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#The threats come after the introduction!
sydneighsays · 8 months
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My take on moth!jon
Just a wee lil rag
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Some lil Jmart while I was at it
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lacollectionneuse1967 · 5 months
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slip of the tongue
Theseus Scamander x Reader
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The word left your mouth before you could process it, “Daddy.” He froze completely, locking eyes with you. You couldn’t read the expression on his face.
summary: you're a personal assistant at the british aurors office. you accidentally call your boss, theseus scamander, "daddy."
fem!reader. theseus scamander x reader.
category: smut with plot
warnings: 18+ smut, ddlg themes, (light) mdom/femsub dynamics, (light) size difference kink, unprotected penetration
It was mid-November. London was dark by four in the afternoon and you were out of the Ministry by five, pulling your trench coat around you and shouldering your way out into the stone streets and coal black skies. It wasn’t bitingly cold yet, but you kept your arms tucked close to your body regardless. Dipping in and out of the indistinct crowds, moving with purpose.
You had about fifteen stacks of classified documents on you, but they were safely magicked away into the lining of your coat, and they weighed nothing. Magic almost always weighed nothing, cost nothing. 
For you, at least. 
“A natural.” “The brightest witch of her year!”
That’s what they’d called you at Hogwarts. Even your closest friends in [your House] eventually grew bitter and irritable, so you had to feign stress before exams and pretend to practice your spells alongside them in the common room, in a display of camaraderie.
The truth was you didn’t need to practice, or study. Ever.
You were muggle-born, everything in your life before Hogwarts had been so difficult to bear, your parents’ death, the streets of East London, the orphanage. Even talking to other people, simple conversation, bore some inexplicable strain for you.
But magic had come as easy as breathing. Your wand was like a limb, an extension of your body, you didn’t even have to reach for magic, it just sprung forth, dancing into the world. 
You wanted to be an Auror since you were fifteen. You were good at magic, and little else, and you were curious, had a talent for dueling and abhorred those who took advantage of the weak. It seemed a natural path.
You were hired straight out of graduation. You were only meant to work as an Administrative Assistant at the Ministry of Magic for a few months. But that was nearly a year ago…
In truth, you’d already been offered a position as an Auror. You turned it down discreetly. Theseus Scamander, Head of the British Auror Office, was the man you’d been assigned to as an assistant. He was the figure you answered to, and you’d been his sole, personal secretary.
Before you loved him, you liked him, but even then you could recognize that you liked him too much for what was appropriate to feel for your boss. He was nothing like you in that he was maddeningly easy to become fond of. He was funny and charming, kind and handsome. Sarcastic and a bit of a straight edge. You glowed in his praise.
Every “Excellent work, Y/N” or “Y/N, you’re a lifesaver,” or casual introduction beginning with “This is my genius assistant-” swelled inside of you with happiness. Once he’d even, absent-mindedly and only half-looking up from his copy of The Daily Prophet, said “Good girl,” and you’d nearly fainted. 
The first time he hugged you, after some successful project of yours, he’d braced his arms around you and spun you around, and you’d gone wide-eyed and stiff. He set you down in a flourish.
You were terrified your reaction would put him off touching you forever, but he only laughed aloud, the sound like bells in the wind.
“Not scared of the death threats we receive from dark wizards but you’re scared of a little hug from your boss?” 
Your heart seized, though you returned his laugh in relief. If he only knew what you were really scared of.
“Try it again,” you smiled and met his gaze defiantly. “I’ll do better this time, I promise.” 
It always seemed to shock and delight him in equal parts, the way you responded to him. You liked to challenge him, and to make him smile just to see it spread across his face.
When Theseus hugged you the second time it was him who hesitated at the feel of your warm body pressing into his, his large hands hovered in mid-air before resting delicately on your upper back. 
When you were hired he was still engaged to Leta Lestrange, as he was when you turned down the promotion you were offered. Pathetically, being his assistant was the closest you could get to him. You weren’t about to walk away from that, walk away from him. Between late-night talks at the office and laughter-filled afternoon teatimes at his house, he’d become something like a friend. You couldn’t have him, but this was enough to sustain you. You weren’t her, but you knew you meant something to him…
When you entered his dark apartment, slipping the key out from under the welcome mat, it was no warmer than the outside world. Barren and cold as death, no signs of life. You whisked your wand out and spelled on the lights, spelled the documents free and they fell heavily from your coat, thunking unceremoniously on the hardwood floor.
Since he broke up with Leta, Theseus hadn’t been home, that was clear from the state of his place. He had hardly been at the office. You covered for him without even having to think about it, without even blinking you spewed out excuses and deftly dismissed the Aurors who came to call on him.
You didn’t think about what that meant about your loyalty, to the Ministry and to him. 
"Y/N," he’d prefaced in a letter, an owl sent to your house. "I trust you with my life. Not in theory, but in practice: with this letter you hold my life in your hands. You’re my assistant, but you’ve also become my closest and most cherished friend."
He’d mentioned Grindelwald, going behind the Ministry's back, “choosing sides,” and that he was with his younger brother, Newt. He told you to tell the Ministry he was on business if they asked, to make up something about a dark wizard lead in Romania. And he mentioned that he would need you to make copies of some confidential documents from the archives for him. He asked you to set them aside "but not in my office. Not safe. Bring them to my apartment. Key under the mat. I’ll be in touch soon. I owe you."
And so here you were. Still in your work clothes, a navy blue pencil skirt and chiffon blouse, black tights and your [hair color] hair pressed into loose finger waves, your heels scattered somewhere across his floor. You were organizing the documents into piles.
He’d requested the strangest things, all top secret, in the most restricted section of the Ministry Archives. Old maps and travelogs pertaining to sightings of some ancient creature with certain prophetic or spiritual abilities. Topographical maps of Bhutan and Austria. Classified research on dark magical objects that bound promises in blood.
It made you feel like you were in school again, made your head spin.
Wishing always hurt for you, coming from your background, you hardly let yourself indulge in it. But right now you wished he would’ve told you more. You wished, more sharply and painfully, that he was here.
In the middle of organizing the endless piles of parchment you began to drift off. The words on paper began to cross and blur in your vision. You didn’t want to disturb his apartment or his things, so you hadn’t put on the fireplace. Cold and tired you padded to his empty room. 
Just a little rest before I finish up here. You thought to yourself. Just going to rest my eyes.
You crawled under his crisp bed sheets and your eyes pricked at the overwhelming smell of him. If you didn’t allow yourself to miss him before this, you couldn’t help it now. You’d never been in his room before, you thought distantly, fatigue already claiming you, dragging you down into a black sleep. 
-------
You weren’t cold anymore. Someone had put the fireplace on. You became aware of this before you heard him.
“Y/N,” Theseus’s voice was rough and low and sweet. It must've been past midnight. He was dressed in a suit still, bending over the bed, his eyes tender and tired. “Did you fall asleep, sweetheart?”
Sweetheart. You stirred. That word undid something in you. Unfettered any tension or stress you’d been holding in your body since he’d been gone.
“Theseus,” you muttered, still half-sleep. Your eyes were swollen, you would’ve been mortified, but he was here, at last, and he was looking at you with a gentle smile, so affectionate.
“M’sorry, the documents—I fell asleep-"
“It’s okay,” he chuckled. He dragged a hand over his face and stood. You felt guilty for stealing his bed, you didn't know where he'd been, but he looked positively wrecked. “Rest. I’ll wake you in the morning.”
He turned to leave, presumably for the couch. You reached out for him, any part of him, and your hand caught the waistline of his pants, a finger hooked there.
He looked down at the offending hand and raised a brow.
You were half dreaming, his arrival was so unexpected, so surreal. Your face felt hot, something like fever. 
"Mm, don't go," you mumbled. And then, the word left your mouth before you could process it, “Daddy.”
He froze completely, locking eyes with you. You couldn’t read the expression on his face. You were suddenly terrifyingly awake. 
You clapped a hand over your face, mortified, and rolled over in his bed so that the pillow concealed your face. Consciousness seeped in gradually and with every sober second you were swallowed by dread. 
“Oh,” you said stupidly. “Oh god, I have to leave. I'm sorry, I was sleeping, I don't know why I said that."
You stood as clumsily as a drunkard, taking half his sheets to the floor with you. Your hair was a mess and your skirt had hiked up nearly around your waist, revealing your black panties through your sheer tights.
“Oh god,” you said again. You couldn’t look at him. You began to fix your skirt and pat down your hair when he stepped forward, eyes dark, hand gripped around your wrist. 
You startled, confused. But he looked the opposite, an absolute calm washed over his face.
“You have no idea what you do to me,” he said.
“What? I don’t understand.”
“Coming home to you in my bed,” he let out a sharp breath, something like a stifled groan. “You have no idea what I wanted to do to you.”
Your stomach fluttered. You searched his face for any signs of confusion. He looked tired, a little undone, but more himself than ever.
“I don’t understand,” you didn't know why you felt on the brink of tears, when this is all you’d wanted all along. “You… you want me? But you were engaged, you…”
The look in his eyes was blazing and still, fire in water. It was enough to silence you. 
“I want you. I ended things with her because I couldn’t live with it, wanting you. I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable, not at your job, and I’m sorry to bother you with it now, but it can’t be helped. You can leave if you want, things can go back to normal. Me, wanting you, and you knowing nothing about it.” 
He seemed to return to himself now, he sounded like the Theseus you knew. Poised, sure of himself. Mercifully kind. But his chest was heaving and the desire, plain on his face, was enough to make your knees buckle.
He wants me. He wants me. With each beat of your heart you felt the truth of it swell inside you. You could see it, unmistakable, the look of want that mirrored your own. Ready to worship and renounce and claim.
“I don’t wanna leave,” you admitted, weakly. When he spoke again his words were terse, strained.
“Get back in bed,” is all he could manage, and then, “And call me that again.” 
And for the first time since you’d known him, you defied him.
Like the possessed, you fell into him, kissing him. He stumbled back in surprise, catching you with his hands crowded around your face. And you were both kissing and grabbing at each other, you fell to your knees and he followed you down.
You couldn't stop kissing him, not even to regain your balance, to catch your breath. He tasted so good, and his mouth on yours would've been enough to sustain you forever. The two of you were so desperate with need, you were half-kneeling on the floor. 
You began to whine in protest when he pulled away at last, but he stood and pulled you up from under your arms. When he threw you back onto his bed, your stomach flipped. He was looking down at you, pulling off his shoes and jacket, unbuttoning the cuffs of his sleeves. With him looking at you like that, you would've let him do anything to you, anything at all.
“Sweetheart, I said,” he pulled off his dress shirt and your head went dizzy at the sight of his bare chest, his shoulders and arms. “Get back in bed.”
His voice was stern, but fond. You knew what he wanted immediately, and it thrilled you to give it to him.
“Yes, daddy.”
You could see him struggling to control his expression, he just bowed his head back and pinched his eyes shut. The corner of his mouth twitched.
The knowledge that it was you doing this to him, driving him crazy, turning him on, heightened your arousal. Submitting to him strangely felt like power in your hands. 
“Good girl,” he said at last.
He was in his boxers now. The shape of his dick through the thin cloth made your mouth water. You wanted to press your open mouth against it there, wanted to pull it out and kiss it. You don’t know what had come over you. You couldn't think straight.
He got into bed beside you.
“Come and sit in my lap.” 
Your body purred and thrummed in delight. This is all you’d ever wanted at the office, to drape yourself over and onto him like this.
You crawled over him and sat firmly in his lap, legs splayed around his thick thighs. His hands came up around your waist, sliding further up to your chest. He looked up at you unblinkingly, eyes hooded and reverent, but his fingers moved of their own accord, unbuttoning your shirt.
You reddened, suddenly self-conscious. “Wait, don’t-“
“Don't?” he raised an eyebrow. “What, you want me to stop?”
He made a tutting noise and continued to remove your shirt, you had to look away when he flung it across the room, you were so embarrassed. He had your bra off in seconds.
“So cute. So shy.” he said dotingly, but his actions were anything but cute, massaging and running the rough pads of his thumbs over your nipples over and over again in circles. 
You moaned without meaning to, and the sound embarrassed you further. You felt him grow even bigger beneath you, between your legs.
“No, you don’t want me to stop.” He sounded so cocky you wanted to tell him off, but you couldn't, not with him playing with you like this. You could only moan weakly beneath his hands.
