. He declared himself president and ruled ruthlessly from 1971-1979. Once in power, Amin started mass executions of the Acholi and Lango tribes. In 1972 Amin forced 80,000 Asians to leave the country, which caused the economic collapse of the country since many were business owners. It’s estimated that through his rule, Amin killed at least 300,000 civilians.
Elon Musk- Purvaphalguni Moon
Sexual misconduct charges, labour law violations, treating his employees like trash and being an insufferable asshole on Twitter among other things. Nobody makes $100 billion without exploiting 100s of millions of people.
Jimmy Saville- Purvaphalguni Moon, Mars in Bharani amatyakaraka and Ketu in Purvashada
He was a pedophile who abused numerous children over the span of 50yrs
Peter Townshend- Purvaphalguni Jupiter & Rising, Ketu in Purvashada
He was found trying to access child porn sites
Chris Brown- Bharani Sun & Moon
He's abused several women, most famously, Rihanna
Here's some examples of people who have risen to prominence by playing ruthless people.
Kathy Bates- Mars in Purvaphalguni amatyakaraka
She is best remembered for playing the psychotic nurse in Misery
Anthony Hopkins- Purvashada Sun
He is best known for playing serial killer Hannibal Lecter in Silence of the Lambs
I know this is a very polarising topic and to any Venusians reading this, I sincerely do not wish to spread hate or cause harm, I am only trying to point out some of the things I have noticed. Does this mean every other Venusian you encounter is a serial killer in disguise? No Are all Venusians bad people? Also no. I thought it would be interesting to shed some light on the darker side of Venus which is seldom addressed if at all. Please do not take any of these observations too seriously and do not use astrology as a tool to propagate hatred towards yourself or others.
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comradekatara · 2 months
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The hate that aang gets in the fandom is, uniquely, buddhaphobic. Trying to point out to racist ATLA fans that the air nomad genocide is based directly off the very real tibetan genocide is beyond frustrating alone. Pointing out that aang and the avatar are based off the tulku system is a whole other thing too...
There's a really specific type of anti Asian racism that Buddhists and Buddhist themed characters get online. Which interprets Buddhists as backwards, misogynistic and stupid. Alot of the time also insisting they are being selfish or in some way malevolent.
I have no idea how to constructively word this beyond that aangs hate online is anti Asian and buddhaphobic.
right. the way people talk about aang, whether it’s to criticize or even simply trivialize his pacifism and other cultural values, to dismiss the effects of genocide, to joke about genocide (don’t even get me started on that one post that jokingly called aang a holocaust victim, as if that isn’t egregiously disrespectful to literally everyone implicated), or to otherwise mock or demonize him for displaying cultural values that do, in fact, have a very explicit real-world analogue is actually vile. aang may never actually say “im a buddhist” in the show, but it’s still evident to anyone with a brain. he also does call himself “a simple monk.” do they think he means christian monk??? are people just out here like “where’s his tonsure!!!!” because it’s incredibly obvious that aang’s genocide is meant to reflect the tibetan genocide; whether or not you think it’s handled well, that’s what it is. and people either don’t know, or don’t care. either way, i think people simply lack an understanding of how imperialism functions and the ideologies that underlie it, because if they did, they’d all be talking about this show very differently. but you’re right. even if people “only” hate aang because he “gets in the way” of the “most obvious” ship, they are nonetheless insistent on using post hoc justifications to rationalize why their critiques of aang are logical rather than a mere preference…by nonetheless demonstrating how their preferences are, in fact, deeply rooted in cultural bias and eminently disrespectful to his real world counterparts. because it’s not actually about shipping. when shipping becomes a platform through which to propagate culturally disrespectful notions steeped in colonial bias, it no longer matters which ship has more chemistry, but rather becomes yet another a vehicle through which the implementation of genuinely violent and harmful ideas is facilitated. and it’s sickening.
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alright let’s go over the junior year clues we got in the rick perry documentary thing (disclaimer: i’ve definitely missed stuff, but i think i got the big things, feel free to reblog and add with stuff that i missed though)
[at the bottom of this post I've typed out the decipherable words that plan out some combats and NPCs from Rick's screen. it's the most interesting thing but it's super long so it's at the bottom under a cut]
We get a blurry look at some minis. I’m seeing at least the PC’s minis, as well as what looks like Baxter the Gryphon.
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There’s some major shots of this battle. Includes a Baby mini, the Hangvan with some kind of laser canon on top, a stingray-esque monster that is likely Night Yorb (see below), something that looks like maybe an ice elemental or the crystal (see below), and some large bugs and shirtless people. Clearly set in the Red Wastes. Detailed info of the planning for this battle below.
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One of the shots had reference boards in the background. One is clearly for the Hangvan (see earlier screencaps), but the other is unclear. It looks like it includes some sort of tennis or tennis-adjacent sport.
