#It might surprise you but they are completely different premises | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

writingforatwistedworld · 8 months

Note

Hi! You once wrote about Malleus going to the player's world, and up until now I finally got in time to ask for this, so could I ask for a similar premise as that but with Azul, Rook & Vil, please?

I have already done Vil in an indifferent post. You can find it here. I really wanted to make a new version of Azul though.

Self-aware au

I do not take any responsibility for you reading this no matter which age group you are from!

WARNINGS: Yandere themes, stalking, implied violence, death, murder, manipulation, unhealthy relationship

Azul Ashengrotto/Rook Hunt-Entering your world

Azul felt like an octopus out of water

When he had heard Jade yelling out a warning it was already too late and he was already falling down the stairs, a student he made a deal with not too long ago standing not too far, his hands lowering themselves from the pushing him

And now he was laying on the floor in a place he didn't recognize

Moonlight filtered through the window of the room and a sleeping figure almost completely covered by a blanket was illuminated by its light and the light from the phone they were laying next to, indicating that they fell asleep whilst using it

Did he teleport to a different place? Azul still felt the burning sensation of the hard stone of the stairs hitting his body so he might have done that out of desperation...

And desperate he was when you turned over in your sleep and he could see your face

And thus, the screaming began

Imagine his surprise, no his shock after seeing the person he had admired, sought after for so long laying in front of him in their pajamas

Although, it would be better to say you did lay in your pajamas because now you were jumping up in fear for your life

But after fearing that a madman had broken into your house life with Azul was pretty nice

Azul is a pretty good cook from running Mostro Lounge so him making dinner is like going to an expensive restaurant

There is that thing about him wanting to pay you rent though…

You see, Azul is not someone who wants to leech (haha, get it?) off of someone

So he takes on "side jobs"

Nothing dangerous, of course, but I think we can all agree that Azul in ANY job position is a safety hazard

Not because he is bad at what he does but because of his, how do I describe it, manipulative (?) ways

Sooner than later, it seems more like Azul is running the place he works at instead of his boss

But when you ever were to ask him what the heck he did to change the power dynamics so much in his favour, he plays innocent so I guess one point to him (although we all know better)

Back to your more private life, he may not seem like it but Azul can be one heck of a possessive guy

He won't jump the mailman, Azul knows that there is a point where his feelings get a bit too much (huh, so he is self aware?) but if you dare to bring a friend of your over? Uh... you still have friends?

I thought a certain person living with you scared all of them away

So let's say someone is still in a friendly relationship with you, nothing romantic, just friends

Let us call that person Example 1 (say hi to Example 1, Example 1 say hi to the reader)

Azul won't mind them coming over, he won't mind cooking for them, he won't mind playing nice with Example 1 but he will mind if they decide to come more than once

That glare he will send them will make them wonder if they get to see the light of the next dawn one more time

And perhaps the merman has another side job he hasn't told you about. And maybe that job allows him to do things that make the police gag

Shout out to the crime scene cleaners. Why is there even stuff from, you know what, on the ceiling? Maybe red paint will make the stains less noticeable. Oh god renovating this place will cost a fortune

Rook Hunt: the man, the legend, the not-so-sane hunter who could (and probably would if laws weren't a thing) shoot you simply for fun

Said man, legend, absolute menace to society, is not someone who is easily scared. Heck, he can probably hear dust falling to the ground for to his trained hearing which makes sneaking up on him absolutely impossible

What he cannot hear though is the almighty power of an author who decides to put him into a different world simply for the lols

So when the floor suddenly disappears and reappears two meters lower the poor man can't help himself but to stumble rather unelegant (unlike his usual self) into the wall, searching for something to hold on to just to smash his side against it

Wall-1:0-Rook

That does not change the situation though and the more or less mad hat-wearer gets a broom flung at his head

Rook is not someone who will sit around and do nothing though

After a lot of explaining (and you standing over him with a pan in hand for self-defense) you decide that his confused and lost self is a lot less charming than his usual one and you just allow him to stay

He will bring home edible plants and freshly shot meat (and if you live a meat-free lifestyle he will simply bring a bigger amount of edible flora)

WILL (and there is no escape from it) flirt with you in French (and now all my French readers, we all feel outraged by his bad translations)

But this is Rook so, of course, you think that this is just his usual chatter

He will also help you around the house. Your home has never been cleaner (I am convinced Vil controls Pomefiore for dust with white gloves)

He is great at ironing. Those long sleeves must have been great practice material

This reminds me, there had been an incident where he had been carrying your laundry from the cleaner and you bumped into him, leading him to crash into the exact same spot against the wall once more

Since that day Rook and that wall have a burning hatred for each other (more like Rook against the wall) and due to other events it's now 5:0 for the wall

But of course, we can't just focus on the lalala dreamland stuff

Once the dog of your neighbor decided to rip some of your stuff you owned and kept on your property to pieces

Your neighbor being an annoyance decided that “No, I won't pay. You should have looked out that MY dog wouldn't do that.”

Remember that Rook enjoys hunting?

Now, your neighbor doesn't know that so when they find their “little darling” dead in front of their house they can't reconnect it to you

Two nights later they wake up in a forest of some kind, that new roommate of yours staring down at them from a tree with an amused gaze, telling them he will let them have a headstart by one minute

Long story short, they weren't seen again

The young hunter may be a bit… much but he knows when to be discreet when he needs to be

And would you look at that? You also start to get frightened, leaving your home less and less

I mean, there have been disappearances around your neighborhood but look at the bright side, now you won't feel like someone is watching you from somewhere every time leave the house

He has a notebook that is just about you. From daily occurrences and what you did to your worries to your likes, hobbies and much more

Since Rook is Rook he will snuggle against you when you sleep and I don't mean this in a manner of you two sharing beds. Oh no, he has his own little space to sleep

This creep will slip into your bed just to carefully cuddle with you for an hour once you are asleep, then it's back to his own bed

Rook's list of victims grows double as fast as the list of great experiences he has with you

But not like that matters. All of them could disappear for all he cares. All he needs is you. Just you. Nothing else. Such a simple request, right?

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katiexpunk · 7 months

Text

Heat Wave | Pairing Javier Peña X fem!Reader

Summary: In the sweltering haze of a Colombian heatwave, everyone's on edge, including you, your nerves fried crispier than plantains in a hot skillet. Even Javi is not immune - his nights spent tossing and turning, the relentless heat driving him mad. Imagine his surprise - and yours - when he knocks on your door late one night, a little buzzed and sweaty, craving a distraction. What's a generous soul to do but let him in and share some cool, sweet cholado? As the night unfurls, the heat outside might be unbearable, but inside, things are just starting to warm up.

Rating: 18+ Minors DNI. I say this with love -- GTFO.

Word count: 5K

Warnings: Javi wasn't super nice to reader and has to gravel a bit, female masturbation, references to the cartels, use of pet names (Hermosa, Cariño), emotions, reader cries, sweat, fingering, female stimulation, face-fucking, blowjob, praise kink, unprotected sex (wrap it up, don't lead by my written example), direct p in v, pussy slap, somewhat rough sex, sensual sex, creampie, and cum eating.

Authors Note: Eek! This is my first time writing for Javi, so be kind to be hunnie bunnies. Joel will always have my smutty heart, but damn, Javi can fucking get it. Special thanks to @sydneyinacoma for being my personal hype woman on this one, and to @josephquinnswhore for telling me this premise wasn't total trash. Ily bbs.

Also I often edit after I post (hello typos) so if you saw one originally sorry 🫣

The window is wide open, but the curtains aren’t moving; only offering a slight flutter now and again, offering a deceptive promise of a breeze that you know will never come. You lay there, restlessly, the cotton sheets sticking to your damp skin. The eerie silence of the room was punctuated by the whirring fan overhead, its blades churning the stale, hot air in a slow, hypnotic rhythm. It’s nearly midnight, hours since you’d gone to bed, but yet, you find yourself staring at the ceiling, cursing why you ever decided to move to Colombia. Had you known it would be the hottest summer on record, you might have thought differently and denied the job.

You turn to your side, annoyed at the hair clinging to the back of your neck and forehead like velcro. You stare at the alarm clock on your nightstand, watching the numbers slowly change, like a shitty version of trying to count sheep, but there’s no point. You’re wide awake, and there doesn’t seem to be anything that can change that.

You roll onto your back to splay out like a starfish, hoping the gap between your limbs will somehow offer you some reprieve from your burning core, and you stare at the ceiling. You wonder if you’ll actually get any sleep tonight. The heat was enough to keep you awake, but there were other things that would probably prevent you from dozing off if the heat weren’t a factor.

Outside of the thud of your own pulse, it’s completely quiet in your apartment. You’re sure people are awake, but no sound comes from Steve and Connie’s apartment next door; nor from Javi’s. Odd, you think, considering work has been slow as of late and most of Colombia, even the cartels have hidden themselves away from the relenting sun and suffocating humidity, too tired to do anything substantial.

In your haze, eyes transfixed on the ceiling panels above you, you try your best to think about something else, anything but him, but your last conversation replays in your brain like a bad rerun.

You knew he wasn’t really the type to settle down, and you were more than aware of his reputation, yet you let yourself hope that this situation might be different, that you might be the one to change him.

He had insisted that it was for the best and that he wasn’t the right guy for you; that it should be simple for you to move forward and erase any trace of your connection, and that he should do the same. Perhaps that was the reality of it; maybe it was only you who had experienced a heightened sense of joy during those countless nights he held you close. When wrapped in his embrace, the burden of your conscience seemed to lighten, and you couldn't help but wonder if he had ever found comfort in your presence as well.

Your mind begins to drift to the ways he made you feel like you were the most precious thing in the world. You can still feel his pillowy lips leaving a soft trail of kisses up your neck and across your jaw, cock buried deep inside of you. The memory of it sits low in your belly, adding to the stickiness between your thighs, now a cruel mixture of sweat and arousal.

Your mind swirls with thoughts of him, and you decide that there might be one thing you’ve yet to try that might be able to help you fall asleep. You lay there, trying to focus, to let your mind sink into better days, better nights, ones you had spent wrapped around him in every way possible.

You tease your fingertips along the thin fabric of your tank top, trying to ignore the way the sweat that’s seeped into its fibers causes it to bunch up as you stroke your hand down your sternum. You circle your nipples through the fabric, trying to call forward any sense of arousal or sensuality. You slide your hand under the waistband of your linen shorts and place your hand between your legs, resting it atop your lace underwear, already wet, courtesy of Colombia and your incessant thoughts of Javi.

Your fingers are quite delicate compared to his, and you miss the thickness only he can seem to provide. You slide your underwear to the slide, and drag your index finger through your folds, bringing your slick up to your clit. Your hips lift at the sensation, and you let out a little moan.

You begin to slowly draw small circles, eventually increasing your pace enough to provide a nice mix of movement and pressure. Your restless thoughts of him have you so keyed up, already so close to the cliff of your orgasm you can practically taste it. Your body heats even more as you chase your high, desperate for a release, practically begging for an escape from this inferno. Like a cord about to snap, you swear you’re starting to see stars when you hear it – knock, knock – and the distraction cruelly pulls you back from the edge, your pressure gauge falls, and your orgasm retreats back inside you like you scared it.

No! Fuck.

Now hot, tired, and sexually frustrated, you let out a long sigh. You slide your underwear back in place and withdraw your hand from your shorts. You wipe your wet fingers on the fabric beneath you, gaze at the clock once more, and wonder who the hell would be at your door at this hour. You rise, legs still a little shaky from your would-be orgasm, and walk over to answer it.

Your aggravation at the disruption vanishes the moment you clock his face through the peephole. You unlock the top and bottom lock and release the chain from the door, opening it to completely see him.

He looks like he’s been chewed up and spat out, his hair a disheveled mess of thick, dark, damp curls, small beads of perspiration collecting on his lush, tan skin. You’ve seen him like this before, a look of affliction, hiding behind soft brown eyes. But there’s something else flickering in his eyes – some kind of yearning. For what? You haven’t got a clue. He’s made his stance on your relationship very clear, or at least, the parade of women filing in and out of his apartment speaks volumes.

You lean up against the door frame, waiting for him to speak, to give some sort of explanation as to why he’s on your doorstep.

“Hey,” is all he says, eyeing you up and down, eyes lingering a little too long on your exposed stomach.

You’re positive you must look like a mess right now, but you don’t really care, you feel like one.

“Javi – is everything okay? It’s late,” you answer quietly.

He crosses his arms, then uncrosses them, then shifts the weight from one hip to another, unsure of himself, obviously uncomfortable.

“I know, ‘m really sorry to bother you. Can I come in?” he asks, looking at you with his big puppy dog eyes, and you can’t turn him down. You step aside so he can enter your small living room, hoping he can’t smell your arousal on you, hoping that he’ll assume the musk lingering in the air was just from the cracked window, the outside world seeping in.

Your apartment was rather small to begin with, but with his presence, it seemed to shrink before your eyes. He walks over to the center of the room, and pauses once he sees the couch; a memory of him railing you on it flashes through his brain.

No.

No, he won’t let himself think about that. He swallows the thought, and palms at his jeans to adjust himself. He’s not here for that, he’s here to gravel.

You let out a sigh, and walk over to him. You come to stand right in front of him, giving him the opportunity to commit the sight of you like this to memory – all pretty, skin clammy, cheeks a darker shade of pink than normal. You pause before saying anything, still unsure why he’s here in the first place.

“Can I get you some water, whiskey, anything?” you ask, cringing at how awkward it feels to play hostess with him now, considering he’s explored every inch of your body with his tongue.

Javier shakes his head and runs a hand over his forehead to wipe away the sweat collecting there as if he’s deciding what to say.

“Mmm, no. Probably shouldn’t have any more whiskey tonight,” he admits. “Some water would be good. You don’t happen to have anything cold by chance, do you? This heat is fucking killing me,” he says.

“Actually, yeah, I do,” you say, your voice an octave too high, remembering your creation earlier this evening. You nod to Javi to take a seat on the couch, giving him a perfect view to watch as you saunter over to the kitchen. You open the freezer and reveal a container with a kaleidoscope of colors. It closes with a thud, and you open the fridge next, pulling from it a bowl of fresh fruit – juicy chunks of mango, sweet pineapple, zesty oranges – and a can of whipped cream. Javier watches intently as you gather it all neatly onto a little tray, glide over to the end of the tiny kitchen to grab two spoons from a drawer, and close it with a quick thrust of your hip.

You place the tray on the coffee table. The couch lets out a little squeak as you find your seat next to his.

“Fresh cholado – made it tonight,” you say, offering him a spoon.

You neatly assemble the fruit on top of the colorful slushy mixture. The sound of the whipped cream releasing its contents onto the top of the fruit causes the hair on the back of his neck to rise to stand.

“Go ahead, dig in,” you say, offering him a kind smile. God, you’re always so sweet and nice to him, even when he doesn’t deserve it.

Both with a spoon in hand now, you delve into the sensory masterpiece, pausing in silence as you savor the blend of textures and tastes, a welcomed escape from the heat.

Javier closes his eyes and lets out a small hum in delight.

“This is so good, holy shit,” he praises, not even finishing with his latest bite before he’s digging in for another.

“I’m glad you like it,” you say, and you really mean it.

The elephant in the room becomes harder and harder to ignore.

“Why are you here, Javier?” you ask, voice a little unsure.

His eyes hold your gaze for a moment, and he swallows his last bite and then places the metal spoon onto the tray in front of you both. He doesn’t say anything, instead, he holds out his hand, his eyes pleading with you to take it. You hesitate, before deciding to place your palm in his, allowing his fingers to wrap around yours. He stares at it, the pad of his thumb tracing over the back of it, and he inches closer to you.

Neither of you says anything, but your brows furrow and you look at him, hoping he can see the pain – the hurt he inflicted on you – in your eyes.

“Cariño,” he whispers softly, and you sense the obvious change in his tone. His hand releases yours, and he brings his palm up to land on your cheek. Maybe it was just the heat playing tricks with your emotions, but the simple action causes tears to well up in your eyes.

“I can’t do this anymore,” he admits.

Oh god, he already broke your heart once, was he here to just do it all over again? The thought causes your already battered heart to sink into your stomach.

“I can’t pretend like I don’t need you anymore,” he continues, “like you’re not the only thing - the only person - in Colombia preventing me from losing myself,” he adds.

The sudden truth bomb he’s dropped leaves you speechless.

“I —” you start to say, but the broken silence is all it takes before Javi pulls you in closer, hugging your waist, dragging you up onto his lap, your knees straddling him. You try to ignore the uncomfortable press of his DEA badge digging into your inner thigh but secretly hope it leaves a mark.

Fuck, it feels so good to be on him like this again. You shouldn’t feel this way, but you do. You rest one hand on his shoulder and instinctively run the other hand’s fingers through his hair. Old habits die hard. For the first time in a while, you feel a bit of relief; you wager he must feel the same by the hefty sigh that escapes his lips.

“Javi – I don’t,” you pause, your words trembling, “I don’t want to get hurt again,” you say, allowing your hands to wrap around his torso and your head to fall into the crook of his neck. Hot tears begin to spill from your eyes and fall to the fabric of his shirt, the weight of your confession compounding with all of your other frustrations from the evening.

“I know, baby. I just…fuck, I don’t know how to do this. I suck at the emotional,” he admits, gently patting the back of your hair and holding you close to him. He pauses before guiding your face up to look at him and continues, “I’m so sorry I hurt you. I was just scared; didn’t want to get hurt, or even worse, hurt you, but I realize now that I did, and I was wrong. I was so fucking wrong. Shit. I just… I need you, I need you more than I need air in my lungs,” he adds, and you hear the break in his voice.

“You do?” you ask, hating how pathetic you must sound, your eyes puffy and cheeks wet from your crying.

“I’ll always be here for you, cariño, if you’ll let me. I know I don’t deserve it, but do you think you can forgive me?” he softly mutters. Seeing you trying to blink away the silent years trailing down your cheeks, he reaches up and swipes away at them with his thumb, and his hand stays there, cupping your face.

You nod yes in response.

Just like that, it’s almost as if everything were still the same; as if it were just you and him against it all. A thought of doubt crosses your mind, one saying this might just be temporary, your heart still unsure if you can trust him, but you allow yourself to cave into the feeling all the same.

He holds you quietly against his chest, the pressure of his strong arm around you is soothing. You feel his cock begin to stiffen under you, and it causes something to stir in your lower belly. God, you want him. It was less than half an hour ago that you were coaxing yourself to orgasm with just the thought of him inside you.

Your chest begins to flush, and the heat your bodies generate together mingles with the warm air in the room around you. You slightly press off of him to find some reprieve from the burning surface of his chest and place your hand on it, his shirt slightly clinging to it as you do.

You lean forward and press a soft, breathless kiss on his lips, one laced with the taste of tears. It’s delicate at first, as if to test the waters of your reunification after so much time apart, but it’s not before long that it deepens; his tongue exploring the recesses of your mouth, your mutual lust boiling to the surface. His hands glide down from your waist to your hips and he grips onto the delicious flesh there, inviting you to grind against him.

Your hips roll on him, and you feel a sudden disdain for the clothing that clings to your skin like a second skin. The fabric is damp and heavy, and with each roll of your hips, it chafes against you. Your eyes tell you that you’re not the only one who’s uncomfortable, Javier’s face in a slight twist, one that screams both pleasure and pain.

“You know, Colombia’s hot enough without the two of us making more of it,” you say, letting a little giggle out as you do, tilting your head back, letting your hair fall behind. Javier trails kisses down the side of your neck and then darts his tongue out to lick the hollow of your throat. The action causes your breath to hitch.

“You’re right, Cariño, we really should do something about these layers, hmm,” he purrs, and you catch his drift.

He releases both of his hands from your hips and helps you lift your tanktop over your head, your perky tits bounce in response and the friction of the fabric on your nipples causes them to stiffen. One of his hands finds its home on your hip, and the other comes to grab your breast. He rolls your nipple between his fingers, the feeling sending a tiny zap through you as he does. His mouth finds your chest and his tongue trails the valley of your breasts before slowly making its way over to the stiff peak of your other exposed nipple. A low, hungry growl leaves his chest, it’s a needy and desperate sound that goes straight to your cunt.

“Javi –” you moan, “clothes,” It’s not a question, but a request, one he’s happy to oblige.

He begins to undo the buttons of his linen shirt, and you watch in anticipation, his stiff cock under you making you impatient. His shirt joins yours on the floor, and you trail your hand down the expanse of his chest, noting the little freckles that pepper it; the small detail drives you to another level of impatience.

You swing your leg over him, feet coming to the floor; a temporary but necessary adjustment so you can step out of your shorts and panties. You stand there before him, happily naked, pleased to be free of your cloth prison. The air is thick and hot, but it feels good to have so much exposed skin for the first time tonight. With his eyes dragging over every inch of your body, you eagerly watch back as his hands come to his waistline and he undoes his metal belt buckle.

You look down and notice his boots are still on; you drop to your knees in front of him and you swear you hear his heart thump in excitement at what you might do. You look back up to lock eyes with him, and you reach down to his shoes and begin to undo the laces of his boots. Fuck, that’s definitely not what he thought you were going to do. With his feet free, his fingers fumble for the button and zipper of his denim jeans, and he slowly undoes them, lifting his hips slightly to let them over his ass as he drags them down, taking his briefs with them, until everything is off his body.

Now both totally naked, you rise to take a seat on him, but his hand darts out to your shoulder as if to hold you in place on your knees. He spits into his free palm, and takes his heavy cock in hand, slowly gripping the length of it up and down. You salivate at the sight, the tip of him is red and weepy with pre-cum.

“I think you look pretty good where you are, Hermosa,” he says, “always so pretty, especially like this,” he adds, still stroking himself.

You love when he uses his Spanish on you, his words sending a surge of desire through you like a bolt of lightning, your body responding with intensity as the sticky tread of arousal pools between your legs.

You inch closer to him, your hands finding his knees, and you gently pry them apart, creating just enough space for you between them. You look at him as if to say let me, and he releases his grip on himself, and you take over stroking his length. You lick your lips and position him at the entrance of your mouth. You place a soft kiss on the head of his cock, and smear the precum that’s gathered there on your lips like chapstick.

You hum in delight as you sink down onto him, letting your jaw relax so you can take him deeper, savoring the salty taste of his skin. He gathers your sweaty hair into a makeshift ponytail and holds it back from your face, allowing you to work him without distraction. And god, you’re into it – the sounds are filthy, but your delighted little moans have Javier unraveling like a runaway spool of thread. You look up at him through your wet lashes and let out a little wink, an innocent act considering your practically sucking his sanity out through his dick and having fun with it.

“Fuck, baby. Gonna have to stop or you’re gonna make me cum,” he says, holding the hair on your head taught as if to warn you to slow down, letting his head fall to the back of the couch, staring at the ceiling as if to think about something other than how good you’re making him feel. You let out a satisfied mew, and release him, a little pop sound fills the air as you do.

“C’mere –,” he says, a little breathless and sweaty. You rise to stand, your knees pink and sore from the ground, and he stands to join you. At full height, you have to look up to see his face, and you feel him grab both of your hips and twist you around onto all fours, your upper body resting on the couch for support. “My turn to taste you, Cariño,” he says, using his knee to nudge you, and encourage you to spread your legs open for him.