Your hips began grinding against the outline of his cock. It was so big your entire body thrilled at the feel of him, at the ludicrous idea of fitting it inside of you.
He seemed determined to humiliate you, he kept talking you through it.
“You’re doing so good, baby. Can you feel how hard I am?”
“Yes,” you answered, breathless.
“Tell me what you want. How you want me.”
“Inside me, please.”
“Please, who?”
You were so frustrated you could've cried. You wanted to come so bad, your legs were trembling. Up and down grinding and rubbing wasn't enough when you knew he wanted to be inside of you, that you could've had him inside of you.
“Please, daddy," You cried, feeling broken. 
Theseus pushed you back onto the bed roughly and crawled over you, reaching down to hike your skirt even further up your midsection. You were already topless, but he gripped into your tights with both arms flexing and ripped them apart at the seam.
You gasped and instinctually tried to cover up, bringing your legs together, but he was already pushing your panties down past your ankles, and then his broad hands were covering your kneecaps, pushing them apart.
“No, no, don’t do that. You’re mine," He reprimanded.
It felt so vulgar, him seeing this part of you. But you were only half a person now. You needed Theseus inside of you to be complete, you were dumb with want. A whining, needy mess and he couldn't get enough of you.
Tears stained your cheeks.
“Please, pleaseplease-" You started to beg, but he silenced you with his mouth on yours, wet and warm and perfect. When he shushed you this time it was surprisingly caring, he caressed your face reassuringly.
“Okay, baby. It’s okay, I’m not trying to tease you, hold on.” 
When he pulled out his length, your mouth went dry. You instinctually spread your legs wider. It was big, bigger than you thought. Both thick and long.
He reached a hand down between your legs to find wetness. Your back arched, your whole body curled and keened in pleasure against his hand, his touch.
But when he pushed a single finger at your entrance it met resistance. You moaned in pain and contentment when it finally slid in fully, past the knuckle.
“Ah,” he said with a grunt. “You can barely fit my finger, baby. You’re so tight.” He said this in equal parts admiration and lament. 
“No!” you whined. “Please, please, I can take it-“
Theseus shushed you and kissed your forehead.
“I know you can, pretty girl. I don’t wanna hurt you, though.”
“I want you to. Please, please.” 
He hissed something like fuck under his breath and began to add more fingers, a second and, then, absurdly, a third. You already felt like you were being split in half. He could barely move them, but soon enough he was pumping them deep and slow, in and out, and the act was so lewd you wanted to cry again.
“Fuck, that’s tight," he said to himself again. “Christ, Y/N, you’re gonna kill me.”
When he removed his hand you wanted to cry out at the loss, but then he was moving his body up, his hands clasped around the inside of your knees and he spread your legs up and open and wide, just for him.
When he sank down into you, his dick was so big and hard that your eyes bulged and your mouth opened pathetically.
“Oh,” you said, stupefied.
Then he pushed in and in, endlessly, until he bottomed out. You were already throbbing around him, so overstimulated from before, coming and fluttering around his cock before he’d even fucked you properly.
“Oh!” you exclaimed again, throwing your head back against the pillow and bringing the back of your hand to your mouth to bite, hoping to stifle the moan as your orgasm washed over you hard. Waves of pleasure ran from the crown of your head all the way down your legs, you could see it coming from a mile away but were nonetheless overcome, completely. 
He made a small noise at the sensation of you tightening and pulsing around him and ripped your hand away from your mouth.
“I wanna hear you,” he ordered, and so you let him. It was almost an out-of-body experience, the way he materialized in front of you, inside of you, when you finally came back down to earth, blood roaring in your ears.
“I just stuck it in, and you already came?” His tone was dark and teasing. “That’s all it takes, darling?”
He leaned over and kissed you deeply, passionately, and then straightened your legs and threw them over one of his shoulders, bending you in half. He began to fuck you in earnest, fucked you limp. You really felt like a rag doll now, helplessly pinned beneath his weight, his hips pounding into your backside. He drilled into you, growing impossibly harder by the second, it was almost like being filled for the first time all over again. 
You couldn't stop moaning, he kept telling you how good you were doing, how you were almost there. Kept asking you questions that made you blush, making you answer them.
Every thrust of his hips was pure ecstasy, vibrating shocks of pleasure were sent straight to your core, your whole pussy throbbing with it. He was fucking you and it was the best thing you’d ever felt, you never imagined sex could be this good.
You felt his dick stretching you wider and wider when he said, “Where do you want me to come?” 
You didn't even think. The word preceded any thought.
“Inside. Please, please-"
“Fuck.” 
The feel of him shooting into you, hot and warm and pulsing, sent you tumbling into another orgasm, it hit you so hard your vision went white and spotty. You had the impression your whole body was vibrating with the force of it.
He rolled your sweat-slick bodies over so that he was cradling you, holding you. You could feel his heartbeat, feel the air rushing in and out of his ribcage. He held you for a few minutes before finally relenting and pulling out with a hiss.
“You’re so perfect,” he panted, pressing a kiss to your temple, your chin, your neck. 
You felt overwhelmed with emotion. Overstimulated. Completely at his mercy.
“I love you,” you said. Powerless. All your life you had clung to power, whatever power you could cling to and not be kicked off like a dog. But for him alone you allowed yourself to be weak.
Utterly and devastatingly weak. 
You always imagined him saying it to you, first, but the thought barely had the chance to dampen your soaring heart because then he said, “I love you more. I promise you, whatever love you have for me, Y/N, I'll always have more for you.” 
-----
He cleaned you up and gave you some of his clothes to change into. Soft and oversized, you were almost drowning in them. He changed into his own pajamas, changed the bedsheets and threw the old ones on the floor. Gave you a toothbrush to use and soon you were both cozy and tucked back in his bed.
“I wanted to do that from the first time I saw you," He admitted. “Even though I was your boss, and your friend, and I was a taken man at the time. It made me feel ashamed, sick with myself. How badly I desired you.” 
Hearing Theseus say these words was like a dream, or something you wouldn’t even dare to dream.
“Are you staying here for good now? Or are you leaving me again?” You asked.
“You’re coming with me. With us.” He said in a way that was so sure and simple, it made you feel safe. Made you forget about the Ministry, and the world falling apart. “We need your help. And besides, I've missed you.”
-----
part two here
A/N: woohoo first fic ever! let me know if you have any requests or if you'd like a part two. right now i am only writing for theseus and no one else.
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imababblekat · 1 year
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TmnT Boy’s Meeting Aprils New Roomie; HC’s
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Anon Request, “Can I request the bayverse turtles reactions to meeting april's new roomate who is a really a short s/o (like 5 ft) that has a tired and chill personality (has the same kind of personality as aizawa and shinso from mha) and instead of freaking out when they see the turtles they just say "hey" nonchalantly then go back to what they're doing? (You don't need to do this I just think it would be funny)”
~xXx~
Michelangelo:
Mikey had barged his way into Aprils apartment to excitedly talk about the latest episode of their favorite TV drama when he stumbled upon you
April was there with you, equal panic on her face as the orange clad turtle waited for the inevitable screaming or a similar panicked reaction
Your lack of shock left Mikey curious about you; all you had given him was a tired “sup” with a head tilt up and continuing your conversation like seeing a mutant ninja turtle breaking into your apartment was the most normal of things
His brothers wouldn’t have believed him if not for April being witness to the ordeal and are left as equally surprised by your lack of reaction when they ultimately come to meet you
Doesn’t take long for Mikey to practically glue himself to your side; it’s like the golden retriever boy trope
Loves the fact you’re so short; doesn’t out right tease you because he knows what it’s like to be the smallest, but he won’t hesitate to pick you up and throw you on his shoulders to get something from a high place
Donatello: 
His mind is so deep in explaining what he figured out what was wrong with Aprils watch, that he hadn’t picked up on her panicked face till he’d heard the once vacant room in her apartment creak open
Your lack of noticing him at all, which was odd considering he was a literal giant in comparison to your much shorter stature, and making way to grab some water before retreating back to your room had Donnie wonder for a second if he was really that good of a ninja
But after questioning April the next day about whether or not you truly did notice him, it turns out he in fact wasn’t as invisible as he felt, when his friend informed him that you did actually see him that night
Ultimately, he had to introduce himself and his brothers to make sure you wouldn’t go talking about them to the wrong person, but at your simple nod and “okay” while absentmindedly texting on your phone at the end of their empty threat introduction, Donnie was even more confused than he had been the first night
Your nonchalant behavior had left his overthinking brain wondering why you reacted so differently compared to others
It didn’t make any logical sense to him, especially after no indications that you were going through some kind of weird shock symptom 
His time spent trying to understand why you didn’t freak out on him that night turns into a lot of time bonding and forming a friendship he also never calculated to be possible, not that he minded of course; your chill personality was a nice contrast to the chaotic energies of his brothers when needed
Raphael:
He had been asked by Donnie while on a solo patrol to grab something from April, so when he’d stepped through her window he did not expect to see another person there with her
Your lack of a fear struck response leaves him frustratingly confused afterwards
Poor Raph is so used to people screaming or even fainting at the sight of him, that when all you did was wave a simple high and continue watching your Netflix show, he couldn’t help the suspicion he held towards you
Due to his skeptical feeling towards you however, he ends up spending a lot of time around you, and even though it does take some time, your unconcerned attitude towards, well, all of him, eventually has his walls crumbling around you
You make him feel normal, like he’s not some freak of nature; you don’t even flinch when his anger gets the best of him, instead waiting for him to calm some before offering some comfort
As Raph finds himself more lax with you, he opens up quite a bit and finds a friendship he didn’t know he desperately craved
But he’ll never tell you that, not at first at least, and instead just teases you and calls you shorty and time you tease him about how sweet he’s being
Leonardo:
Leo is definitely the most guarded when meeting new people, and your unbothered nature towards him when he accidentally stumbles upon you in Aprils apartment, does not easy his mistrustful thoughts about you
For a while he actually wonders if you’re some kind of secret spy to the foot clan or some other bad group of people, but anytime he tried to get you to confess your secrets, you’d just confusingly ask if you could help him with all the weird staring he’s doing
It lowkey leaves him feeling flustered, because he’s not used to not being taken seriously by anyone except his brothers
It takes a while for him to warm up to you, but when he does he starts to realizes how much he appreciates not being seen as a freak almost like Raph does, he also feels very relieved to not have to worry about his family being in any sort of danger with you
Yeah, you might be the shortest person he’s ever met, but he secretly feels like you could kick some ass
Your unassuming personality also has him thinking you could secretly be a force to wreckin with, and often ponders if he should offer up the idea to train you; definitely not because he wants to spend more time with you or anything of course!
~xXx~
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Note
I have an idea I would love to request but I wanted to check with you first! I couldn't help but think Astarion would be so infuriated & confused by me. Like when he held a knife at their throat, they're willing to give him a chance. Their reason is he has no real reason to trust them since he doesn't know them at all so they would show to him that they can be trusted. Then he's more confused when the first time he tries to drink blood from them, reader is shocked then immediately asks questions if it hurts, do they need to be healed, how should their position be so it's easier for him to drink, what would happen after that, etc. Even after he drank & they were feeling the effects, they asked if he still needed more. He answered them no confusedly before they were satisfied with his answer then passed out. He is both relieved and baffled at what just happened. What do you think of this? Please tell me if you're not interested! Thanks!
Local Vampire Spawn confused by care and offers of friendship, more at eleven.
~
Astarion, surprisingly, had gotten pretty lucky when it came to his newfound traveling companions. Two master swordsmen, a barbarian tiefling menace, and a Shar priestess were about the best one could ask for when it came to having protection. He could probably do without the do-gooder druid and walking time bomb of a wizard, but beggars couldn't be choosers.
And then there was you. The unofficial leader of the merry band of weirdos. Hyper competent, kind, and a powerful, and admittingly gorgeous, warrior. You would be perfection if you weren't so... frustrating.
Simply put, Astarion thought you were an idiot. A well-meaning, naive idiot, but a moron nonetheless.
What other explanation was there for your delusional trust in him? Your introduction had involved him pressing a damned blade to your throat, with every intent to kill you if you decided to struggle. Maybe even if you hadnt, if you had been alone. The correct response to a first meeting of that caliber would be to completely disregard him. Or kill him, for someone who had any conception of self-preservation.