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Confirmation that Mordred Manor is a set piece.
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Finally, one shot showed Rick’s computer screen with some critical info about planning. I’ve put what I’ve been able to decipher below the screencaps. and under a cut, as it’s very long.
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EP. 701 DEFEATING NIGHT YORB CHASE (RED WASTES) Hangvan, Night Yorb is giant flying Manta Ray thing? Rainbow road, being chased by night yorb while trying to throw crystal into portal. Crazy gun on rough [roof] that gorgug made, I can’t get a lock on it. Just need one last final thing to defeat night yorb. Red wastes, chasing the night yorb around, flying bats teleporting onto rough [roof] of van, NPC allies, Balthazar, two other cars they are in contact with, tiefling bakers or sidekicks are reveals Stormchaser twister, trying to get a lock onto it, Night Yorb is escaping the world. Maybe night yorb gets away, why didn [didn’t] you get it? And Balthazar died? Murph invented the Night Yorb. Don’t fuck with the Night Yorb. Exploded out of riz’s chest, needs to be dumb as hell. it’s the jabberwocky, it burbled, hugely terrifying, Horrifying cursed thing. Unending night for two months. Dragon sized, bigger than the Hang Van, 30’ wingspan Stars and moon. While the night yorb flies it is night and not day. Not malevolent force, but everything on earth will die Have giant ghost busters canon, Honey I shrunk the kids cannon Driver, mechanic, gunner, navigator (using SW 5e mechanics) Hang Man - Fabian motorcycle Tether is attached to night yorb, either magic or harpoon Night Yorb could out pace them. Could smash van. Cultist of the night yorb appearing on the road, mad max style ”The night yorb is our god” Red Wastes Cultists: Riding skeleton horses, classic fantasy cultists, Manta ray night yorb masks Sword and Sorcery vibes, MUSCELY, oiled, black leather, rings Shadow of Night Yorb Tether must be reeled in over 4 rounds Success Meter - 4 rounds or it escapes Pop up cultists in the middle of the road 4 maps Straight away, gully bridge crossing, rap popping up, giant portal It’s going to another world but if it gets away thats just as bad Ayada [Ayda?] thing built in. Chekov’s gun. Gun has cool helix of energy that is getting cranked in. Gun is on the back and on the hood is a binding circle that Adaine does. Cultists are making the portal. YORBIES if they catch it, it gets bound into the paint of their van Gun is gorgug’s stuff and circle is adaine 6 cultist perusing them, 4 or 5 at the portal, 1 or 2 back up Single person traps, Vulture with cactus MINIS: Night Yorb - Giant shadowy manta ray, inky black dripping, made of liquid, different underbelly, deep indigo or bone white. Made of shadows, dripping aberration, flat plane, long tail, two weird eyes coming off front on stalks. Second set of PCs TERRAIN: Red Wastes! NOTES: favorite crazy dnd monsters, beholder, [unclear word, bu…ette] Fungal Black light portal battle! Dr. Strange battle set, pseudo pods of elder pod night yorb, day glow run fragments, purple stone castle night yorb temple, floor is octopus made of shadows. Starting mid battle. [blank sections] PROJECTION: Counter here of some kind?
POTENTIAL LOCATIONS Basrar’s icecream shop? Mordred Manor Seacaster Manor [crossed out] Strong Tower Luxury Apartments SAT Prep class [screen cuts off]
EP. 704 DENTENTION [detention] STEALTH CHASE SEQUENCE/ QUIET LIBRARY/ Aguefort chase sequence? Combine sets interrupted by having to make it past a hall monitor Underwater? Books suspended floating, everything is affected by water Don’t wake daddy? Start in Library to get to Aguefort’s office Hallway Classroom Bathroom Lockerroom [blank sections] DYNAMIC ELEMENT: Water
CONCEPTS Dicks! SPIRITUAL GUARDIANS - Full service on minis, summons, etc Psycadelic fungal giant, black light, trippy, beautiful Revisiting old set [screen cuts off]
[fyi everything past this point was very blurry, so I could only decipher pieces here and there]
EP. 706 OUTDOOR CONCERT COACHELLA Music feature? Flaming [?], giant [?] [???] Fig and Gorgug on stage [???] Lighting effects, [???] Floating stage or something [???] Demons? PROJECTION: Lasers?
NPCS/ VILLAINS/ MONSTERS/ ETC. PORTER CLIFFBREAKER is secret servant of nightmare king tactical battlefield combat that [?] 2-3 times larger than PCs LED buried inside him [???] Porter was [???] basketball player [screen cuts off]
[the rest was too blurry to make out anything other than a blank section titled ROLE PLAY/ NEUTRAL BOARD and a section that seems to be for EP. 708 and says EXTRA with some blurry words after it]
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ml-nolan · 5 months
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Coffee in bed with Dreamling
You got it! T-rating for this one.
