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professional-yapper · 4 months

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Aonung x Omaticaya! Reader

Summary: Aonung doesn't understand why you won't pay him any attention

Warnings: Aonung, reader's kind of mean if you squint, favouritism towards Rotxo (not a warning more of a given), mention of Aonung getting threatened and punched, reader being violent, Aonung being delusional and irrational and entitled, Aonung getting the fuck bit out of him, hes in the wars today, penis in hole sex

"Forest brat!"

You groan internally, gritting your teeth, not looking up from the top you're making for yourself. Aonung. Probably coming to harass your sibling again, like he didn't learn his lesson the first time.

The memory of his stunned face after you punched him square in the nose warms your heart.

He should've known better. Right from the get-go, you made it clear you weren't going to tolerate any shit from him.

And yet here he was, somewhere behind you, calling you forest brat like you hadn't threatened to carve your name into his chest so his family would know who killed him.

"That's not my name, fish boy," you reply serenely, not turning around, threading another pearl onto your top. "What are you doing here, anyway? Did your daddy make you come apologise for being a jerk?"

"Maybe I'd actually apologise if you weren't so mean to me," Aonung pointed out, sitting down beside you with a bump and stretching out in the sand like he owned the place. Well... you guessed he kind of did. Or his parents did, anyway.

"Oh, I'm sorry," you drawled sarcastically, keeping your eyes on your work. "Maybe I wouldn't be mean to you if you hadn't bullied my siblings and I from the day we set foot on this stupid reef."

"I don't bully you," he countered.

"Because you're scared of me."

"No, I am not!"

"Aren't you?" you asked, glancing at him, mouth curving into a sharp smile.

"Shut up," he huffed, rolling onto his back and covering his face.

A few minutes passed, the only sound being the clink of the pearls against each other as your top formed slowly under your patient hands and the sigh of the sea.

"What's that?" Aonung began, right as you said, "So why are you here?"

You stared at each other for a moment before you rolled your eyes. "I'll go first. Why are you here if not to apologise, Aonung?"

"Bored."

"Oh, I didn't realise my only purpose in life was to entertain you."

"Would it kill you to be nicer to me?" he whined. "You're nice to Rotxo."

"Rotxo doesn't harass my siblings because they don't look like he thinks they should."

Aonung gives you a look, and you relent with a sigh, recalling how Rotxo had been the first to point out your tails. "Well, he realised the error of his ways, anyhow. You haven't." You poked his forehead for good measure.

He caught your hand in his, looking up at you with something of a smirk, like he enjoyed getting under your skin. "If I did realise the error of my ways?..."

You ignore how warmth sparks in your chest at his touch. "I still wouldn't give you the time of day. You're not appealing to me as a person, regardless of whether you're a bully or not," you reply calmly.

He groans and lets his head flop back on the sand, letting go of your hand. "You're killing me, forest brat."

"One can only hope. And why are you so desperate to be around me, anyway?"

"I'm not. I said I was bored, and you never pay me any attention."

"Oh," you grin, glancing down at him, poking him in the ribs. "You're jealous of Rotxo."

"Not just him," Aonung corrected but didn't deny it.

A flush began in your cheeks at how shamelessly open he was with you. You knew your siblings thought Aonung was whipped for you and that was the only reason he'd stopped bullying them, though you still thought he would at the drop of a hat, and even Rotxo and Tsireya had implied Aonung had a thing for you.

And here he was, lying in the sand close to you, whining that you didn't pay him enough attention. Unbelievable.

"You're so incredibly entitled, Aonung," you said severely. "Where do you get the nerve to even talk to me?"

Aonung's mouth curved into a lopsided grin. "Comes naturally."

You rolled your eyes. "So why is my attention so valuable to you?"

Aonung shifted, looking deliberately anywhere but at you. "I said it's not. I'm just bored."

"Can't you bother Rotxo or any of your dumb friends?"

"I wanna be here with you."