But no, instead you gave him the offer to come with you, like that wasn't an absolutely insane thing to do. You had been so understanding, insisting that his penance for trickery and threats was justified. That you would be sure to earn his trust, like that was something worth obtaining.
At first, Astarion tried not to look too deeply into it. You were all going through hell, it made sense to travel in a pack, to find solidarity in others while trapped in a land full of endless horrors. It would explain why you kept the violate gith and the walking bomb around, despite their faults. There was also that foolish air of empathetic care about you at all times that helped explain things, one that extended far past Astarion himself. Though it did have limits. Astarion had borne witness to how unforgiving you could be when someone manipulated your trust. Though he completely agreed that the Hag known as Auntie Ethel fully deserved a slow, painful death, he hadn't been prepared for just how... literal you would take it.
So while you weren't completely without common sense, you still lacked a good deal of it. Like the fact that letting a vampire spawn drink your blood at night wasn't included in those same limits.
He hadn't even meant to open that particular door of feeding on you. It was just... so terribly hard to resist. You smelled divine, the scent of your blood always lingering beneath the surface of your skin. Cloying and decadent, the slightest whiff nearly enough to make his mouth water. He had been trying so damn hard to hide his true nature, feeding on whatever he could find in the dead of night. But none of it felt like enough. It should have been, he had more access to sustenance in the forest than he ever had under Cazedor's thumb. And wild boar were certainly better than sewer rats at the least.
But it wasn't enough to tame his growing desire for your taste. It had just happened. One moment he was simply on his own bedroll, staring up at the stars. And in the next the hunger was overtaking him. He was crawling over you before his mind could even catch up to his actions, his mouth already widening.
And then you woke-up, startled enough to knock Astarion out of his all-consuming thirst. You scrambled to your feet, staring at him with wide eyes as he struggled through an explanation. He had every expecation that this was it. This as the moment you would toss him to the side, realizing once and for all that he wasn't worth the danger.
But instead you just nodded along, the first question out of your mouth when he finished a simple, "Will it hurt?"
Astarion blinked at you, confused at you lack of reaction. He had admitted to being a literal monster for gods' sake. And that's what you were most curious about?
"Yes," Astarion said slowly, watching your face for every microexpression, "It will hurt, briefly. Then the pain fades into something a bit more... tolerable."
You nodded, asking another question, "Would I need healing after? Or would a bandage be enough? I would hate to wake Shawdowheart so late."
That was-he-were you actually considering this?
Astarion shook his head, hope and excitement starting to bubble to the surface, "No, a bandage should be fine. You might want her to top you off with something in the morning, but it won't be anything that can't wait."
"Okay," You said, nodding to yourself once before meeting his eyes with a determined gaze, "In that case, should I lay down? Or would standing be better?"
Astarion could scarcely believe your willingness. Part of him wanted to ask if you were sure that you wanted to do this, but his sheer lust for the taste of your blood shut that part down. Instead Astarion was reaching for your hand, gently tugging you down to lay back on your bedroll.
"This will be perfect," He murmured as he crawled back over you, his fangs protruding on their own accord, "Now stay still darling, we don't want to tear anything, do we?"
Astarion could just make out a lovely flush grace your cheeks at the pet name, barely visible by the campfire. It was a good look on you, that mixture of embarrassment and nerves, one that he wouldn't mind seeing again. But for now he had other appetites to attend to.
Astarion bit down, nearly moaning when the divine taste hit his tongue. Somehow it managed to taste even better than it smelled, warm ambrosia sliding down his throat, filling him with pure energy. It was an exhilarating experience, so much better than anything he'd ever tasted before. It was nearly too good, decadent enough for him to feel greedy.
He could feel you shaking under him, letting out the occasional whimper and whine. He was vaguely aware that this had been going on for too long, that he was taking too much. But it was so damn hard to resist.
It wasn't until you were gently pushing at him, whimpering, "I-I think that's enough."
There was the slightest touch of fear in your voice, the only thing that worked to pierce through his bloodthirsty haze. Astarion rolled off of you, licking his lips with a happy sigh. That was... better than he could ever have imagined.
He hopped up to his feet, sticking a hand out to help you do the same. You seemed woozy and unsteady as you stood, proving his suspicion that he had taken too much. It made the smallest lick of guilt creep up his spine. But it's not like you were ever going to let him do it again, he might as well indulge-
"Are you sure that was enough?" You asked, completely derailing his train of thought, "Will you be okay with just that? Or should we try again in a few hours?"
Were you actually insane?
"No my friend. I think I'll be fine," Astarion said carefully, "Another night perhaps. But, uh, are you okay?"
You shrugged, already sinking back down to your knees, snuggling back into your bedroll like nothing was out of the ordinary, "I'm sure I will be. Just a little tired now is all. Good night."
And then you were closing your eyes, out like a light while Astarion stood above you. Confused beyond belief. That was... how were you still alive? If this was the kind of thing you were willing to do for a near stranger, with nearly 0 reservations?
It was insane, idiotic, stupid. And now you just fell asleep right in front of the same man who cannibalized your blood? What the fuck was that? How was one supposed to respond to that? Astarion was grateful yes, beyond so. He went on to have a very successful hunt, even if his catches tasted worse than ever, they still left him feeling satisfied and capable. But he was plagued with thoughts of you the entire time. Thoughts that followed him through to the morning and the days to come.
You were so damn lucky that he was the spawn that was kidnapped. Half of his brethren would have already used your trust to bleed you dry before fleeing into the night. Gods knows what would have happened to you if it was Cazador who was taken in his place. That thought alone was enough to make shiver, clouding his brain with a massive discomfort at what someone like that would do with someone as... kind as you.
Astarion would never allow it. As stupid as you were, it didn't mean you deserved to be used. Well... by anyone besides himself of course. He was starting to think that he could use all of this blind trust to his advantage. Get you attached to him, force himself as a priority in your life that was worth protecting. But for that to happen you would have to stay alive. And that would mean someone would have to protect you from your infuriating self.
Astarion supposed that would just have to be his job. What it meant that the idea of doing such didn't fill him with resentment? He wasn't sure, and he sure as hells wasn't going to try and find out.
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aaagustd · 15 days
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cat and mouse | kim namjoon
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title: cat and mouse pairing: kim namjoon x thief!(f)reader genre/rating: smut, pwp; 18+
summary: every weekend you sneak into one of namjoon's parties and attempt to steal his jewelry. sometimes you get caught; sometimes you get away, but you'll always be back for more. wc: 1.1k warnings: g*ns/w**pons, threats of t*rture/m*rder, reader and namjoon are just something else honestly, reader is captured but all acts are consensual, mentions violence, g*n play (whether it's loaded or not is up to you but in my mind it's def loaded), impact play, f*ngering, c*m eating, finger sucking, hair pulling, cl*t stimulation, pet names (pretty doll, doll, etc), name calling/degradation, restraints/handcuffs, sensory deprivation; unedited lol…let me know if i missed something release date: april 14th, 2024; 12:36am note: hi! don't look at me. someone requested this awhile back lol. i hope you like it anon. it's not much since i've been preparing for room for two but i appreciate you for sending in a request. thank you for celebrating with me.💞
masterlist - inbox - read on ao3 - join my taglist?
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“You’re in trouble now, bitch.”
You can hear the sound of his footsteps before he even enters the room. Even the muffled sound of coming music downstairs doesn’t overpower his aura. Soon the pungent odor of whiskey and decaying molars will be covered by the smell of money, rage, and Chanel. 
As you listen to the cackling—nose twisted with disgust—your fingertips explore your cuffs, knowing that nothing man-made is escape proof.
Your lashes push against your blindfold, trying to make out the four silhouettes standing before you. Once you have found your way out of this mess—and you definitely will—your first vendetta is to take them to your dungeon for some much needed dental work. 
Every single one of those rotten pieces of shits will be remove and shoved directly up their—
“Give us some privacy.”
His voice tears you out of your plot for revenge. 
The room instantly becomes silent, no one daring to speak a word out of turn when it comes to the boss. His dominance needs no introduction as he’s one of the wealthiest and most powerful men to call this city home. 
Crossing him is a death sentence. One you’ve managed to escape several times. Tonight will be no different. 
“You just can’t keep your hands off of my shit, can you?” 
After the room is cleared, he acknowledges your presence and moves closer towards your bound figure. Despite standing for almost an hour with your hands over your head, you show no sign of weakness because you’ve been through worse—much worse.
“I’m starting to think you like getting caught.”
A grin spreads across your face, further testing his patience. “Aw, don’t you miss me, Namjoon?”
“Watch your mouth, pretty doll.”
He grabs you by your jaw, squeezing your cheeks harshly enough to cause a slight discomfort. Still, you laugh in his face unfazed.
“Or what?” you taunt. “Going to rough me up like your brutes did?”
There’s a pause.
“They touched you?”
Namjoon’s body tenses. “I told them not to.”
“It’s nothing I can’t handle, and I’m sure I wasn’t an easy catch.”
“Doesn’t matter,” he replies. “I’m sorry—”
The sound of metal clinking as you attempt to pick the lock of your cuffs pierces Namjoon’s ears like a knife. The sincerity in his tone fades away as it is replaced with anger, knowing he’s fallen for your lies.
“You little bitch. Are you crazy?”
“Just a tad,” you counter.
He pulls his glock from his waistband and places it directly beneath your jawline.
“Drop it,” he demands, referring to the bobby pin tucked between your fingers. 
You allow it to fall to the floor, abandoning this method of escape—but he’s a fool if he thinks you don’t have more up your sleeves.
“Aw, man. You caught me.”
Your sarcasm doesn’t amuse him in the slightest.
“You think I won’t blow your fucking brains out, doll? ‘Cause I will.”
You cackle, throwing your head back and ignoring his threats. Namjoon grabs your hair and reunites the barrel of his gun with your face.
“Does it look like I’m joking?”
You take deep breaths, calming yourself so you can speak. Namjoon keeps a firm grip on you, making sure you can’t squirm away. Little does he know, you wouldn’t dream of moving.
“You aim that any lower and I might make a mess of this expensive ass floor,” you whisper.
You watch the way his head tilts through the fabric as he processes that statement. He ponders over the thought for just a moment, and then lets his curiosity run wild. “Is that so?”
“Only one way to find out.”
“Indeed.”
The weapon slowly travels down your body, making your adrenaline spike as it descends. You know his eyes follow the trail every inch of the way till he reaches your thighs. There, he pauses—allowing you to spread your legs voluntarily before he moves any further.
Your dress starts to rise slightly as Namjoon searches for your center. Upon contact, your back arches—exposing your eagerness to fulfill your twisted fantasy. 
“No panties?”
“In this dress? Be for real.”
Namjoon chuckles, making small circles as his weapon touches your clit. The feeling elicits small moans from your lips, and he doesn’t seem to want to keep them at bay.
“Maybe you were just…prepared?”
He smacks your clit so abruptly you don’t even have time to brace yourself. You bite your lip to suppress your scream, but your whimpering is still a lot louder than you intended. 
“Or that,” you answer breathlessly.
He spanks your pussy a few more times, leaving you trembling and dripping. Juices run down your thighs and Namjoon collects it on his fingers before having a taste. 
You hear him moaning around his fingers, lapping up every drop of your wetness he was able to gather. He goes for seconds, but this time he puts his finger in your mouth—making you taste yourself while he watches you with his dark eyes.
“Nobody should taste that sweet, doll. I should put a bullet in your head right where you stand.”
“Do it.”
“Hm,” he scoffs. “Don’t test me.”
Once again, the steel is in your face while Namjoon’s other hand slips between your thighs. With no warning, he pushes them into your wet crevice, causing you to shriek in surprise.
“Keep playing with…like I won’t blow all your fucking teeth out.”
Thumb pressed against your clit, index and middle fingers deep inside of you—he pleasures your pussy while he spits venom in your ears.
“But I bet you’d like that, huh?” he quizzes. “Twisted little slut.”
“Mm, fuck!”
“Speechless, aren’t we?”
Your eyes roll back when he speeds up. You’re unable to warn him because the pressure building inside of you abruptly bursts, sending you into an intense orgasm. 
“That’s it,” Namjoon coos.
He shows no mercy as you wither with sensitivity, draining you of every ounce of strength you have left. You’re spent by the time his fingers slide out of you. You stand there slumped over, struggling to catch your breath.
“Look at what a mess I’ve made of you.”