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When his eyes open, Hob is greeted by high ceilings swirling with kaleidoscopic clouds. It takes no time at all for him to remember where he is. Dream has done a lot to make him feel comfortable and safe in The Dreaming.
"Hello, Hob."
That includes making sure to be at his side every time he wakes in this behemoth of a bed. Sometimes Dream takes the time to lie down beside him, with or without clothes, depending on whether he feels like seduction is necessary. It usually isn't with Hob—he's pretty much game at any time. 
Today though, Dream is perched on the side of the bed, close enough to run his fingers through Hob's hair. It's nice that there's sort of a middle ground for physical affection these days. In the beginning it was a bit hot-and-cold, with Dream either demanding to be ravished or fully disappearing for days on end. But the joy of having been friends first is that, eventually, they both missed sharing the simpler, less heated moments. 
"Is there anything you require this morning, Hob Gadling?"
"Hmmm…" This isn't a question he ever waves off. He's never understood why people play coy little games to be polite. He knows that here in The Dreaming, he can pretty much have whatever he wants. Why not take advantage of that? "Don't suppose you could get us a cup of coffee."
Dream snorts of the very idea that there would be something he couldn't provide. It's subtle, but very cute. Not that Hob would dare tell him that (well, not right now, anyway).
"How would you prefer it?"
"Just a regular cup of joe, a little cream, no sugar." 
Hob can't say it's not delightful to be waited on by a king. To be indulged, more like. With the hint of a smile, Dream goes very still, and then there is a cup in his hand. It's gorgeous in an artisanal sort of way, with starbursts of gold leaf where cracks used to be. He hands it to Hob, its temperature cool enough to hold in his hands.
"Where'd you get this one?" Hob says, pushing himself up to sit against the cool wooden headboard. The coffee is perfect—roasted but not burnt, creamy but not too thick.
"From the dream of a cafe owner who lives in a seaside village," Dream says.
"Uh oh. So does that mean I've stolen some poor sod's coffee?"
Dream turns his head ever so slightly, which he always does when Hob says something that he thinks is silly.
"This dreamer is much like you," Dream says, voice colored with affection. "He is resourceful enough to make the best of the unexpected."
Hob sets his cup on the stone window ledge beside the bed. "Uh oh. I'm not going to lose you to him, am I?"
Anyone would clock the smile on Dream's face now. He shakes his head. "You are still singular to me, Hob Gadling. I would have no one else. Besides," his expression drifts slightly, "his existing partner figures heavily in his dreams. I would be loath to interfere."
With a thoughtful sound, Hob scoots closer to Dream, straining up to kiss him. Obligingly, Dream leans into it to meet him halfway, letting his soft, cool lips linger on Hob's. There's a flutter in Hob's stomach, the same way there always is when he wakes up under Dream's attentive gaze.
They break from the kiss. "How long will that coffee stay warm?" Hob jerks his head toward where he'd left the gilded cup on the windowsill.
Dream's eyes flash, darkening from sea green into that clear black sky. He sets a hand on Hob's chest and eases him onto his back.
"As long as is necessary."
--
This piece was brought to you by these Soft Prompts. I've got a lot of great ones in the queue, but please feel free to send an ask for Sandman, The Magnus Archives, or Malevolent ships (or any of my OCs)!
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autisticlancemcclain · 5 months
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wip tease number god knows, truly
The phone doesn’t ring for more than two seconds. Which is crazy, because New Altea is an unfathomably huge number of lightyears away and also Lance’s phone signal is perpetually garbage.
“Ahoy,” greets Allura when the line connects, because she is strange.
“Ahoy,” Lance greets back, because he loves her.
They sit in silence. He can hear, vaguely, the clicking sounds of compacts being opened and closed, and the particular humming noise she always makes when she’s putting on eyeliner.
It occurs to Lance, for the first time, that they have known each other so long and so closely that to the outsider, their relationship might be quite strange. The thought makes him smile widely.
“So,” he says.
Allura hums again. Deliberately, this time.
Lance takes another long time to answer, digging the toe of his boots into the ground. He spies a worm wiggling in the newly churned dirt and bends down to pluck it, writhing, out of its hovel. He quickly snaps a picture and sends it to Pidge with the caption, ‘didn’t know you were on Earth today.’ She responds with a grotesquely realistic custom clown emoji.
“There is a possibility. Perhaps. That I do not actually want to be a farmer.”
“No shit,” replies the Queen of New Altea And Also Lots Of Other Things Lance Can’t Remember, blithely.
Lance sniffs haughtily. “This is quite the revelation, you know. I’ve had four panic attacks about it.”
“You have an anxiety disorder. You had a panic attack about malevolent gut bacteria last week.”
“…This is true.”