You blinked at the bold statement, staring at his face for any signs of insincerity. "What an odd thing to say," you managed finally, your heart rate picking up the longer you gazed at him.

"Is it?" he hummed, rolling onto his side, resting his chin in his hand as he looked up at you, ears angled forward playfully. Then his eyes strayed to the half-made top in your lap. "That's pretty. You'll have to model it for me when you're finished," he said lazily, touching it lightly with his fingertips.

You sucked in a breath, turning your flushed face away as his fingertips grazed your thigh. Accidentally, surely. "Not fucking likely. I still hate your guts."

"Yeah?" he mused, eyes focused on the top. "I like that."

"Great Mother," you cursed, pushing his head away. "Quit acting like that."

"Like what?" he said, looking rather pleased with himself, tail wagging a little across the sand behind him.

"Like you're drunk," you scoff at him, rolling yourself away. Trying to, at least.

He's fast for someone who's been acting drunk for the past few minutes. He rolls with you and then he's on top of you, pressing you back into the sand, forearms either side of your head and knee nudging between your thighs. "I'm stone cold sober," he chuckled in your face, eyes flashing, fangs curving over his bottom lip as he smiled.

For once, you have nothing to say, staring up at him, chest heaving and slick pooling between your thighs even as you try to ignore it.

"You look good beneath me," he commented, gazing down at you. "Should be like this more often."

"Aonung," you breathe, hating how wobbly and desperate your voice sounds. "What are you-"

"This," he cut you off. "This is what I'm doing." His mouth presses against yours, tongue sliding between your lips- lips that are slack with surprise, though not entirely opposed to your current situation, given the heat building in your stomach.

You moan, arms sliding around his neck, arching into him as he licks into your mouth, practically devouring you like a starving man. "So fuckin' beautiful," he sighed, nipping at your bottom lip playfully.

"Shut up," you hissed bashfully, turning your face away.

"Oh, yeah, now you're getting defensive?" he teased, pressing his knee against your loincloth. "Think I can't feel how wet you are for me? Soaking right through your loincloth just from a little kissing." He laughed a little then pressed a warm kiss to the corner of your mouth, looking at you with an expression that makes your stomach twist. "Still hate me now?"

"Decidedly," you sigh, pressing up against him as he slides an arm around the back of your shoulders, holding you against him as he begins to lay wet kisses along your jaw and down your neck.

"Oh, yeah, I believe that," he murmured, grazing his fangs along your collarbone as you whined. "Come on, beautiful, give it a rest."

"Yeah, you'd like that, wouldn't you?"

"You not fighting me every step of the way and letting me fuck you like we both want?" he grunted, shifting himself to pull off your loincloth and his. "I think that'd be great."

"Tough-" you began, then choked on air as his stiff cock nudged at your hole, making your hips buck up into him.

He hissed at the contact, pressing his face to your neck and holding himself still for a painfully long moment, both of you shivering.

You couldn't believe this.

You were mere seconds away from getting absolutely rawed on the beach by the Metkayina prince. Out in the open, where anyone could see. And you didn't even care, which was probably the worst part. Or maybe the worst part was that you wanted him so fucking bad, even if he was a bully and a dick and a great big whiny baby to boot.

Then he pulled back a little, looking at you intently, tracing your face with his fingers in a gesture that was so tender it hurt. "You want this?" he breathed.

"Yes," you replied raggedly, and slowly, painfully slowly, he slid into you, one hand tracing down the back of your leg to hook it over his hip, allowing him to reach a depth inside you that made you see stars.

You whined, throwing away your dignity in favour of pleasure.

"Fuck," he grunted against your jaw, rubbing his cheek against yours- scenting you, you realised, and the realisation that he was fucking claiming you made you lock your leg tighter around him without thinking, arching into him impossibly, trying to bury him so deep inside you he wouldn't be able to pull out. "Fuck, you're so good, so tight, fuck-"

"Aonung," you whimpered, ignoring how pathetic that sounded as your nails gouged red lines into the backs of his shoulders.