Namjoon snatches your blindfold off, and exposes your eyes to the piercing bright lights. You turn your head until your vision adjusts, but even through everything you just endured—your focus never strayed away from your ultimate goal.
“There are a million other things you could be doing, doll. This is getting old.”
Namjoon begins to walk away, thinking you’re still restrained. You don’t waste time letting him know he’s dropped the ball yet again.
“Like what?” 
You purposefully allow the metal to hit the floor so he can hear it. Namjoon stops in his tracks before looking over his shoulder.
“Come with me. You’ll find out.”
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so-very-small · 2 days
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I am thinking about a Tiny Wife, and a Tiny Husband. they live in the walls of a human couple’s home. got married young and rushed, drifted apart in their thirties, but it’s fine. the humans are in a similar boat. they all make it work. so the Tiny Husband does the majority of the borrowing, and the Giant Husband does the majority of the cooking, and it’s only natural that their paths cross. and they hate each other.
the Giant Husband sees this little guy as an absolute pest. destroying his herb gardens and stealing his food. so he lays traps, chases him, puts all his energy into catching this tiny. he doesn’t tell his Giant Wife. and yet, he obsesses. the Tiny Husband sees the Giant as an obstacle, and takes on the traps as challenges. he steals more than he needs, makes a show of his theft now that the human is aware. his Tiny Wife worries, but he persists.
because there’s a specific little feeling he gets around the Giant Husband that he hasn’t gotten from anyone in a long time. a sharp thrill in his chest, a flutter in his stomach. and it’s wrong, and he also might die, but he goes out anyways just to see him. and he has a very, very strong feeling that Giant Husband feels the same.
(he does.)
Tiny Wife is not stupid, though. initially relived by the extra alone time, she eventually realizes Tiny Husband’s gone more than he should be and he’s bringing home more than normal. she trails after him one night, and watches how her husband has this dangerous dance with the Giant Husband. the threats, the sharp comments, the danger, but more than that, how they look at each other. the light in his eyes when he comes home.
and Tiny Wife is a little bothered by how she isn’t bothered. if anything, she’s happy for Tiny Husband. she’s never seen that spark, and she’s never held it for him. she’s happy he’s getting that, even if it’s in an atypical way. despite this, she still feels an obligation to Giant Wife, and so one night while Tiny Husband and Giant Husband are trying to kill each other, she creeps her way into the massive bedroom.
Giant Wife is having tea, her soft face lit by candles. Tiny Wife makes her presence known from her perch on the nightstand, and Giant Wife does not seem as startled as she should be. introductions are made, and Tiny Wife breaks the news that their husbands are…. well they’re not fucking, she doesn’t think, instead something much weirder, but emotionally entangled regardless.
and the Giant Wife already knows. she’s at peace with it, god, she’s happy for the quiet with her husband so busy. it was an arraigned marriage, and she’s not bothered, don’t worry little one, perhaps since you’re free would you like to stay for some tea? Tiny Wife does. she has tea in the candlelight with this giantess, and when she walks home, she has a certain smile on her face that’s never been there before.
I like to think it works out. the Husbands come clean and the Wives laugh at them. everything changes, in the sense that Tiny and Giant Wives now have tea every evening and spend the nights together, and nothing changes, in the sense that the Husbands are still trying to kill each other.
(but now they also kiss sometimes, too.)
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luna-rainbow · 9 months
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On Steve Rogers, loss, and loneliness
Unlike some of the other characters, Steve's hurt isn't as plain to the eye. His demeanour is usually one of stoicism and optimism, and it is easy to forget that his story is steeped in loss and loneliness.
Steve's introduction highlighted how alone he was - an orphan, armed with a list of ailments, and hiding behind a newspaper to avoid small chat with other recruits. When rejected by the recruitment centre, Steve shrugs and heads to watch a movie - alone.
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Steve is a loner, we are shown, and then just as abruptly - perhaps just like the way it had happened many years ago - Bucky crashes into Steve's world and hooks an arm around his shoulders and noisily talks about an expo and dispels all of Steve's melancholic air. Steve is a loner, except for Bucky.
But Bucky is now leaving to go to war.
Steve is used to being stoic, because there were no adults around him to spoil him. He is used to being buoyant, because Sarah taught him how to pick himself up and carry on. Steve is used facing the empty house and lonely silence -- except for Bucky, who filled his room with chatter, "We can put the couch cushions on the floor, like when we were kids."
So when we hear the anxious strain in his voice as he is informed by Bucky that he is leaving -- it also becomes plain that Steve is also used to loss, or the threat of loss shadowing him, everyday.
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In his short life, he has already lost so much. He has lost his health (my thought is he was probably healthier in his early childhood until he caught scarlet fever, and then his health got a lot worse after that). He has lost his father, and all the security of having a family breadwinner. He has lost his mother - to long hours of work and eventually to the disease she was battling against.
What he dreads would happen, does happen. Life seems to have a way of chasing him down like that. Sarah gets sick, and his fear of coming home to find her gone...one day inevitably comes true.
At his darkest moment, Bucky squeezes his shoulder and promises, "You don't have to do it (alone). I'm with you to the end of the line."
It's just enough for Steve to square his shoulders and push on, as Sarah had always taught him to do. Deep inside - possibly buried so deep that he can barely put it into words, he knows that he pulled through because "Even when I had nothing, I had Bucky."
I'm going to pause here and emphasise how deeply lonely (and young) Steve was, and how, naturally, the only stable presence — ie Bucky — in his life, through periods of terrible grief and uncertainty, is going to be such a deep-rooted emotional foundation for him (regardless of how you ship).
When the draft does come for Bucky, it's not just Bucky who's unhappy, it's Steve who's also aghast. Suddenly, the possibility of losing his last bastion looms over him, and he remembers the fear and anxiety and the devastating grief of losing Sarah. But it is also a war that needs fighting - so he comes up with a solution: sign himself up. He can't keep Bucky from the war, but he wants to fight alongside him. Besides Bucky, what else does he have to lose?
"Men are laying down their lives, I have no right to do any less. That's what you don't understand, Bucky."
He says this angrily, because the words he can't say aloud are, "You are laying down your life, Bucky, and I might never see you again, and I can't go through all that again, not by myself."
When he hears about the 107th being captured, he has to go. He is saving Bucky, sure, but he is also saving himself, because the pillar, the lifebuoy, the harness that has kept him afloat all those years is Bucky, and he's terrified of sinking.
The serum makes him taller and more women pause to smile at him, but he is still incredibly alone. He sits alone during break, he draws alone in his book, he runs off alone and none of the USO girls even notices until it's his turn on stage.
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But Bucky notices him immediately, and says, "I thought you were smaller," and, "Did it hurt?"
Steve doesn't really believe in miracles. His whole life feels like one bad luck after another, even if he forces one foot in front of another and keeps marching on. But maybe at that moment, he feels like Bucky is his miracle. Bucky, who always seems to notice when he's alone and pulls him into his social circle. Bucky, who had seen him lose his dad and Sarah and promised him the end of the line. Bucky, who he - and all the commanders - thought was dead, pulls through and gives him another promise - that he would follow the little guy back into war.
When Steve is finally thrust into the frontline, the losses keeps mounting, man after man are falling, condolence letter after letter is being written. And then towards the end of 1944, the tides seem to finally turn. German forces are waning, the Allied forces are advancing, and quietly, secretly, Steve dreams of home.
And that dream dies with Bucky.
"Honour the dignity of his choice," he is told, but he can't shake off the guilt.
He pushes himself forward, step by dragging step. Nazi Germany is falling. He is taking down Hydra with his own hands…and at the end, he buries them all in the ocean with himself.
His is sinking, but he isn’t afraid, because he is going where all the people who mattered are waiting.
And he is denied even that.
He opens his eyes to a world he doesn’t recognise. They tell him they had won the war.
But no one wants to speak with him about what was lost.
A folder of old photos, the museum of unmoving murals, the silent movies of a smile he would never see again.
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He thought he had lost all there was to lose, but somehow life always seem to find something else to take.
What we see of off-duty Steve in the modern world is once again a figure of loneliness. He goes to the gym alone, he goes for a ride on the train alone, he sits at the cafe alone, he goes for runs alone, he goes to the museum alone.
Only during those solitary moments he could truly be Steve Rogers, instead of trying to meet everyone's expectations of Captain America. He is just shy of 27 years old, but suddenly, he can no longer lay claim to youth. Only a dream ago he was "just a kid from Brooklyn", and now he's an "old-fashioned" (as per Coulson) "older fellow" (as per Tony).
He's in the history books, he's on the television, he's in the classrooms; everyone knows of Captain America, but Steve Rogers is lost.
He had been willing to lose his life on the Valkyrie, but what he lost was every living connection and his own identity.
"Must have freaked you out, coming home after the whole defrosting thing," the friendly man says to him on their first meeting, but Sam only knows half of it.
The too soft bed and the too quiet room is one thing, the unshakeable nightmares another, but the worst of it is -- this isn't home.
He is marooned in a place that bears eerie resemblance to the world he knew, without being familiar.
Until the moment Bucky's mask comes off.
It's like the anchor dropping. He's now got a connection tethering him to this strange place, someone with "shared experience" that means he is no longer alone, and he is no longer a ghost forgotten by the seventy years of lost time.
"He doesn't know you."
"He will."
He has to believe that Bucky will, because Bucky is proof that Steve Rogers exists.
And once again, Bucky is his miracle. On the brink of killing them both, Bucky reels back from his brainwashing and hauls them both to safety.
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Even if Bucky leaves after that, he's left behind something Steve hasn't had for a long time -- hope, and belonging.
"Family, stability. The guy who wanted all that went in the ice seventy-five years ago," he says to Tony as he prepares to meet the ragged team of enhanced people that is to become the Avengers. "I'm home."
Stoic and buoyant as he has always been, Steve sets to work building that home for himself. Gradually, we see Steve open up. He forms new connections and new friendships, he talks about his vulnerabilities with people he trusts, and he reclaims his own identity. He looks for Bucky, and waits until Bucky is ready to build that home for himself.
Until it is once again blown apart by the end of Infinity War - he loses not just Bucky, the anchor to his past, but the new family he has made apart from Natasha.
That's why it makes sense that Steve, not Tony, is the one working so hard to reverse the Snap. His family was 5 years ago, Tony's family is now. The people who rallied behind Steve and not Captain America, the people who followed him after he dropped the shield, the people with whom he no longer needed to be endlessly lonely and tirelessly stoic and who loved him for who Steve Rogers was, they all vanished in the Snap.
So even if there was only a small hope, Steve wants them back.
And that's why his decision to leave everything he had built, the sacrifices he had made to bring them back, in order to go into a life of incredibly loneliness and deception is still the dumbest narrative faux pas in the MCU.
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tyrantisterror · 1 month
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I think one of the things that gets lost in the big, endless internet conversation about whether or not heroes should kill their villains is the fact that killing villains off robs you of a lot of story-telling potential. The Joker died at the end of his debut story in Batman - imagine what Batman would be if he stayed dead. No Joker in Batman 66, no The Killing Joke which means no Barbara Gordon as Oracle and no The Dark Knight, no Mark Hamill Joker episodes of BTAS (so many of them were based on his comic appearances, after all - the laughing fish is a direct adaptation of a comic), which means no Harley Quinn and no Return of the Joker, on and on it goes.
Like, you can argue the morality of heroes sparing their villains till you turn blue - god knows this site does it at least a thousand times a day - but on a purely pragmatic story-telling level, the minute you kill ANY character, you kill all the story potential they had. And yeah, it's fiction, you can bring them back from the dead if you really need them, but that's a pretty hard story beat to pull off without hurting your story. You don't want to fill your tale with "Somehow, Palpatine has returned" moments.
And you can just make new villains, sure, but again you have a problem with that - a new villain has to establish themselves and has to stand out from who came before, which means you can't go directly to the storylines you could have had with a villain who stuck around AFTER their introduction. A recurring villain is capable of doing things that one-off villains can't.
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I'm going to illustrate this with a character from a fandom I'm not even a part of - I never played the Ratchet and Clank series and am only vaguely aware of it, but one day I saw a supercut of scenes starring one of its recurring villains, Dr. Nefarious, on twitter, and I was like "Oh shit, that's the guy who plays Quark on Deep Space Nine, isn't? This guys a hoot, let's see if we can find more clips on youtube." Which brought me to this hefty video here from one of the more recent games in the series.