“Also, whenever I feel you need to be humbled, I ask your mother to send me stuff from your childhood. There’s a video in particular I enjoy of you sobbing about the prospect of being anything but an astronaut. You looked at a cornfield and threw up. You were four, I believe.”
Lance does, actually, vaguely remember that. Well, he remembers Luis writhing on the floor, weeping with laughter, and kicking him in the shins. He also remembers the cornfield, if only because he distinctly remembers lobbing a piece of corn at Luis’ head, also.
He was a very expressive child. Also, Luis is a turd.
“I am entitled to a period of self-reflection,” Lance says primly.
“It has been an Entire Year, knobhead.”
“I needed time to collect my thoughts in peace and on Earth. I died, you know.”
“Oh, did you,” says Allura drily. “I wonder how that went.”
Lance’s smile widens. He lets her have this one. “Fuck farming, okay. I’m bored. I love my family to pieces but I need to be closer to drama. Give me a job.”
“That is a garbage application, Leandro.” He hears the distinct sound of a nail polish bottle being shaken. “I should hire someone more qualified.”
“How about you hire deez nuts.”
“Hm,” she says, and he can hear her grinning. “On the other hand, I need a second in command who is unafraid to challenge me. You know, in case I grow corrupt with power.”
She pretends to deliberate for a moment.
“You’re hired. I’ll send someone to come pick you up tomorrow.”
“Is that someone going to be a hot, tall Altean in a slutty outfit?” Lance asks hopefully.
She can’t help a laugh. Lance grins triumphantly. “You’re fired.”
“Is that a yes?”
“I’ll think about it.”
She hangs up.
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ghostflowerdreams · 7 months
Text
Audio Drama Recommendations, Pt. III
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Click here for part one and here for part two. Recently, I've been drawing a lot, which gives me plenty of time to listen to audio dramas and podcasts. These are the ones I liked the most and found entertaining enough to recommend to others. This is not in any particular order, either.
The Green Horizon – is a sci-fi comedy drama created and written by Paul Walsh. It is sponsored by Faustian Nonsense, an indie entertainment network. It currently has three seasons, with each episode being about 20 - 30 minutes long, but later on it increases to 30 - 40 minutes. A fourth season is said to be coming out soon as well.
It is set in the year 2261, and it focuses on a ne'er-do-well Irish space captain and his rag-tag crew, as they traverse a war-torn Galaxy in search of fame and fortune. [ONGOING]
It was a little chaotic and rough at the beginning, but it does smooth out and become more polished. I can definitely tell that they up their game with the improved sound effects and production quality. The voice actors and the writing for the audio drama does an excellent job at bringing their characters to life, which made it very fun to follow along.
If you like Firefly, Red Dwarf, Orville, Cowboy Bepop, and so on then I think you may enjoy this too.
DERELICT – is a sci-fi narrative audio drama from award-winning science fiction author J. Barton Mitchell, and produced by Night Rocket Productions. It currently has one season titled FATHOM, which consist of 10 episodes with each one ranging from 40 mins to an hour, mostly the latter.
Something has been found at the bottom of Earth's ocean. An ancient artifact that can only be described as a giant door, inset into the sea floor. It becomes known as the Vault. A gigantic enigma, buried and forgotten...nineteen thousand feet down.
To study the artifact, the galaxy's most powerful corporation, Maas-Dorian, has built a massive, self-contained, secret laboratory base surrounding it, named FATHOM. It's objective: unlock the secrets of the artifact and discover what it holds.​ But some mysteries should remain buried. And some doors should never be opened... [ONGOING]
DERELICT started as the first project set up as a kickstarter. They produced one episode to entice backers, but then the pandemic happened, and they didn’t raise enough money for the rest of it. Instead, they worked on a prequel season called FATHOM. It's where the story really starts, and I highly suggest you listen to it before listening to "DERELICT E1 - Through the Gate."
I hope they redo the DERELICT's first episode because there's a bit of disconnection from it and FATHOM. For example, Sarah and Agent Blayne already know each other. She mentions it to the others, but the conversation they have with each other doesn’t make it seem that way.
Never mind. I apparently confused this Sarah with the Sarah in FATHOM. Can't blame me for thinking that when I heard the name Sarah and that she was already familiar with Agent Blayne.
Deviser – is a sci-fi horror audio drama created, directed, acted and produced by Harlan Guthrie. The same creator of Malevolent. It's a 7-part limited series, with each episode being about 20 mins long.
Son wakes up aboard a spaceship bound for earth in an effort to recolonize. What he discovers, however, will change everything he knows about his world and himself. [COMPLETED]
It's not for everyone, so please do not ignore the content warnings because there's graphic description of violence, self harm, body horror, gore, animal death/being hurt, and what not.