"You markin' me up?" he huffed, pulling back slowly before beginning to thrust, long, slow, deep strokes that punched the air from your lungs and reached every sweet spot inside you and then some. "Want everyone to know, huh?"

"Shut up," you whined, throwing your head back.

"Shut me up," was his only response before he took matters into his own hands and kissed you again, slower this time, gentler. "Great Mother, you're so good, gonna make me come already-"

He took his time, despite your best efforts to get him to fuck you harder, fucking into you slow and sweet, bringing you towards an orgasm as slowly as he could, kissing along your shoulders and collarbones, holding you so tight your body was practically molded to his.

"Ao- Aonung-" you choked, clutching at him as the familiar sensation approached. "I'm go- I'm gonna come, fuck-" Your legs locked around his hips, making it near impossible for him to thrust, but he managed.

"Yeah, me too, beautiful, I got you-" he gasped against your throat, hips stuttering against yours, cock pulsing inside of you almost painfully.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," you moaned shrilly, fangs glancing at his shoulder before you sunk them in properly, vision whiting out as you came the hardest you've ever come in your fucking life.

"Oh, fuck," Aonung whimpered, thrusting one last time and burying himself as deep inside you as he could, head falling limp against yours as you clenched around him, his seed coating your walls in pulses.

You both remained in that position for a long while, until your post-sex-hazy brain cleared enough to register the taste of blood on your tongue, and the warm blood trickling down your chin.

You immediately released him, jerking your head backwards, body stiffening in fright. "Shit, Ao-"

Aonung just whined at the loss and the way you clenched around him anew, still entirely lost in pleasure. "Quit moving, I can't come again, I'll die," he groaned against you.

"No, idiot," you said, touching his shoulder tentatively. He hissed as your fingers came into contact with the savage bite, ears flattening. "Your shoulder."

Aonung, grizzling and whining like a little kid, twisted his head to try and see. "'S hot," he concluded, shrugging and trying to kiss you, the movement making his cock twitch inside you again.

"It could get infected!" you insisted, holding back a moan.

"Oh, shut up about it and let me hold what's mine" he grunted, shifting backwards, slipping out of you, then flopping down on the sand on his back and pulling you down with him, tucking you into his side.

"Oh, I'm yours now?" you said, immediately distracted, trying not to smile like an idiot.

He squinted at you. "You reek of me and currently have my come so deep inside of you it's practically in your guts. Yeah, I think you're mine."

"Fuck, you're vulgar," you sighed, curling into him and resting your head on his chest.

"You'll live."

This was not meant to be a smut like at all @wjehfshs heres more dumb himbo Aonung I hope it's ok 😭

#aonung #aonung x reader #aonung avatar #aonung atwow #rotxo #rotxo atwow #avatar x reader #atwow x reader #avatar

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r4ins · 1 year

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Bruce Wayne x Top Male Reader

cw. bottom bruce x dom male reader

He notices the smell first. He notices the smell immediately, because Bruce catalogues changes in his surroundings with infamous paranoia. It’s not a bad smell. It smells...filling. Like noodles, with a hint of fish.

Bruce takes his coat off, but not his suit jacket, and goes to the kitchen, footsteps carefully quiet. It’s highly unlikely anyone besides Alfred would be cooking in the kitchen, and he’d be alerted in the case of any kind of house breach, but still. It never pays to assume safety.

He edges towards his kitchen, ready to launch a defence, and then stops dead. Because Y/N is in his kitchen, setting the table.

Y/N looks up from his plating. He’s not wearing his mask, but not wearing the suit either.. “Hey,” he says with a not-quite smile. It’s wrong on Y/N’s face.

Bruce is left standing, dumbfounded and wrong-footed, watching Y/N garnish two bowls of noodles with parsley. Alfred nowhere in sight. Never a good sign. “What is this, Y/N?”

“Linguini,” Y/N says. He glances back at the stove. “And clams. White clam sauce. Simple enough, although Alfred was pretty strict on timing when he taught me the recipe.”