And, like, as a person who "doesn't even go here," it's obvious this goofy little fucker has a history. His opening scenes have him ranting about how much it sucks to lose repeatedly - a lampshade on the "flaw" of a recurring villain, i.e. that their threat diminishes the more they come back because, by the nature of their role in the story, it means they've suffered a lot of losses. So how cool is it that as this supercut chugs along you can clearly see this is a theme of the game - that this is a story about the virtue of losing, a story that is enriched by having an antagonist who fans of the series know has lost a LOT?
The true antagonist is an alternate version of Dr. Nefarious who's won every fight in his life so far, apparently with little effort, and I love how they differ on a design aspect. They're both technically mad scientists, but notably, Emperor Nefarious, the winner, has a more imposing and "heroic" build, but a smaller brain-dome for his robot brains. Because winning may make him look strong, but if a mad scientist's real power is their mind, well, which Nefarious is really the strong one here then?
Dr. Nefarious gets this juicy arc about realizing the virtue in his repeated failures that corresponds with the heroic characters struggling to find a way to win against a seemingly invincible opponent, as well as contrasts the true villain, Dr. Nefarious's explicit counterpart and foil Emperor Nefarious, who has never once lost and is a total piece of shit for it. Again, not my fandom, I don't go here, not an expert on Ratchet and Clank, but even as a relative stranger to it who's just watching a big supercut, I fucking love this. This is an excellent story.
And it's one you can only tell with a recurring villain. Without Dr. Nefarious, this story works significantly less. You need a villain with a history the audience has seen to really sell this.
Anyway, I made this post because, ironically enough, I saw another tweet talking about how some fans think Dr. Nefarious should have been killed off in his first appearance, and, like... that's just fucking baffling to me, as a person outside this fandom looking in. Recurring villains deserve more love, man, they give us so much.
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iamhereinthebg · 3 months
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Seeing Akane reacts so strongly seeing Kako being destroyed was already a big shot at my heart but Mirai and Akane protecting each other absolutely annihilated me in the last chapter.
Akane is a character who is really blunt about his opinion and stands his ground, he said right away in his introduction chapter how strongly he hates the clock keepers, and insists on how much he isn't like them.
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In this new arc, he is forced to face this part of him he doesn't want to acknowledge since the beginning, he has been forced to do it a lot since the grim reaper arc (and I think it's really starting to get to him but this is for another day)
Aoi Akane, the human forced to be a supernatural who hates his contract and the clock keepers so much he wants nothing to do with them. But what does he do when fighting Tsukasa? He keeps the latter's attention on him so the threat can't get to Mirai.
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Akane is mortal and human. The only mortal clock keepers and supernatural, and he still risks his life to protect Mirai. The yorishiro of the clock keepers yes, but mostly Mirai.
He shifts his attention from Tsukasa to her because he knows what she represents for the clock keepers and he waits for the moment to let her free, even if it results in him getting hurt.
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Akane is the character of the cast who shows the most how he loves life, he definitely doesn't want to die. We can see it in how he defends himself, his last movement in this fight being one of protection (and fear). Something he has been doing more since coming back a second time from the far shore. Even if he doesn't want to die, he is still at his core a nice person. He is distressed at the idea of death, disappearing for good, no matter who it may concern in the end. Finding a way to protect Mirai (and the yorishiro) goes before his own safety.
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And then Mirai gets the blow for him. She knows it means Tsukasa will get the yorishiro. Kako has been the mystery the most alarmed about the yorishiros being destroyed by Hanako. But Mirai, n°1, who knows how dangerous it is for another yorishiro to be destroyed for the land, sacrifices their seat number, herself and what is supposely the most important thing to them, for Akane.
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Akane is a proactive character who rarely stops in his actions. Even when Aoi was "dead" he was activaly searching for a way to bring her back and when he learned she was gone he was quick to try to find a way to go where she was. When he stops, it's because he is physically unable to move. But here, even if he is still concsious and has Time's power he doesn't do anything, like he is the one being stopped in time, unable to move on from Mirai's body.
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Mirai may be made of gears but it's been clear since the beginning that she has a real attachement to Akane. Wearing the name he gave her like a medal, jumping on him whenever she can, having a personality where she clearly has fun when he is present, and actually being the one noticing him on his first day at school.
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And what does it mean after all for a yorishiro to be sacrified to protect something else? That maybe Akane is in the end more important than what the yorishiro represents for the clock keepers.
If this follows the pattern of a lot of mysteries it may mean that Mirai and Kako have strong regrets/resentment towards the story/person behind their yorishiro.
It's kind of beautiful in the end to see Mirai sacrifiying their past and future to focus on the one representing the present.
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animehideout · 4 months
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LOVE IS THE MOST TWISTED CURSE OF THEM ALL
PART FOUR
Gojo Satoru X Fem! Reader
check part 3 here
check part 5 here
a/n: this part is an introduction to a lot of main events 🫶🏻💕
update : Part 5 is now posted
Music recommendation ♪ : Jealousy x Pacify Her (mashup)
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- Morning at Jujutsu High -
This was your first teaching lesson, you gathered your 1st year students. All of them dressed in their training fits, standing there carefully listening as you explained in details the use of the weapon you were holding.
“Each weapon has its own purpose, but remember true strength comes from knowledge and skill not agression”, you said,
as you began elegantly demonstrating for them. With a calm demeanor, you began with fluid movements, effortlessly twirling the heavy sword in your hand,
“Ground yourself, it gives you stability and control” you added, as you took a balance stance, grounding yourself.
You showed them how to block attacks, as they observed you attentively. You then started into striking techniques,
“Always target the pressure point of your enemy” you said smiling as you easily sliced in half the training dummy.
Your skills definitely impressed your students who were watching you, their mouths hang open, and definitely struck a nerve within Satoru who was silently sitting in the stairs, watching you teach.
He hates to admit it even within himself, that you proved him wrong, that you are indeed good with weapons and a good martial arts fighter. He hated every bit of it.
You didn't notice his ghost like presence, you were too busy teaching, giving your all,
“Always remember that Respect, Discipline and Integrity are more important, values are what matter, and without them physical strength means little” you further explained.
“hah values?” said Gojo mockingly, slowly stepping down the stairs joining you in the field.
“oh Gojo-Sensei” said Yuji.
“Before teaching others, why don't you teach yourself..y/n?” he said offensively
Your students' eyes widened in shock.
“I'm teaching Satoru– so leave..please!” you said politely trying not to cause a scene in front of your students after he carelessly humiliated you in front of them.
He approached you, trying to scare you and assert dominance with his huge figure, standing inches away from you. You stood your ground, mind racing with thoughts. What if he slaps you like you did to him last night?
His big hand reached to the sword you were holding yanking it, pulling it and pulling you as well,
“And you speak of balance and control? tch” he mocked.
You kept silent a lump forming in your throat. His hate for you is now public as if both of you aren't married.
“Will you let go?” you said in a monotone receiving a smirk from him “I said. Let. Go”
Gojo did as you said, slightly backing away.
“Have you even been in a real fight or you're just all talk showing off in front of your first year students? remember that even a kid with curse energy is still stronger than you!! bet you would get your ass whooped in a real fight”
“You think so? then why don't you try to prove your point?” you said in a defying tone
“Is it a challenge or a threat?” he cocked his eyebrow,
“Take it however you like..Satoru”
“This Saturday. Right here. We'll see if you can manage to harm me...even a bit” he challenged, involving you into a duel with him.
“Sure but don't be a coward! You better turn off your Infinity” you said trying to sound confident but deep down you can feel your stomach turning and heart racing.
Megumi stepped between both of you pushing Gojo away from you, “That's enough Sensei, y/n sensei is still teaching us”
“Just for you Gumi” he said leaving you all behind, showing his wide smile as if he wasn't literally looking like a demon.
“Are you okay?” asked Nobara worriedly,
“Don't mind him please..he likes to agitate others” Said Megumi
“Yeah I'm fine... let's go back to practice.. each one of you take a training dummy and repeat the movements I had shown you.”
You kept on watching them train trying to take your mind off of your coming duel with your husband, even though you were confident in your Martial Arts skills, Satoru is still the strongest sorcerer around and if he uses his curse energy ....you're doomed.
-Break Time-
You took your plate of food and sat in a table in a corner to eat. You were enjoying your peace until Gojo decided to show up with Mei Mei chatting loudly, they purposely chose a table next to you
“so fucking childish” you muttered to yourself, rolling your eyes and shoving the spoon of rice inside your mouth, trying your best to ignore them and their attempts to get on your nerves.
“So are you coming over tonight?” whined Mei Mei
“Yeah why not” he answered giving his best flirtatious smile.
“Is he cheating?” you thought to yourself, frustration taking over you “Couldn't he at least wait till we divorce”
“I wish we had more women like you Mei Mei, beautiful, strong and skillful” he started, making sure you heard every word.
You knew it was an indirect way to call you weak and talentless.
You hated comparison, you had enough of getting compared to others.
“Oh why would you need other women if you have me” she flirted back
You tightly gripped your spoon, your fingers turning white.
You can't blame him for saying that, despite being your husband he's still a stranger.. after all he didn't even touch you. You couldn't even blame your family for that. Tears gathered in your eyes, blankly looking at your food as memories from your past started to flow.
Flashback
“I just wish you were like your other siblings... strong” said your mom
“Look at them mastering their Jujutsu techniques.. you seriously need to do something about your life y/n” added your father.
Both of them lecturing you about something you literally have no control over.
Locking yourself in your room, crying for hours and blaming yourself for disappointing your clan became your daily habit.
“I'm so sick of myself, I would rather be anyone else rather than being the pathetic me” was what you used to tell yourself everyday before going to sleep.
End of flashback
Comparison did kill you slowly, killed your self-confidence but you grew up to accept yourself for who you are, even became indifferent if your curse broke or not.
But now Gojo brought back your insecurity and your self-awareness and you eagerly wanted nothing more than breaking the curse so you can be a sorcerer like everyone else around you.
And here you are, everyday, patiently waiting for you and Gojo's marriage to do something. Hoping that you wake up and find that the curse that stopped you from being normal fades away.
Crazy how only one person can make you feel disrespected, but are you going to show it? are you going to act weak like what you feel inside?
Hell no!! you're going to keep it to yourself, he can't watch you break down, he can't catch you cry...even if it ripped you to pieces inside, you'll always pretend that Gojo can't affect you.
“Excuse me ..can I sit here?” said a soft voice, waking you up from your trance.
You looked up, your blurry eyes laid on a handsome blonde man standing in front of you.
Gojo eyed both of you in annoyance, waiting for the man's next move. He doesn't want anyone to spoil his plan in making you feel terrible or someone else having your attention.
“S-sure” you stuttered sniffling awkwardly.
“Thank you..Miss” he said and sat so elegantly in front of you.
You started fidgeting with your fingers not sure what to do or say,
“Everywhere else is full of students, I apologize for interrupting your lunch” he said in a soothing voice
“Not at all ..that's okay” you cleared your throat.
“Oh I didn't introduce myself.. I'm Nanami..Kento Nanami.. and you are?”
“I–” you started but got interrupted by no other than Satoru.
“Gojo y/n.. my wife” he answered on your behalf.
Nanami looked between you two in confusion... finally fixating his eyes on you waiting for you to confirm or say something,
“It's y/n..just y/n .. I'm a martial arts' teacher here” you said smiling proudly, extending your hands to Nanami, who gladly shook it back,
“Nice to meet you Y/n”
And Gojo Satoru just watched...
Taglist 🫶🏻
@smolbeanzzz @eolivy @sanriosatoru @khaleesihavilliard @kiki17483 @ryumurin @bookswillfindyouaway @kunikuzushisbeloved @numblytemporary @black-swan-blog27 @sukunasleftkneecap @soulofendlessbook @haitanibros0007 @goldenjoyboyy @tqd4455 @saiyara05 @certainduckanchor @lorako123
@shervinss
@twitabread
379 notes · View notes
euovennia · 1 year
Note
I am yet again requesting headcanons for the 141 (or whoever you want <3) with a reader who has an angry resting face. And to add onto that, they are very expressive with their love but it comes off as aggressive (not on purpose) because they always look, you know, mad. Like when reader says "I love you," it sounds like a threat and really, they look like they wanna kill them, but they don’t.
whew, i'm so sorry for the wait on this! i took a small break from tumblr so i could focus on finishing some assignments i had for my classes, but they're all completed and turned in so i should be good for now! also i wasn't 100% sure if you wanted this to be platonic or romantic, so i tried to write it to where it could be interpreted as both. thank you for requesting and, as always, i hope you enjoy :)
warnings: none other than the fact that i don't know how to stop myself from typing more than i need to
summary: the 141 learns to adjust to life with their newest recruit; you.