With your tummy flat on the couch cushions, your ass is on full display, and he fucking loves it. Using his middle finger, he inserts it into your needy cunt, gently curling it to sweetly abuse your g-spot. The moans that escape your lips only encourage him further, a light chuckle follows when he reminds you that he’s only using one finger and that he’s just getting started with you. He uses his other hand and pushes your hips and ass deeper into the couch, while his one finger stays in place, gently rubbing the spongey texture of your g-spot without breaking, making you squirm under the bare minimum he’s providing you.

You’re already wet, but once he thinks it’s enough, he extracts his finger, and uses his hands to lift your hips up, making you arch your back for him. He crouches down further to plant a tender kiss on your ass, biting into it very dimly, eliciting a little yelp from you in response. He slowly begins to move lower and lower, kissing the lines where your ass meets your thighs. He taps your cunt a few times with his thick fingers, each time getting a bit rougher, sending a stinging sensation through your whole body. The rough taps eventually become a full-on slap, and you move your hips in desperation, a mellow whimper escapes your lips begging him to give you what you need. He flattens his tongue, and moves it across the expanse of your dripping folds, lapping at you like you’re the cold refreshment he needs.

The tip of his tongue finds your clit, and he stays there momentarily to give it a little suck before moving it upwards, licking the whole length of your pussy. He continues to do this a few more times, before finally stopping and focusing his attention on your now swollen clit. You’re barely breathing as his tongue relentlessly pleasures your needy little clit. He brings his forearms onto the back of your ass, and uses his thumbs to spread your outer lips open completely for him.

“Javi – holy fuck,” you moan as he slides his greedy tongue inside you, moving it in and out as breathless moans continue to leave your lungs.

“Taste so good, sweeter than the fuckin’ cholado,” he praises, and you’re nearly gone at his words.

He continues to eat at you, but releases a hand and then brings it back up, under you this time, as his fingers begin to circle smooth circles over your clit once more; your whole body begins to shake, it’s so much. You’re moaning and whimpering at the feeling of both his hands and his mouth on you.

“Come for me – want you to soak my face,” he says, his encouragement is all you need and you snap. Your vision goes white, and your whole body tenses under his attention. He rides out your orgasm with you, ensuring no drop of your sweet juices goes to waste. Once your shaking has subsided, he lifts his chest and you readjust, bringing your weight to your forearms on the couch.

“Javi, need you, god, please,” you’re all but practically begging for him.

‘I’ve got you baby,” he coos, “gonna give you what you need,” he says as he strokes his cock a few times, and then places the tip at your slick and waiting hole. Both of his hands come to your hips, surely leaving little bruises under his strong grip. Your slick makes it easy for him to bury himself in you to the hilt, your greedy cunt taking every inch of him like it was your fucking job, like it was made for him.

He begins a relentless pace, thrusting his cock deep inside of you, the obscene sounds of the clapping noises, a song made as a result of your wetness and his thighs, spurs you on. He reaches out and grips the back of your neck, and jerks you backward into him, forcing you to arch your back against him. The new position lets him take you deeper, harder. Holding you against his chest, he snakes a free hand around and his fingers find your clit once more. He makes soft circles on your clit, working you with each thrust until he once again has you climbing the ladder to your climax.

“Just like that, you’re so perfect, Cariño, taking me so perfectly,” he praises, voice low.

You squirm and babble something of the likes of gonna come under him, and he holds in place as you begin to unravel once more for him. Your hole contracts around him, your perky tits bouncing as he continues to fuck you through it. You’re so tight, your sweet sounds have his own orgasm not far off.

Suddenly, without warning he stops fucking you and pulls out. You look back at him, brow creased, wondering why he stopped.

The sight is one you’ll remember till the day you die, Javi all sweaty curls, ragged breaths, hard and throbbing cock in hand, shiny with your slick, looking at you through needy brown doe eyes.

“Why – why’d you stop,” you ask, breathless.

“Turn around, Hermosa. Lay on the couch. Want to look you in the eyes as I cum,” he rasps.

You do as he says, and spread your legs open for him. Within seconds, he’s back on you, filling you up to the base of him. The dark hairs at the base of him tickle your swollen clit as he rolls his hips into you. A tingling warmth pools in his belly and surges through every sensitive nerve on his body, accompanied by the surge of blood that rushes to every corner of his flesh, his response making it obvious that his release is imminent.

His hips slow, and he lets out a rough moan, spilling inside of you. He pauses there, and you feel him gently pulsate and twitch as your walls drain every last bit of cum inside him.

He collapses on top of you, working to catch his breath, an exhausted mix of sex, heat, and general tiredness from the restless night. You wrap your arms around his broad shoulders, and intertwine your fingers around his now full-on wet locks and trace small patterns onto his back. You stay there like that, in your sticky embrace of sex and emotion, until your heart rates return to normal and your breaths find a manageable pattern.

He slips out, bringing with him a glob of cum that pools on the cushion beneath you. He leans back on the other arm of the small couch and watches as he slowly pools out of you. “Mmm, sure do love watching me drip out of you,” his gaze doesn’t move from the filthy sight of it.

He leans forward to drag his pointer finger through your folds, causing your body to twitch at the unexpected sensation on your tender clit. He slightly presses the tip of his finger into you, and his cock twitches and begins to swell like it’s ready to go again. He drags his finger out, now coated with a mix of you and him, and he brings it up to your lips.

“Taste us,” he says. You open your mouth to welcome the cum-coated finger onto your tongue. You savor the taste of the mix of you, an overly salty, heady mix of sweat and semen.

Once satisfied, he removes his finger and leans back once more.

In your fucked out state, you tilt your head toward the coffee table, noticing that the remaining cholado has turned into a sticky, syrupy mess.

“Sad that’s melted, I could really use something cold right about now,” you say as you reach your arms up and try to secure your wet hair into a little bun on the top of your head.

“How about a cold shower,” Javi offers, a smile on his face. He stands and offers his palm to you for the second time tonight.

Without saying anything, and without hesitation this time, you place your hand in his, and he pulls you off the couch and into his arms. His chest firm against yours, he brings both of his palms to cup your face in an embrace. He pauses momentarily before leaning down to place his lips against yours.

“And then maybe some breakfast?” He says, tilting his head to the side, signaling to the window.

The sun is now rising, bringing with it what you can only imagine is going to be another tortuous day.

Well, almost as torturous.

At least now you have each other.

Although you’re pretty confident you won’t be getting any sleep tomorrow night, either.

END

Tagging some moots: @darkheartgatita @elegantduckturtle @alltheglitterandtheroar @hotgirlbedtimescenarios @reddedmiller @morallyinept @theywhowriteandknowthings @beefrobeefcal @secretelephanttattoo @ruinmepedro @papipascalispunk @dins-riduur-anthe @untamedheart81 @planet-marz1 @pascalpvnk @elvinaa @joeldjarin @javiscigarette @cavillscurls @bastardmandennis @janaispunk @endlessthxxghts

Oh hey! You made it to the end. Cool. Thanks for reading. Since you're here, I'll pass on a reminder that I'm just a horny little wannabe fic writer trying to make her way on this hell site and write things that make people turned on happy. Likes and comments are wonderful and much appreciated, but reblogs are really what counts in making people see this, especially for smaller blogs like mine. If you like this, please consider reblogging.

#javier pena narcos #javier pena smut #pedrohub #javier pena x reader #javier peña #javi pena #javier pena fanfiction #narcos #javier pena x you

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kel-lance · 14 days

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Nanami’s getting a divorce so Hiromi’s here to help :)

Premise: Nanami’s divorce lawyer fucking his stepdaughter (this is the second part of this)

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Warnings: MDNI, Age Gap, StepDad mention, Public, exhibitionism, idk have fun.

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- Your stepdad was stressed dealing with his now ex-wife, who was also your biological mother.

- You hated her though, for the life she gave you. It wasn’t until your stepdad came into the picture, helping create that family like atmosphere within the first few years of their relationship.

- Nanami was starting to leave the studio you shared more often, so much so that you complain to him every time you’ve gotten his attention. He apologizes and hates leaving you home alone with all the legalities happening with the case.

- He tells you he’ll bring his lawyer to the apartment as a compromise. It was the next best thing for you both, at least you would have peace of mind.

- The first time you saw Hiromi you almost couldn’t hide your face, as every thought was written on it. He was /fine/. Really your first thought was how heavy was it, he seriously looked like he hung low.

- Just his serious demeanor, the room just tensed up as he stepped in after your dad. You tried to control your breathing, you tried to look away after the initial first greeting. That was until he opened his mouth.

- His voice was cut from the same cake as Nanami’s. Deep, sweet, manly, and god did it echo though you. Just where did he find this guy?

- He noticed you fidgeting in your chair and turned to ignore it. You were his clients daughter after all. It wasn’t until he caught a glimpse of your shy face with his tired yet dreamy eyes.

- You were damn cute, it just seemed off with him being around 10 years older than you. Being close to 40, he’s been studying most of his life so relationships were never really on the table. He just felt like he didn’t need it. Though seeing you so outwardly wanting him awoke a new feeling in him. Something he couldn’t help but like.

- His features were brought out with his dark suit. If his face card wasn’t hitting that day, his demeanor and charm would still be enough to turn heads. You could tell you were in deep when his attempted smile had you look away, rather you had to leave to the bathroom to control yourself.

- “Don’t tease her too hard now. She seems to like your type.” Nanami jokes, knowing fully of your reactions and finds it funny.

- He’ll tease you further later, asking if all that time away from him made you want the next best thing. He’ll ask you if you missed him, or if you really want that stranger he hired. He could allow it since you were his after all.

- “I wouldn’t dream of it.” Hiromi replied. He was an honest man, but when it comes to work, or the logistics of it, he’d stick to what he was taught, his self discipline stronger than most. He’s thankful that you stay in your room for the rest of the day.

- He seems to be coming by almost all the time, and as you work from home, it’s almost more than invading, more like annoying how you had to cover up in your own place.

- Long and baggy clothes were a nightmare for your clumsy self, getting it caught on things and dirty when it drags on the floor. Your only exceptions being nanami’s t-shirts, always draping you like a dress with the size difference.

- After the first week though, you couldn’t take it, remembering to throw something over yourself everytime you had just opened the door, you’d just regained this freedom; and said fuck it.

- you went downstairs to get yourself a glass of water, wearing your favorite t shirt and shorts, if you could call them that. It didn’t matter, Hiromi might have already arrived, he may have not, but you said it you couldn’t care and just went downstairs to get yourself that water.

- To your surprise, He was sitting at the kitchen island, the documents spread all around. You kept moving forward, hoping to complete you goal and push down this silly attraction.

- Nanami almost didn’t find it funny anymore. He just left his wife, your mother, for her addictions, hopefully you could have skipped that trait, but your new need for validation, he was the one who opened that up, and hasn’t been able to satisfy your needs lately.

- He’s doing everything he should, but the time apart was driving you both crazy. You knew this would happen, you told him there wasn’t a need for a wedding, and he just holds you closer and promises you’ll be taken care of no matter what. that usually shut you up.

- Reaching inside the cupboard, you could feel his gloomy eyes eat you up from behind. It sent shivers down your neck, affecting your balance.

- “Do you need help?”

- Crap, he totally saw you tense up. But he doesn’t move from where he sits, telling you he’s fully aware who he’s talking to.

- “Do I make you uncomfortable, miss?”

- You grab the damn cup and close the doors. Your ears were burning. It took a lot for you to turn around to even face him halfway.

- You don’t mean to be rude, you were just real choked up. The pent up energy, your dry throat, his unreadable eyes. The tension was driving you crazy.

- You get water with ice and drink as you turn around to meet his eyes. The liquid spiking you back up with energy. You look at him, staring now, though he took the hint before and stopped trying to speak to you. That had you sulking quickly.

- To apologize, you put your cup down and grabbed another, repeating filling it with ice and water, offering it to him.

- “Thank you. Is this stressful for you too?”

- You nod your head.

- He sighs sympathetically, taking a sip of his water. You get a good look at his thick neck. His Adam’s apple bobbing up and down continuously and the relief in his face brought back that fuck it attitude he melted away.

- He puts the glass down and sees you staring. “Is there anything I could help you with?”

- Your cheeks flushed, and your voice was caught in your throat. It almost felt like you were having a school girl crush on her teacher, he was just so handsome. His kept hair and droopy eyes, yet so serious and respectful, you’ve got a solid type.

- Biting the bullet, knowing the repercussions on your end, you keep your eyes on his while bringing your fist up to your mouth, motioning back and forth while your tongue poked your cheek the closer your hand got to your lips.

- His eyes widened. Your innocent eyes were asking him, no, begging him to help you out like this. “What kind of face was he making?” You were too distracted as the hand you were using to motion what you wanted found itself holding onto his dress sleeve. You could feel his warmth, you were almost starving for it.

- The past few nights Nanami was too stressed and tired from meeting up with people, so many people to legally fix a mistake he made a few years ago. He did try to satisfy you but it was different from when he’s at his best.

- You don’t know when that’s gonna be again, and Hirmomi san hadn’t pushed you away, so without another second to waste, you got under the table.

- Only sitting to the side of his legs, you looked up at him, playing a hand on his thigh, your fingers reaching, threatening to cross the line. “Can I?”

- This was happening fast, he hadn’t moved since putting his cup down. His dick twitched in his pants, now having a reason to feel arousal.

- It wasn’t that he wasn’t attracted, but he had years of mental discipline to not react to the first sight of skin, much less mixed signals or light flirting. But there’s no mistaking the situation right now, especially with how wrong it was.

- He hesitates, his breathing was unsure but opens his legs. His hands found a few papers to hide the fact he was looking further down (at you).

- You give him a small smile, enjoying this silent communication and start by palming him through his pants. Jesus, you didn’t know what to think, you were almost scared to see him unsheathed.

- But you weren’t going to let this chance go by. You pressed your face into his bulge, your agile fingers squeezing at his thick thighs. He hitches his breath as you breath in his scent. It was so delicious, you were just upstairs about 5 minutes ago, and now you were under the island for a stranger in your stepdad’s kitchen.

- You knew not to mess with his pants, he’s gotta get up after this. Since it was your want, it’s in your best consideration to keep him clean. You wouldn’t do it if you hadn’t tried it before.

- Whenever Nami came home for lunch, whenever he just couldn’t stop thinking about you, he would come running home for lunch and fuck you til you passed out, til he leaves and comes back home to continue fucking you, sometimes waking you up that way.

- Sometimes it was you, egging him on, just to get a little more attention before his duties called. “Really quick, really really quick.” You’d pout, not wanting him to go, and of course he listened.

- Hiromi, in this case, was going to be difficult. First, you were right about it being heavy. Taking it out of his pants without his help was a bit difficult considering the way he was sitting.

- Unbuckling his belt, your hands found themselves back around his meat, caressing the pack through the soft fabric. You couldn’t hold yourself back, you didn’t even want to tease him right now. You were gonna get to work.

- Taking down his boxers, exposing only his most vulnerable area, you almost wanted to bring him back to your room and have him fuck you looking just like that.

- And maybe Daddy would punish you for once, and be rough with you how you’ve asked before. You’ve been a brat before and got spanked a few times, he had no reason to be rough with you.

- Nanami wouldn’t do it, you were his sweet girl. His baby. He didn’t want to hurt you, and the things you do don’t amount to you getting punished according to him.

- You loved him, but you were needy, and he was busy. All because of that stupid whore who can’t control herself. You start to get upset at yourself as you notice you may be falling into the same pattern.

- Shaking the thought away, he loved you too, he said it so sincerely, every chance he got he’d tell you how much he loves you, and how it was like you were made for him, of course you believe it.

- But the gasping man in front of you, the one you’ve been avoiding all week, as stoic, serious, and so handsome, it was really a sight for sore eyes. He was so pretty from any angle you thought.

- You place him in your hands, spitting onto the tip and dragging your hands down to coat his length. He’s so similar, you thought. So big and fat, it could hang low, even fully erect.

- He fixes the way he’s sitting, to seem more normal on top, of the table. His face would twinge and he grasped at the table and paper, acting like everything is normal .

- You got started with twisting the base and milked it back to the tip, where your mouth occupied. His tip slowly bucked back toward your lips each time you bring both hands back to you.

- The wet grip your fingers provided had Hiromi bring his head back, his legs slightly twitching from the stimulation.

- Both hands were on opposite poles, wet and slippery enough to keep your hands moving. It was easy enough from this angle, the problem was that you were starving.

- You keep your head locked, as his tip stayed just a bit past your lips, enough for your tongue to muscle itself onto his head while you used both hands to grip his dick and steadily pump until your arms were sore.

- You feel the burn but his quiet moans and stifled groans encouraged you, rather they gave you more incentive to continue.

- You almost started to get comfortable enough to stop a few times inbetween, giving his head attention, then throating as much as you could before you realized this amount you chose could lead to Nanami hearing y’all.

- You slowly backed away after gagging on it, your face a fucking mess. Literally just your forehead wasn’t wet, everything below was smeared with tears, spit, snot and precum.

- You weren’t tired though. You wanted to just do this for until however long he could last, but that would also mean that Nanami could come in at moment to discuss more about whatever papers were strone about.

- While you catch your breath, you could only look up and see how fucking beautiful he looked from this angle. You palm his balls lightly and massage them as you place them in your mouth. Still looking up at him.

- It’s a lot for him, he didn’t think his stamina would still stick after all these years. He just had different priorities then, but now, he was almost over the edge, literally. With the angle he was sitting at, you were practically pulling him off to stuff your face.

- Stroking his shaft me giving his balls one last lick, you lined your head steady to him, throating him again, slowly, but you were taking it like a champ.

- And so was he. His body starts to lightly spasm, Hiromi’s fucked out look was surely something you wanted to see up close, but it was something you would have to remember later as you heard a door open, and your dad’s footsteps were coming towards the kitchen.

- Wasting no time, Hiromi wraps his leg over your head, his calf pushing the back of your head further down onto him. All you could do was focus on your breathing, while you bet he could feel you tightening around him from excitement.

- “Is this considered rough?” You asked yourself. It didn’t matter as you just had to stay silent now.

- Nanami comes in from where you did, the other side of the island where you’re only facing the table, asking if that’s the right document. Hiromi looks through it, then moves to check his wrist, having an excuse to looks down at you who’s throat is being stretched open by his huge fucking dick.

- Seriously, it’s so big that if he swiveled his hips, your whole body would follow. You take small breaths through your nose, your mind more on how not to ruin his nice pants. Your palms sweat and your fingers twitched, you wanted to hold onto his thighs to help push your head to a better angle, but his leg lock was steady.

- “No, Kento San, this is too early, do you have anything that could fall within [this timeframe].” Hiromi’s voice was like nothing was happening. You couldn’t believe how good of an actor he was. It wasn’t even the fact that you could get caught this very moment, but that Hiromi was treating this like nothing big was happening, that you were helping him out like it’s normal or expected.

- “I’ll go look again. I have that one sitting somewhere…” You could hear the detached footsteps start back toward Nanami’s office. Once he closes the door, you slap down on the lawyers lap, telling him to ease up.

- He lets his leg go, and takes as big a breath as you. His hand never leaving your head, patting your hair to let you know you did so good while he regained his senses.

- You at this point get up and wipe your face off into your shirt, whatever you couldn’t make a bigger mess than this rn…

- You almost laughed at how he could act so normally in front of people that you were tempted to ask what did he really like, but your feet took off, grabbing him to come to your room.

———————————

- Sweaty and exhausted, you both finally reached a peak in your hasty actions. The high of getting stretched out and filled up by this man was exhilarating. Not only were you split open, but your belly felt swollen with his size and seed.

- God did you miss this feeling, it wasn’t you fault the only time you got affection or learned about affection was only through sexual acts. Not until Nanami showed you more of what you had been robbed of, and that you were thankful to him. Speaking of which,

- Nanami comes out of his office now and you expected him to head back to the kitchen or even the restroom, but he walks straight to your room instead .

- He asks you if you’re okay, and what you wanted for dinner. You responded with whatever he wanted, to which he said okay before asking if he could have his lawyer back.

- You ask what he means by that and he says “(y/n) you left your cup out in the kitchen when I first asked about the documents.” You don’t say anything and he opens the door.

- “You could just ask next time sweetie,” he comes in and looks at your mess, at how tired you made each other, he wondered what would’ve happened if he had joined. “Unless you can’t handle two men.”

- “Did she learn all of that from you?” Hiromi asks, he’s pulling his clothes back on.

- Nanami comes over and places his hands on your face, giving your body the aftercare it’s used to by him.

- “More or less,” He pats your head one last time before letting you go. “We’ve got a lot more to discuss now it seems.”

- Hiromi comes back to the bed and kisses your cheek before he’s led back to the kitchen with Nanami to talk.

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least-carpet · 3 months

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There are fics where jl wants lwj's approval/affection? :-|

I suppose I shouldn't be surprised, there are fics where jc spends his days beating up jl/wwx. Also. Lwj very much did mutilated jl's uncle

I shouldn't bag on these fics because I invariably look at the summary, go, "this is not for me!" and keep scrolling. But the premise bothers me nonetheless. Anything where Jin Ling is grouped in with the rest of the junior quartet as Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji's "children" just puts my back up.

I do think that Jin Ling likes and wants a relationship with Wei Wuxian (which is why he takes finding out about his real identity so badly). But Lan Wangji is like... the cool teacher that's kind to everyone else but mean to you.

Like, the junior quartet should have different feelings about the various adults in their lives! They all have unique relationships with different people! It's completely possible for Lan Wangji to be Lan Sizhui's beloved brother/father/mentor figure and protector and for him to have treated Jin Ling so badly that Jin Ling is wary of him. People are complex. I really like when you can see the author is thinking through these differences and how they might affect the friendships between the juniors.

To be fair to Lan Wangji about the uncle mutilation, that uncle was very much holding everyone hostage at the time. I think it would still be hard and pretty traumatic to watch your beloved uncle's arm be cut off, even if he did take you hostage? Like Jin Ling can know that Lan Wangji is trying to help and still be pretty upset by it (on top of everything else).

#asks #jin ling #lan wangji #wei wuxian #mdzs +#least-carpet thoughts

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showtoonzfan · 1 year

Text

HELLUVA BOSS: S2E4 REVIEW

Ganna be honest, this episode wasn’t AS bad as I thought it would be, like I’m lowkey shocked. It’s certainly not the worst out of what we’ve seen, and it didn’t piss be off to high heaven, especially since the runtime is short and Blitz and Stolas are away from one another here, but….it still wasn’t….good, so let’s get into it.

So everyone already knows this episode was….so fast paced. Andrealphus doesn’t even get a proper introduction, and like I said before, in the span of one fucking minute, we have Stolas and Stella petty banter, Andrealphus, and Striker coming back to kidnap him. For starters, Yayy….glad to see Stolas and Stella acting like petty middle schoolers towards eachother. I was right when I said that the writers can’t figure out what they want their dynamic to be. Like….this is supposed to be the same couple that’s in an abusive serious situation, and it kinda doesn’t make me take them seriously if they’re just swearing at each other and bickering Viv. Also, glad to know the writers are outright saying “cheating is okay”- simply because Stella never liked him, so again….way to take the flaws Stolas had in season 1 and completely erase them and excuse them, just because you want Stolas to be in the right. It’s so distracting how fucking retconned they are, they might as well just have said “Stolas did nothing wrong” in Loo Loo Land if these were the writer’s true colors all along, but since Viv wrote this episode, I’m not surprised.