Victoriocity – is a detective comedy audio drama written by Chris and Jen Sugden, directed by Nathan Peter Grassi and produced by Dominic Hargreaves. It is an entirely independent production. It has two seasons, containing 13 episodes in total, and each one is about 30 to 45 minutes long. There's also a feature-length special and a up-coming third season with the help of a kickstarter.
It is 1887 in Even Greater London, an alternate steampunk Victorian London, where Queen Victoria reigns even after being assassinated eleven times, thanks to the wonders of modern science.
In this vast metropolis, Inspector Archibald Fleet and journalist Clara Entwhistle investigate a murder, only to find themselves at the centre of a conspiracy of impossible proportions. [ONGOING]
It's put together so well, and I see why people say it gives off strong Douglas Adams and Terry Pratchett vibes to it. So if you like their works, then I wouldn't be surprised to hear that you like this too.
Impact Winter – is an apocalyptic vampire audio drama created and written by Travis Beacham (Carnival Row, Pacific Rim). It has two seasons containing 22 episodes in total and each one is about 17 to 30 minutes long.
“They came after the impact and the firestorms. When the sun went dark. Like they’d been there all along. Just waiting.”
In the British countryside, a band of survivors forms a resistance in the fallout shelter of a medieval castle. Darcy is a battle-tested vampire hunter who is at the front line, leading the charge to save humanity. Meanwhile, her younger sister Hope wants life to return to normal so she can go above ground and know what it’s like to live again. And she just might be willing to risk it all. [ONGOING]
It has a stacked cast led by Holliday Grainger (Cinderella, Great Expectations), Esme Creed-Miles (Hanna, The Legend of Vox Machina), Liam Cunningham (Games of Thrones, Hunger), Himesh Patel (Station Eleven, Tenet), David Gyasi (Interstellar, Carnival Row), Caroline Ford (Carnival Row, Nekrotronic), Chloe Pirrie (Emma, Carnival Row), and Bella Ramsey (Games of Thrones, The Last of Us).
This reminded me a lot of the film 30 Days of Nights (2007) with a little bit of Reign of Fire (2002), which were both fun films to watch. I think if you like those two, especially the former, you'll enjoy this or at least be entertained by it.
A Voice From Darkness – is a scripted paranormal horror audio drama. It is written and produced by Jac Rhys. It currently has two seasons, containing 20 episodes in total and each one is about 20 to 30 minutes long. It also has 7 bonus voicemail episodes and 15 Patreon exclusive episodes which are longer than the main episodes. A third season in the works as well.
Join parapsychologist and radio broadcaster Dr. Malcolm Ryder as he helps those who suffer the supernatural, paranormal or otherworldly problems on his call-in radio show. It is also interspersed with segments, one of which is called 'Today In Odd America' that delves into the origins of a holiday, local traditions, and history. [ONGOING]
If you like Welcome To Night Vale then I think you'll like this too. A Voice From Darkness is a bit more serious and not as long-drawn as Night Vale was, with a perfect mix of storytelling and lore. It also reminds me a bit of The Magnus Archive too.
How i Died – is a mystery audio drama that brings a "new twist on the true crime genre." It is an Audiohm Media original production, co-starring Vince Dajani as Jon Spacer and Shaina Waring as Sheriff Fran Crowley. It currently has three seasons with 39 episodes in total, not including bonus episodes. Each episode is usually about 20 mins, give or take a few minutes.
Bodies are piling up in the strange town of Springfield, and forensic pathologist Jonathan Spacer intends to find out why. But, Jon isn’t without his own secrets… He can talk to the dead, for starters. [ONGOING]
Ooo, a character that can speak to the dead? It's always so interesting to see what they'll do with their ability and where the creators take them. This has been entertaining, but at times I do think they can do better in developing their characters a bit more. For example, I can count on one hand the number of times Crowley doesn't get angry. Though to be fair, Jon isn't an immediately likable character, but that does change the further you go...sorta.
The Amelia Project – is a comedy fiction audio drama created, written, directed, produced and edited by Philip Thorne and Øystein Ulsberg Brager for Imploding Fictions and The Fable and Folly Network. It currently has four seasons, with a fifth one on the way. There's about 72 episodes, not including prologue, special, and BTS episodes which would up the total to 122. Each episode also varies in length from 20 to 45 minutes long.
The Amelia Project is a secret agency that fakes its clients' deaths, then lets them reappear with a brand-new identity. A black comedy full of secrets, twists... and cocoa. The series starts as a succession of interviews with clients who want to fake their deaths, then slowly a larger narrative begins to emerge... Each episode tells its own story, but we recommend starting with Season 1. [ONGOING]
It was fun to listen to while I was drawing or washing the dishes. I could also follow along without becoming too distracted by it, either. I was worried it would be one of those that take a while to get to the main overall story, but thankfully it did not. It will definitely keep you entertained and interested to know what will happen next.