“Alfred...taught you the recipe,” Bruce repeats. The dumbfounded feeling grew stronger.

Y/N glances up at him, something soft on his face for a moment before he smooths it out. “You look good. But you don’t have to wear a suit tonight. Go put on something comfortable if you want.”

You don’t have to wear a suit. The words strike him hard, harder, he suspects, than Y/N meant them.

Bruce does retreat, and finds himself staring at his closet. He doesn’t really do casual, doesn’t really do being neither tabloid Bruce Wayne nor Batman, but he pulls out a t-shirt and a soft gray sweater anyway. He double-checks with Alfred that yes, Y/N’s presence is intentional, no, he’s not under any kind of influence, no spores, no alien mind control, no weird chemicals. Just Y/N. In his kitchen. Feeding him.

Alfred also takes a moment to explicitly inform him that he “approves of Master Y/N’s plans, sir” and then hangs up on him. Hangs up on him. Bruce walks back into the kitchen, because there’s nothing else to do. He takes a seat across from Y/N, who smiles at him, a real one this time.

It’s weird. There’s no other word for it. But Bruce was raised to be polite, so he swirls a mouthful of linguini around his fork and tastes it. Y/N watches as he swallows. Bruce clears his throat, says, “It’s delicious, thank you.”

“Compliments to Alfred, as I said,” Y/N deflects, modest as ever, looking a little sheepish. It’s that that makes Bruce start to unwind, his shoulders coming down, his stomach loosening. He’s still wary, he’s always wary. But it’s Y/N. Y/N is loose-limbed, relaxed, in a casual green sweater much the same as Bruce is in grey. It wasn’t intentional, Bruce thinks, wryly, but they do never seem to get away from their chosen colors.

“What’s so funny?” Y/N asks. His eyes light up, ready to tease.

Bruce shrugs, elegantly. He’s regained some of his equilibrium. It’s not the first time he’s had dinner alone with Y/N, after all, just the first time in his house, and with no warning. “Your sweater is green. Mine is grey. I assume it wasn’t intentional.”

Y/N glances down at himself as if surprised. “I guess not. I certainly didn’t want us to be in uniform for this conversation.”

Bruce zeroes in on that last part. “And what is this conversation, Y/N?” He lifts another forkful to his mouth, refusing to break eye contact.

Y/N doesn’t say anything for a moment, his cheeks growing a little red. “Ah,” he fumbles.

Bruce steps in, ruthless now that he’s found a weak spot. “A simple seduction? Blowing off some steam with someone else who knows the secret? The idea has some appeal, I have to admit.”

Y/N looks offended, opens his mouth. Bruce pushes on. “Or perhaps the rest of the League has decided they’ve had enough of me and are kicking me off the team?”

“No, Bruce—” Y/N says, outraged on Batman’s behalf.

“Or perhaps, Y/N, you’re here to tell me I’ve contracted some alien disease or other. Or maybe it’s that you’ve contracted some alien disease or other.”

Y/N has closed his mouth by now, and weathers it all with restraint, if not with stoicism.

“Are you finished?” he asks, deliberately mild, taking a sip of his wine.

Bruce arches an eyebrow at him. “Am I ever?”

Y/N laughs, completely tension free. “I guess then the Bat wouldn’t exist.” He puts down his glass of wine, stands up, and strides purposefully around the table to Bruce, all his careful presentation forgotten.

“I assume we’ve come to the point,” Bruce says, because he’s a bastard sometimes and Y/N knows that.

Y/N does know that. “You’re cruel when you’re confused or worried. Especially with me,” he says, and that takes the wind out of Bruce’s sails, some. He refuses to get up, though, to grant Y/N that victory. Y/N’s shoulders tighten, and he takes a deep breath. “All this is, is: I love you, and I want to spend the night with you. Just one.”

Bruce is on his feet before he can process it, snarling and putting his back toward the wall. “You don’t,” he says, gritting it out through his teeth. “You don’t.”