They hyped Andrealphus up but he gets like….two scenes and doesn’t do much like…lmao. In The Circus, again…they try to make it clear that divorce in the Goetia family is uwu serious, and Stella mentions Andrealphus, implying that he would be upset, or is a threat. When we actually meet him tho, he isn’t even….upset about the divorce? Why did Stella mention him then? What was the point of foreshadowing him and having Stolas say he doesn’t care what he thinks if Andrealphus was just going to be all like “oh you’re getting divorced? Okay, give us money then”- like it’s so fucking underwhelming but we’ll get back to him and Stella later. Also we see that Stolas has a scheduled meeting with Ozzie, implying that he may be trying to get that crystal after all. But…can this show just fucking….stop teasing us with future shit and just do it already? I’m so tired of the show dangling plot threads to come later in our face but they either NEVER come or the execution is underwhelming.

Blitz continues to be the most annoying and unfunny character in the entire show. His jokes and dialogue are a fucking pain to sit through and the scene where he’s trying to announce his appointment and fights with the lady in the waiting room drags and is unneeded. In fact, this whole side plot was unneeded. Viv doesn’t know how to fucking balance this show, she wants episodes to be serious and story driven but have a slice of life filler side plot at the same time and guess what? It doesn’t work or blend well. The constant cut aways are distracting from the main plot and you could have used this premise for a different episode. Loona doesn’t even have any dialogue, you could have at least improved the relationship between her and Blitz or had a moment of her being thankful that he was here and comforting her, appreciating him more….ya know….character development……..something that would have made this side plot actually useful since this is supposed to be a fucking “character driven” show about the relationships between the characters, but no. This side plot existed to pat out the run time and give Blitz and Loona something to do so they’re not just sitting there. As usual Loona does nothing, is useless and only there for the furry porn. The shot of her butt with the needle was 100% on purpose, I can tell.

(Also we’re on season 2 and only now finally get to see an upfront interaction of Imps being treated as the lower class, but it doesn’t do anything. This show tells us instead of showing us, they constantly remind you that imps are at the bottom but Blitz still literally has a good job that pays well and aside from the wrath imps providing food too feed hell, there’s no exploration of how imps having it lower than any other demon species. If anything it seems like Imps and the rest of the Hellborn species are all on the same ranking because Viv can’t storytell.) Also what is with the bleeping? I really don’t get it, it’s not funny and it’s distracting, making scenes awkward.

Predicted it, but Moxxie and Millie were…unneeded in this episode and were only included to fight Striker. These two really are useless when they’re not the focus and you can tell Viv has no idea what to do with them when they’re not. Also…..Viv…..Viv……is Moxxie strong, or not? Make up your fucking mind. In this episode he’s able to get the upper hand against a bigger imp, make him bleed and tie him to the car without an issue, and yet he’s been characterized as weak and not the muscle of the group. Is he strong or not? YAYY MORE CHARACTER INCONSISTENCIES! And glad to know Millie did nothing….as usual. Besides fight.

So Stolas has officially become Angel Dust, and Moxxie is slowly turning into Blitz so that’s great. It’s amazing how there’s barley a difference between the Stolas and Angel tho, he’s just Angel Dust. And Chaz. And Blitz. And every other fucking gay male character Viv writes. The constant cursing, the quick sassy witty banter, the sex jokes of him being tied up, you can tell Viv wrote this with those “harder” jokes between Moxxie and Stolas like…wow, it’s amazing how her gay characters have recycled personalities, aka the Sassy gay twink. Anyway, to me, Stolas before was horny and rabid don’t get me wrong, but something about the way he is in this episode just irks me more. I get that he hates Stella and Striker, but now he just seems like a petty sassy royal bird who acts like a child 24/7…..and it’s unfunny…..and annoying. All these characters are written like fucking children I can’t.

Apparently Striker has a reputation, is wanted around Hell and is well known for being an assassin now??? I thought he was just some Imp who was hired to kill someone? Lmao yet another retcon because if this was the case before, you’d think IMP would have heard of him in Harvest Moon. What’s also retconned is Striker saying he was asked to give Stolas the “full royal treatment”, to torture him I guess but….no? He was hired to shoot Stolas with an angelic gun. Why didn’t he just fucking shoot him. Speaking of that, where is the fucking angelic gun? The IMP gang had it last, and now they don’t have it. Also I already pointed this out but…Stolas can’t recognize Striker despite meeting him in episode 5 upfront. Let’s actually talk about Striker tho. He wasn’t perfect but he certainly was the best part of the episode. I actually applaud Bosco for his voice acting, and the scene with him snapping at the band to leave him alone was the only joke that made me laugh. I didn’t care about Striker that much before but this episode honestly made me did now, ignoring the fact that he’s characterized as egotistical. Problem is tho, like the rest of the antagonists, Stikers kinda just a tool. So he….may or may not be dead, I legit have no idea. If he is dead however….boy oh boy, that would piss me off, because IF he IS dead……then way to go guys, you killed off the only interesting and cool character. 🫠

I expected it, but it’s amazing how everything beforehand regarding him was for nothing if he does turn out dead. The tension he had between him and Moxxie? Would be gone. The fact that he appeared in Blitz’s hallucination, being someone who was similar to Blitz but they used their skills differently yet were the same regarding being mistreated by the upper class? Would be gone. Striker wanting to rebel against the higher class? Gone. Blitz doesn’t even get to interact with him before he dies, for a character that clearly had an impact on him. I was going to applaud this episode for actually being consistent and keeping Striker the same person who despises the upper class for what they do to the lower class, they even imply that he had someone he cares about taken away, but it’s all fucking gone if they KILLED HIM OFF. It all would go nowhere in the end and it pisses me off now because you HAD an interesting character, a villain who contrasted the main character, who had a point and could be humanized, and who rightfully calls out Stolas and his people being the scum of the earth, and now he might be dead because once again, Vivzie is an impatient writer who pushes the story forward too fast before we can even get to know these important characters, and also doesn’t want Stolas to be in a position where he’s in the wrong. Bro was literally eating at a rich place where imps serve you, treats his butler like a stress toy, talks down to Blitz and other imps…he’s not innocent Viv.

(It’s also obvious but this episode suffers from pacing issues, the constant cut aways, and scenes moving by so fast we can’t digest any of it. The FIGHT scene tho? Good god that was a mess, it’s literally faster than Millie’s fight scene from last episode, and the annoying songs playing as we kept cutting to Blitz at the appointment REALLY doesn’t help. I really feel like this studio can’t handle fight scenes….at all, or knows how they work. The video literally gets fucking blurry at one point like what the FUCK LMAO…..either hire someone who knows how to animate action scenes or don’t do action scenes at all.)

I knew Stella was still going to be one note, so I wasn’t surprised, but honestly what did piss me off is how stupid they make her. She was inconsistent before but now she’s just an idiot, because apparently she needed to be TOLD that once Stolas dies, everything goes to Octavia. Like are you kidding me? She’s so dumb that she needed to be told that?? She doesn’t even respond when Andre mentions Via, lmao her whole character really is “me hate Stolas and me want him dead” and nothing else. I’ll give the episode this, even though we barley got to see Andre, he wasn’t insufferable like I thought he would be, in fact, he’s more tolerable than Stella and Stolas combined since he’s the one who’s annoyed at their bickering and calls Stella out for being dumb, but that’s not a writing flex. Andre clearly seems to be the smart mastermind leading Stella now, I have no idea wether if they’ll later make her sympathetic and paint Andre out to be the baddie leading her, or not, it would be bad writing either way tho. Speaking of that….the way Andre treats Stella is off, and I don’t mean in the way that he could be evil. Like other critic blogs have been saying, he calls her attractive, a minx, and a vixen, all words you….wouldn’t really call your sister. It’s really gross and I’m starting to think the information we’ve been given of these two secretly screwing might be true. Like…if we’re doing straight up incest, I’m ganna hurl.

Andre also is all like “if we keep him alive, we’ll have more opportunities, let’s wait till we can get the upper hand”- and I’m…..what? You HAD the upper hand, that’s number one, and number two, this dialogue is VERY vague and makes me feel like Viv had no idea what exactly Andre’s end goal is here, so she used this dialogue as an excuse to figure it out later since she doesn’t plan shit ahead. Because what is Andre’s end goal? It’s confusing. Stella wants him dead, but then they’re talking about money and possessions. Andre seems to want to help Stella have Stolas’s estate, but she just wanted him dead because she hates him. Now you’re telling me she wants his estate too? YAY MORE RETCONS AND CONFUSING PLOT HOLES. Guess we’ll have to wait for Viv to figure out their motivations later lol.

Yada yada another retcon, Blitz cares for Uwu Stolas and is a dumbass for acting like he never knew Stolas could get hurt despite having a fucking angelic weapon on him and learning royals could be in danger in the last season, moving on-

So we’re finally at the end, the most important scene, the text scene. For starters, just like the other critic blogs have been saying……Ozzie’s finally……FINALLY gets brought up again and acknowledged, and it’s over a fucking blink and you’ll miss it half- assed text message. Like….WOW Viv, way to scrape the bottom of the barrel and confront this in the most underwhelming way possible. Would have been actually impactful and better if we saw this go down on fucking screen and have Blitz and Stolas address this in person, but nah let’s just have it happen off screen because storytelling and Viv? They don’t know each other!

But putting that aside, I want to talk about two important problems I had with this scene, because nobody is talking about how these messages make no goddamn sense. So if you actually read the messages between Blitz and Stolas, I hate how Stolas is characterized here, and I don’t mean how he’s suddenly acting like he always cared about Blitz because that’s been a problem since Ozzie’s, I’m talking about how oblivious and emotionally clingy he is. Like…seriously these text messages are a fucking mess. He suddenly acts clueless to how Blitz feels, wondering if he was upset or not, as if Blitz didn’t fucking tell him exactly why afterwards. Fuck you mean by “you just took off?”- I’m sorry Viv, did you forget the scene where Blitz drove Stolas home that night and called him out on his bullshit, saying all he did was treat him like a plaything? Because yeah, Ozzie’s may have finally been fucking mentioned in this show, but now it’s retconned AGAIN because apparently Stolas is a dumbass and can’t remember why Blitz was mad at him in the first place when he had spelled it out loud and clear. Stolas’s text messages make it out to be like they left the restaurant after Ozzie’s taunting and the scene with them at Stolas’s house never happened. Then Stolas is saying shit like “okay well phew glad you’re not upset then Ozzie is a kidder lol I didn’t mind the jabs he makes at me”- I…..WHAT??? What the fuck is going on? Why is Stolas written differently here? Why is the events of Ozzie’s written differently now? Stolas was literally embarrassed by Ozzie calling him out and hid in his menu, much to Blitz’s dismay. They then leave, Stolas can obviously tell Blitz is upset, and when he tries to reach to him gently, Blitz shuts him out, causing Stolas to cry alone. This episode is apparently now acting like their quarrel never happened because the dialogue is written as if they’re referring to Ozzie’s torment, not Blitz calling him out. This legit pisses me off because the show is once again telling us what we saw didn’t happen and rewriting it to fool us. Making Stolas out to be some vulnerable softie who cares about Blitz’s well being too—

And finally, Viv does what she does best by wanting to make you ship Blitz and Stolas together SO badly, but accidentally contradict herself by showing even MORE proof on why these two aren’t good for each other. Putting all the retconning aside, in this case it’s that…surprise surprise, Blitz is constantly miserable and unhappy around Stolas, or whenever they interact. And it’s not even that Blitz can’t communicate, or sucks at emotions, he just doesn’t fucking LIKE Stolas, and I don’t understand how many times the show is going pin that nail on the head until something actually happens, because this scene would have been more impactful if we weren’t already HERE before. Remember The Circus Viv? Stolas going through his Instagram and noticing Blitz was miserable all the time, and reflecting on how their relationship was a figment of his imagination? This scene is the same, it’s just done through text messages now. Why are we doing this again. And I don’t get what Viv’s end goal is here. Is she trying to make Stolas realize that Blitz never gave a shit about him (because we’re on season two and this bird brain can’t take a hint) or is she trying to make Stolas go “I thought he didn’t care but omg he texted me “get well soon” he DOES love me!” Yeah…probably the last option. This ship sucks. If anything…..why can’t Blitz and Stolas just be fucking friends? You wanna say they care about each other? Fine. But romantically, it just doesn’t work. They aren’t good for each other, and function better as friends, but GOD forbid, we can’t have that because they do the dirty in bed SO IT CAN’T BE PLATONIC, it must be romantic! I was literally right, this ship gets worse and worse every passing episode and Viv wants you to ship it so hard despite the fact that she STILL hasn’t given me ONE good reason why they should be a couple. End of story.

So that pretty much it. This episode was nowhere near has bad as the previous three, it’s the most tolerable, but still heavily flawed in the writing department. The dialogue still lacks nuance and sounds like an edgy 12 year old wrote it, the world is still empty, pacing was off, the animation was off too at times, the constant sex jokes during serious scenes are distracting and take away from what’s going on, the side plot didn’t need to happen, there’s also SCENES that didn’t need to happen, there are multiple retcons and empty plot holes/threads, and Viv once again can’t write a complex serious gay couple. She just doesn’t have the writing chops for it, especially since she keeps rewriting aspects and flip flopping between who is the worse lover and who isn’t. I’ll talk more about this episode later, you know how I rant a lot lol. Tomorrow I’ll be finally answering inbox questions too! If you managed to read my endless rant essay, I thank you! See you soon!

#vivziepop critical #spindlehorse critical #helluva boss critical #helluva boss critique #helluva boss criticism #helluva critical #helluva boss #helluva boss Stolas #helluva boss andrealphus #helluva boss Stolitz #Stolitz critical #review

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skyebounded · 2 years

Text

Be That As It May

.main masterlist.

premise: Forced into an arrangement that you don’t want, your beloved uncle might have a solution.

pairing: Daemon Targaryen x Fem!Targaryen Reader (uncle + niece)

Warnings: pure filth, p in v, oral (f-receiving), arranged marriage, fingering, I am sure there is so much more here, but I don’t know. I also included some Valyrian Language in this, and the translation is at the bottom of the page.

WC: 7.4K

A/N: This was so much fun to write, so I hope you guys enjoy this! also thank you for being patient with me.

You had taken after your sister in all manors, and favoured her strong will and attitude, something your father wasn’t sure that he liked, but there was nothing he could do nor say that would change it, so he ignored it, much the same as he did with Rhaenyra, pretending that it did not bother him or affect him in any way. You were quite sure, however, that it was not only your sister but more of the combination of the two of you that was sending him hurling toward an early grave.

The King threw whatever he could at the pair of you, to sculpt you into well-mannered women, but you had your mind made up, and the likes of his efforts were wasted. You would never be forced to do what you did not want to do, or so you thought. As soon as you had seen Rhaenyra bend to his will, taking a husband all for the good of the Kingdom, you wondered if you would end in the same fate.

Summoned to the council hall, you had every confidence that no matter what was said, what had been asked of you, you would be able to defy it in one way or another. The doors opened as you strolled inside, surprised to see the King pacing slowly back and forth at the head of the table, each one of his advisors sitting rigid in their seats, eyes darting back and forth between you and the King. The Queen sat plastered in a chair next to the King’s, hands resting plainly in her lap, and your very own sister, Rhaenyra, sat in a chair on the side of the table.

There was an air of anticipation lingering in the room, one so heavy, so thick that you felt like you needed to gasp for air if someone didn’t speak. What surprised you the most was the tall, lean figure leaning against a black column in the corner of the room, Daemon. The roguish prince.

Unwillingly, and unknowingly you had just walked into your downfall, completely unprepared. Clasping your hands firmly behind your back, your eyes darting to each member in the room, lingering on your uncle in the corner. You can’t help but wonder what he has to do with whatever was coming your way. You knew that whatever it was, was not going to be favourable in the slightest.

“Father, you called?” your words were drawn out leisurely, as your gaze finally lands on him.

His head whips to you, a stern gaze plastered to his features, his lips down-turned, eyes tired and strained. In the days that had preceded Rhaenrya engagement, his demeanor had worsened. The once panic-ridden state had only increased, the fear of God knows what plagued him day in and day out. He had become harsh, and uncharacteristically different from the man you once knew.

“Ah, y/n…good” he sighs heavily.

He comes to a halt, throwing his hands out over the back of the chair, a means to sturdy himself you surmise. His eyes never meet yours, and the tugging sensation in your stomach tells you that he refuses to meet your gaze due to what he had to say. With your eyes boring into him, he shifts slightly, looking to the few council members that surrounded him for a vote of confidence, one he did not receive in the slightest.

“I will say this plainly…you are to be married,” he says with a forced smile. One that told you that he knew of your displeasure. You felt your heart sink to your stomach, eyes flicking to each member at the table, lingering on your sisters, whose eyes showed the slightest hint of sympathy, then to the Queen’s who showed only disinterest in the situation, and lastly, to Daemon’s, whose had the slightest bit of devilry behind them, and yet there was a sense of pity and longing.

“Pardon?” you chuckle awkwardly, a confused smile resting on your lips. Frozen to the spot as you felt everyone's beady eyes on you.

“Ser Tyland Lannister, he made a proposition for your hand, and it was one that was rather too good to pass on, needless to say, the match has already been made, and you’d do well to head it.” Every word was said with a hint of warning as if he knew just how inclined you were to fight him on the matter. The bile that was forcing its way up your throat was instantly swallowed, your hands trembling in a clenched mess behind your back. You had begun to sink your nails into your palm, something you had done as a child to keep yourself in check, it had only ever sufficed for so long.

“When was this decided?” you ask, doing your best to keep your voice level and calm.

Soft murmurs could be heard throughout the room, nothing you could quite grasp, but that didn’t matter in the slightest. The King looks around, before flicking his hand, dismissing everyone. The room fell silent as everyone hurried out, leaving you alone with your father, minus the lingering presence of your uncle, who had sunk further into the corner of the room, determined not to be seen. Why? you hadn’t the slightest of clues, but as far as you were concerned, he had no position in the topic.

“It was decided today, just now.” he pauses, watching you carefully, “You are to be married within the week,” he adds casually, pulling the chair out from underneath the table to take a seat. With a curl of his finger, one of the lingering servants rushes to his side, filling his cup with wine.

“No,” you huff, your brow tweaked upwards in defiance.

His eyes clenched shut and lips down-turned in what would now become a permanent scowl.

“No?”

“No,” you repeat, this time with more conviction, “I refuse, you cannot make me.”

Despite knowing that he could in fact force you to do his will, it wasn’t going to stop you from speaking your mind. His hand comes down hard against the table, the rattle of it echoing throughout the empty room.

“You forget your place, y/n! You will do as I say, and you will not defy me on this!”

Sinking your nails deeper into your skin, you could feel the smallest bit of moisture flooding your nail beds, no doubt blood from the crescent marks you had made in your displeasure. When the news of Rhaenyra’s betrothal consumed every corner of Westeros, you presumed that the compass of betrothal would not reach you. In your naive mind, you were free to do as you pleased, with no limits or bounds, you would have the freedom to pursue those that you desired, but you could not have been any more wrong in your assumption.

“I do not wish for this, you cannot make me, Father!” you plead, your lip beginning to quiver ever so slightly, as you release your grip on your hands. The suddenness of him standing had you taking a small step back. His knuckles were white as he gripped the edges of the table. He had always found you to be the more difficult of the pair of you. Rhaenyra had given him his fair share of trouble throughout her life, but you had been the topper to it all. Constantly trying his patience to the best of your ability, and this was no different.

“I can do as I damn well please, Y/n, you forget I own you!” he bellowed, “You are a princess, you have your duties same as I, same as Rhaenyra, you are not untouched by your name, and I fear you forget that. You have a duty to fulfill and it may not be as grave as your sisters but you do have one nonetheless.” his eyes narrow coldly on you, begging you to say something more. Tears brim your eyes, as you look at the man you have never seen so cold before.

“Mother would never have gone along with this, but it seems you forget her far too easily.” you spit, your words laced with venom to them. The expression on his face falls a certain sadness that is quick to be replaced with one of hatred. He would not be moved on the topic, that much was clear to you.

“Go from my sight! Now!” he demands, moving from behind the table into a clearer view. Turning on your heel, you stride out of the room, wiping your blood-stained palm into the fabric of your cream coloured dress. Never had you been so infuriated, made to feel so diminished. You had no say in your fate, no say in the fact that you were now to become nothing less than a breeding mule, to be pumped full of Lannister children. Disgusted, and irate. All be damned if you were going to just roll over on your back as such, you would sooner throw yourself from the highest tower than be made into his wife.

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

The windows had been thrown open, and the cool night breeze flooded your room as you paced it. Back and forth, and over again, clutching your hand as you run your thumb over the open wounds. The thin sleeping gown that hung loosely on your frame, fell from your shoulders, clinging onto the sides of your arms, while silver locks cascaded down your back, swaying with each heated step. Muddled, filled with thoughts and schemes, and silly notions of how you could possibly evade your current fate, your mind was racing. Adamant to devise a plan on how you could wrench yourself free from the grip that was your uncomical duty.

Nothing was coming to you, other than fleeing from the castle, never to return. Living in squalor, alone and lost, all because you couldn’t stand to marry, but at least you would be free. Unsure if it was worth all the trouble, it was still a viable option in the end. Then there was the absurd idea that you could throw yourself from your window, the one that you kept returning to far more than you cared to admit.

Making your way over to the open seals, you step onto the ledge, looking down at the ground that seemed so far away, and yet not close enough.

“Is that really your only viable option?”

You had been so lost in thought that you hadn’t noticed that you were not alone in your chambers. The voice was easily recognizable, you had heard it nearly all your life. The familiar rasp was that of Daemon’s. Starting out at the kingdom before you, tempted to take the tiniest of steps forward, you speak.

“Tell me, uncle, do you have a better idea?”

His silence was deafening, and you begin to wonder if it was a gesture in itself, urging you to do it.

“Perhaps, but don’t let me stop you...” he says, his voice holding the slightest bit of amusement to it. Taking a deep breath, you pull yourself away from the window, your feet meeting the hard ground once more, as you turn to face him. Leaning against one of the posters on your bed, was Daemon. A simple grey tunic with red detailing, one that you thought suited his complexion well, hanging perfectly on his lean frame. It came as no surprise that he had found his way into your room, seeing as how it had happened before on many occasions. Utilizing the secret passages that opened into your room day in and day out.

To a normal eye, the relationship you had with your dear uncle would be one of scandal, improper in its highest degree, despite nothing ever truly happening between the pair of you. It, however, did not stop the longing gazes, the lewd thoughts, and the stolen touches here and there from both of you. It was something that you are quite certain if brought to the right attention, (would not be taken well.) but neither of you genuinely cared.

You had always been drawn to him in a way you knew was wrong, and though he would never admit it to you, he felt the same. The same immoral desire for you that you had for him. A part of you would argue that you felt a deep love for him, one that wasn’t common in your situation, but it was there nonetheless, festering inside you for as long as you could remember.

He watches with narrowed eyes, as you move from your spot nearest the widow, and over to him, bringing yourself to a stop mere feet in front of him. Looking up through your lashes at him.

“What would you have me do, Daemon?” you pause, a small shrug of your shoulders, “It seems to me that I have very few viable options as of now, so if you have a better one I am all ears, my dearest Uncle.”

His head cocks slightly, as a crooked grin forms on his lips.

“I'm sure there are plenty of other things you could do rather than take your own life..” he says, pushing himself off of the post as he makes his way languidly over to you.