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john 'soap' mactavish
when price first introduces you to the group, he can't help but feel like he's done something wrong
and honestly no one can really blame him for feeling that way
the expression that paints your face when you make eye contact with him practically screams, "sleep with one eye open"
and while it is mildly terrifying, he only sees it as a challenge
because in his mind, if he can get the mighty ghost to warm up to him, he can get anyone to warm up to him
so as soon as price cuts you loose from the brief introductions, he's already right by your side pestering you with various questions
and while it was a bit off-putting, you weren't really surprised because price had already told you all about soap before he decided he wanted you on his team
so you just kinda stood there and let him fire off his questions while answering them with that angry expression and bored monotone voice that he can't help but love
like you're standing there, arms crossed with perhaps one of the most pissed off expressions he's ever seen in his life but all his mind can think is >:(
needless to say, he doesn't take your prickly exterior too seriously and it's because of this he's able to get closer to you a lot quicker than the other members do
and it's because of this he tends to vouch for you a lot more to the other members when it comes to getting to know you
"they're not that bad, i swear!"
"johnny, they look like they wanna rip your arm off every time you're near them."
"but they don't, that's the funny part!"
best believe this man is fighting for his life whenever your rbf gets brought into the conversation
and i imagine that one day you actually manage to overhear one of these little debates/conversations (tbh they could go either way with how divided they can be over it, especially when it's gaz vs soap)
and you can't just ignore the way your heart warms as you hear soap valiantly defend your honor
it's one of the few times you're genuinely thankful for his big mouth
after listening in to the conversation for a few more minutes you eventually decide to walk away, heart full and the smallest of smiles pulling at the edge of your lips
i think it goes without saying that you go a little sweet on him after that encounter
well
as sweet as you can go when you're the human embodiment of >:(
at least in the opinion of soap
you don't really see the resemblance tbh
anyway
you start doing little things for him
things like offering to take watch for him when you're both on a mission because you noticed that he hadn't really bothered getting any rest
sitting by his side and letting him ramble on about his family, especially how he always begged his parents to let him stay with his nan over the summer because she owned a little family farm that he absolutely loved to run around on
and even the time you learned how to make scotch pie using his mom's recipe he had tucked away in his room
no matter how much he may deny it, that last one had him tearing up as soon as he took a bite
but honestly, can you blame him?
the man barely gets to visit his parents back home because of his work and it crushes him
honestly, it was probably one of the first few things he confided in you when you first started talking
so naturally when price announces that the 141 has been approved for a two week leave, you don't hesitate in logging onto the computer and buying him the first tickets back to scotland
what you do hesitate with is actually giving them to him
so you decide to gloss over that part completely and instead opt for shoving the tickets inside an plain envelope with his name scribbled on the front and a small note that simply reads, "go." before sliding it under his door the night before everyone is scheduled to depart from base
the moment soap gets his hands on those tickets he can't help the way he runs through the halls and bursts into your room to give you the biggest hug you've ever had in your life
unfortunately for you both, you'd already left base by the time he discovered the tickets
and so with a heavy heart, soap makes his way back to his room before packing his bags with a new vigor
the plane leaves in six hours, but he's so excited he can't help but want to arrive early
needless to say those are probably the best two weeks of his life
and while the others are interested in hearing all about his trip, he simply brushes them off in favor watching the door so he can be there for the exact moment you walk in
and after making him wait more than what he felt was necessary, you finally walk in
and this man
the way he shoots up from his seat and runs over to hug you
it's almost enough to send you both flying to the ground
but luckily you've got some stellar balance and manage to save yourselves from being teased by the rest of the team
but with the way soap is squeezing onto you while repeatedly whispering, "thank you," into the nape of your neck, you don't doubt they'll make fun of you for that
even with the mild embarrassment you feel, you simply wrap your arms around the scottish man and offer him a few pats on the back
and as sweet as it is for the other men to witness such a tender scene, they can't help but notice how upset you look
it's almost laughable
and as much as they want to step in and tell soap to back off, they can't help but notice the way you cling onto soap with that soft look in your eyes
so they remain quiet as you and soap hang onto each other, hearts full of warmth
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kyle 'gaz' garrick
i'm gonna say it now
out of anyone in the 141, he was probably the one most intimidated by you
he's the youngest out of everyone and so it stands that, naturally, he has less experience than others
it's for this reason i think he's so keen on staying close to price
i mean the man practically plucked him off the streets and said, "you're mine now," so i think it's reasonable that gaz grows a tad more attached to price than the other members
so when he catches a few glimpses of you around base barking orders at the recruits and slamming them into the mats during sparring sessions, he's not exactly dying to meet you
even so, he finds he's not too worried about the possibility
with how often the 141 departs base to go on various missions and how you always seem to be too caught up in whatever you're doing at the time to be bothered to even glance his way, he eventually comes to the conclusion that you'll never meet
until one day price strolls into the common area where he and the rest of the team are minding their own business with you trailing right beside him looking aggravated as ever
he's already a bit uneasy with the fact you now know where the team goes to relax, but that unease slowly shifts to downright horror when price reveals that you're the newest member of the team
now gaz is usually a pretty easygoing and friendly guy so any chance to meet and bond with new people is always bound to be a good time in his book
but he can't help the shiver that crawls up his spine whenever you're around
seriously, who or what made you look so pissed off all the time?
anyway
because he's so hesitant of being around you, he tries his hardest not to bother you
which basically means he tries not to be in the same room as you
and while you may not really notice or care, the rest of the team certainly does
especially price
he's the type of man who prides himself on having a team that knows they can all rely on one another on and off the field and so he'll be damned if you and gaz are the ones to ruin his little streak
so guess who gets assigned to accompany you and the recruits on your morning workouts from now on?
gaz!
and while he's not necessarily thrilled about the idea of being forced into such close proximity to you, especially first thing in the morning, he respects price enough to not question his decision and just ends up going along with it
and at first he doesn't really pay you much attention in an effort to not do anything to accidentally make you even more upset than he already assumes you are
but then he starts to notice something
he notices the way the recruits light up whenever they see you, whether it be during the morning workout sessions or when you're walking around base
and it baffles him because you just look so upset, he can't possibly imagine why they're all so keen on sending you wide smiles or enthusiastic waves
but one day he looks just a little bit closer and he can see the faintest hint of amusement on your face as your lips showcase the ghost of a smile
that's when he really starts to pay attention
and suddenly he can't help but feel a little ashamed of himself
because now he can practically feel his heart melt every time you interact with the recruits
like how you would bring extra ice-cold water bottles to the morning workouts for the recruits who'd forget to bring their own
or the way you wouldn't hesitate to slide them some money if they mentioned being hungry while you were around
and especially how you don't hesitate to lend an ear for them if they seemed to be troubled by something
it's in those few little moments that he can see just the tiniest cracks through your annoyed expression and heated glares
you're not angry at all, he decides, just real shit at expressing yourself
and upon deciding this, he realizes you're not so scary anymore
so now instead of avoiding you like the plague, he actively seeks you out
at first it's to help you out with carrying the extra water bottles for the recruits in the morning and planning the workouts for the week
but then it turns into him asking to sit with you at the mess hall over dinner and keeping each other company in the commons area
and as much as he tries not to, he can't help the giddiness that floods his body when you start to show him that aggressive love he sees you dish out to the recruits
shoving snacks into his hands when you notice he hasn't eaten in a while
quietly sitting with him while he goes through paperwork because you both know he has a tendency to get distracted
and his personal favorite, draping your jacket over him when you walk in on him sleeping anywhere that isn't his room
he always wakes up with a smile tugging on his lips
and despite how cold and distant you may look while doing these things, he doesn't give it much attention anymore
not when he can see the love and care that's reflected in your eyes
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simon 'ghost' riley
despite you and ghost having similar exteriors, it becomes more and more apparent to gaz and soap that you're actually quite different
which isn't a bad thing, of course! just a bit unexpected
but it's because of this striking difference that you and simon tend to keep a majority of your interactions on the field
and you both are more than happy to keep it this way
gaz and soap however, are not
so naturally they put together a plan; a plan that consists of soap giving you his most treasured tactical pen so you can use it to write away in that little journal of yours on the ride back from missions just so he can later "confront" ghost and admonish him for stealing said pen
and during all this, gaz simply remains on the sidelines just looking pretty
anyway
after laying into simon for a good ten minutes, soap walks away from the encounter with a small smile before walking up to gaz and saying something like, "now we wait"
and they do wait
patiently
but after a full two weeks pass by and neither gaz or soap can find any evidence of their so called "master plan" working, they can't help but feel a little discouraged
unbeknownst to them, it totally worked
just not in the way they envisioned
you see, by the time soap came up to simon to lecture him about stealing his pen, ghost had already come to notice you scribbling into your notebook with it
so once soap had finally decided to leave him alone, he immediately confronted you about framing him for such a crime
but you just kinda stare up at him with that annoyed look of yours before revealing soap had willingly given it to you
and things just kinda click into place for the two of you; soap wanted to get you talking
and while you and simon had to admit it wasn't a bad plan, you didn't want to give the scotsman the satisfaction of knowing it had actually worked
so whenever you and simon find yourselves in the company of the rest of the team, you decide to remain distant
but when it's just the two of you?
you're straight chilling
especially when you visit him in his room or vice versa
like just imagine the two of you drinking tea that simon was nice enough to make and watching war movies while bashing all the inaccuracies and bad calls the characters make
or when the two of you are out and about on base free from the prying eyes of gaz and soap because they're out doing their own thing
you and simon love finding random groups of rowdy soldiers just to intimidate them
i don't know about you, but i can definitely see simon just standing there with his arms crossed and eyes narrowed while you rest your hands on your hips with your lips pulled into a frown
price definitely gets complaints about the two of you
he does nothing about them
and for a while that's pretty much the gist of how you and simon spend your time together
but i like to imagine that after a particularly rough mission, simon would seek you out just to sit with you
and i can see him as a stress smoker so when he finally does manage to find you and take a seat beside you, you slide him a pack of cigarettes and a lighter
he doesn't ask how you know his cigarette preference, but instead gives you a small nod of approval before pulling up his mask over lips and taking a drag
and that's how you spend your night
just sitting beside each other as you watch the evening sky gradually begin to fill with stars
i think it would depend on how bad the mission went in order to determine exactly how long the two of you stay sitting under the stars, but it doesn't matter because it'll end the same way; you reaching over and giving simon's hand a quick squeeze with a small, "get some sleep, simon. you need it," before you walk away
and he finds himself confused to two reasons
reason one: why did you grab his hand why did he like it?
reason two: how can you say such sweet words but still look so mad?
as much as he wants to play that moment over in his head just to make sure he was remembering things right, he decides against it in favor of heeding your words and getting some sleep
but it's after that moment he can't help but notice how your mannerisms have changed
not only are your words of reassurance more apparent than before, he's also noticed you have a tendency to give his hand/shoulder a reassuring squeeze every now and then
he can't help the small smile that threatens to pull at his lips when you do
but he also can't help but notice how distant and reserved your face looks when you do all of these things
he doesn't really mind it though
but he eventually does bring it up to you one day
it's probably after he tells you one of his god awful dad jokes
like he'll look over at you and notice your sour expression and say something like, "don't look so pissed, they're not that bad."
and you'll respond with a tilt of your head as you tell him, "i'm not pissed. i like your jokes."
then he'll nudge your shoulder before telling you, "with that face? coulda fooled me."
and you'll roll your eyes in faux annoyance as you brush him off with a simple, "that's just my face."
and then he'll look down at you, thankful for his mask so you can't see the small smile making its way onto his face
he might even say something dumb and cheesy like, "i know. i like it."
and you give him one of your rare smiles
and i could end it there and say the two of you are bffs
or i could sprinkle in something about soap running up on the two of you chanting, "my plan worked, my plan worked!"
that's for you to decide
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biteofcherry · 1 year
Text
To find the light, we must first touch the darkness
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Please also check out @bluepinkangel​’s amazing hot moodboard for this universe 🖤
dark!mafia Steve Rogers x female reader
summary: When you’re unexpectedly appointed to run a health center, you foresee many struggles along the way, but not one in the form of a merciless mob boss. Steve Rogers’ core aim is to own and he won’t take no for an answer. To any of his demands.
warnings: dark!Steve Rogers (really, he’s not a softie here, he dark); manipulation; blackmail; threats; power imbalance; specific warnings will be added for each chapter separately
warnings for this chapter: none
Be patient, please, this first part is only an introduction and setting the scene.