Y/N doesn’t bother responding, just walks towards him, slowly and deliberately. Bruce’s back hits the wall. If it were anyone else, he would keep moving, find any of the numerous weapons he keeps concealed on the property, but Y/N could break him in half in an instant, and Y/N keeps his eyes on his and Bruce can’t seem to make himself do anything except flinch into stillness when Y/N’s hand lands on his face.

“Look, it’s—it’s tactical.” Y/N’s thumb strokes his cheekbone with unbearable tenderness. How many hours of training did this take? Bruce knows that a man like Y/N could crush him without a thought, it’s not just softness, it’s discipline, and that, more than anything, makes Bruce’s breath catch. Y/N’s eyes hover at the base of his throat. Not ashamed, but resigned. “You and I know that—that there’s something between us. Something deep, something permanent. And we also know that you won’t let this be permanent, not in a real way, not in a vulnerable way, so…” Y/N stops, takes a deep breath. Raises his chin to look Bruce right in the eyes. “One night, Bruce. That’s all. One night to acknowledge this and then we let it be.”

“That’s—it won’t work.” Bruce’s heart is hammering and Y/N’s thumb is stroking right over his pulse point under his jaw. “It’ll just make it worse.”

“We all know your self-control.” Y/N’s thumb moves in a smooth line down until it stops right under the point where Bruce’s sternum ends―a perfect, vulnerable path to his heart. “And I know mine.” It’s enormous, this trust, the way Bruce’s body trembles beneath Y/N’s touch—light, so light, lighter than Bruce can even truly quantify because of the power that thrums through every one of Y/N’s cells. There is gentle, and then there is careful, and Y/N is both. Every action he takes is so measured—how did he not realize before?

Y/N leans in, pausing right before their lips touch. Bruce makes no move to meet him. Y/N’s mouth curves upward into a smile. “Please?” he murmurs, the warm air from his mouth brushing Bruce’s skin.

Bruce is only a man, and Y/N is more-than, and—

He leans forward just enough to meet Y/N. Y/N, who melts a little, like this chaste press of lips is a heady, passionate rush. Well, Bruce can do one better than that; he tilts his head and licks into Y/N’s mouth, sliding his fingers into his hair to draw him closer, and suddenly there’s a feeling of air rushing past him and they’re in his bedroom. Bruce can’t even bring himself to be angry about it. He lets Y/N swallow his inevitable gasp, scrapes his teeth against Y/N’s pulse point, slides his hands beneath Y/N’s undershirt, tugging it up from his belt. Y/N lifts his arms obligingly.

He really is beautiful, Bruce can’t deny that. Especially right now, all that lush, seamless golden skin on display, literally saturated in sunshine. Bruce, by contrast, is covered in scars, no matter how well-healed, and he’s not body-shy, but he keenly feels the contrast between them, and the awareness that Y/N can map out the differences between the textures of his skin very nearly to the microscopic. He rubs his thumbs across Y/N’s nipples, a little rough, but Y/N—

Y/N is smiling again, a little helplessly this time. Like he’s really happy to be doing this. Like there’s joy in this for him. “I’ve wanted this for so long,” he says, sinking to his knees, fingers hooked on Bruce’s belt loops. Bruce lets him draw his pants and underwear down, divest him of socks and shoes and watches as Y/N does the same for himself before sliding his hands and mouth up Bruce’s thighs.

As arousing and arresting as it is—and it is, the heat coursing through Bruce’s body is of an intensity unlike he’s felt in years—to see the most powerful man in the world on his knees, ready to suck Bruce’s cock, he stops Y/N with a hand in his hair.

“No,” he says, surprising them both. He swallows. “If we’re doing this, if we’re laying all cards on the table, then—I want you inside me.” It’s been a long time since he was shy about sex, shy about asking for what he wanted, but Y/N is just so sincere in everything he does that Bruce feels how the words rattle on their way out of his throat.