“Well give me one, what can I do?”

Stopping in front of you, his eyes gazing down at you.

“Discredit your name,” he says, grabbing a stray strand of your hair to wrap around his finger. He acted like it was the simplest thing a girl of your standing could do. Tarnish your name, and all would be forgotten, except it wouldn’t. Not only would that perhaps free you from your engagement, but it would in fact bring shame greatly upon your name. You huffed a laugh, as you looked up at him.

“Ha, not like they would be so inclined to believe me now, would they? Especially not since I have so blatantly expressed my vexation in the matter.” You grumble, rolling your eyes slowly as a way to show your point.

“It does not matter what they believe, as long as the word is spread and enough people speak it.” He says softly, letting the strand fall to rest on your chest, his eyes following it as it falls between your breasts.

“I cannot do that, let alone find someone who would, you would have a better chance doing it yourself,” you say exaggeratedly, taking a deep breath, the smallest bit of you hoping that by some grace he would. That he would surrender his pride and morale to save you.

“I could do it…but I want you in return,” his eyes slowly meet yours, suggestion laced just behind the violet of them.

“Let me take you to Dragonstone, I could take you as my wife.”

He was being serious, that much you could gather, he would gladly do it, but at what cost, you wondered. You had never known your uncle to do anything that wasn’t in his best interest, so for you to assume that he would do this merely for you was a juvenile thought among all.

“I will take you as you are, free and unbroken. You’d want for nothing. Tyland will do nothing more than bore you my dear, breed you, and treat you as a trophy for his shelf…” he says, leaning closer to whisper in your ear. ”You were not made to sit atop a shelf, you were made to sit on a throne.” His breath was warm against your ear, as it moved down the side of your neck, his lips only hovering over it, the closeness of him sending chills throughout you.

You hated the way that you wanted him to do it, to discredit you and claim you for his own, or how for as long as you could remember, you desired him, and here he was offering that to you on a silver platter, but you thought better.

“You have not once ever cared about anything but yourself or your own self-interests, that is the only reason you want me, is because I can strengthen your path to your sick sadistic goals, isn’t it? it’s the only reason you even suggest it, you are not doing this for me, it is for you.”

You argue, knowing that you should back away from him, but not moving a muscle in the slightest. You were desperately hoping you were wrong in your claim, that he would laugh in your face and call you a stupid naive girl, but he doesn’t. He pulls away from you, chuckling, as a sultry grin taking over his lips. It made your heart fall into the pit of your stomach, as you stared at him, your eyes wide and innocent. Clasping his hands behind his back, his smile fading slightly.

“It's true, I never have cared about much more than myself, but you are wrong in the fact that the only reason I want you is to fulfill my goals,” he pauses, inching closer, his calloused hands now cupping the soft skin of your cheeks, his thumb resting just under your chin as he uses it to tilt your head up, your eyes meeting his. “I desire you, I need you, I’m afraid I always have. I have cherished you since you were a girl, we have always shared an unbreakable bond, y/n. I want you to be mine.”

His words were true, every last bit, and you knew it, but that didn’t hide the fact that you still had a lingering feeling that he had other goals.

“That may be, Daemon, and I can’t deny that I feel something for you in return, but I cannot just leave, or give up on my people, my home. I cannot just discredit myself on a whim just because I am displeased with my situation.”

Your voice was hopeful, wishing that he would have more words to persuade you, to make you believe, even if it was in the slightest, that he wanted you for nothing more than for himself and nothing more.

“You also cannot stay here, unhappy, and seen as a mere object for someone else's pleasure. My sweet child, you are meant to be worshiped, to be feared and respected…”

His hands clasp your arms, just above where your dress had started to slip, running his hands over the exposed skin.

“Let me show you what it means to be so..”

Daemon brushes his thumb over your lips, holding your gaze for longer than he should have, his eyes boring into yours, searching your expression for even the slightest hint of approval, and permission, before they sift down to where his thumb resided.

“Daemon..” your voice soft, like a reverent whisper of a prayer. Every fiber of your being was set ablaze, urging you to accept him, his proposal, and everything he offered. His thumb pulls at your bottom lip, forcing it open in a gentle manner, allowing for your heavy sighs to be heard. Fighting the urge to let your eyes fall closed at the mere thought of all he could do to you, do for you, you bring your hand up to rest over his, your thumb stroking the side of his hand delicately.

“I cannot.” you mutter.

If he was displeased with your response you didn’t know, for all he did was smirk, letting go of his hold on you.

“Just know you have options, my dear.”

With a yearning gaze, he simply retreats back the way he came, out through the passage. Letting go of the breath you hadn’t been aware you were holding, you right your dress, tugging the fallen sleeves back up your shoulders, as you stare aimlessly at the spot where he stood mere moments ago.

Something about his words had intrigued you, perhaps it was the promise to show you a life you deserved, a way of living that you so longed for, and all by his side. To be his queen, and equal, something that you would not be so likely to receive from Tyland, nor anyone else for that matter. It set your mind into a frenzy to think that, despite knowing the man he was, the way he thought and acted, that nothing but truth was uttered to you. He wanted you.

Letting out an exasperated groan you turn to the window once more, all it would take was a step, but instead, you resulted in throwing yourself into your bed, in hopes of waking with a clear mind.

*****

You were not so lucky, forced to think of all the things Daemon said, offered, on constant repeat inside your head, taunting you, tempting you.

“To hell with it.” you mutter, determined to let nothing hold you back any longer. Reaching for your cloak, you pull it on and pull it closed. Pushing open the false wall, as you slipped into the dark and cold passage, one that you knew would only get you so far. Your steps were light and silent, as you raced your way through the corridors of the castle, eager to find what you sought out. Heart racing, as you descended down a flight of steps, weaving in and out of the shadows, sprinting even faster at the thoughts taking to your mind.

Halting in front of the pair of double doors that were ever so familiar to you, you take a labored breath, giving yourself one more chance to turn back and forget it. You wouldn’t, you couldn’t. Pushing one of them open, you slip inside to the quiet room. Flickering candles spread throughout, being the only thing that allowed you to see. The doorways to the balcony of the room, open wide, letting in the calm yet bracing breeze. Curtains lined the windows, flowing like a simple ball gown of a girl being whisked around. You lean yourself back against the door as a means to shut it, surveying the room for the subject you so desired. Taking a few languid steps into the room in search of him.

“You came..”

Breath hitching at the feeling of a warm, hard body pressed against your back, the familiar smell of him wafting around the room. His arm slips around your waist, pulling you to lean back into him, and you do. Letting the facade that surrounds you fade instantly.

“Show me,” you mumble, closing your eyes, ready to submit. Deft fingers find the strings of your cloak, pulling them to feel it tumble to the ground with a soft thump. His hand reaches for yours, sliding over it gently, as he lets his fingers intertwine with your own before he’s dragging you out onto the balcony. Moving to stand behind you once more, only to whisper in your ear.

“Look down there….” he coos, his hands holding onto your arms, as you feel his breath against your ear. “See all those people, living their lives, free of chaos, and duty…you owe them nothing y/n….. You need not think of them, any more than they do of you…wasting away in this castle, with people made to dictate your every move, every thought and desire…it is them who owes you everything…” He says with a hiss as if they had offended him in some way. You can feel his hand roaming the curvature of your figure as he whispers in your ear, his touch utterly intoxicating with each bit of pressure that he applies.

“You seem to think that you should be stuck here, that you were made to follow someone else, to live someone else's dream for you. That you don’t deserve to live for yourself. That’s not true, my love. You were made to rule, to be powerful, and you need to see that, y/n, you need to believe it, and I can help you… I am but your humble servant.”

The mixture of his words, how he knew you better than you seemed to know yourself, and the close proximity, the way he touched you, the way he made your body tingle with just the slightest brush of his fingers over your skin and his breath against your ear, made you crazy. As you stared down at the kingdom, seeing the lights of all of its residents, the faint glow against the dark of the night, you hadn’t realized that he was no longer holding you, nor the fact that he was no longer near you.

“They don’t deserve you,” he states plainly, admiring the way your skin glowed in the moonlight or the way you stood there, looking down at a kingdom that should be yours. Unaware of this, you turn around, aching for his touch once more. Standing before you, Daemon eyed you sinfully, and yet with adoration.

Taking a step closer to you once more, he drops to his knees, your eyes following his every move, which was so carefully calculated. With a soft grin on his face, he reaches out and grabs your leg, pulling it up to rest on his bent knee. The slit of your sleeping gown, now draping across your leg. Taking a deep breath at the sight of him, falling to his knees for you, you hold it, the anticipation of what was to come eating you alive.

“They don’t deserve you,” Daemon kisses the inner corner of your knee, his hand gliding along your inner thigh, leaving a trail of goosebumps in his wake. His eyes were glued to yours as if he didn’t want to miss a single thing that flashed across them. “They don’t deserve to worship you,” he continues, moving to kiss along the trail his hand had left, pushing your dress higher with each tender kiss, each word. His eyes drifted down to the spot where your dress began to slip down your shoulders and chest once again, leaving your sternum more and more exposed with each heavy breath you took. “He doesn’t deserve you,” he whispers, his mouth only inches from your bare heat, glistening right before his eyes. He places one more gentle kiss at the highest point of your thigh, the hem of your dress now bunched up around your hips, and the top, barely resting on the tops of your breasts.

“Do you believe me?” His eyes were dark, the violet shade nearly black in the pale light, but you could tell nonetheless what he said was genuine, true. Still holding onto your breath, you slowly nod, watching as his smile fades, and a determined look takes over his face. “Then let me have you…Let me do this for you, for us..”

He doesn’t give you time to answer before his mouth finds your awaiting cunt, tongue licking a single stripe up the length of it, one that has a jolt of pleasure rocking through you. Breath hitching loudly, your hands find the stone ledge that you were once peering over, holding onto it as a means to ground yourself. Head falling back and eyes falling closed, as Daemon gets to work. Pulling your leg over his shoulder, as he wraps his arm around it, to keep you sturdy. Nothing but lustful moans, and whimpers leave your lips, at the feeling of his tongue greedily lapping against you, teasing your clit with a few swirls of it, here and there, then to prodding at your entrance, toying with it.

You so desperately want to cling to his ashen hair, help guide him along by the roots of it, forcing him deeper into your pussy, but the fear of falling at a time like this was much greater. You couldn’t risk it now. Daemon’s tongue circles your needy entrance once more, his nose stimulating your aching clit, noting the way your body shutters, at his touch. He can't help the devilish grin that forms when he thrusts his tongue into you, and you albeit cry out. He instantly moans at the taste of you, like it was the sweetest thing that had ever graced his tongue. He wanted to touch you, to lie with you and feel you writhe beneath him, while he was free to explore every part of you with his mouth, and hands, but he would soon get the chance.

The dress you wore had now fallen past your breasts, your nipples now victim to the cool Westerosian air, hardening as the breeze blew over them, begging to be tended to, but you didn't seem to notice or even care, your mind was elsewhere. Hyper Fixated on the pattern that he was using, to bring you closer and closer to the edge. A strange heat pooling just under your navel, as he begins to suck on your clit. You decided to chance it, removing one of your hands from the ledge only to bury it in the depths of his hair, tugging on the strands with each wave that washed over you. You needed him closer, you needed more of him, and however you got it, you didn’t care, as long as it was him.

“Daemon..Daemon….” you whimper.

There was no use in attempting to form a sentence, not that you had one that particularly mattered in the moment. There was nothing coherent that flooded your mind, and if there was, it would soon be forgotten. Your leg tightens over his back, pulling him closer to you, listening to the way he groans in delight over your response to him. Just as you were falling apart, so was he. His cock strained painfully against his trousers, with nothing to aid it. As he coaxes another loud moan from you, your head shoots forward, and your eyes open, only to see that his gaze hadn’t left you in the slightest. His eyes still very much fixated on the sight of you, your heaving chest, your agape mouth, rosy cheeks, all of it, still in his sight.

He had never seen anything more magnificent, more beautiful, than what was before him, who. You were nothing short of a piece of art, that he would gladly spend his life admiring. As his mouth continued its assault on you, his fingers quickly found a pace, moving inside of you, curling and pumping deeper and deeper. He was pushing you closer to the edge of your release, building quickly inside you, knowing that it would break at any given moment, and then it did. Fire burned through you, consuming you completely. Only his name and hoarse moans called out into the open air, as you struggled to make sense of it all. Daemon’s hand that was once brought about your pleasure was now resting just over your cold one that was sturdily clinging to the stone guard, his fingers tangling with yours once more, as he did nothing to bring you down, his tongue still having its way with you. His mouth devours your pleasure as his own.

Nothing had ever compared to what you felt in the moment, euphoria filling your veins, fogging your head, and blurring your vision, and body suddenly weak and yet so alive. The foreign feeling rippled throughout you, and it was one that was utterly addicting, having you craving so much more. You needed it.

With your mouth still agape, fighting to catch your breath, panting loudly, your eyes fall closed and your head back once more. You could feel your legs ready to give up on you in a moment's notice, and you surmise that the only thing that was keeping you upright, was his grip on you, and the support of the railing behind you.

After a few moments, Daemon lets you down easy, slowing his pace to a stop. Pulling away from you, chin glistening with your sweet release. He wipes his hand over his mouth quickly, before his lean frame is hovering over yours. Slowly guiding you by his hold on your chin, to stand back up straight. Using nothing more than the weight of his body against yours, to keep you upright and sturdy. Shivers run down your spine as you feel his hard length pressing firmly against your waist, gasping in the slightest.

"You belong with me, y/n, and I will do everything I can to prove it," he says softly, his eyes darting back and forth between your two, noting the drunken look in them. He too wore a similar look, one of bliss, and indulgence. Without much thought, you lean forward and catch him in a breathless kiss. Instantly tasting yourself on his tongue, as it meets yours. He pulls you into him more, hands cradling the back of your neck, as he deepens the kiss, moaning into your mouth, over the brush of your tongue in his mouth. His hand falls to your hip, squeezing the flesh of it, as a means to release some of the tension begging to escape him. Brushing your dress aside, as he grabs the back of your thighs, pulling you to jump into his arms, legs wrapping tightly around his torso. With ease he moved you back into the dimly lit room, weaving his way around the furniture, stopping only when he met the edge of his bed, slowly laying you on your back as he followed, hovering over you. His hand glides up the sides of your thighs, as he moves to kiss along your jaw, and neck, sucking marks into your pale skin, marks that would no doubt later aid in the spread of rumors.

Your hands tangle in his hair once more, guiding his head along your body as he moves to kiss over your breasts, and down your sternum, running his tongue back up it, only to kiss back down over your other breast, moaning sweet praises as he goes. The dress that you wore now is a distant memory, as it sat in a jumbled mess over your torso, covering nothing but your navel. Your sex was exposed, and tender as the belt of Daemon’s tunic brushed over it again and again. Pathetic mewls leave your lips, at his every touch.

“y/n, nyke would spend se rest hen issa tubissa, daor matter skorkydoso bōsa, worshipping ao.” he rasps against your tender, pale skin. Cupping his cheeks with your cold frail hands, forcing him to look at you, your eyes meet his, cold and dark, and yet utterly warm and invigorating.

“Nyke aōhon, daemon, emagon issa, claim issa syt aōha own.”

It was all he needed to hear from you, the permission to have you all for himself, to take you as his and only his. His eyes softened, but then something shy of a wild look filled them. His lips find yours once more, catching you slightly by surprise, his tongue finding yours, as he stroked it with his own.

Your nimble hands help him quickly out of his tunic, discarding it to the stone floor, soon to be forgotten, as well as the rest of his pointless clothing. The simple frock that once covered you was now gone, tangled in the mess of his own clothes on the floor, and nothing stood between the pair of you.

Watching as his eyes drink in every sinful inch of you, memorizing every curve, scar, and blemish to your skin, you felt so exposed, and yet so desired.

“Flip over for me, my love..”

You do as you're told, lying on your stomach, eagerly awaiting him. His calloused hand finds your hip, his thumb gently massaging at your lower back as he pushes your legs apart with his knee. You feel his hot breath fanning against your back, his lips kissing down the curve of your spine.

“Perfection…..utter perfection.”

You gasp as you feel the head of his cock nudge against your cunt, your wall instantly clenching around the air, at the thought of him filling you up, stretching you out perfectly. At the little whine you let out, you can feel Daemon’s smile on the skin of your shoulder blade.

“Daemon..please..” you murmur so softly that you’re not even sure he heard it, but as soon as you feel his cock slowly pressing into your needy entrance, you surmise he got the idea. As he pushed deeper into you, leaning over your frame once more, his bare chest pressed firmly against your back, kissing gently at your shoulders and the side of your neck, his thumb still massaging your lower back. He filled you with a delicious stretch, pain and pleasure engulfing your senses, taking him the best you could. Whispering sweet praises into your ear as he continued, feeling your body tense beneath him, but then relaxed almost instantly.

Breathing out unholy profanities as he finally bottoms out inside of you, giving you a moment to adjust to him. You crane your head back to look at him, catching his gaze.

“Don’t stop,” you say softly.

Daemon heeded your words, slowly dragging out of you, the tip of his cock barely resting inside of you, only to thrust back into you, causing a deep moan to be ripped from you. You let your hand reach behind you, tangling your fingers in his ashen locks which were already in disarray once more, pulling on it, as he rocked his body against yours, the drag of his cock, rendering you far drunker than any Dornish red, or cider ever could. Your other hand grasps at the linens of his bed in response to him setting a quicker and deeper pace, his cock perfectly brushing against that sweet spot inside you.

The feeling of him was beyond addicting, he knew just how to work your body, how to pull the most sinful sounds from you, to have your body responding to him so intimately, like he had been doing it for years. Nothing but lustful sounds filled the room, the sound of his skin against yours, the moans and cries that leave you and the earthy groans and labored grunts that leave him. His name was on your tongue, muttered softly as a sense of encouragement as he fucked you, hand clinging to your hip in a sense of desperation. It was the only thing that kept him from losing control. The tingling sensation that you had once felt was coming back, building intensely in your lower belly, your walls clenching in response.

“Daemon…I-”

He understood, feeling it for himself. Reluctantly he pulled out of you, flipping you over once more so that now he could see you. See the way your face contorted in pleasure, see the way your eyes roll back when he hits that spot perfectly, so he could watch eagerly as your chest rose and fell, your heart beating rapidly, all from his doing. Hooking your leg over his arm quickly, he pushed back into you, instantly finding his set pace once more, but this time with an added feature. His thumb met your cunt, spreading around your pooling arousal, as he used it to massage your clit.

“Nyke jaelagon naejot urnēbagon ao māzigon undone, nyke jaelagon naejot ūndegon sepār skorkydoso vok ao issi, issa jorrāelagon, māzigon syt issa.”

It wasn’t long before the feeling returned, building quickly, as it rendered your body numb. You cling to his shoulder, nails sinking into his skin, your other hand still firmly carding through his hair, as it was your only tether to reality. Seeing him like this, pupils blown, hair disheveled, tired, hungry look in his eyes, and yet met with so much adoration, you were flooded with emotion. He had convinced you, not just with his words, but with everything he gave you. Deep down you had already known what you wanted from him, but now there was no point in denying it now.

Your release found you quickly, nearly blindsiding you. Your head lulled back, and your eyes fluttered closed. You wanted to look at him, to see him but you couldn’t manage to keep your eyes open. Back arching off the bed, as you let go of his hair, clinging to the sheets desperately. Your legs were numb, your mind foggy, and your body coursing with heat, as your climax took over.

“Konīr īlon jikagon, māzigon syt issa, issa jorrāelagon,” he says lowly.

Daemon’s words were nothing short of improper, but they sounded like a sweet prayer that he muttered against your skin. It wasn’t long before he followed after you, spilling his seed into your achy cunt, soothing your walls. A thin layer of sweat coats your bodies, as you try to catch your hurried breaths. Slowing his thrusts to a halt, while he kissed your face, tenderly, brushing your damp hair out of your face.

Despite wanting to stay by his side all night, tangled in the sheets, nothing but the heat of his own body to keep you warm, you knew that you couldn’t. This, was only step one, and you knew what had to be done, as did he. He rolls off of you, with a sigh of relief. Nothing needed to be said, the look shared between the pair of you, the one of longing for more, but knowing the limits.

You find your gown, a crumpled mess on the floor, and slip it back on, unknowing that Daemon was now standing behind you, his hands caressing your arms, whilst his lips explored your shoulders with delicate, loving kisses.

“Iksā sīr incredibly gevie, ñuha jorrāelagon”

His hand finds your jaw, turning your head slowly, your eyes able to meet his. The yearning overly present in his gaze. Placing a slow passionate kiss on your lips, he knew he had to let you go. Let you make your way back through the castle, where everyone could see you. With one final kiss, you reluctantly pulled yourself away from him, and made your way to the door, giving him a soft smile, before you disappeared into the dimly light castle.

They are all in order from their appearance in the fic.

“y/n , I would spend the rest of my days, no matter how long, worshiping you.”

“I am yours, Daemon, have me, claim me for your own.”

“I want to watch you come undone, I want to see just how perfect you are, my love, come for me.”

“there we go, come for me, my dear”

“You are so incredibly beautiful, my dear”

#daemon targeryen x reader #daemon x y/n #daemon targaryen #smut #fanfic #house of the dragon #game of thrones #GOT #matt smith #rhaenyra targaryen #house of the dragon fanfic #daemon Targaryen x you #the house of the dragon

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bangtanflirt · 1 year

Text

Not Like Other Girls (BONUS)

mainly fluff, with some angst and smut sprinkled in

Hoseok x Fem Reader, Mentions of Ex-Best friend Jungkook

NSFW. 18+

Premise: This is a bonus part about Hobi and Reader’s relationship that wasn’t really shown because of the time skip in the main series.

You can read the main story here: Part 1 > Part 2 (FINAL)

Warnings: smut, implied loss of virginity, backshots lmao, internalized misogyny (but she’s unlearning it), references to Jungkook and some other idols being misogynistic assholes in this (all a work of fiction obviously, no way meant to represent these idols’ real life personalities)

____

1 month into officially dating Hoseok

You walk out with an unsure look on your face, wearing a tight black crop top with a white faux leather skirt—both impulse buys to celebrate acing your midterm last week. Your boyfriend lounges on your bed, whistling when he sees you come out.

“I think I should go change.” You say nervously, examining the outfit in the mirror.

“You don’t like it?”

“I like it a lot, but it feels too revealing.”

“You’ve worn clothes like that before, though?”

“Yeah but…that was before we were official…are you sure you’re okay with me going out in this?”

Hoseok’s bright features contort into a more serious look, “You do this a lot, you know.”

“Do what?”

“You’ve been different since we started dating—asking me for permission about things you don’t need to ask about. I haven’t said anything because I get this is your first relationship and you don’t have any experience, but it’s not supposed to be like this y/n.”

Tears start to pool around your eyes, which has Hoseok springing to his feet and cupping your face in an instant, frantically apologizing.

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t trying to be mean. Please don’t cry.”

“It’s not you. I’m just frustrated with myself. I try so hard to unlearn the mindset I grew up with, but I end up doing things like this without even realizing.”

“Hey, it’s okay. Take some deep breaths for me, you’re fine.”

Only after you calm down a bit do you talk again,

“I think what happened with Jungkook is still traumatizing me. It feels like I can’t get close to any guy without fearing what he’ll think of me if I wear a certain outfit.”