Community Cat News – is a neighborhood news show done from the perspective of cats. There's currently 13 episodes so far and each one varies from 5 to 12 minutes long.
Local News: The human is opening the fridge! Will we get a taste?
Foreign Affairs: What are those squirrels up to now?
Traffic: WHY is the bathroom door shut again?
Every episode is sponsored by Meow Meow Puffytail, Feline Rights Attorney, who is ready to sue your human for even the slightest inconvenience. [ONGONG]
It's cute, light-hearted, and funny. I didn't expect to enjoy this as much as I did. It even uplifted my mood.
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prince-kallisto · 7 months
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Crowley: A False Prophet and the Unholy Trinity
HEAR ME OUT, HEAR ME OUT. @overly-niche-twst makes amazing and funny memes, but as you all should know, even the memes aren’t immune from my theories. But the connection of Crowley and the “false prophet” hit me like a train. A false prophet? In a game where the religious symbolism runs rampant? And when digging into research, I was SHOOK at what I learned. I swear this is the worst rabbit hole I’ve ever gone through because of a MEME 😭
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In Biblical lore, a prophet is someone who receives a divine message from a supernatural source and must share the message with the rest of humanity. This message is often referred to as a “prophecy.”
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I’ve talked about Levan potentially having prophetic powers on here several times, but as a little recap, Lilia seems to hint at Levan’s uncanny foresight. Either he’s just an incredible master strategist, or Levan has powerful magic (perhaps Unique Magic, or just really good at astrology) related to seeing the future. For example, he SOMEHOW knew that Lilia and Malleus would attend NRC 500 years in the future, and taught Lilia and the other Fae a common language with humans in hopes of reuniting the Fae and humans in the future, like at NRC.
What makes me feel certain about this theory is that ravens in Greek mythology were related to Prophecy, because they were believed to be the bird of Apollo, the Greek god of prophecy. And Levan seems to be twisted from Diavolo, Maleficent’s Raven (unconfirmed but seems likely with info so far)
Technically, if the gift of prophecy was Levan’s UNIQUE Magic, it could count as a “supernatural” source, right? And if he taught and guiding the Fae with the information he saw from the future, Levan could technically be considered a prophet.
But what is a false prophet, and why do I believe Crowley is one?
(Disclaimer, I am not religious myself and am using Biblical texts from a purely analytical perspective. If you know better on this topic, want to add something/correct me, please let me know! Sorry for putting so many links here too haha, there’s just too much to talk about in one post!)
A false prophet is someone who falsely claims the gift of prophecy, or is speaking from the supernatural source of evil, typically the Devil. According to Biblical lore, the false prophet will present themselves as benevolent (Crowley “I am so kind” is that you) and weak, but have great power and evil. What I found very interesting was this line from the Bible:
“Beware of false prophets, who come to you in sheep's clothing but inwardly are ravenous wolves.”
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I’ve made theories regarding Crowley’s true nature many, many times before. My moots tease me for using this Rook screenshot so many times, but I genuinely believe Rook understands Crowley’s character.
Anyway, the TRUE enemy is one who watches from the periphery with a smile…something that Crowley always does. Always watching, but never seemingly acting. He lets everyone’s guard down by being useless, unreliable, and ridiculous, but he definitely has something up his sleeve. In Biblical lore, the wolf is considered a malevolent predator who feeds on the innocent. Like young and impressionable students, perhaps? I think it’s very interesting that Crowley refers to students as his eggs or chicks, like children that he’s “raising.” But a baby bird is one of the many symbols of innocence, and Yana Toboso herself has cryptically said how the repeated egg theme in TWST is a representation of how “Eggs are a good symbol of things that can never go back to how they were, once they have been broken.”
But what about the False Prophet? Well, I’ve recently made an analysis on how Crowley encourages the Overblots in every single book. As a little recap, he’s the one who suggests the magic duel against Riddle in Book 1, the Hall of Fame to Leona in Book 2, signs a contract with Azul in Book 3, abandons Yuu and also stirs Jamil’s hatred by making Kalim housewarden in Book 4, etc etc. He’s constantly leading these students astray in a very subtle manner. But I think he needs the Overblots to happen so Yuu can save them, so he can get the Overblot Crystals.
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Additionally, Lilia mentions how historical narrative have been “twisted” to suit someone’s agenda. And judging from how everyone thinks the Disney Villains were sources of good to look up to, the manipulation from Crowley may be more literal than we think.
And if Crowley is leading these people astray for a greater purpose/higher power, this technically makes him a False Prophet. It goes even deeper when you consider his cryptic words throughout the books, as if he is seeing the future. He knows where the students are when they’re talking about important things, he knows when STYX will break in…and as I mentioned, ravens are connected to the gift of prophecy.