Y/N inhales a shaky, sharp breath, stands, and moves to kiss him like this is too much to bear. He walks Bruce backward to the bed, sucking on his tongue, cradles his head as they hit the mattress as though he’s afraid of hurting him.

Y/N takes a while opening him up. He’s gentle about it. He acts like they have time. Bruce wants to snarl, to buck his hips, to force Y/N to get on with it so it can be over and a memory he can look back on with frenzied, punishing, aching regret he can press like a bruise over and over again, but Y/N knows Bruce, Y/N keeps a hand on him, right below his ribs, applying just the barest fraction of that incalculable strength, and keeps moving at his slow, safe pace.

Bruce flings an arm over his eyes. He shudders.

“Show me what you like,” Y/N says. He kisses the inside of Bruce’s thighs, mouths at his balls and the soft place next to his hipbone. “I can’t read your mind, Bruce. Never could. Talk to me. Tell me.”

“More,” is all Bruce says.

Y/N listens, he knows when and how to push, in words, in silences. He does ease a third finger in, carefully, snugly, rubbing the tips of his fingers against Bruce’s walls in slow, maddening circles. Despite himself, Bruce finds his hips trying to bear down just the slightest amount, his muscles twitching in an effort not to squeeze.

It’s only partially because he’s resisting, still. Part of him just wants this to last as long as it can. If he doesn’t chase, if he just takes what Y/N gives—

And oh, how Y/N gives. He’s beginning to pump his wrist at a building pace, sending sparks flying outward down to Bruce’s toes, but his mouth, his mouth is everywhere, reverence evident in Y/N’s eyes fluttering half-closed, then snapping open again as if he’s forcing himself to watch, forcing himself to remember, because he knows he won’t get another chance.

Because he knows Bruce won’t give him one.

Y/N’s fingers stretch just a little wider, pump just a little faster, curl just the right way, and Bruce’s back arches off the bed.

“Christ, you’ve had practice with this, haven’t you?” Bruce asks, laughing a little, breathless. He only sounds a little wrecked, although the effect is ruined by the way his thighs keep shaking. “I wouldn’t have guessed.”

Y/N grins and twists his fingers again, making Bruce bite back a curse. “Not all of us can be billionaire playboys, but that doesn’t mean I’m inexperienced, either,” he teases. And oh, he is a tease, moving his hand fast with almost just enough pressure, almost at the right spot, and Bruce can’t help it, he chases and lets his muscles squeeze just once to get maximum friction—and then Y/N pulls out. Of course.

Bruce groans and sits up on his elbows, panting. He hadn’t even realized he’s been breathing so hard, or that there’s a sheen of sweat on his chest. He feels a little drunk, actually, and he’s not sure how long he’s been here, how long Y/N has been tirelessly pushing and pulling him to and from the edge. It’s disorienting. He normally is so strict about awareness of time in his body. He’s about to panic a little, to lash out, if only with words, when he’s arrested by Y/N’s soft eyes.

“Stay with me,” Y/N says, and god, where else would Bruce go? The vulnerability of this thought makes him angry, makes him frightened, and Bruce lunges over to Y/N, intent to bruise, and bites along his collarbone, his Adam’s apple, under his ear. Y/N moans and moves with it, holding onto Bruce’s shoulders. “Do what you need to do,” he says. “Do what you want.”

He lets out a cry when Bruce fists his cock, when he hooks an ankle around Y/N’s thigh and pulls him down.

Y/N is big, not especially long but solid and wide, and if he’s as good with his cock as he is with his fingers—Bruce growls when Y/N places one hand on his ribs and the other on top of Bruce’s hand so they can slick up his cock together and start sliding it in.

Y/N goes slow—too slow, for Bruce. Bruce presses his hands to Y/N’s cheekbones, surprising himself by brushing a lock of Y/N’s hair out of his eyes automatically, as if it’s something he does every day. “Y/N,” he says, voice caught between raw and growling, “I’m not going to break.”