“I’m not him, y/n. It’s completely understandable that you’re still dealing with what that asshole did, but you can’t let it keep you scared forever. All I want is for you to do what makes you happy without feeling like you need to prove something, okay?”

You nod, nuzzling your head into his neck for comfort.

“Now let’s wipe these tears away so you can do your makeup and we can go have a good time, deal?”

___

3 months into dating Hoseok

“Nope. No. Absolutely not.” Hoseok scowls when you open the door to let him in for movie night.

You look down confused, not thinking anything of your T-shirt and sweatpants until he elaborates.

“Why would you ever buy a shirt with that hideous thing on it?”

You can’t help chuckle when you realize it’s the clown on your top that’s offending him. Namjoon had mentioned your boyfriend’s hatred of clowns once in passing, but you completely forgot about it until now.

You can’t help but want to tease him a bit more, “I thought you said I should wear whatever makes me happy?”

“Well I was wrong. You can wear whatever you want except that. Please take it off, I can’t look at it for a second longer!”

You burst into laughter at his dramatic face of disgust.

What you do next surprises both of you, as you proceed to take the t-shirt off right in front of him—forgetting you don’t have a bra on and leaving you standing with your chest fully exposed.

“Holy fuck.” Hoseok gulps.

Holy fuck is right. You can’t believe you just did that. In the three months you’ve been together, you hadn’t made any move to sleep with him yet. You know he wouldn’t do anything unless you initiated it first, as you’ve made it very clear you want to lose your virginity at your own pace. In all honesty, you’re scared of how sex might change things. Memories are imprinted on your mind of how Eunwoo would slut-shame the girls he’d hook up with, and how Yugyeom and Jungkook would only encourage him. Not to mention the degrading way Jungkook looked at Nayeon after they did it, like she was some cheap whore because she spread her legs for him. Hell, Yugyeom was in a relationship and he still shamed his girlfriend for letting him do certain things to her in bed—things he would simultaneously brag about to the rest of you. A nagging voice often tells you that Hoseok’s just like them: that he’ll leave after using you, and then think less of you for agreeing in the first place.

But the other voice in your head disagrees, reminding you of when you two were just friends—and the way he’d talk about the women he’d hook up with:

She was perfect but she thought I was joking when I asked her to suffocate me with her thighs. I’m so sad.

I think that girl actually sucked the soul out of my body, oh my god.

Okay I have a new fetish and I’m not going to tell any of you what it is, but just know that Geum Hee from the music department is into some very hot things that I am now also into.

If you think back on it, his words have never been shaming or degrading, nor has he been mean to any of them after. Which is why you feel like this might be fine, that you’re ready to be intimate in that way.

“Am I reading the signs correctly, this means ‘let’s fuck’ right?”

You can’t help but giggle at the blunt question.

Fuck it, you think, can’t live in fear forever.

“I’m down if you are.”

___

1 year of dating Hoseok

Sounds of skin slapping fill the air as he thrusts into you from behind. You grip the bathroom counter for stability, but it doesn’t help much considering how hard he’s going. Your body is shaking with each snap of his hips, feeling your g-spot get proper love from his cock.

“Look in the mirror” he commands, voice low and feral. You make eye contact with him in the mirror before looking down at the way his hips are moving.

“Look at yourself, baby. You look so perfect on my cock like this. God, I love you so much.”

It’s not long before you’re chanting his name like a mantra while letting your orgasm wash over you.

He takes himself out when he’s close, taking the condom off to cover your back with his white hot cum.

“I think I’m the luckiest guy in the world,” he comments before carrying you into the shower for round two.

___

2 years of dating Hoseok

“How are you so good at this? It’s not fair!” Hoseok whines in frustration, not wanting to believe he’s lost four rounds of air hockey to you.

“Babe, I’m not even that good. You’re just really bad.” You fake an empathetic look before pushing the puck into his goal another time, marking the end of the fifth round you’ve just won.

Ara and Namjoon cheer at your remark, egging you on to trash-talk your opponent, but Hoseok puts his foot down.

“Watch it babe, too much trash-talk and I’ll stop stocking up on those blueberry muffins you love.”

“You’re playing dirty!”

“Too bad!”

The bickering is switched once Ara and Namjoon start playing, now leaving you and your boyfriend to stir the pot between them.

You can’t help but smile at the way they passionately yell about game points, “They look so in love even when they’re arguing like that.”

Hoseok takes your hand into his, “I think we look like that too.”

___

3 years of dating Hoseok

The graduation ceremony ended earlier that night, and now you’re laying your head in Hoseok’s lap, watching a makeup tutorial on your phone as he plays with your hair.

“Are you okay?” You pause the video at his question, “You handled the situation amazingly, but it couldn’t have been easy seeing him again.”

“Honestly, I thought it would affect me a lot more than it did. He’s just a random guy now, no sense in wasting energy thinking about it.”

“Just when I thought you couldn’t get any more badass.”

You roll your eyes playfully, “You say that about everything I do.”

“Because it applies to everything you do.”

“I think you’re just madly in love with me.”

“I think you’re absolutely right.”

____

A/N: Let me know if you liked this! Hope you all have a wonderful day.

Tag list: @namjooncrabs @starbtslove @gaby-93 @laurynne5

#hoseok x reader #bts fluff #bts smut #bts angst #bts x reader #hobi #nlog update #nlog drabble

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mirror-ralsei · 7 months

Text

THEORY: Deeeltaaruuuneeee

You know, despite all the intense speculation about Deltarune - its dialogue, its music, its merchandise... - there's one obvious piece of foreshadowing that no one seems to think about. A critical piece. One that's been under our nose the whole time.

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The title.

Today we're going to deep dive into the title drop of Deltarune, its connections to Undertale and Deltarune, and speculate about what it could be foreshadowing in the future.

VISUALS

Deltarune's title appears with a notable wavering, almost interlacing effect. We've seen this effect before.

Asriel causes this when using HYPER GONER.

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And though the Memoryheads have more scan lines and desync than the Deltarune title, it's still an incredibly similar visual that stands out in the game.

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A similar wavering sort of effect also appears during Undyne the Undying's deformation and reformation.

I wonder if this effect might represent holding on through determination.

At her true death, Undyne the Undying begins to visibly melt, which we're told by Alphys is what's supposed to happen to monsters who contain high amounts of determination. So, it would follow that when she's wavering as she's clinging to life through determination, that's also an intended visual.

And if that's true of Undyne, it could be true of the Memoryheads, who have the same kind of effect. It would make sense, as they are amalgamates, whose very premise is based on the presence of determination.

So, the logo fading in with a wavering interlacing effect might mean that it represents something - or someone - returning to life through determination.

Of course, that's just my best guess. Maybe it represents something completely different - or nothing at all. But both the Memoryheads and Undyne the Undying hold a lot of apparent Deltarune references, and I wouldn't be surprised if their wavering effects were one of them, tying them into the same phenomenon that's happening to the logo.

There's something interesting happening during the logo's disappearance. Keep your eye on the SOUL at the center to observe it more easily.

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The logo is not just fading out - its parts seem to be undergoing some kind of mathematical transformation, causing them to multiply, and fade out as they do so.

If any math fans know what specific formula or transformation is being used here, that would be great to know, but as far as I can figure, whatever is happening to the parts are being reflected across multiple axes.

This concept of reflection as division appears several times in Deltarune. I've delved into it here.

Basically, we have this recurring idea that in order to multiply something, you have to divide it in half. Once divided, both halves are no longer the same as the original, resembling it though they may. You could say they're both "reflections" of the original.

That seems reminiscent of what's happening here.

The SOUL, and all the other parts of the logo, appear to be divided again and again, gradually fading with each division until there's nothing left of them.

This may have concerning implications for the plot.

I'm not sure what, exactly, this whole reflection-division concept is building up to, but it's definitely setting up something. And watching this soul and the rest of the title being reflected and divided so many times that it fades out of existence... well, you can't help but worry. There's a lot of wild conjecture we could launch from here, but I'll leave that to you.

There's one more thing here worth noticing. Deltarune is a parallel story to Undertale. If we compare their logos, they look fairly similar. Both are white text on a black background with a red heart in the center letter. But there are a couple of interesting differences.

First, Undertale's logo is comprised of detailed pixels, while Deltarune's is made of blocky letters.

This gives Deltarune's logo the impression of a game with old-school, scan-line-looking graphics (if someone knows what this is called please lmk lol), while Undertale's logo looks like that of a more modern game by comparison.

Interestingly, this is kind of inverse to the presentations of the games themselves. The pixel count in Deltarune is notably higher than that of Undertale. But here, it's the opposite.

(Side note: It also might be worth noting that as of the Sweepstakes, the Ice Palace also appears to be in this old-school style.)

Second, and most importantly, UNDERTALE is depicted in all caps. The visual logo for DELTARUNE is actually presented in all lowercase: "deltarune."

This is important in a series that has consistently used uppercase and lowercase as some kind of recurring element.

One quick example is when Sans explains the Level of Violence acronym: "you never gained LOVE, but you gained love. does that make sense?"

But it's not all acronyms. There's many other interesting usages throughout the series, such as Asgore's name being alternately presented normally or in all-caps, or the presence of certain titles in the soundtracks being in all-caps for no discernible reason.

We still don't really know what this element is meant to represent. But we do know that whatever it means, it is present between the "deltarune" and "UNDERTALE" logos.

Like with so many things here, we do have to wait on more information to truly understand the meaning. But once we know more about the reflection-division and uppercase-lowercase elements, then the multiplying, differently cased logos should also fall into place.

SOUND

The Deltarune title audio seems comprised of three parts: a sound reminiscent of a collective inhale or gasp, followed by a robotic voice saying "DELTARUNE," followed by a mixture of two types of sounds - one reminiscent of a collective exhale, the other a series of discordant chimes - that gradually fade out.

As many have pointed out, the opening sound in the Deltarune title is just an echoey version of the sound that plays when transitioning up from the Dark World to the Light World in Castle Town: snd_dtrans_lw.

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Awesome! We have a confirmed connection for the beginning part of the audio. Surely this will provide some insight?

Well... not really...?

While we know a little bit more about the Light vs Dark World concept than we do about, say, the reflection-division concept, I feel we're still not much closer to understanding the meaning behind this sound effect.

I mean, the information we have here is pretty limited. The sound is used when Kris and Susie rise back up to the Light World, which could tell us that the title audio relates to something (whatever the title is representing here) rising up a level, too. If you want to stretch, taking the allegorical into account, maybe it represents some "fictional" or "escapist" elements becoming more "real." This has kind of been alluded to already, with Susie wanting to bring the Darkners into the Light World because it's just "better" than real life, and Berdly and Noelle agreeing and wanting to create Dark Fountains.

Beyond that...there's not much here, that I can think of. If anything, the usage of this audio in the title drop is more important for telling us the in-game usage is important than the other way around. We kind of have to know what the title represents to be able to know the significance of it "rising up"/transitioning between worlds would be.

There's also the sound effect that plays when Noelle or the others "get stronger," which kind of resembles an altered version of dtrans_lw, and would provide some more context if true... but I can't be certain.

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Anyway, let's continue onward.

Next up is the robotic-sounding voice saying "DELTARUNE."

This appears to be a text-to-speech voice. Moreover, the TTS voice appears to be one of the same ones from abc_123_a.ogg.

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This is notable because that TTS is also used for Gaster's text noise in "room_gaster" (Entry 17).

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In other words, it's very possible that the voice saying "Deltarune" is supposed to be Gaster's.

This isn't really as shocking as it seems. Gaster very much appears to be the framing device around Deltarune as an entire game - he gives it to us as SURVEY_PROGRAM, and communicates to us during Game Overs and save file screens. The title being another part of the game's framing, it wouldn't really be a surprise that he'd be here too.

If we do assume the voice belongs to Gaster, the more interesting questions become why he's able to speak a fully voiced word, and why the voice sounds so...strained. One can almost imagine someone desperately leaving a final message, or barely managing to contact someone, before subsequently fading out. All subjective, but interesting to think about.

The final part might be the most mysterious.

There are two main overlapping kinds of sounds playing here: a collective sigh or moan that gradually fades out, and a variety of discordant notes.

Regarding the sigh, I don't know for sure. The most simple guess would be that, if the inhale-sounding sound represents transitioning upwards from Dark to Light World, then perhaps the exhale-sounding sound represents the inverse - transitioning downwards from Light to Dark World.

The only problem with this assumption is that Kris and Susie do transition downwards from the Light World to the Dark World, and the different sound effects that have played so far don't really sound exhale-y at all. So that part's a mystery.

The other overlapping sound jumps out instantly, though.

An immediate association, to me, is Snowgrave.

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Although these notes in the Snowgrave sound effect are much clearer than the distorted ones in the Deltarune title, they both are seemingly random- and discordant-sounding, and the sound itself is reminiscent of chimes.

But there is another instance of this kind of sound.

During the Chapter 1 livestream, many tiny differences were added to the game's build for the purposes of the stream. One such difference was the forest room containing the ballerina-type enemies.

In this room, visuals were added resembling the gray star-like sparkles that also seem present during Snowgrave's animation.

And a feature was added where interacting with the ballerinas would cause them to play a bunch of discordant, glass-like sounds.

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Toby Fox was unusually cryptic about this change. He describes the sounds only as "a horrible noise," and when asked what they're saying, replies, "Secret. Never ask a dog that question."

So, it seems likely there's some intended mystery surrounding this difference, and it is unusual to me that the ballerinas' chimes are so similarly chaotic as Snowgrave and the title audio.

Personally, my best guess is that it has something to do with the silvery sparkles. "snd_snowgrave" notably does NOT include the preceding chimes - which play while the sparkles are floating out of Noelle's hands. The livestream ballerina enemy area seems to once again associate these chimes with the presence of sparkles.

If that's the case, then maybe the chimes at the end of the title audio have something to do with the sparkles.

Of course, to those without a music theory background like most of us, sound perception seems pretty subjective. Three sounds that all sound like a bunch of glassy, discordant notes to my ears could actually be completely unrelated.

So take this with a grain of salt. The only truly solid information we have is that the Deltarune logo voice seems to use the same TTS as abc_123 and Gaster. The rest is speculation.

But if these similarities are intentional, and those chiming sounds in the title audio are supposed to represent something to do with Snowgrave, that's obviously not a good sign.

CONCLUSION

While I don't think we have all the puzzle pieces just yet, we do have a variety of clues that give off a strong tone about what's going on. This is my suspicion:

The Deltarune title is depicting a tragedy.

Something bad is happening here.

The strained and desperate voice, the inhaled gasp, the collective sigh as a discordant collection of sounds and reflections fade out into nothingness... it's not looking good.

We know Gaster met with an unfortunate fate, and it's his voice that's speaking to us. We know dividing something causes the original to be forever altered and lost, and the SOUL and everything else that makes up the title seems to be undergoing that until it's reduced to nothingness. We know Undyne reformed herself through determination with a similar visual to the logo's appearance, but like Undyne, the logo ends up fading out anyway.

And let's be honest. We know something bad has happened to Deltarune before.

Gaster wants us to make "a new future" with him. One that shines with hope. ("Unlike the old future" perhaps implied.) He specifically made his appearance known in Undertale to players with low levels of violence.

By contrast, this implies something dark and terrible happened to Deltarune's universe in the past. It's in all the little things. Alphys sets the stage with Mew Mew 2's darker storyline. Kris' birdcage has "seen a lot of crashes," and they certainly act like this isn't their first time being possessed. Sans has seen his share of bad timelines, and in the casino dialogue, talks about back when he was less experienced, when one time he witnessed an especially bad snow. Spamton knows exactly what will happen to Kris on a Weird Route, as if he's already seen it - almost as if he's been frozen for years inside rings and behind mysterious locked doors. Noelle claims she doesn't know what Snowgrave is, but also stares off into the freezer, and can't remember what she's done. There's characters preparing for a particularly bad winter. And then there's the perpetual threat of the Roaring, and Ralsei's haunted expression when he describes it, like he's seen it before. There's the fact that we fall down into an evacuated town within a barren landscape of darkness and eyes. The title screen, after all this, plays a mournful piano song over an image of the three heroes at Worlds' Edge. Before the Story.

So, is it really any surprise?

There's so much writing on the walls about Deltarune having repeating, tragic elements, and the title drop seems no exception.

Will we be the ones to break the cycle, and change Deltarune's future? Or is the fate depicted in the title the only possible outcome?

(Screenshot credit: 1)

#i do not have a great understanding of interlacing or anti-aliasing or math so feel free to shake your head dismissively as you read this #the 10 video per post limit was sadge btw i would've put a few more comparisons together for your convenience #but ah well you'll just have to scroll back a bit. sorry #deltarune theory #utdr theory #ETA i am so tired rn and its too late to private this now so just pretend the 'getting stronger' sfx part makes ANY kind of sense #it is absolutely the same sound effect and i dont have time to dig into the implications atm. just know. they are there

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dduane · 10 months

Note

I hope this doesn't come off the wrong way, given the previous thing about different ways people write, but I just wanted to tell you because I'm so excited: I finished the first draft of that script! I actually finished a writing thing for the first time in over a decade! I've never attempted to write a script before, and now I've finished my first first draft. My friend said that's a big deal, and it makes writing other scripts much easier when you finish your first. Is that what you've found?

Oh apparently I have a few more questions, sorry: The first time you finished a project, and you knew you were on literally the last few paragraphs or scene, or what have you, how did that feel for you? And when you were done, did you initially love writing, or did you debate ever writing again? Did you start working on something right away, or did you break for a little bit?

Sorry, I'm just so excited and proud of myself right now, and wondering what feelings might come next. I haven't been this proud of myself in I don't know how long. I mean, I know I have to finalize it, and even still, I know I'll never be able to get it made. However, for right now, I'm proud of myself! I'll probably go back to being sad I'll never get it made tomorrow though, which sucks, but it's a good night right now!

I hope you're doing well today! Sorry for the bombardment of questions.

First of all: congratulations! You've got every right to be excited. Screenwriting isn't easy or simple even at the best of times. Doing it well requires that you write in ways that can seem really counterintuitive when compared to working in prose. And it's always, ALWAYS a big deal when by completing something you break a long creative dry spell. So GOOD ON YOU! You got the job done. :)

(And now, of course, comes rewrite. The brain—yours, or someone else's—always has notes. But I'm sure you knew that.)

While I know how it is to be relieved on finishing a first script, my weird work history makes me kind of an outlier when it comes to discussing this. I went with unexpected speed from "I'm Just A First-Time Novelist, What Do I Know?" to "I'm Just A First-Time Screenwriter, What Do—WAIT WHAT??". Because the man who was soon to be my story editor on Scooby and Scrappy-Doo walked in the door one evening, having just read The Door Into Fire, and said, "Would you be interested in writing cartoons?"

It was kind of a surprising career development, but I quickly learned at that point in my life that when the Universe turns up on your doorstep with the Moon on a silver platter, you don't tell it to try next door: you say "Wait right there and I'll get a knife and fork." In the space of a given month of being walked around Hanna-Barbera for the first time, I turned in my first animation script... and then sagged in my chair on getting the phone call when my story editors told me, "That's a strong start. Now we have some notes." And all I could do was collapse with relief that I had not fucked it up.

However, this situation also left me in no position where I'd be able to debate ever writing a screenplay again... because suddenly there were a couple of very intent guys telling me "Okay, new story premise coming over to you, we need the outline by next Thursday and the script the Thursday after, you okay with that?"

(Are you kidding me? I thought. Let me get the knife and fork!)

So as I said, I'm really an outlier in this regard. The next three years of my life pretty much went as above, as Tom Swale and Duane Poole (great Thoth rest both their gentle souls) took me with them from one show to another, and kept me busy. (Thereby financing the writing of So You Want To Be A Wizard and The Wounded Sky and assorted other work.) But there's no question that each time you finish a script, each time you type FADE TO BLACK, you feel better about the whole enterprise. It doesn't precisely get easier. But it gets more familiar. And that helps. (If I have to be locked in a haunted house, I'd sooner it was one I'd played in when I was a kid than one I'd never been inside before...)

Anyway, again: congratulations. But also: Do not be too sure you'll never have it made. ...Granting you that "made" can look a lot of different ways in different times and places, and can shift under your feet without warning. But the world that depends on scripts can do very, very weird and unusual things without warning. Best to do your homework and be ready for them... and know where the knife and fork are.

Also, a side note: As you do more of this work you may well find that finishing a script leaves you with more energy, not less. I think this may be a lot more normal than we routinely allow ourselves to believe. It makes sense to me, from the psych-nurse end of things, that successful completion of a project allows the release of a lot of energy that you've been holding in reserve to help you cope if something went horribly wrong with the piece of work you just finished. Me, when I've felt that rush, I do a thing that C. J. Cherryh taught me: immediately roll another sheet of paper into the typewriter. ...Though these days, it'd be "open a new file." You don't necessarily have to do anything with that blank page or screen if you don't want to. But it's wise to be ready.

In any case: all the good luck to you (because sheer blind luck plays its part in this business, no matter how much we wish all our hard work counted for more)! ...And let us know how you get on.

#writing #process

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butterflydm · 23 days

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Hi! I just watched Dune pt 2 and was thinking about the Aiel-Fremen similarities amd was wondering if you had any thoughts about the comparison because I love the way you write about WOT?

Thank you!

Oh, yes! There are tons. Watching Dune Part 2 definitely reminded me of how much the Fremen and the Aiel have in common -- Jordan had said that any similarities are unintentional, which I'm guessing is true, because Jordan was very open about how much he used other sources as inspiration when he was building his world (given the premise of the world -- that time is a wheel and everything that happened in our world also happened in WoT, it makes a lot of sense that he would do that -- Dune is also set in the far-future of our own world as well, so they share that root in common too).

From what I've read in various places, it's more that Herbert and Jordan were drawing on some of the same real-life sets of historical societies (there's a run-down here, though unfortunately it looks like the page doesn't exist anymore outside of the wayback machine) to inspire their desert warriors, which led to a lot of their similarities.

But something that's really interesting to me are the ways in which Dune being sci-fi and Wheel of Time being fantasy had an impact on the creation and the writing of the two societies. (some of my thoughts below do contain spoilers for the later books in the Dune series!)

Dune is sci-fi -- prophecies aren't real (for the most part). So the prophecy that the Fremen believe in was actually seeded by the Bene Gesserit centuries ago as a 'surprise tool to help us later' for any Bene Gesserit who might find herself in trouble on the planet.

WoT is fantasy and prophecy is very real, though not always interpreted correctly. The old Aes Sedai who tells the Aiel their prophecy for the future was very much on the level and trying to do her best to protect and save the Aiel rather than setting them up to be manipulated centuries down the road.

The Aiel (at least the leaders of the Aiel) are also very aware that they are meant to be tools in the hands of their prophesied figure and that only "a remnant of a remnant" will survive. They have been explicitly setting up their society as a tool, I would argue, by telling their people that the Three-Fold Land's purpose was to shape them to make up for their 'sin' against the Aes Sedai. So there's a self-awareness to their choices, even in the beginning. They know that their savior is also their doom and walk into it with their eyes open.

This is also a big difference in Paul himself and Rand, in that Paul is a manufactured savior and Rand is a real one -- a large part of that lies in that Paul is a sci-fi protagonist and Rand is a fantasy one (though we could always bring up Paul's son, Leto II, who becomes monstrous in order to try to save humanity from an existential threat).