And guess what? The False Prophet, according to Christian lore, is part of the Unholy Trinity. TWST has a slyly repeats the theme of three, and which can noticed in NRC’s logo that may represent the past, present, and future. BUT THATS NOT WHY I WAS FREAKING OUT-
Because what does the Unholy Trinity consist of?
The DRAGON
The ANTICHRIST
And the FALSE PROPHET
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In a previous theory examining religious symbolism with Meleanor and the Virgin Mary, I also concluded that Malleus Draconia is a representation of the Antichrist, especially because of the star imagery in TWST. Meleanor even refers to him as an “evil star” that would curse humanity.
But now I’m doubting this- I think I had it all wrong. Not about Meleanor being the Virgin Mary, but about who represents the Antichrist. But let me go over what the implications of the Unholy Trinity means first.
Edit: actually I never claimed Malleus was the antichrist at all in that post LMAO, I confused myself with the different names for Lucifer/Devil/Satan 😭😭😭 so technically I was right all along with claiming that Malleus is Lucifer in that post🤪🤪🤪🤪 I won’t edit out this mistake to avoid confusion in the reblogs
The Antichrist and the False Prophet are referred to as the “first and second beast,” who obey the DRAGON. But the Antichrist, aka the First Beast/Beast of the Sea, is described as “emerging from the abyss”
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MALLEUS’ TITLE IS LITERALLY THE RULER OF THE ABYSS. IM GONNA- BABXBSB
Edit: I’d like to add that the Bible describes this Abyss as an unfathomably deep, dark, and boundless place, often compared to the ocean and chaos. And recently in Book 7, Silver almost succumbed to the darkness…where there was no light, no people, nothing except darkness and blot. That is TWST’s version of the Abyss, and Malleus is the ruler of it! This religious symbolism has to be intentional
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I think the Antichrist actually GRIM. A supreme representation of evil thats said that appear at the END OF THE WORLD/APOCALYPSE. And if we recall the prologue, we see Grim in a horrible monster form in a shattered Mirror Chamber. An amalgamation from the Overblot Crystals, which is literally the condensed version of the Overblot, a representation of purely negative emotions.
And based on what text describes the First Beast as, he has “seven heads, appearance of a leopard, feet of a bear, and a mouth of a lion. The dragon gave him his power, his throne, and great authority.”
What’s even more interesting is that there’s an “Angel of the Abyss” known as Abaddon. His description intrigued me, as “king of a plague of locusts resembling horses with crowned human faces, women's hair, lions' teeth, wings, iron breast-plates, and a tail with a scorpion's stinger” Since this character is up to interpretation, some religious scholars say this character is the Antichrist. Again, it’s a wild amalgamation of features that sound like Grim.
The Second Beast/Beast of the Earth, aka the False Prophet, is said to rise from the earth (a metaphor for Hell perhaps) and force the world to worship the antichrist. That’s one of the definitions of the false prophet, as one who seeks to lure humanity astray alongside the Devil. Is this some crazy foreshadowing for what Crowley will do in the future?!
And once again using Biblical texts, this second beast “spoke like a dragon,” referring to his arrogance and connection to the Devil. It reminds me of Levan’s title as Ryūgan Duke Levan,” or 竜眼公レヴァーン , aka “Dragon-Eyed”
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Anyway. Back to the Dragon, it’s also referred to as the Serpent. Serpents in biblical lore are incredibly important- but are also very symbolic in TWST. I’ve made an post analyzing the serpents in NRC’s logo before, but as a recap, they’re also one of the symbols of rebirth in TWST. I’d like to add that snakes also considered symbols of Wisdom, which is fitting for “Sages Island.” Some religious scholars also consider the lying serpent in the Garden of Eden to be the “first false prophet.”
But the Ancient Serpent specifically represents the “Devil/Satan/the Dragon.”
The reason why I’m doubting Meleanor being the “Dragon” in this Unholy Trinity is because the Dragon attacks the WOMAN OF THE APOCALYPSE, AKA THE VIRGIN MARY 🏃‍♂️🏃‍♂️🏃‍♂️ IS MY MELEANOR THEORY COMING TRUE?!? ( I’m just being delulu but please humor me)
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But what’s even more interesting is that again in Revelations, it’s said an Angel with a “key to the Abyss and a chain” locks up the Ancient Serpent for 1000 years. Hm?? Malleus literally said that everyone would sleep for 1000 years in his Overblot. What’s interesting about the Angel is that he has the key to the ABYSS…is this Angel meant to be Silver?!? Silver, who has a glowing ring protecting him from the darkness, and heavily connected to a magical sword??? So he the Angel with the “key” to the Abyss, aka Malleus?
So if Crowley is the false prophet…there’s a high chance he’s behind the Overblots. And remember: the False Prophet will force the world to worship the Antichrist. Is this to foreshadow how Crowley will make the Twisted Wonderland world fall because of Grim?