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Chapter 1. Storm on the horizon
~ * ~
A stream of dark cars, which slowly pulled up to the curb, distorted the innocent image of pristine sidewalk with raised flower bed pots soaked in early summer sunlight, immediately drawing Felix’s attention from the plants he’s been watering in his office. 
The center had a large parking lot on the other side of the property, where clients could leave their cars without interrupting the usual street flow at the front side. No one ever pulled up to the very front; beside that one evening a few years ago when the official opening ceremony turned into a gala with VIPs coming in their fancy limousines. 
Felix narrowed his eyes, watching through the window as three big, black cars stopped right in front of the steps leading to the building. Expensive models. They looked reinforced, too, meaning they were probably more expensive than a line of limousines. 
Two men stepped out of the first car, both of them doing a subtle sweep around before approaching the middle car. They stood on both sides of the backdoor, watchful of anything changing in their surroundings. 
A man slipped out of the front passenger’s side - big and bulky, with dark hair pulled into a bun, and dark sunglasses covering his eyes. He was wearing all black, from the heavy military boots to leather jacket and leather gloves. 
He walked around the car to the backseat guarded by two other men and pulled the door open. 
When yet another man stepped out, slowly stretching to his full height, Felix’s heart dropped to his stomach. 
That man he recognized. 
That man should not be anywhere near here. 
The watering-can almost fell out of Felix’s hand, his fingers spasming in a tremble of panic. Water spilled on the windowsill as he dropped it down with a thud, before running out of his office. 
The center has been quiet for the past few days, only slowly getting back to life after its short period of mourning. At this early time of day there weren’t many people inside, most patients coming in a bit later. 
Felix rushed down the corridor, shaken with the unexpected arrival and not knowing how to proceed. 
He should be doing something, he thought. Warn the right people. Having things not go smoothly was a novelty with which he had trouble dealing, especially in those circumstances. 
Not so long ago he boasted about having things under control, gaining even more confidence when you turned out to be kind and inexperienced in the nuances of the city’s complex socio-political wires. He could work with you without a hitch, Felix convinced himself - and others - of that fact. 
Three black cars pulling up in the early morning hours wrecked that simple plan.
Almost at your door, Felix ran straight into Natalie, your assistant. She was smaller than him, a filigree silhouette with a sharp bob and a murderous look. With a calendar in one hand and a traveling mug with hot coffee in the other, Natalie glared at him.  
“Felix, what the hell?” It was too early in the morning, for her at least, to be dealing with any crap. 
“Rogers is here! S-Steve Rogers is here!” 
He was breathless, air in his lungs burning not from the pace with which he ran, but the fear of that man about to enter the place.
Natalie frowned, looking above Felix’s shoulder at the still quiet and empty hall. Rogers’ name was recognized by many people in the city, even the lucky ones who had absolutely no connection to the dark tentacles of his criminal empire. 
Though, some whispers suggested that somehow everyone was tied to him. Some people just didn’t know it, living in sweet oblivion. 
“Well, then,” she took a sip of her coffee, “shouldn’t you be greeting him at the door and asking what exactly is he here for?”
“He’s not here for me, you know that.” Felix nearly shrunk in on himself, scared of the prospect of facing Rogers. 
He definitely didn’t want to be on his radar, even as someone simply pointing directions. They said Rogers never forgot a face. Oh no, it was better to be completely out of sight. Hide in a closet and wait for the storm to pass. 
“Of course.” Natalie rolled her eyes. “It’s obvious he’s here for the new boss.”
That moment the door to your office opened and you stepped out, almost bumping into Natalie - your newly acquired, or inherited, assistant. 
“I was actually about to go look for you.” You smiled at her.
Natalie, though she could be sour like a lemon, provided you a sense of security in the wicked waters you were treading through as of a few days. 
“I went through the outlines for the group classes last night.” You informed her.
 “I’d like to schedule a meeting with the therapists and construction manager. It would be better if they explained to him which changes in the project they need to be done.”
“I’ll arrange it.” She nodded, balancing the mug in the crook of her elbow and flipping the calendar open. 
You’ve met some well organized people in your life, but Natalie was like the highest functioning computer in a tiny human flesh. She included everything in the schedules she made, with traffic jam and bathroom breaks. 
Why she kept a paper calendar as well as a digital one in her phone, you had no idea. As long as it worked for her, and she worked for you, you weren’t going to judge her methods.
“I’ll reschedule today’s meeting with the lawyers, too.” Natalie added casually.
“Isn’t that in-” you checked your watch- “half an hour? Why do we need to reschedule?”
“Another meeting came up.” Natalie answered with a shrug, her gaze flicking to the end of the corridor from where heavy footsteps of someone approaching were gaining in volume. “A rather important one.”
“With whom?” You frowned. 
Beside the lawyers, or your grandmother, there wasn’t anyone you expected to be calling you on a whim demanding immediate attention. No one that you were aware of, at least. 
“Steve Rogers.” Felix squeaked.
“Who is that?” Your frown remained, only deepened. 
You didn’t recognize that name from any legal papers in which you were swarmed for the past couple of days. 
Felix’s eyes grew big, even Natalie seemed surprised that you didn’t immediately react at the sound of his name. 
Working at the center since its beginnings, they were probably used to all the people from elites and various organizations with whom Howard Stark used to work while running this place. 
You were barely familiar with some of the institutions. You knew you had to broaden your knowledge now, but it couldn’t be done in a week. You doubted it could be done in a year.
You were simply a neuropsychologist who spent two days every week for the past year helping Howard Stark after his stroke. A pawn on the full board of other specialists, who all tended to Howard. 
And yet, it was you with whom he grew a certain bond, maybe fondness, that led you to the overbearing mess of a situation. 
When Howard passed a few weeks ago, your mourning over a friendly patient was disrupted by an unexpected summoning. To the will reading. 
Among all of his wealth and companies, which were all inherited by his son Tony and his family (the sweetest woman you ever met, Pepper, and their daughter), the little chunk - a drop in the ocean really - was signed over to you.
The health and therapy center which Howard founded after his first stroke. Back then he bounced back to health quickly, but his road to recovery taught him how little help there is for people with neurological damages and impairments of any kind. 
It was a very narrow field. Getting appointments with specialists was hard, and mostly not covered by the insurance companies.
So Howard founded this center - in a huge building that once upon a time was a palace, then a private school, then a library before that one got a new, modern building in the heart of the city. 
You visited the place with him a few times, using very well equipped rooms and strolling through the vast inner garden. During one of your visits, you briefly mentioned how the place could also open for kids and teens after appropriate adjustments. 
Was it then that Howard decided to leave the center to you after his death? 
Was a single sentence enough to make such a drastic change in his will?
Then again, Howard was eccentric. Tony was too, from what you learned. He also wasn’t at all annoyed that his father included you in his will. 
Since the will reading, your life flipped upside down. You had no idea how to run a place like that, there was so much to learn. But it also was like a spark of courage to reach for dreams you never hoped to achieve. With the right people at your side, you could maintain the place and even expand it in the right direction.
For now, however, you were a green little sprout in a huge field of unknown. And the name Steve Rogers rang no bells.
“He’s-” Natalie paused, searching for the right word- “influential.”
He was more. 
He had power and control. 
Not only over the city’s streets, which he was ready to drown in blood if needed. Over hundreds of rats running in the wheel of the underworld’s crime machine, as well over people in pristine places and on high stools in the capitol. 
And he conquered it in brutal ways; paved his road with bodies and fear.
It was safe to assume that if someone had any influence - be it political, or in the media - Rogers had that person on a string. No, not a string, a heavy chain with immediate suffering at the end if they stepped out of line.
One could assume Stark knew Rogers in some capacity, though the man not once stepped anywhere near the center. Whether he had Howard in his pocket, or if they had a different relation, they were never seen together here. 
“I’ve been meeting influential people for the past week.” You scoffed. “Each of them had a scheduled meeting. Mr Rogers can schedule one too.” 
You wanted to maintain a good relationship with donors and patrons, but you weren’t going to bend your back for any of them. People needed to learn boundaries. Rich people especially. 
“It would be better-” Natalie began.
A male voice, deep and cool as a mountain brook, interrupted her:
“I do have a scheduled meeting.”
His voice carried over through the corridor easily, without him having to shout. In a few, long strides he was standing right behind Felix. Another man kept a step behind him. 
He walked with the prowess of someone who owned the place (and anyone in it). For a split of a second you felt like taking a step back and bowing your head. Then you remembered that he did not, in fact, own the place. 
Nor did he own you.
Rogers was tall, Felix’s head barely reaching above his shoulder. With golden blond hair, shorter at the sides and slightly longer strands coiffed back. You saw a glimpse of your own stunned reflection in his dark aviators before he took them off, revealing stunningly blue eyes. 
Broad shoulders seemed to stretch the black leather of his jacket and when he put his hands on his hips his frame appeared to double in size. 
His gaze briefly slid from you to Natalie, who was now taut like a string, quickly returning to you with a mocking glimmer in his eyes.
“Don’t I, Miss Stendhal?” He addressed Natalie. Somehow, it sounded as if he knew her, and it wasn’t a good thing at all.  
“Yes.” She replied immediately, astonishingly calm and stoic. “Mr Rogers had scheduled this meeting a week ago, but I made a mistake writing it in the calendar. It’s my fault there was a mishap. I’m sorry.” 
You turned to stare at her, disbelieving every single word. 
You may have known her for less than two weeks, but you already learned she makes no mistakes of that kind. Her organization skills were better than the army’s. 
Natalie’s face betrayed nothing. She was as poised as every day, admitting to the supposed mistake with cool professionalism. 
“That’s okay. I’m sure you corrected the issue.” Rogers smiled. 
It was charming at first glance. Reminded you of a chivalrous sweetheart from the romances you occasionally liked to read. But there was an edge to it, like a shark’s grin a second before making you his dinner. 
“Of course.” Natalie tilted her chin, as if offended that someone dared to doubt her efficiency. “Like I said, I’ve rescheduled the lawyers to clear this hour for you, Mr Rogers.”
Then she took two graceful steps to the side, clearing the entrance to your office. She sent a glare Felix’s way - who was nearly shaking like a leaf having Rogers at his back. He shuffled quickly to her side, not once glancing at Rogers or his bodyguard. 
Natalie gave him her coffee mug, so he could focus his trembling hands on something. His thoughts scattering, Felix mindlessly lifted the mug to his lips and took a nervous sip. Natalie would undoubtedly tear his head off for it in different circumstances. 
The moment his path was clear, Rogers took a single step forward. It was enough to find himself toe to toe with you. 
A waft of spicy, woody scent of his cologne swirled around you; a teasing tendril as much part of him with its dangerous allure. He towered over you and the expanse of his chest seemed to cut off your vision of anything else around. 
The fact you had to crane your neck to look up at him seemed to amuse him. Or please him. 
Perhaps both.
Whatever kind of benefactor he was, you suspected you wouldn't like him a single bit. There were no idle threats made, not even any pompous comments a spoiled prick with money could make. 
Yet he made the hair on your nape stand, your pulse quickening as adrenaline poured into your system at the instinct’s suggestion that this was a dangerous predator. 
You weren’t sure if you’d fight or flight, though usually you chose the former. 
Unknown to you yet, he wouldn’t allow you either.
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cntloup · 3 months
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SUGAR
Mafia!Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Rival's Daughter!Reader angst, toxic relationship
Simon was never a man for fancy ball events but as the right hand man of John Price, had to be by his side at all times especially at times like these, meeting with the rival. As they arrive at their destination and get the formalities of greetings and introductions out of the way, he goes to settle by the bar where he can have his eyes on the whole room, just in case. He orders his usual Kentucky Bourbon. As he stands there, drink in hand, his eyes searching the room for any kind of threat, that’s when he sets his eyes on her... and he should have taken her for what she really is... a threat; he should have ran right then and there but he never did. He had heard about her, the daughter of their rival, but never seen her beauty and grace up close. She looks elegant with a charming smile... and that’s when he knows he’s fucked. She feels a set of eyes on her and looks for them in the crowd and finally faces him. She's heard about him too. She starts walking towards him to greet him properly and that’s when it all started.