Paul is a critique of the white savior trope -- he is a complete outsider to Fremen society, takes them over using lies that exploit their religious beliefs, and uses them to further his own agenda, destroying them in the process.

Rand is half-Aiel, so that makes him more akin to Paul's children with Chani than to Paul himself in that regard, in that he does have that blood connection to the Aiel (which lets him experience their history through the glass columns), but he wasn't raised by them, so there's that distance too.

But both Paul and Rand are very aware that they are using the Fremen-Aiel as a tool for their own plans (but again, here I loop back to the intentionality -- not only do the Aiel leaders know this all along, but Rand reveals to all of the Aiel the truth about their past, which means that they immediately fracture in a way that takes the Fremen years to begin doing), so they have that in common.

In addition to the difference between sci-fi and fantasy, we also have a big difference (in the books) in how the two sets of books examine religion. Religion is a much bigger and more explicit thing in Dune than in WoT -- Paul is able to build his following by exploiting his followers' religion to turn them into fanatics. Now we do have an example of some of Rand's followers turning into fanatics, but it's not in the Aiel but in Masema and what he does on the west coast, and the Dragonsworn are mostly not focused on, especially not in Rand's actual plotlines.

But, yeah, Paul Atreides, Rand al'Thor, (and I add Anakin Skywalker) kinda all exist in this sort of venn diagram in my head that I'm going to try to plot out:

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averagewriter-inthedark · 1 year

Text

Fixing Problems 💋 | Rhett Abbott Imagine | Outer Range x Yellowstone crossover

Takes place sometime after the events of S1 of Outer Range and S4 of Yellowstone around 2023 hypothetically

Link to my Masterlists (might make a Rhett Abbott one in the future)

Characters & Pairings: Rhett Abbott x Lana Dutton!OC (romance), The Abbott family & the Dutton family, Maria Olivares (past romance w/ Rhett ), Lloyd Pierce (platonic), Rip Wheeler (platonic).

Content warnings: profanity, light angst, fluff, mentions of violence and death. Implied smut at the end | female OC (she/her) | wc: 4k

Premise: Rhett Abbott was a man of an unwanted reputation in his hometown of Wabang, Wyoming. None were surprised by the fact he found himself back in the town he longed to escape following his breakup with Maria. But then a few months later Rhett was no where to be seen after his family took a trip out of town and returned without him. Now he’s back for a short time to settle some things and low an behold, Maria is back too. When she tries to mend things with the cowboys she’s in for quite the shock that Rhett Abbott is no longer a man on the market—and what makes it more shocking is his woman hails from the family of the country’s largest land owners.

Note: So fair warning, I have not seen the entirety of Outer Range but for some reason have been reading a lot of Rhett fanfiction and have a gist of it. But I am a big fan of Yellowstone and S5 drops tomorrow. I had this idea but was like ‘maybe I should wait,’ but I don’t want the thought to slip now that it’s fresh in my mind. So for this Lana was born on New Year’s Day of 1997 since Evelyn Dutton died in March of 1997 so she never knew her mother unlike her four siblings. Also although S5 isn’t fully out, we know from the trailer that John wins governor of Montana.

———————————————

“Hi, Rhett.” God that was not the voice he wanted to hear on this sunny Saturday morning in Wabang. Rhett Abbott had awoken with a smile on his face and giddiness in his chest at what the day had in store for him….but seeing Maria again for the first time in two years was not what he expected.

Or wanted at all for that matter.

Closing his eyes as if to pray it wasn’t Maria behind him, Rhett checked his phone for the time and a message he was expecting before preparing himself to face the woman who left his heart in pieces. When he finally does face her, Rhett remains stoic, “Hello, Maria.” There is nothing warm in his greeting, which is evident in the frown that takes over her expression. But what the fuck would she expect? He left his home for her and returned no less than a few months later on his parents porch with a bag and tear stained eyes.

If Maria thought he’d be happy to see her after all this then she was off her rocker.

Rhett had moved on and was in a place he never thought he would be. Happy. Content. Looking forward to the future.

He was not gonna let her take that away from him.

Or even let her think she could have a chance.

“How are you?” She offered a small smile, hoping to lighten the mood. But Rhett wasn’t having it.

“Fine.” She waited for him to return the question, but when he didn’t Maria shuffled on her feet, adjusting the purse on her shoulder, “I heard you were back in town. Was asking ‘round and they said you’ve been gone.”

“Yeah,” he nods, checking his phone again. “I’ve been in Montana the past year and half.” That surprises the woman, eyes widening slightly. She didn’t know what—or better yet who—was in Montana, but there was an obvious difference in how Rhett carried himself. It was completely different from how he was when they reconnected and surely when he returned back.

“Oh,” was all she could say. “That’s amazing uh—I guess.”

“It was,” his voice takes another edge, almost in a longing way. Maria glanced him over, feeling a tightness to her chest—almost like she realized there was something—someone—hidden between his words.

“Well, I was hoping to get a chance to run into you.”

“Well you did,” Rhett’s tone indicated he wasn’t happy with the fact. He leaned against the brick of the building he was standing in front of. It had been a busy day for Rhett to do some last minute things before he was set to head out the next morning. He found himself outside of the pharmacy having just got off the phone with Cecilia when Maria stopped him as he was exiting the store. “So what’d you want?”

Maria bit her lip, remembering how his eyes would flicker to her mouth whenever she did, but Rhett never faltered his gaze. It threw her off for a moment but she quickly recovered, “I wanted to talk to you…about us.”

Rhett made a face, looking away briefly, “Us? What’s there to talk ‘bout, Maria. That ship sailed long ago.” His tone was cold, but again Rhett did not care. There was nothing that Maria could do or say to change his mind. She could pout all she wanted, give him puppy eyes or pour her heart out to him, but it would be to no avail.

Rhett Abbott had found his solace. And it was not with her.

Moving to walk in the opposite direction toward his truck, Maria stopped him before he could even take a full step, “Wait, Rhett! Please,” she put a hand on his arm, but frowned again when he shook her off. “Look, I’m sorry for what happened between us. I-I know I said some things, and I regret it—I would take it all back if I can.” The expression on her face was one of pleading, hoping to get through to him. “Maybe we can work something out. Fix things—.”

“No,” the word flew from his lips, ignoring the way Maria faltered back, surprise coating her expression. “That’s not gonna happen, Maria.”

“But, Rhett—.” The sound of his phone ringing cut her off. Rhett removed the device, turning away as the smile overtook when he read the name, “Hey.”

“You sound relieved. More so than when you get out of pushing cattle. What did I save you from this time, Rhett Abbott.”

“Oh, just you know,” he glances over his shoulder, noticing how Maria has her arms crossed over her chest and disappointed their conversation was cut short. “Runnin’ into some old friends.” He turned away before he could see her reaction to the offense of calling her an ‘old friend.’ His voice goes lower to prevent Maria from hearing, “and this one was the last person I wanted to see on what was supposed to be a good fucking day.”

“I see,” he could just picture her smirk on the other end of the line that paired with the chuckle she let out. “Well, lucky for you, cowboy, I just passed the town's limits. Send me your location. I’ll be there very soon. And just for the hell of it, keep her there—I’d like to say hello.” Rhett didn’t know how she managed to put it together Maria was who he was referring to, but then again surprising him was her second nature.

“You sure about that?”

“Oh, darlin’, you should know by now that I never second guess a decision once it’s been made.”

They said their goodbyes with Rhett sending off his location before locking the device and putting it back in his pocket. When he faced Maria again, she was displeased and tried to not show it but failed. “Who was that?”

Rhett kept his face neutral, “someone.” If there was anything about the woman on the other end of the phone, it was that she loved her entrances. And there was no way Rhett was going to deprive her of one—especially when it was her first one to Wabang. Part of him looked forward to the look on Maria’s face for when that moment came. Not to mention those around them. Ever since he returned to Wabang there have been whispers about him. The usual gossip, but mostly wanting to know what the hell he had been up to in Montana after his family took a visit and he never returned.

“Someone?” She repeated, eyebrows narrowing in suspicion. The possibility of Rhett having someone was not what Maria planned for when she sought him out that day. It was to her knowledge when she asked around he was single or possibly hooking up with the usual buckle bunny. Not many could give her a straight answer since he’d been gone. They really had no fucking clue of what had become of Rhett Abbott.

Rhett gave a curt nod, “That’s right.”

Maria wasn’t having it, “is this someone special to you?”

“Look, Maria. I’m just gonna lay it flat with you,” he glances away at the sight of a familiar black Ram truck turning the corner. Behind it was a dark tinted SUV. As it proceeded down the street, Rhett spotted the giant yellow ‘Y’ on the truck’s side. “I’m engaged.”

“Engaged?” She exclaimed, as though she could not believe it. When the fuck did that happen and why did no one in town know? It had to be a lie to get her to back off him. The thought made a slight anger rise in her that Rhett would say something so serious as his way to reject her. Narrowing her eyes and spitting a tone that was almost mocking, Maria failed to notice the truck pulling up to a stop behind her, “To who?”

His eyes were looking past her, smirk taking form, “to her.”

When Maria spun around on her she froze at the sight of the black Ram with bright yellow lettering spelling ‘Yellowstone Dutton Ranch’ around a large ‘Y’ in the center of the side door. The back windows were tinted preventing anyone from seeing inside, but Maria didn’t have to wait long because the door was opening and a foot clad in a shiny nude heel was stepping out.

It was almost like when you watch a show and only get a small portion of the person the camera is panning its way to before they fully emerge. In this case, the second heel—which Maria was able to notice the eye-catching red bottom beneath it—followed the first before the body and face they belonged to was visible to her eyes.

She wore a light tan dress that ended right above her knees and accentuated her curves paired with a matching coat hanging over her shoulders and brown gloves on her hands. The dress had a neckline that cut beneath her collarbones, allowing the layered gold necklaces to bounce off the light around her. Brown hair with warm tone highlights was pulled back into a slick bun save for a few strands to frame her face, which stood out with the bright red lipstick coating her lips and the pair of cat-eye like sunglasses covering her eyes. Tucked behind one of her ears was a cigarrete.

She was beautiful. Like a model who just stepped off a runway and Maria instantly felt a wave of envy course through her. Several people passing by even stopped to get a glance at the woman, making no hidden attempt to hide their jealousy or attraction. Some of the older men traveling on the sidewalk had done a double take when they saw the name of the ranch on the truck.

And Rhett? He was biting his lip so hard to hide his grin that he was afraid it would start bleeding. And when he let his eyes travel over her figure, a low whistle sounded under his breath, the man praying his cock would not react because the last thing he wanted was a hard on in the middle of broad daylight.

Maria heard his reaction, turning back to see the awestruck expression which gave away everything he was feeling in that moment. It made her upset—remembering when he would look at her that way. Now it was directed toward this mystery woman. His fiancé. It fueled her jealousy more.

“Hey there, cowboy,” her voice was smooth like honey. Flirty and playful. Maria knew that tone—she’s used it on plenty of men. She’s used it on Rhett.

“Hey yourself,” he greeted, watching her step onto the sidewalk before shutting the door behind her. Maria had stepped back a bit as the woman strutted toward them, the bottom of the coat brushing against her knees. The sound of her Louboutin’s clicking against the pavement echoed before she came to a stop in front of Rhett. As much as he wanted to bring her into his arms with a kiss, Rhett settled for a soft peck on the corner of her mouth to not mess up her lipstick.

Both were obvious to the strained look of the woman to the side, who’s jealousy was so visible one could probably sniff it from a mile away.

“How was the drive?”

She took her gloves off first—aware of Maria’s eyes on her left hand which held a diamond ring—, placing them in the pocket of her coat before removing the sunglasses, “As bearable as it can be with those two idiots.” The gesture of her head had Rhett glancing to the truck she arrived in. In the front he spotted Lloyd in the passenger seat with Rip behind the wheel. The window was up, but he could make out their wave to him and returned it with a small smile. With a chuckle he turns back to his fiancé, “I’m sure it wasn’t too bad, baby.”

Her brow raised in a playful glare, “Maybe I’ll drive your truck back by myself tomorrow and you can take up camp with them. See how long you last.”

Rhett laughs—the sound sending a dagger to Maria’s heart—pulling her to his side, “I’m sorry you had to endure that.” She makes a ‘hmmph,’ which only makes him grin. “What’s with the SUV?”

She scoffed lightly, “I told them not to come, but when your father is the governor of Montana, the protection detail is a given. Whether I like it or not.” Maria visibly reacted to the revelation that not only was Rhett engaged….but his fiancé was the daughter of Montana’s governor.

Now she remembered where she recognized the name on the truck. John Dutton had recently been elected the previous year during turmoil with his family's ranch and Market Equities.

Maria watched as the woman, whose name she had yet to know, removed the cigarette behind her ear before placing it between her lips. Instead of lighting it herself, Rhett pulled out a lighter and did it for her. The two kept eye contact the entire time which felt like Maria was intruding on an intimate moment.

The—not so settle—sound of Maria clearing her throat broke up the happy reunion. While Rhett was annoyed, she found it amusing, turning her attention to Maria. With the glasses removed Maria was able to get a good look at her face. From afar she was beautiful, but up close she was captivating.

Blue green eyes stared back at Maria, framed by neatly groomed full brows that matched the color of her hair and a thin line of eyeliner winged out. Other than the eyeliner and lipstick, it appeared she wasn’t wearing any other makeup—something many would be envious of. And though there was a good sized scar on her left cheekbone—as was two on her chest forming an odd shape—it did not take away from her beauty. In fact it made her look more intimidating.

Rhett broke the silence, “Maria, this is Lana. Lana Dutton.” Lana, who was now looking Maria up and down, gave a smile. But it wasn’t friendly which had Maria raise her defenses. “Darlin’, this is—.”

“I know who she is,” Lana gently cut Rhett off, blowing smoke out as she did. “So nice to put a face to a name.” In that moment Marie felt a sense of pride, nearly smirking at the fact that she was still a topic of his life. But it soon deflated when Lana said, “oh don’t look too happy, Maria. I can smell heartbreak on a man from a mile away and when Rhett landed in Yellowstone he reeked of it. Not to mention he was drunk off his ass and well, you know what they say, ‘Loose lips sink ships.’” Maria’s smirk turned into a frown, Lana taking another inhale of smoke.

“But that was a long time ago,” Lana spoke again, “you sure did a number on him, but thankfully Rhett realized his worth.” The couple met each other’s gaze, Rhett conveying a mix of emotions at the woman who captured his heart.

Neither paid attention to the shame Maria was showing. The dark haired woman was having trouble finding the right words to say. What Lana said cut into her, which only made her angry. Quickly she tried to think of a way to divert the attention away from her, “I doubt drowning himself in booze and fucking any piece of ass had him realize that.”

She expected a flash of anger from Lana, which Rhett certainly gave at the insult, but to Maria’s surprise, Lana simply laughed in what could best be described as, ‘you done fucked up now.’ Maria tightened her jaw, taking a step back when the brunette pulled away from Rhett to move toward her. This time when Lana took a drag of the cigarette, she let the smoke waf in Maria’s face—the smell nearly making her gag.

Lana’s expression was cold, unwavering as she spoke, “Is that your way of trying to get me to see Rhett in a different light? To judge him based on the decisions he used to make—which were a direct result of how he felt the world viewed him? Don’t think I don’t know what girls like you do. You sought him out from the moment you heard he was back in town—hoping to slither your way back into his life as though you weren’t the reason for y’all’s breakup two years ago.”

“You don’t know anything,” Maria hissed, glaring at Lana as the anger swelled. With the heels Lana was wearing it made her about an inch or so taller than Maria and with them being so close the scar on her face was more pronounced.

“Please,” came a scoff, “I know everything. I see how you hold yourself. How you let your eyes drift to him only to be disappointed that his eyes are on me. I see how you’re comin’ up with ways to challenge me—as though you have a chance to remove me from the picture, but Imma let you in on a little secret,” Lana falls into a whisper as she leans closer causing Maria to stiffen. People around them pitted glances as they walked past, trying not to eavesdrop but Lana was smarter. What she was about to say was for Maria’s ears only.

Lana’s lips curled up, “You see this scar on my face?” It was a rhetorical question, but nonetheless Maria nodded. Behind her, Rhett muttered a low, “darlin’,” in warning. Though it turned him on immensely by what he was witnessing from his fiancé, he didn’t want her jeopardizing herself. They weren’t in Darby, Montana anymore. Anything she said here could have consequences.

But Lana was relentless. If someone was threatening her, she threatened back ten fold. And she was gonna make sure they knew to never mess with Lana Dutton again. Unfortunately for Maria, it was her time to learn the lesson.

Eyes locked on Maria, voice so low Maria had to strain her ears to hear, the dark brunette was sent to chills by what the Dutton had in store for her. It made her throat constrict for air seemed impossible to breathe.

“The man who gave me it is currently rotting at the bottom of a cliff after I blew a hole through his head with a shotgun. Because where I come from, we take matters into our own hands when people become problems. So take my advice when I warn you, Maria, don’t become my problem.”

The fear on Maria’s face almost had Rhett feel sympathetic, “Lana…”

“And if you question the truth of my words,” Lana’s head gestures to Rhett, “You can ask him. He was there to witness it.” With that, both out of fear and curiosity, Maria glances at Rhett. Part of her was praying Lana was bluffing in an attempt to scare her, but the look Rhett gave her was enough proof she was in fact telling the truth.

Alarms bells were ringing in her head—telling her to get the fuck out of there and pretend like she didn’t just hear a confession to murder. From the governor of Montana’s daughter for that matter. And Rhett was engaged to her? If she had the balls to kill someone in cold blood, what did that say about her family?

Have they killed before?

The anxiety filled Maria’s veins as she let out a shaky breath, unsure of what to do. Lana’s gaze was becoming too much for her and from what Maria gathered it was to get a point across. ‘Tell anyone what I told you, and I’ll come for you.’

Lana brings her cigarette up, taking the final drag before throwing it to the pavement and stepping on the bud. Not once did her eyes leave Maria’s. “I would warn you to keep this between us. If rumors start to spread about Rhett Abbott’s fiancé…I’ll know who the source is.” Stepping away, Lana bids a nod, “It was a pleasure meeting you, Maria. Hope we never have to cross paths again. For your sake.”

Taking his hand, Lana pulls Rhett away to where his truck was parked beside the curb a few cars down. Maria was left frozen, her face pale by the final threat Lana had given— which unbeknownst to her had the two men in the truck chuckling. “What I would give to hear what Lana just said. Poor girl looks like she’s seen a ghost,” Lloyd mused, watching the couple walk up the sidewalk. Rip put the car in drive, prepping to follow them, “Whatever it was, she won’t be a problem. Bitch wouldn’t be stupid enough to if she were smart.”

When Rhett and Lana made it to his truck, her back was immediately pushed against it as Rhett’s lips crashed onto hers. His rough hands cradled her face, Lana smiling against his lips which were sure going to be stained from her lipstick. There was an immediate pressure against her abdomen from his groin. Obviously her little stunt was well received.

When they pulled away, Lana was amused by some of the looks they were receiving from around them. “You,” he breathed out, mouth closed to hers, “are somethin’ else. You know that?”

Lana bit her lip with a cheeky look in response, as if to say, “I know.” She brought her left hand up to his cheek, stoking the soft skin with her thumb. “Had to make a statement. Can’t let some has been try to throw me off my rocker, cowboy.”

He lets out a laugh, arms going to loosely wrap around her waist. “That why you dressed like this? I ain’t used to ya dolling up like this but—,” he trails off to check her out, loving what he was seeing. “I could definitely get used to it.” Normally Lana wore a tank top that made her tits look like heaven and tore up jeans with her boots and leather jacket. As the youngest Dutton, she worked on the ranch as a hand and—like the others who wore the brand—did dirty work when it was called for.

The man she told Maria was just one of the many Lana had sent to the train station.

Only after John was elected governor did she get involved in politics and the business side of her family’s ranch. The media was always lurking, trying to get a glimpse of John Dutton’s youngest daughter who was more like his personal bodyguard. It became a constant annoyance for her. Avoiding reports soon became a second nature for Lana and the times she and Rhett went out they had to keep things professional for the sake of image. It was her father who encouraged her to try getting involved in other things now that he was more of a public figure than just the man who owned the country's largest ranch.

Answering Rhett’s question, Lana gave a shrug, “Just thought I should make it clear to the people of Wabang that Rhett Abbott is off the market and—not to toot my own horn—but she has style and is surely what they would call ‘a catch.’”

“Damn right she is,” he murmured, tipping his hat back a bit to pull her into another kiss. “We sure gonna be the talk of the town tonight.”

“Good. That was the plan.” Lana places one last kiss before playfully pushing him away and hopping into his tuck. “Now let’s get the fuck out of here, cowboy. Lloyd and Rip know to get started on packing your shit while you and I make up for the lost time these past couple weeks.”

Rhett didn’t hide his grin, feeling the tightness in his jeans increase. Boy was he in for the ride of his life when he fell in love with Lana Dutton. “Yes ma’am.”

#rhett Abbott #Rhett abbott imagine #outer ranger #outer ranger imagine #Yellowstone #Yellowstone imagine #outer ranger Yellowstone crossover #Lewis Pullman #Rip wheeler #lloyd pierce #original character #Rhett abbott x oc

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swallowerofdharma · 2 months

Text

Over Casca’s naked body

Part one: A long premise

We can’t escape from our geopolitical context even when we are reading manga. We have internalized a good amount of beliefs, values, practices, even regulations from our lived experiences and various simulacra we have been exposed to, especially those in an audiovisual form.

If you grew up in the US, you know that freedom of speech is a core value there. But, while you can say mostly whatever you want within your own country, the US constitution has given the government the right to regulate what comes in from abroad. [1]

And that power has been used. Idealistically, greater access to common technologies even before the internet should have seen a redistribution of the media-creating capacity to many foreign countries outside of the US, so that people could tell their stories. But that hasn’t always been the case, with some exceptions, especially if we consider the biggest narratives that reached global popularity.

During the Cold War, anything that might be considered “communist propaganda” could be seized by the Post Office and never delivered. Books or even souvenirs from communist countries, for instance. Pamphlets criticizing US foreign policy. (…) Obviously it wasn’t totally like North Korea, plenty of foreign movies and music were allowed into the US. But the media that caught on was either already Americanized, or so plastically exotic that it doesn’t really say anything about the culture where it is from. The Beatles were British, but they got their start covering American rock and roll musicians. When John Lennon stepped out of the line, the American government made sure that he knew it. Movies imported from Japan were mostly samurai flicks, with very few movies set in the modern day. The film Ikiru is widely considered the best Japanese film ever made (…) but this existential drama about a depressed lonely man was only given a limited release in California, and the poster was edited to feature a stripper who is only in the movie for one minute. The narrow stream of European movies that made into the USA came in the form of the French New Wave cinema, movies that were stylistically inspired by American films, but also so stuffy that few audiences would ever want to watch them anyway. This was further stifled by the Hays Code, a set of extremely strict regulations that were in place from 1934 to 1968. (…) Some things that were completely banned from ever being shown in any film included: bad guys winning. All movies must end with the police outwitting the evil criminals, or the criminals causing their own demise. Any nudity. (…) Blood or dead bodies. (…) Interracial couples. White people as slaves. Criticism of religion, or of any other country. Naturally this prevented the more artistically liberal European films from being shown in American cinemas and when they did get a release, they were usually edited (…). At least until the rules were abolished in 1968 and replaced by the age rating system we have today. [1]

Even after several decades of access to the internet and foreign cultures, some attitudes have been internalized and carried on. For example, I had direct experience of the ways my own culture has been perceived and stereotyped or interpreted in terms not dissimilar from the exotic. And the same happens to me probably if I don’t keep in check my own personal beliefs about cultures that have been presented to me in similar ways. And I was surprised to see by how deeply rooted and spread are certain attitudes towards punishment or violent retribution viewed as necessary, the policing and self policing, and the expression of judgments or condemnation, and all this can complicate the understanding of different forms of narratives and the acceptance of different cultural attitudes and norms, without the expression of any opinion about morality or legitimacy.