Y/N shakes his head, kisses one of Bruce’s palms, then his wrist. Bruce trembles under the weight of it, that emotion, before he can stop himself. “I’m not being careful,” Y/N says, rocking his hips in with tiny motions, brushing a thumb under Bruce’s eye, as if there were tears there. “I’m savouring you.”

It’s a while later when he’s finally fully seated and Bruce almost doesn’t even notice because Y/N has been sucking and licking at his neck, his mouth, his shoulder, and Bruce has been running his hands over every bit of Y/N’s skin he could reach, tugging at his hair and feeling Y/N arch against him and lifting his hips to meet him, feeling like he can just sink into this, like they can just sink into each other and disappear. And then Y/N starts moving.

It’s torture, perfect torture, and Bruce can’t remember being fucked like this, ever, not with the way Y/N brushes perfectly against his walls with every roll of his hips, not with the way he circles and makes his every nerve ending spark. Maybe it has to do with the way it feels less like he’s just fucking Bruce in and out and more like they’ve gone under some kind of tide, or maybe it has to do with the way Y/N has placed them eye to eye, resting their foreheads together, because Bruce doesn’t have to be a detective to know exactly what that means.

Y/N wants to remember this. Y/N wants to watch. It’s awful. It’s exquisite.

“You really love me, don’t you?” Bruce asks, breathless, trailing a finger over Y/N’s cheekbone, letting out a little unh or two, or five, as Y/N moves a little harder, a little faster at Bruce’s question. Like he can’t help it.

“So much more than you’ll let me,” Y/N says, and he looks helpless with it, like he’s the one being fucked, not the other way around, and Bruce hadn’t thought he would feel more liquid desire rush through him at those words, but he hooks his ankles around Y/N’s back anyway, to tell him I’m asking for more now, I’m letting you now without having to say it. Y/N keeps the faster pace, and Bruce starts to feel his stomach grow taut and heat build in his belly, and he can’t stop letting out little pants and moans at every motion of Y/N’s cock against what feels like every part of him.

“I can’t—I don’t think I can live without this now,” Bruce gasps, feeling like the words are torn from him, from that oh-so-vulnerable place under his ribs where Y/N’s hand still rests. If he wanted to—if he wanted to tear them, or anything else out of Bruce, he could. But he wouldn’t. That was Y/N. He locks his arms behind Y/N’s neck, pulling him down to hide his face in Y/N’s shoulder, muffle his own gasping breaths.

And this was Y/N, too, that Bruce knew he knew Bruce meant— I don’t think I can live without you, now

“Look at me,” Y/N murmurs, coaxing Bruce out, gently pulling away just enough to look Bruce in the eye. He’s smiling that not-quite smile again, and rolling his hips in such a slowed, gorgeous, inexorable rhythm that Bruce really thinks for a moment he might die, just like this, just from Y/N’s skin against his, Y/N inside him, Y/N’s eyes not letting him look away. “You won’t have to,” Y/N says, like it’s a certainty, like he really is utterly invulnerable and timeless. “And I’ll live with that, if you’ll have me.”

It’s too much, it’s all too much, Y/N’s naked, unashamed and earnest adoration, and the way he filled Bruce, sheltered him, with his arms and his eyes and this tiding, exquisite rhythm. The human body was so fragile, and the sheets and the mattress under it, and Bruce could feel all of it, in Y/N’s gentleness—and the heat of him, so tight against his walls and spreading to his stomach, his thighs, his chest—

Bruce squirms, fitful, in a way he hasn’t been for years during sex, needing more and less and never-stop-forever and lets out a high, breathy moan that’s nearly a sob. “Y/N. Y/N—”

“Bruce,” Y/N gasps, and they clutch at each other, Bruce clawing at Y/N’s back because it’s suddenly important, so important, that even if they only last a moment that there are marks, and then he remembers he can ask—

“Kiss me. God, please—” His gasp is swallowed up by Y/N’s mouth crushing to his, their tongues mapping each others’ mouths, pants from Bruce’s mouth meeting soft-growing-louder groans from Y/N. He digs his heels into Y/N’s lower back, lifting his hips to meet his pace as best he can, and Y/N shifts the angle slightly, so slightly, but it’s enough. Bruce cries out, completely surrendering, and is gone, gone, gone. His orgasm seems to go on forever, bursting out to his fingers and toes, and settles in liquid and electric to the aftershocks. Y/N fucks him through it and he feels more than hears Y/N groan and stutter his hips, spilling into him, and then they’re still.