“This can’t happen.” he mutters in between kisses as they hide in the hallway “Why not? Cause we’re rivals? Who the fuck cares? If anything I’d be happy to fuck him over.” “who?” “My dad of course. Who else? I hate his fucking guts.” he’s surprised to hear that then replies with a chuckle “Why? Not the lifestyle for you?” “Fuck no! I feel like I’m in a cage. His puppet that he gets to play with and show off whenever he pleases.” he thinks that he can understand her struggles as he has his own trauma too.
And you play a twisted little game, But I know in a way, You need to complicate it, Believe that though we never eat, We still know how to feed, We still know how to bleed, oh
At that time he thought that she’s too sweet and innocent for this life, but that’s where he was wrong. The arguments, the push and pull, the manipulations started not too long after they first felt something for each other which he thought of as pure. He felt used and abused, he started to feel paranoid even more than before, never trusting anyone, even doubting his peers, sometimes even Price. His head full of thoughts like ‘Is she just using me for information?’ ‘Am I just a guard dog to him?’. But there was another side to her; so loving, patient and understanding of his pain and torment... also she was an enchanting seductress. Fuck, she was intoxicating. She had him completely wrapped around her finger.
My arms keep you in the room, Barely let you move, Show me what you do, oh, Tonight, we're second-guessed again, Let me wrap the chains, Addicted to the pain
As he pulls her into his room, never taking his lips off of her, nibbling and kissing any part of skin he can reach, he kicks the door close and corners her against the wall, not letting her move an inch. “What the fuck are you doing to me? My mind is in shambles cause of ya! Do you hate me or love me? One day you stay by my side through everything even when I’m at my worst but the next day you act like I don’t even exist as you come to the meeting with another guy on your arm!” he grunts as he puts one hand around her throat squeezing just enough to make her dizzy, just how she likes it. She smiles devilishly with no reply and pushes her lips against his and he can’t stop her, he never can. He’s addicted, fucking addicted to the pain she puts him through, addicted to her taste, everything about her. If she wants to see how far he can go, if she wants to test him, he’s more than willing to play this game with her.
Do you wanna see how far it goes?, Do you wanna test me now, my love?, You must be crazy if you think, that I will give in so easily, Things we buried low, Coming to the surface now, my love, You must be crazy if you think that I will give up the game, Oh, whoa
Sugar, I've got a taste for you now, Sugar, I've developed a taste for you now
comments/reblogs are greatly appreciated ♥ 
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For months, Viv told everyone who wanted more focus on the female characters to wait for Hazbin Hotel because that was the quote "Female lead show."
Except it isn't.
Charlie becomes a side character after the first episode, while Viv's favs (Who are all male) hog up the spotlight.
The titular hotel feels like an afterthought as the show seems more interested in ship teasing and pandering to hardcore fans who spent the last five years reading up on a character who had five seconds of screen time in the pilot on the fan wiki.
It feels like fan fiction, where random characters end up interacting with one another and everything feels thrown together at the last minute.
If you were someone who didn't know who Viv was and this was your first introduction to her work, you'd be confused as to what this show is even about.
The series starts where the pilot left off, so if you didn't watch the pilot, then tough shit! Viv isn't going to bother with recapping the events of the pilot, you're just dropped into the narrative and you're expected to know who these characters are.
No, I don't think it's fair to compare Hazbin Hotel to kids shows, as even the worst kids shows have decent enough writing that anybody can get the jest of what a particular show is about after a single episode viewing.
Hazbin's narrative is a mess, the overarching threat is introduced in the first episode before being completely forgotten about in favor of self contained subplots and ship teasing.
Now normally this wouldn't be so bad, but the first season is only eight episodes long. We've only got four more episodes left and it doesn't look like the main extermination plot will come back into focus until the season finale.
Outside of Viv's hardcore fans, this show doesn't really appeal to anybody.
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lyomeii · 10 months
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betrothed
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❀warnings: yandere themes, mentioned death, platonic relationships, fluffy.
❀ synopsis: after coming back to the past, lydia makes sure to not only give her daughter a better life inside the palace’s walls, but also making sure to save the crown prince’s wife who unfortunately died a little shortly after him.
❀ request by anon! Hiii! So I saw that you're taking requests so here I am. If you can then can you make one for My mom got a contract marriage Atil x Fem!Reader where the reader is crown princess yk how child marriages are common in manhwas smth like that and overall the mother i think her name was ludia knew that crown princess aka the reader died an anonymous death, so she too wants to protect the reader and lily just wants to get closer to her sis in law overall the whole fam just wants to adore their daughter/sis in law. So platonic yandere imperial fam and romantic yandere atil. So sorry if thats too lengthy TT
❀a/n: oh, the first request for the fandom! :D i like your introduction, so no worries about it. I’m quite happy to write for atil, but I let things quite more fluff since he still a young boy in the current setting of the manhwa, okay? and request still open, guys!
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❀ lydia knows the tragic story of the crown prince and his wife, the crown princess. the tragic tale were in the people’s mouth even during her own execution, still the citizens were quite depressed about the suddenly death of the future of the future emperor and the future empress. that was the beginning of the downfall, then the death of her daughter make things worst.
❀ maybe if she had a second chance, lydia would change all of this and grant her sweet lyrica a better life somewhere else from the slums. and as a gift from someone or something, the blonde was granted her wish.
❀ inside the palace’s walls, there is a young girl getting ready for the day, well it’s you of course. as the next empress of the nation, you have to look almost perfect for those you want to help in the soon future and also, to give atil a good impression of yourself to him.
❀ since your engagement, you began living at the palace alongside the others residents there.
❀ the emperor alteris is a nice man. firstly, you believed him to be a cold man that didn’t care much about atil nor you, but that was wrong. the man not only worry about your safety (after all, you are the fiancé of his nephew) and hopes that your parents won’t cancel the engagement anytime soon. regardless of the many threats you’ve received in the past, the emperor makes sure to assure your safety inside a palace that he gift to you.
❀ then, your fiancé atil, who you thought to be distant at the beginning and quite cold towards you become affectionate from nowhere. times when you spend alone by yourself in the garden reading books with your personal maids changed with atil showing up to spend time with you. his face is red as a cherry when he stays around you, but he tries (and fail) to hide his face behind the books he brought to read with you at the gazebo.
❀ soon, you and so the entire nation got surprised at the news of the emperor getting married with a woman who not only resemble the spring with her blonde hair and beauty, but also brought a daughter to live inside the palace. even with the many whispering about how you might lose the chance to become the crown princess, yet you felt differently, maybe new people around will be a great change to the emperor and atil.
❀ meeting lydia and lyrica was a man incredible moment in your life. the woman, of course, being someone so nice to you and so beautiful too conquered your heart rapidly. could it be that her words made you blush or maybe the fact her hug reminded you of the mother you missed so much?
❀ the little girl, lyrica, was another story. her sweet manners and blushing face made her look so cute and huggable! her chocolate brown hair and eyes full of innocence was more than enough to become closer with her. the two of you become close, it is nice to have someone like her around the palace, especially a girl so adorable like lyrica.
❀ it didn’t take much time to both of lydia and lyrica become of the family. and quickly, both become protective of you.
❀ knowing about the tragic fate of your, lydia is quite worry about you leaving the palace by yourself. as the empress, she makes sides to send knights with you (mostly hide in the shadows) and of course, she expects to the guards to give a detailed documentation of the things you do outside in the city.
❀ other than lydia taking the role of the empress, there is lyrica who become your shadow at the first few days at the palace. the brown haired girl finds you so beautiful! resembling the moon in the darkness night, you are quite a mystery to the new imperial princess while the little girl reminds you of the first sunrise of the spring due to her enthusiasm. a great duo you two make.
❀ atil is happy that you have another company other than him and his uncle. since he is busy with the fact that one day he will take over the throne, atil has to study a lot by himself. still, he always manage to find enough time to spend with you and lyrica, knowing that is way than enough to make you happy. now, instead of just sitting reading book in silence, the three of you are the living soul of the palace, something that bright everyone’s day.
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@lyomeii stuff || don’t repost
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amuseoffyre · 6 months
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Since insomnia is kicking my arse of late, I naturally tilted into the thoughts about the nature of the 3-act structure and why S2 of OFMD may have felt off and incomplete to a lot of people.
I am fully in agreement that we lost a lot of valuable time with only 8 episodes and a lot of it did feel rushed, but for the amount of story and set-up and growth and development they needed to fit into 4 hours of television, they did astonishing things.
DJenks has said from the very start that this is a story that has been planned out to take 3 seasons. It's literally a 3-act play and we are currently right in the middle of the worst part of that timeline according to every traditional 3-act structure.
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Act one/season one is self-explanatory. Like New Hope in the Star Wars Trilogy or Fellowship of the Ring, this is the set-up. We're introduced to our protagonists and antagonists, the relationships are given a foundation.
The beginning is Stede's journey to becoming a real boy. The inciting incident, the one that actually pushes his change beyond "playing pirates" is meeting Ed. The second thoughts come together in episode 8/9 after his confrontations with Jack and Chauncey and episode 10 is the climax.
Act 2/season 2 is never going to be as smooth and simple as act 1/s1. A big part of the A2/S2 job is set up for A3/S3 and this is what we're seeing and why a lot of story threads seem to have been left dangling.
Again, to call back to Empire Strikes Back and The Two Towers, the structure is much the same: the original batch of people are divided and scattered, the big enemy from A1/S1 is looming, new allies make themselves known. In SW, this meant the introduction of Lando and Yoda as allies plus the hint of the Emperor lurking in the background. In LotR, we have the Rohirrim, Gondor and the Ents as allies and the expansion of Sauron's forces in Helm's Deep, Osgiliath and the winged wraiths.
There's a clear trajectory following the A2/S2 structure:
obstacle 1 - the crews separated and struggling
obstacle 2 - the end of episode 2 and the repercussions of his actions
twist - just when things start to settle, the Ned Low situation happen and Stede kills for the first time
obstacle 3 - Ed's struggle with his identity leading to him leaving
disaster - Ricky's assault on the Republic
crisis - do-or-die battle because they have no other choice
climax - the last 15 minutes of ep. 8 live here.
As with SW and LotR, there's an ending, but weighted with the knowledge of a story that is meant to continue. Each of those act 2 films end with the heroes still aware of the looming threat, some of them heading out on new missions, and some of them resting and healing. There's brief pause, brief respite, a moment to take a breath.
We have all the characters in place now and the battle-lines have been drawn. Luke still needs to confront Vader (I see you, impending Ed and Hornigold confrontation), Frodo still needs to destroy the ring, Aragorn still needs to lead the army against the Black Gate, the second Death Star is still hanging in the sky.
I'm so excited to see what S3 brings because we have so many arcs ready to go: Zheng's vengeance trip, the inevitable enforced out-of-retirement arc for Ed and Stede, Hornigold, Ricky trying to maintain his tenuous control of the republic given how many of his people were killed when the crew escaped, the pirate rebellion gathering forces.
Also how often do we get shows/films where the supporting cast are given this much storyline? We have a named/speaking-role cast of upwards of 15 central characters. That is a staggering amount of people to work with, when most shows would only focus on the leads and a couple of their friends. Six is the average for most TV shows, while comedies can inch higher because ensembles, but most ensembles don't get as much as our crew did.
I know a lot of people aren't happy about Izzy's death. I know I would have liked to see him a lot more, because he's such a grumpy old bitch and I love him and him affectionately roasting Ed and Stede would have made my entire month. But I'm also aware that narratively, as a figurehead of the old ways of piracy and "we were Blackbeard", it was a symbolic death as well - a sign of the death of the old ways of piracy and of Blackbeard as was.
(Also, they Obi-Wanned him. I'm not over that. Gave him the "if you strike me down I will become more powerful" speech. I'm just... guys, your star wars nerdery is showing XD)
So while it was flawed in places and pacing, given the scale of the story they're telling, the number of pieces and characters they had in play, and the arcs they have been setting up while also still keeping the humour, I am giving a standing ovation for a remarkable piece of work.
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