So let me recap what I think this means:
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The Dragon- Malleus
The Antichrist- Grim
The False Prophet- Crowley
The Angel- Silver
The Virgin Mary- Meleanor
And you know what, let’s just throwing in the idea that Yuu is the Lamb that opens the Seven Seals, which marks the beginning of the apocalypse, and the Seven Angels/Trumpets are the Overblotters, WHY NOT. A theory to elaborate on for another day…perhaps it will be a series connecting the biblical apocalypse to TWST?
🏃‍♂️🏃‍♂️🏃‍♂️ANYWAY IF THE UNHOLY TRINITY THING IS INTENTIONAL IM GONNA SPONTANEOUSLY COMBUST
To Joy, I got really carried away with this theory, apologies if it sounds confusing, I did NOT mean it to go this far 😭😭😭 but I swear, that was a muse moment, your meme made ALL my brain cells connect for once and I feel like I’ve unearthed something important 🫡
Of course, let me just say that these parallels are not perfect (e.g Malleus being the Dragon despite Meleanor being the Virgin Mary) and some of these characters may better fit other Biblical figures better 🫡 But since I’m focusing on the Apocalypse part, I think that is idea is working, and I’d really like to delve deeper into research!
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txttletale · 7 months
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idk how to put this sorry if this comes off as rude/confrontational I'm not trying to be — when you say stories about forgiveness/reconciliation, do you mean more the type about forgiving & reconciling with family, or more generally (so like including - this isn't the best example but I can't think of any better rn - catra for example? where it's about being trapped in hurting people because of trauma and breaking out of that)? or is the thing you dislike more stories' framing of forgiveness as a moral imperative?
sorry if this doesn't make sense I'm just curious what you think bc you've raised some interesting points and would really like to see you elaborate on them
don't worry you don't come off as rude whatsoever! while i think my points apply broadly to how forgiveness is treated across media (rare actual example of cultural christianity) -- i obviously am not, like, against forgiveness or stories about forgiveness on principle. what i dislike about all the narratives about people forgiving their abusive parents is that:
like you said, it's always framed as a moral imperative. there is always an underlying assumption that forgiving the abuser is the 'right' and 'correct' thing to do, that not doing so would be wrong. this is tremendously insulting to survivors who have every right to not forgive their abusers!
in most of these narratives, the parent barely does shit to be forgiven. there's very often a narrative equivocation, in fact, between parent and child. like, sometimes the parent won't even be expected to apologize -- sometimes, even more grotesquely, both the parent and child apologize for their shared supposed 'wrongdoing'. this is also obviously insulting to survivors, who are not in any way responsible for their abuse or for having a poor relationship with their parents.
the reason why this in particular pisses me off so much is that it mirrors and in turn contributes to the cultural expectation on abuse victims in real life to maintain contact with their abusers, the constant casual pressure from everything from strangers to friends to acquaintances saying 'well, can't you just put it behind you?' or 'look, he's changed' or 'she's your mom' or 'you'll only have one chance to have a relationship with your siblings' or whatever the fuck. the sanctity of the family is a cardinal value across a lot of societies and this sanctity means a constant, neverending societal pressure to bow to sweeping abuse under the rug. i've seen many people i care about struggle deeply with feeling obligated to maintain relationships with family members who treat them like shit and make htem miserable every time they interact bc of exactly these sorts of sentiments being everpresent in their cultural environment. & these narratives always paint that sort of pressure as being well-founded and fair and ultimately for the better, which is absolutely repellent to me.
so, yeah. i am not against narratives where an abusive person actually confronts their actions and changes and repairs that relationship (that's another fucking thing, these narratives always put the onus and responsiblity on the character who was abused to forgive rather than on the abuser to earn forgiveness, just like in real life familial abuse victims are always fucking expected to be the ones to repair the relationship). i think such narratives can be powerful and compelling and explore questions of what the value of 'forgiveness' or 'redemption' even are, as well as dispel the mystique and exceptionalism often attributed to the 'abuser' as a holistic malevolent figure that can be cleanly separated from every other parent/grandparent/sibling/etc.
what i'm against is narratives where someone who is abused has their feelings delegitimized -- their rage is wrong, counterproductive, they need to let go and move on, they need to forgive their abusers and let them back int otheir lives because oh, they did something wrong too or oh, their abuser had a difficult life, or whatever the fuck. to which the answer should be a flat -- no. they don't. all the more power to people who choose to do that if that's what makes them happiest and safest but absolutely nobody has a moral obligation or need to forgive an abusive family member. obviously i am exaggerating slightly when i say every abusive parent subplot should end with the parent being killed with hammers, but i'm using the hammer murder as a synechdoche for a narrative treating an abuse victim's antipathy towards their abuser as something legitimate and justified and obviously reasonable rather than a flaw or something they need to move past.
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