I am reminding you that this is a long premise because I evidently don’t have the gift of brevity but this article is about Berserk and Casca.

In 1956 Anna Magnani won the Academy Award for Best Actress for her first English-speaking role in the American movie The Rose Tattoo. In 1958 Miyoshi Umeki was the first Asian born actress to win an Academy Award for Best Supporting Actress in Sayonara, a movie that despite its title was an American drama starring Marlon Brando. It isn’t hard to see in these decisions from the Academy, or the ones that followed in other categories, the willingness to build relationships between the US and specific foreign countries where the American army had a massive presence and that after WWII were ideal places for American investors, considering significant rebuilding necessary after the loss in the war. The movie industry and everything around it had instrumental roles. When it comes to the Academy Award, it is very interesting to notice that the women were the first ones to be nominated, becoming ambassadors and facilitators of the reshaping of the images of Italy and Japan from enemies to new essential strategic allies in the Cold War. And here comes the problem of the exotic, because after several decades I still see similarities in the American perception of those foreign cultures, Italian and Japanese, to those easy and friendly and intentionally constructed imaginaries of that time. Take the press around Anna Magnani or Miyoshi Umeki for example. Terms are so widely used and repeated that they are still in their Wikipedia pages in English today. For what interests me here, I am going to quote or summarize parts of the video essay listed below as [2] but I really recommend watching it entirely. It really helped me understand some of the issues I am talking about here, but it is much more than just this. And there is footage worth the time. [I know that many people here on tumblr really dislike YouTube videos. I understand why, when it comes to manga and anime, written articles have still better quality and content, in my opinion, but there are also many video essayists doing their due diligence on several other topics. And when I am busy cooking I put them on].

In the 1950s one of the problem with the new alliance with Japan was the widespread hate and racism towards Japanese people.

The government stepped in, producing educational films meant to endear Japanese culture to Americans (…) They showed off Japanese industry, introduced Americans to sushi and sumo wrestling, explained the country’s new democratic system et cetera. (…) A lot of [musical] acts that were popular with American soldiers, specifically exoticized Asian girls bands, like the Kim sisters and the Tokyo Happycoats, come over to the US and appear on television as both entertainment and a sort of cultural ambassadors, not only demonstrating America’s cultural power and dominance by performing recognizable American tunes, but also signaling to white Americans that those cultures didn’t pose a threat. (…)

It’s worth looking at this film [Sayonara] as part of a larger theme in a very specific post war moment. Gina Marchetti points out in her book Romance and the yellow peril: «Between June 22, 1947, and December 31, 1952, 10517 American citizens, principally Armed Services Personnel, married Japanese women. Over 75% of the total Americans are Caucasian». Meaning, Japanese war brides and the concept of interracial marriages was very much a conversation. (…) Sayonara must be seen as one of many films which called for a new evaluation of Japan as an enemy nation. (…) Much of the way [Miyoshi Umeki] was discussed is probably exactly how you might expect. The language journalists used to describe her was unambiguously racialized and often condescending. In the aftermath of her Oscar win, for example, Louella Parsons called her «a lovely little bit of Japanese porcelain», adding: «What a cute little thing she was in her native costume». Still, her Japanese identity also seemed to serve as a symbol, an embodiment of the new friendly Japan. In Miyoshi, Americans would find an idealized portrait of reconciliation, a woman who bore no resentment over the war, a woman who brought homesick American troops to tears by singing White Christmas, who adored American pizza, who learned English by listening to American records. She was accepted because she actively appreciated and participated in American culture. [2]

The roles offered to Miyoshi Umeki are significant in many ways. After Sayonara, she was cast to play other Asian characters besides Japanese ones. One recurring theme in those movies in particular is the contrast between modernity and tradition.

William G. Hyland writes, Flower Drum Song is a «clash between the Americanized lifestyle of the young Chinese and the traditions of their parents». (…) Miyoshi Umeki plays Mei Lee, a Chinese stowaway who arrives in the US for an arranged marriage. The more Americanized she becomes the more independent, the more willing she is to strike out on her own. [Chang-Hee] Kim writes: «[Flower Drum Song] flamboyantly shows that Asians in America were ready and willing to cast off their heritage and become real Americans in repudiation of the pre-war racial consideration of Asians as permanent aliens». I mention this not only because it’s one of Miyoshi’s major roles, but also because this theme, a supposed enlightenment via westernization, occurs again and again in her filmography, particularly in her work on television. Han [?] writes «Umeki’s representation on television is in constant oscillation between her status as a subservient Asian woman and her transformation into an assertive, modern female professional who has achieved independence through American cultural influence». [2]

Bear with me for a little longer if you can, because we are at the point where, watching the video, I experienced that sensation better translated visually in a lightbulb being turned on. I am skipping here the presentation of the story and footage from Miyoshi’s first appearance on television in The Donna Reed Show, but I once again invite readers to watch the video, which features high quality original footage. I was really struck by the “sensitive way” the American woman - Donna Reed I presumed - approaches the character played by Miyoshi, as the writers back then were well aware of the sensitive racial implications, and nevertheless a certain mentality pushes thought. Watching still, it is easier to avoid the presumption that in the 1960s “they didn’t know better” or that contemporary attitudes have improved greatly, just because we are more careful about the language we use.

The thesis statement of this episode is not subtle. The rejection of traditional Japanese customs allows her to live more fully in a democracy. Of course it isn’t really much of a choice, is it. Maintaining the customs of your culture or risking alienating your entire community. She changes her clothes, puts on a hat and goes shopping because she is an American now. Obviously these stories are told from the white American perspective, where this rejection of tradition and culture is portrayed as unambiguously positive and relatively tension free. This was not the case in Japan where the relationship between modernity and tradition were richly explored in cinema, particularly in women’s films. [2]

I would like to add that the independence that Donna’s character shows is only possible because of a series of factors, including the fact that her husband secures her a higher level of comforts, in comparison with lower classes or non-white Americans, and that domestic work is presumably done by home electrical appliances or other women, especially when you add child care and looking after the elderly to the equation. The unwillingness to consider those types of labor, traditionally carried on by women, as of equal importance to any other jobs is rarely discussed when it comes to the issue of women’s emancipation. Not to mention how, alongside this idyllic world shown on television, in the same country large numbers of women have to deal with continuous push backs in the name of different traditional values that all the same prevent many of them from achieving true equality. Those types of conversation and conflicts between traditional and modern happens at the same time in many countries and in most cases translates to continuous negotiations and compromises carried by men and women in real contexts and real situations, without necessarily white American women being aware of it or of all the necessary nuances.

Let me add this last element of conclusion about Miyoshi Umeki’s story.

In 2018 her son told Entertainment Weekly that in the 1970s she etched out her name on her Oscar and then threw the trophy away. Although he isn’t sure exactly why she did it he said: «She told me, I know who I am and I know what I did. It was a point of hers to teach me a lesson that the material things are not who she was». What Miyoshi Umeki achieved is pretty remarkable but one can’t help but feel that she could probably have done a lot more if she’d been allowed to move beyond her identity. [2]

Part two: Are we reading the same manga?

After considering all this, and more that I can possibly include in here to avoid this being even lengthier, I can’t help but wonder about the generalizations I have seen repeated vastly about portrayals of women in Japanese media, as well as misunderstanding of cultural attitudes towards nudity or the treatment of sensitive topics like sexuality and rape. There is a diffuse certain sense of entitlement, sometimes you can hear a condescending tone even, and this isn’t limited to the US. But why approach a foreign culture with a patronizing attitude instead of trying to understand the context more deeply? So many manga readers are willing to ask for clarification on translations, but not many ask about the context or the visual aspects involved in manga writing. I like to read analysis about different topics, so I look for them in English too because they are very numerous and easily accessible, but when it comes to the critique about the portrayal of women in too many cases I have to click away because of too many bias or that subtle sense of superiority of judgment. Berserk has become easily accessible and more and more popular but it is so greatly misunderstood at various degrees by a lot of its western readers - me included - and I really wanted to understand what is preventing, in most cases, a textual and contextual analysis.

The Hays Code hasn’t been around since 1968 but the sentiment that the only proper conclusion for every story is the triumph of the good guys and the punishment for the wicked is very much alive and well. There is this conviction that the only clever readers are those able to separate the heroes from the villains, or the good deeds from evil, and root for the right side to achieve retribution and satisfaction. The Hays Code hasn’t been enforced officially but it’s there in essence and every counter narrative has been rendered almost ineffective or judged poorly. As for the treatment of women, I don’t feel like we can honestly and surely compare or scrutinize Japanese media under special lenses. Nudity in comic books seems to me to be very common outside of Japan too, depending on censorship rules. I certainly notice how frequently Casca is shown naked or has been threatened with sexual violence, but I also notice that she isn’t the only one. The exaggeration of Guts’ muscles and the mutilation of his body are largely put on display. Griffith is intentionally shown fully naked, or completely covered by an elaborate armor, and he is subjected to many threats of physical and sexual violence as well. Charlotte is shown naked, but always in her bedroom, in a private environment or with a transparent cloth or a sheet of some kind to make her nudity different from the occasions when Casca’s body is publicly displayed. I am careful with my own thoughts when I read Berserk, I take the time to analyze my reactions and what I am feeling in these situations. I think that this is the reason that certain books or media are intentionally aimed to adults. I don’t feel a necessity to call to censorship or to give guidance of a moral kind but rather to make the necessary reflections. And I can’t imagine how someone can understand the story without taking their time with it. Part three: Casca’s rape

In 1973 the animation studio Mushi Production released a film called Belladonna of Sadness. I haven’t seen it yet but I know a little about it and I am planning to watch it when I feel like I can do it without being affected in a bad way. It is well known that Miura remembered this film when he designed the Eclipse. In 1975 Pier Paolo Pasolini directed the film Salò or the 120 Days of Sodom, which I strongly don’t recommend to the casual viewer or anyone who felt even slightly offended by Berserk. Suffice to say that in a particular political climate and in the context of the sexual revolution of the late 1960s, in the 1970s nudity and sexuality were at the forefront of the debate and human bodies were exhibited in a symbolic way that can be misunderstood today without knowledge of the context. Gender expression was questioned and men grew their hair or refused to wear suits or to follow rigid dress codes regardless of their sexual orientation. Sexual acts were considered political acts in ways that aren’t comparable with today for many reasons. The languages, the words and the visuals we use are ever changing and actual for a moment and gone the next one or misunderstood. Many words used by queer people in the 1970s wouldn’t be received well today, because the context has been transformed. For what I understand, in films like Belladonna of Sadness and Salò rape and cruelty are preeminently used as symbols because rape and cruelty presented in a direct visual form effect greatly any type of audience and can’t go unnoticed. The sociopolitical climate in the 1970s, in the middle of the Cold War, was particularly violent, both in Italy and Japan, and the art of the time can be remarkably bleak. [Go Nagai’s Devilman was published between 1972 and 1973, Osamu Tezuka’s MW was published between 1976 and 1978, Takemiya Keiko’s Kaze to Ki no Uta was also published between 1976 and 1984].

Kentarō Miura was born in 1966, he breathed the air and grew up in that same climate and was influenced and informed by it, especially later, when he finds himself as a young man in the renewed bleakness of the 1990s. It is likely that he saw Belladonna of Sadness when he was old enough, when he started to develop the story of Berserk, and after being greatly influenced by Nagai’s Devilman. The number of sources of inspirations that Miura used for Berserk is vast, varied and multidimensional and includes books and novels and films of various genres (historical, fantasy, horror, sci-fi in particular) manga, foreign comics books, and traditional art. It is often pointed out among fans that he was also a big fan of Star Wars. Pop Culture Detective released a very interesting video essay called Predatory Romance in Harrison Ford Movies [3] that brought to my attention many things that I didn’t notice or thought about when I was seeing those films myself as a young girl [I am more or less a decade younger than Miura fyi]. Analyzing Star Wars, Indiana Jones or Blade Runner with particular attention to the relationship between the male lead, Ford, and women is an interesting exercise and helps to re-contextualize our judgment about the treatment of women across different media with arguably less reach than Star Wars. I am not inviting anyone to make comparisons and ranking which is better, or absolve Miura because he was influenced by the context around him as everyone else, but I am asking to let go of the presumption that Japanese media in particular presents problematic attitudes towards women by default. The problems are much more generalized than we’d probably like. Better analysis or methodologies are needed to make a proper assessment, and we really shouldn’t assume by default that manga (for boys and men) equals bad treatment of women.

I hope that someone is still reading after such a long time. I didn’t know how to make my point on Casca without at least presenting some of these considerations. I must say I have understood myself better, having questioned why I was feeling uncomfortable when reading Casca but not offended. I understood that Miura wanted me to feel that way, uncomfortable, horrified, and I can appreciate Berserk better [in particular as a person that wasn’t permitted to live in a female body without a certain type of violence].

As stated previously, I noticed that Casca is more exposed and shown in all her vulnerability in much extreme situations: to multiple men in very public displays, like on the battlefield or at the center of the circle of Apostles in the Eclipse. She is also shown naked and vulnerable in other moments, especially alone with Guts. Those intimate moments with Guts, during the Golden Age, are instrumental for the readers to see her in all her humanity, without the armor, or the female dress, in order to build an emotional connection with her. In the cave, Casca makes herself emotionally vulnerable in front of Guts for the first time and tells him her story, exposing her past, her goals and her true self. She tells him things about Grittith too, things that are meant to show Guts/the readers Griffith as much naked, vulnerable and human as she is. Let’s pay attention and try to recollect Guts’ reactions to her story: he is listening to her, but he is embarrassed, distracted and attracted by her nudity and he fails to see Griffith as a human being, potentially fallible and not much different from Casca or himself. Guts also fails to take away from the story the original message, something more than Casca’s infatuation with Griffith as part of her being a woman. Comparing Guts’ reactions to Casca’s nakedness, his recollections or focus on the conversation, what he takes from it and what he doesn’t: a big part of the male readership of Berserk is probably in his same situation. It isn’t till later by the waterfall, that we see Casca alone with Guts again in an intimate way. This time he is naked and vulnerable and completely exposed too. This time through the physical connection between the two, within the sexual act, Guts can’t hide himself anymore, can’t deflect from his past and his fears. I assume that that is an important moment for the male readership to start to feel emotionally invested in the connection between Guts and Casca. That emotional connection and the investment in the relationship helps them to see Casca as a human being through the Eclipse and if that didn’t work then they still can see and feel the horror of the rape of Casca through Guts. Because Miura didn’t want anyone to enjoy that scene or to be sexually aroused without at least the horror and the moral objection to it.

Casca is a woman of color, born in a disadvantaged family and community, that ended up in a mercenary group without achieving the things she wanted, never fully belonging and constantly threatened by groups of men on the enemy side with forms of violence specifically targeted and unnecessary cruel. And everything she goes through culminates or goes back to the Eclipse - before and after - and that should be taken as completely symbolic. Like the multiple instances of rape in Pasolini’s Salò, the innocent, poor and exploitable youth is violated by those in power or those who are in charge. Gambino decides that Guts is expendable or due a lesson in humility, he takes the money and coldly facilitates Guts’ rape. Gennon is rich and powerful and pretends to recreate his fantasy, a sick version of Greek ped*philia. And all he does is using money and power to horrifically exploit the youth and Griffith offers himself up and loses a fundamental part of himself in the process. But the most cruel thing in Berserk is Griffith surrendering to the call of power and doing the same thing to Casca, in the absence of lust or desire: the corruption that has been in him - and has reached Guts as well - has spread. Griffith’s surrender to the call of power, and his intolerance for more of his own pain, silences all empathy in him.

In conclusion, nudity has various narrative functions, beside the suggestion of the erotic: through each character’s naked body, male or female, we see their vulnerability and their fundamental humanity [and if I remember correctly in contrast the rapists are always dressed or covered]. And rape has a symbolic meaning, beside the literal one and the psychological exploration of trauma. Violence but in particular sexual violence is one of the most estreme and powerful tools that can be used in stories [especially in visual media], but unfortunately the overuse of it in an edulcorate format, or as a tease, or devoid of any meaning, has ceased to call for disgust and challenge us to think, has perhaps lessen the impact and the gravity around it. In the 1970s Pasolini saw the dark side of the sexual revolution and how the rich and powerful were willing to build economic empires just to have access to the youth and to the most beautiful women. But he wasn’t the only one. We should reconsider Belladonna of Sadness and the original meaning of those themes in films or later in manga like Berserk and think about it deeply and seriously and not approach every piece of art as entertainment.

Videography:

How America got so Stupid [1]

Miyoshi Umeki: The First East Asian Woman to Win an Acting Oscar [2]

Predatory Romance in Harrison Ford Movies [3]

#berserk meta #casca berserk #manga analysis #this is so long is embarrassing #today we have largely divorced the aesthetic from the political and we look at the last century and don’t fully understand it #editing when I catch a mistake or a misspelled word #eri reads berserk

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ninapi · 7 months

Text

○●○●○●○●●○●○●○●○●●○●○●○●○●●

┊┊┊✧ ⁺ ⁺╚══ Atsumu Version ╝

Premise: Atsumu had never been interested in others, to his family and the village he was a good for nothing, a heartless fox possessed by an evil spirit that feeds on his compassion. But to you, he was just like everybody else. Having someone to listen to you and be by your side sometimes can make a big difference in who you become and what you accomplish in life, and so it was for Miya Atsumu.

Word Count: 3065

Note: you can read the first chapter here 😊

Chapter 2: Attachment

The morning sun was still hidden from everyone, still sleeping like the rest of the villagers, yet Atsumu was climbing a tree in the darkness, ready to visit your quarters.

You weren’t expecting any visitors this early, in fact, you were still very much asleep hidden behind the protective net placed over your bed to defend you from little night crawlers.

Atsumu took a moment to admire your sleeping face before showing himself, your lips slightly parted, warm puffs of air leaving them every other minute; the raise and fall of your chest, the peaceful look on your face, defenseless, at his mercy.

But there were no ill intentions within this man, all he wanted was to love and protect you, to take you away from the ones trying to steal you away, to keep you safe for all eternity.

Of course, Atsumu being Atsumu forgot all about how sick you really were. Days were always so much fun with you around, it was difficult to think you were at all sick. But the consequences of his actions would be brought up until later.

“(Y/N) love, wake up.” whispering quietly by your ear, he patted your leg in hopes of getting you ready for departure in no time.

“Tsumu? Why are you here this early?” hearing your sleepy voice made his heart flip, you were just too cute for him to manage sometimes. In all truth, all he wanted was to lay by your side, let you sleep some more, maybe share a sleepy kiss or two, but there would be time for that later, he needed to get you out of there fast before anyone noticed his presence.

“We are running away. I need you to get ready, tell me what to pack I’ll help you with that.” you grabbed his wrist, pulling him back down with you before he could get up completely. “Why are we running away? Did something happen?” your worried expression made him think on his choice of words, there was still time, he could spare a few minutes to cuddle your worries away. Laying by your side, he pulled you to his chest, his lips pressed to your ear as he murmured his plan only for you to hear.

“I can’t live without you, (Y/N)…the villagers…they all want you to marry either the leader or my brother…I can’t let them take you away from me…”

“And running away is the only option? Does my opinion not matter to them?” the resolution in your voice to choose him over the others took him by surprise, yes, he wanted you to choose him, but always had his doubts about who really held your heart.

“They won’t care, all they want is for you to bring pups to the clans…”

“Can’t we…uhm…do that though?” the bright red flush adorning your adorable cheeks made him soft to his core, his lips not wasting any time by pressing soft tantalizing kisses along your jaw line. “Of course we can baby, and we will…but the elders won’t want me as the father…not many like me around here….”

Understanding the situation fully, you untangled yourself from the warmth of his embrace, getting up from bed, “Then what are we waiting for?” a wild grin appeared on Atsumu’s face, following you with his large bag ready to store your belongings with his own.

“But I don’t own any of this Tsumu, everything was given to me by either the leader or Rin…all I have is my old, ragged kimono, the one you guys found me wearing when I arrived…”

“Then get changed into it, we’ll come around. I might not be as rich as them, but I can certainly get something for you. Let’s go, we need to hurry.”

•───────•°•❀•°•───────•

Running through the forest while it was still dark proved to be an issue. To Atsumu it was easy, he had night vision after all, but you just couldn’t see a thing, constantly tripping over rocks.

“Come here, I’ll carry you.” he gathered you in his arms with ease and ran through the trees, past the waterfall that marked the beginning of the land owned by the foxes. Territory beyond that area was unknown to him, and he would be lying if he said he wasn’t worried.

There was a rather dry cave by the waterfall, very well hidden from prying eyes, only a few knew of its existence, so he decided to let you rest for a while once you reached it, maybe even spend the night there. Some commodities were hidden there by his younger self, blankets and such available for you to get comfortable and recover from the bumpy trip.

“Are we going to live here, Tsumu?” you were patting the space beside you signalizing for him to sit with you, yet he was still pretty paranoid, looking around and making sure nobody followed you there.

“We can’t this is still within our lands, we should probably go north, I’m not sure where the bakeneko clan gathers, but we could ask around until we find my friend Aran, he will know what to do.” since he didn’t follow your command, you got up from your resting spot, coming behind him to wrap your arms around his waist, breathing in his musky scent combined with the fresh air coming from the waterfall.

“Too bad, this place is nice.” this made Atsumu chuckle, relaxing just a bit and turning around in your embrace to face you.

“You would trade a fancy castle for a dark, cold and empty cave?”

“If the cave comes with you in it, then yes, without a doubt.” An inexplicable feeling rushed through Miya Atsumu at that moment. He wasn’t sure what it all meant but the urge to pounce on you couldn’t be diminished.

To his surprise you were very much willing to see where that would take you two, just as eager as he was to get to know him in a deeper level, to get to understand not just his heart or thoughts completely, but also his body, his deepest desires.

A cave wasn’t the best place for this, mind you.

Thankfully you at least had a blanket to lay on the ground and protect your bare back from the rocks, but being honest, it didn’t matter one bit.

Just having Atsumu taking care of your every need, swallowing your little gasps and cries of pain, turning them into cries of love, was more than one being could take all at once.

Not only your bodies became one that day, but your hearts did too. Understanding beyond comprehension one another.

Your sickly tired body grew stronger the more he stayed within you, the more you shared with the other, the more connected you were, this was not at all related to carnal pleasures, this whole ordeal connected your hearts, mushed them into one, not even words were needed between the two, only gasps and whimpers could be heard echoing in the depths of the cave, a warmth like no other could be felt emanating from your core and had nothing to do with Atsumu��s ministrations…

•───────•°•❀•°•───────•

Meanwhile, the rest of the boys were going crazy trying to find leads that could help them find you.

Osamu was beyond heartbroken, not being at all useful at the moment.

Rin had gathered all his employees and were searching for you in the forest, while Kita sent his guards to every border of the village to make sure you wouldn’t be able to leave before anyone else noticed. If you placed as much as one foot outside of the village, you would break the elder’s rules and would have to be killed, didn’t Atsumu know about this? He’s usually not thinking about, well, anything, besides himself, of course he didn’t this time around either.

“Was he not thinking of her illness? He’s so stupidly annoying why couldn’t he just play fair like we are all doing?” Suna was fuming at this point, he was certain he’d made a good impression on you, you definitely did on him, he still misses having you around the inn, just like his entire family do as well. They were really hoping you’d be joining their family soon, this was a deep blow for the brunet.

“There are no limits for Atsumu, you know that…” and he was right, whenever he truly wants something, nobody would be able to stop him.

This time though, he had three fierce foxes hunting his tracks, not wiling to sacrifice their future in the slightest.

One of the guards came back looking for his leader, a piece of cloth was found on a dirt path. His words alerted Osamu, who immediately was able to recognize said cloth. “That’s (Y/N)’s hair tie…where did you find this?” he was on the young guard within seconds, sniffing the silky piece of cloth, it reeked of his brother and a sudden surge of violence manifested itself right away. He would pay for this, you better not be hurt otherwise, he would end up being an only child.

“Sir, it was by the dirt path heading north, up the vines.”

“The waterfall…” without further discussions, the three of them made their way through the forest, a new destination set for the pack.

They were all familiar with this place, specially Samu as they used to play around the area a lot during summer months when younger, but he didn’t think his brother would be this stupid and take you to a known place to all his contenders.

Thankfully for them, he was.

Going up the mountain took them a couple of hours, it was in the middle of nowhere and getting lost wasn’t difficult, but Samu could smell you and you were close, his nose took them straight into the entrance of the cave following the delicious scent that he grew to love over time.

What they didn’t expect though was to see you barely covered, floating inside said cave, a shimmery gold glow embracing your exposed skin.

“Damn you Atsumu, what did you do to her?? How is she even floating???” Rin was agitated, pulling on the blanket covering your naked body as to try to get you back to ground level, your lack of clothing now being noticed by the rest.

“Oh no, what did you two do…”

“Ehm…what couples that love each other often do? You know the talk ma’ gave us when we were little…?”

“I know what you did dumbass, I’m asking why??? Why would you do that? She isn’t yours to take like that.” this was the last drop of patience inside of Atsumu, he was still very anxious, even if you clearly chose him, even if you loved him and wanted him just as much as he did. Having to deal with them while being so vulnerable wasn’t ideal.

“She’s not yours either, I didn’t force her to do anything she didn’t want to do herself!” both were now bumping onto each other in anger, steam coming out of both.

“Can you both shut up and help me getting her down??”

“Why is she floating to begin with?”

A valid question at last. “Without going into details…” Atsumu cleared his throat, “…once we were you know ‘done’, she said she was so happy that her chest hurt. At first, I thought she was just being cute as usual, but then she started glowing and seemed to be in some sort of pain, then you arrived…”

The disgusted face the three of them shared was almost comical, yet they were alerted by the dimming glow coming in from your direction, Atsumu receiving you in his arms gently as your body began its decent on its own. “Baby, are you ok? Does it still hurt?” to this you just gave him a tiny nod, resting your head on his shoulder, “I saw someone, a beautiful woman, she held my hand and welcomed me as her family, then she said everything would be ok now…”

“Inari….”

“What?”

“Time will come when the true heir of Inari is born to humans and will bring happiness and prosperity to the village in decline..

That’s the rest of the legend, she must be the one mentioned in it. The true heir.”

The shock was apparent to everyone, not only were you the most wonderful, the prettiest, the loveliest girl around, you were the savior they’ve been waiting for years to come. But not even after this revelation Atsumu could get his eyes away from you, clear confusion and awe painting his handsome face. “Baby, you’re a fox….”

“What do you mean a fox?” your shaky hand reached the top of your head, caressing one of your newly acquired fuzzy ears.

“The blessing? You got the blessing, babe!!!” he swirled you around, glee making him forget how naked he was and the show he was giving the others by dancing like a dork.

“Wait what? You mean true love? Atsumu is your true love? Why would that be a thing?” Suna didn’t know about your daily rendezvous, didn’t know about how happy he made you, how desperate you both were to be accepted and to be able to live together without being judged by others, without the need of being validated by the elders or your relationship being approved by others.

This is what true love meant, at least to you and Atsumu.

Sacrifices, desperation, attachment.

None of you were confident of being able to live without the other, anything would be better than being apart, anything would be easier, anything would be less painful. Even if that meant leaving family, friends and a home behind. It meant approaching uncertainty with a new extent, finding solutions together, overcoming challenges and even if that called for you to run away, if that would guarantee you’d be together, then so be it. Anything is better than not being able to see each other every day.

The desperation kept growing the more time you spent with the other, lately seeing each other every day wasn’t quite enough, it was almost painful. You wanted him to stay and share your bed at night, just as much as he craved waking up in your arms every morning, he dreamed of having your homecooked meals daily, you dreamed of having him always by your side, to be able to hear his voice at any time you wanted, to have his warmth wrapped around you whenever it was cold.

Attachment was real, and none of you feared it any longer.

Both knew what you wanted for the rest of your lives, and that was to be together.

What did it entitle receiving such a blessing though?

Were you in some sort of contract now? Were you required to meet certain expectations?

“So he won, huh?”

“This wasn’t a game, Suna….Inari, our patron, bestowed upon them the blessing, that means he was accepted as a suitable match for the heir. It is said that she would bring prosperity to our village, and that’s what we all need. In which way or form will that be, I do not know.”

“To me it sounds like we are going to have a big family! Maybe it’s already cooking inside, if you know what I mean~” his annoying smug grin made everyone want to punch him in the gut, yet the loving smile you shared with him left them all speechless. It appears that you were indeed in love with Atsumu, you did want to have his pups, to be his family, it wasn’t just in his head, though, having received such blessing, it should be pretty clear for everyone by now.

“But love, what are we going to do now? Are we going to get some sort of punishment?”

Kita took this as opportunity to jump in the conversation, “Not really, you didn’t leave the village, there’s no need to request a council meeting for this, we’ll just say you went on a picnic. As for Atsumu’s behavior, it was wrong, and he will be punished for attempting to kidnap the princess.”

“He didn’t kidnap me! I came with him willingly and will do it again if I have to!” your angry outburst made Atsumu sigh contently, he knew he’d chosen correctly, this was the woman he fell in love with, someone strong, smart, someone who doesn’t let others step on her, so sexy…

“Whatever you say, (Y/N) but he did get into the castle at dawn and tried to take you out of the village, that could have gotten you killed…”

“But it didn’t. Now, will you stop arguing like I was some sort of price? I made my mind already, and I won’t allow anybody but Miya Atsumu to court me any longer. Now if you excuse us, I need to get dressed…and so do you, my love.” the crazy fit of giggles leaving your lips made Atsumu realized he was butt naked and everyone had seen his manliness fully in display, a weirdly satisfying thought.

•───────•°•❀•°•───────•

You still didn’t know what receiving the blessing really entitled.

You also didn’t know what being the heir of Inari even meant.

There were still many things that needed to be properly addressed and studied carefully.

But what you did know was that the future was bright and full of love, with your man by your side and a belly full of the seed of love, a brand new family had come to the fox village, one that would bring prosperity to the declining population, one that would change the rules for good, one that wasn’t expected at all, yet quickly gained at spot in everyone’s heart.

You were the best part of Atsumu, or that’s what the masses said. But to you, Atsumu was the best part of you.

It didn’t matter at all what others said, true love comes from where you least expect it, and this time it came in strong, to stay.

○●○●○●○●●○●○●○●○●●○●○●○●○●●

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koifishart · 29 days

Text

I want to be Your Koi Fish

Warning: +18 content, criminal underworld, intercourse, strong language - and so on

Fanfiction based on: "Baki" by Itagaki Keisuke

>30<

Whenever Kaoru was going to be late, he would let her know. Either he or Kizaki. This time neither one nor the other spoke. Hanabi walked around the whole apartment. Seemingly zero marks, but she found traces of blood on the living room carpet. Small but significant. After all... where from? Cut his finger with a knife and said he would leave something as a souvenir? Probably thought she didn't know anything. She knew. She read the news on the Internet. Had heard of an unknown man with two swords. In fact, she felt his presence, from time to time a shiver ran down her spine, which she had never known. Hanabi talked to the sisters - they also sensed that something was happening. Guessed that newcomer had come to his premises, and whatever happened...Kaoru couldn't remain silent. The police chief himself pleaded with him for attention and for fighting the problem. She wasn't there, but she was standing outside the door listening. Only such a simple thing as crossing the border tipped the scales? She had plans to call Kizaki, but in time stopped herself. What would it do? After all, he will not turn back! Instead, outraged to the limit, she chose a completely different number.

- Hi, I have something... - she began, but was quickly interrupted.

- We know, we'll be there soon. - She heard a firm tone in the receiver. - Get ready.

She waited for nothing. Pulled on dark, close-fitting pants, a black tight blouse, threw a leather jacket over it and, almost jumping into light-heeled ankle boots, shot out like a slingshot from an apartment building. Hoped it wouldn't be too late. She caught them on the way. Ayame in one of her immortal plain colored corsets and jeans, Shizuka in a colorful jumpsuit and Yui in a white T-shirt, khaki pants and dark army boots. Last one took with her two swords strapped to her belt. She knew them. They were hung by their grandfather for a long time, passed down from generation to generation. HIS swords.

They arrived at the last minute. They broke through the crowd screeching something about manga and characters from history. She had to arrive on time. The samurai apparently had a great time feeling everyone's eyes focused on himself. Hanabi felt her heart stop beating for a few seconds. First, he had cut Hanayama's back open, and she could see perfectly well that it wasn't the first time. Then, as the husband was about to attack, he slashed the face - across, through the nose and vertically, tearing the hazel iris in two. Final blow down the spine. Hanayama did not fall. He stood like his fucking Otokodachi, to finally sit down with the utmost calm in his own blood. Baki was waiting nearby with a bottle of Wild Turkey. Before him knelt down the police general, the same one who had accepted the whiskey in his office. He fell face down in front of the mafioso, thanking him for the effort.

- Kaoru... - she sighed, coming up.

- What are you doing here? - he was surprised to see her next to him.

- The usual, Kaoru-san. She does everything her own way. - Shizuka replied, standing behind his back and placing her fingers with long nails on the man's temples. - The ambulance might not be on time and you will lose your eye. I'll improve your energy flow a little...

- What...

- What an incredible coincidence! - samurai said excitedly. - I am glad to see you, Kitsune. I suspect you know perfectly well how well I feel the bond between us.

- The more I regret that we meet in such and not other circumstances...great-grandfather. - Hanabi replied arrogantly.

She was a little sorry not to see Kaoru's face. Instead, she heard a muffled cry of surprise from Kizaki. In fact, not only his, because after a while a wave of whispers from the crowd started. At times like this, felt like she was watching a movie on TV thinking "well, no, like some fucking sitcom, just not funny at all."

- You are a vessel for Sakurai's soul, aren't you, child? - he asked, tucking his sword into the duvet cover. - I recognized immediately...you have a demon in your eyes. My beautiful demon.

He was going to touch her face, but she definitely pulled away. He will not charm her with sweet words. She had to buy enough time. Fortunately, relief has come.

- These aren't your time, you shouldn't be here. - Ayame said.

- Exorcist, healer, spirit guide... Kuko*, Tenko**, Byakko***... Beautiful and gifted I have children, right? Right?! - he turned as if to Hanayama and the police general. - One is missing. Where is... the devourer? Where's Kokko****?

An elderly woman, dressed rather strangely for her age, with furiously red nails, fell between them. Hanabi frowned. A special energy was emanating from her.

- Medium? - she was surprised.

- It looks. - Yui replied, standing next to the sisters, then bowed politely towards the samurai. - Hello, great-grandfather.

Hanabi felt not particularly well. She felt sick, dizzy at the same time, had spots in front of eyes, but surprisingly didn't lose balance. Tried to focus on the situation, but her head ran away somewhere far, beyond the limits of consciousness. Blood was bubbling through her veins, hitting every nook and cranny, making her feel terribly hot. She often got pissed off that she would "come out of herself and stand next to", and right now she wondered in horror whether it would actually come to that.

- Since my blood survived, I hope the dojo is as well. - Miyamoto asked with a charming smile.

- It's under my protection. - confirmed the master, placing her hand on the hilt of one of the swords.

- Lovely! You make me proud, really! - samurai applauded. - I'd love to stay with you longer!

Wasn't sure she heard it right, but he didn't seem to want to leave. So it remained to force him... but how? Another massive wave of nausea attacked, this time she staggered on her feet. Fortunately, Kaoru was right behind. She felt strong hands on shoulders, creating an incredibly warm feeling of security, but that didn't stop her body from reacting oddly. She leaned back on still-weakened husband, feeling that something was coming from her. She closed eyes and when opened them a woman was standing in front of her. Raven's hair, reaching the ground, was tied up with a jade ball, fuzzy white tails twisting beside it. Nine tails. On top of her head, she noticed cute, pointed ears. When the figure turned to face her, long earrings rang, and Hanabi saw... herself, only like ten years older. Dressed in a beautiful, slightly loose kimono with sleeves tied with blue strings and with tasteful, black okobo on the feet. Smiled radiantly at Hanabi, reaching with a delicate hand with long fingers to her face. She was too shocked to remove herself and for some reason didn't want to.

- Sakurai! My lovely wife! - Miyamoto crowed in delight. - My Kitsune...

- SILENCE! - she snapped at him ferociously, not taking the crowd of onlookers at all. - I'm extremely disappointed in you, Musashi. With pain and disgust, I think of you as my husband. If I could, I'd get a posthumous divorce!

- But the flowers of my heart...

- Do you know how much shame I have eaten because of you?! The goddess Amaterasu herself graced me with her presence to REQUEST your return! - the inexorable fox screamed. - You'll be on your knees begging forgiveness forever, I swear to you. You must appear in the Golden Palace IMMEDIATELY!

- Sakurai... dearest...

- Pray that Amaterasu-sama doesn't sell you to a brothel. Or I. - she hissed, then turned much more gently to the tall blonde. - Kuko, darling, please do an exorcism. Let that old fool go back where he belongs.

- Of course, great-grandmother. - Ayame agreed.

- I would love to stay with you a bit longer, my children, but there's no chance. And as for you... - she muttered, walking gracefully to Hanabi. - Enjoy your life, Byakko.

Mrs. Hanayama was still in severe shock, not knowing what was going on, and the tall woman wrapped her arms around to blend in with her body. She took a deep breath. She felt good again. Meanwhile, the eldest sister muttered a prayer under her breath and snapped fingers. The samurai spirit flew away and body was burned to ashes. The witch froze in shock. It probably came as a shock to her as well. Surprisingly quickly her resonance returned.

- Impressive...

- You think we'll leave you without consequences? - Ayame asked rhetorically. - What you did was shameful. Hundreds of people died!

- What can you guys do? Well, I listen?! - the woman chuckled. - But you can't, blonde, chase the soul from the still alive body! Nor is it possible to take away an ability!

- I am heartily fed up with you. - Hanabi whispered hard as she approached her. - You've done enough. We collect toys...

- Oh, no, no, no, honey. - The red-haired girl interjected, standing by her. - This isn't a good idea.

- Shizuka is right, you will lose the body. - The blonde supported her. - It's too much of a risk.

- Hanabi, what are you planning? - Kaoru asked anxiously.

- She is going to throw herself off balance to take away the witch's ability to use her powers. - Yui explained dryly. - And that almost certainly amounts to losing your flesh.

- No... NO! - her husband tried to stop her, but she broke away. - You can't!

- The problem won't end without it. I can't believe she won't do it again... - she replied quietly.

She approached a woman who still doubted the success of her plan. She was quite the opposite. She knew how to do it, though she wasn't sure where from. As if it has been in her for a long time, a bit like riding a bicycle, when we learn as children, then we don't have time, and as adults...we get on and go. She placed a hand on the woman's forehead, staring the light green irises straight into her unwavering eyes. Hanabi was losing touch with the world, hearing nothing but the flow, swift as water in a waterfall. She felt an enormous mass of energy running through every cell, every vein, every ankle. The witch consciously and very skillfully opened her chakras, trying to saturate her. But she wasn't going to be stifled. Thanks to the flowing chi, she found her way to the weave of interest. She closed it and blocked it. There was no way anyone else would open it. She painfully felt her return to the ground. Her whole body felt as if it were a pile of stones.

- Sabuko-onee-sama*****! - she heard a screech that made her ears ache. - Onee-sama!

She turned on her heel, tired and in pain. The owner of the Arena ran towards them, in traditional clothes as usual. The witch was in a mute shock. Only Tokugawa's arms woke her from lethargy.

- She locked it... b...blocked it... - she whispered in horror. - I... I don't hear anything. No souls...

So his sister. Yeah. It couldn't be that accidental or supernatural. Real life is neither a cartoon, nor a movie, nor a comic book. She felt dizzy again, something warm under her nose. Her knees felt as if she had come home after a very tiring day and wanted to lie down so badly. The last thing she heard before she fell into her husband's arms was Kizaki's terrified scream.

- Hanabi-sama!

>>><<<

He couldn't believe what he was seeing. The mere fact of Miyamoto's return to life was madness enough, shortly afterwards a white fox emerged from his wife's body, and the icing on the cake was Hanabi's ability to block energy in the chakras. Everything seemed to be back to normal, he was even feeling pretty good. Whatever Shizuka has done, she has done it brilliantly. He wanted to hug his beloved, whisper that everything would be fine, they could go home, and in the same second she fell into his arms as if had lost contact with her body. Thick, dark blood was leaking from her tiny, upturned nose. It wasn't looking good. He looked at the sisters-in-law. They shook their heads. There was nothing they could do. Only Yui walked over to them, knelt down, chattering with two katanas, and grasped her sister's bright hand. Even that didn't help. Yang couldn't hold her Yin. He looked into the green eyes he loved so much.

- Kaoru... - she muttered softly.

- You can't leave me. - he whispered, leaning forward.

- Sorry to put you on a fait accompli. Don't worry too much. - she sighed heavily, reaching for sliced face. - I'll find a way to get back to you, I swear. After all, I promised to be your dragon, right? Whatever...whatever is left of me, give it to nature. Please.

- No, Hanabi...I will not give you to anyone.

- How stubborn you are! - she laughed with tears in her eyes, and after a while rest her head gently on his torso, as if was falling asleep; he heard her soft, fading voice - "I need a gangster to love me better than all the others do... To always forgive me, ride or die with me. That's just what gangsters do"******.

- ...Hana...

The slender body collapsed in his arms, and after a while, with a gust of wind, it dissolved into the sea of white and pink petals of Japanese cherries. His heart skipped a painful tear. The love of his life was gone, and there was nothing he could do. She died in his arms and she breathed her last. It felt as if the meaning of existence had gone with her. Hanayama had no idea what to do with himself. He felt a presence behind his back.

- Boss... I'm so sorry... - Kizaki whispered.

- Weird. - Yui muttered, wiping her face. - I thought I would...feel like she's gone. And I still feel like she's standing next to.

He barely heard what she said, stunned by his own thoughts. After a while, however, realized that he smelled a familiar scent. Subtle, barely perceptible... It might as well be a pile of Sakura petals that she had left behind, at least some of which he was going to take. However, he didn't think any type of cherry smelled like yuzu. She loved yuzu. A good pile of pink and white scraps has gathered near him. For a moment it seemed to him that the pile was gently moving. Finally something sneezed, making them fly. Tiny, white, fluffy, with a long tail. The shapely-eared fox brushed the fragrant petals off the tiny head, completely ignoring human existence. He gulped down at his nearest sister-in-law and the other two who were coming up with curiosity.

- Hanabi...is that you? - he asked incredulously.

The animal, hearing the name, turned to him and looked sadly with wise, light green eyes that looked like two large, shiny stones. She curled up inside herself, wrapping one ponytail around her paws.

- And where are the other tails? - Ayame whispered in surprise.

- Oh, you're so cute! - Shizuka squealed, holding out her hands. - Come on, I'll ruff your ear!

The fox looked at him again with pained eyes, lowering tail sadly, then turned and started to run away. He couldn't let her do that. Not after what he experienced. What they both experienced. Besides, she promised to find a way, and he made it a point of honor to defend what she had left behind. He grabbed gently under her belly so as not to accidentally damage skinny limbs. She tried to get away, but to no avail.

- Silly of you, the house is in a completely different direction. - he replied with a half-mouth smile.

In response, foxy stood on hind legs, cuddling tail. She looked suggestive as if to say, "Look what's left of me! It's just pathetic! Do you want THAT wife?" Silly one. He ran a finger lightly through shiny fur.

- Have you forgotten what I promised you? "In health and in sickness"...

Big bright eyes drowned in tears as she climbed over his shoulder to gently touch her paws over his cut cheek and lick her coarse tongue as if she wanted to shower him with kisses. They've survived a lot, and they'll be fine with it.

It seemed to him that this time he was in the hospital longer than before. Or maybe he just took a long time? They didn't let her stay, "such rules", had to wait. They broke a hundred needles on him, they spilled hectoliters of blood, even the eye was doing quite well. Utsumi demanded that they do everything to make him survive. He mentally thanked him a hundred times for it. Needed to be back as soon as possible, but chained to the bed had its advantages: he could think for a moment about what was happening, and what can in future. Don't think he wanted to know what his father-in-law thought about the fact that his youngest daughter, the apple of daddy's eye, got stuck in the body of a tiny fox. Still not solved the mystery of the bomber, the funds thief, Hanabi was at a standstill with the Wu Song building. One of the few pluses: the dojo problem postponed until she returns. He realized that she had wanted to help him so many times, however, and he hadn't given her an option. He pushed her away, didn't initiate in many matters "for her sake". Another thing was that in the end she pressed herself in front of each time. He felt guilty, some part of his existence insisted that he made her feel brought to extremes.

After two weeks, they finally allowed him to leave. He buttoned up his purple shirt, skillfully tied tie, threw a white jacket over shoulders, pushed glasses up on nose. In front of the hospital door, a black, glistening Mercedes was waiting for him as standard, and a Kizaki bowing at the waist. He opened the door. There was something waiting in the dark car seat. A pair of bright eyes. She raised pointed ears, waved tail cheerfully at the sight of him, and as soon as he sat down next to her, she jumped on his lap, making herself comfortable. He barely noticed the shiny purple ribbon tied around the skinny neck. The car started moving, and he gently ran his hand through the white fur, feeling a long tail fall down his legs, moving steadily left and right. Finally they went home.

~ THE END ~

…or not!

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* Kuko Kitsune - air fox, of the genus Zenko (good foxes), living 3000 years old, considered a fox deity

**Tenko Kitsune - heavenly fox of the genus Zenko, living over 1000 years

***Byakko Kitsune - white fox, of the Zenko genus, strongly connected with the spiritual world, friendly to people, bringing luck

**** Kokko Kitsune - black fox, of the genus Zenko, comes from Chinese culture and is the embodiment of the North Star

*****Onee-sama - honorary designation of an older sister or a person towards whom we have similar feelings

******Kehlani "Gangsta"

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