Y/N is careful not to rest too much weight on him, but hasn’t moved, letting his cock soften inside Bruce, and Bruce hasn’t made him move. They catch their breath, still mingling.

Bruce still can’t look him in the eye, but he cards a hand through Y/N’s hair and murmurs, “Stay. Please, stay.”

Y/N sighs. “Anything for you.”

#dc comics #gay #top male reader #x male reader #bottom bruce wayne #bruce wayne #battinson #bruce wayne x male reader #dom male reader #dc universe

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connorsnothereeither · 4 days

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So like, a while ago I did a little update on the Brink fics, and I figured it was worth giving a kinda sad update on my other Fable fics as well.

At this stage, there are no plans to continue or finish Your Skin Beneath My Teeth (the second book in the Blood series).

I know this is probably disappointing, because I know a lot of people really loved the Vampire AU. But from a personal writing level, I’m just sort of unhappy with the direction of the books, and I don’t have the time to commit to rewriting them. I’m not invested enough in my own story, and while that’s a shame, I don’t know if there’s much I can do without just giving myself time to stew on it.

There’s also a logistical side to things as well. Fable is coming to an end in less than a month. I feel like it’ll probably take me months to finish the Brink series still first, which are the fics I’m personally more passionate about. And at a certain point, I don’t want Fable to be the only thing that consumes my writing for the next year+. Not to mention the time I want to dedicate to other SMPs and creative projects I’m involved in, like Cantripped, Bound SMP, and Terramortis, with even more stuff in the works.

On top of all that like… I’m just a guy, ya know. I’m a full time student, work part-time most days of the week, commute between 2 major cities regularly, and I have other things that just deserve my time more.

Don’t get me wrong, I’ve been in fandoms for years, I know it’s shitty when fics you enjoy never get an ending. But I hope that like, people get where I’m coming from with discontinuing it, I guess.

Besides, there is, technically, an ending for Blood. I’ve had the ending written since the end of the first book (it’s just getting there that’s the problem) and so if people would like, as some sort of closure for the story, I would be happy to release that here on Tumblr or on my Kofi or something. Maybe I’ll make a follow up post with a poll.

I might as well mention that there is likewise no plan to “finish” the Band AU, but since that was always a collection of one-shots, there was never really a plan or end for any of it. It was always kinda disjointed without an end in sight lol.

I’m not saying that I’m NEVER going to go back to these fics. Just that it’s unlikely. But who knows, maybe someday I’ll crawl out of the dirt to finish them-

If you did only follow my Fable fics for the Blood books though, I’m sure some elements of my other fan works might appeal to you, if you want to give them a go! The horror/contemplations of humanity are the key theme of Brink, and the mystery/thriller, high stakes political conflict mixed with interpersonal melodrama is the focus of Cascading Skies, my new Bound fic. And of course those and so many more things are just key elements to like all of my storytelling my canon characters lol. But if none of that ticks your boxes, it was great to have y’all along for the bloody vampire ride :D

Anyway this was me getting sappy about setting aside a project I worked really hard on lol. Sometimes you gotta do that and sometimes that’s okay, and that’s an attitude I struggle with but am getting better at. I know don’t owe y’all any kind of explanation for this, I could have just stopped and let it die, but I wanted to give one. More for me personally really; I needed to say something about it publicly to like… fully cement in my mind what I decided on a long time ago. Anyway, catch y’all later when I’m not incredibly tired, and hopefully with a more silly goofy post ✌️

#fable smp #fablesmp #fanfic

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prince-liest · 2 months

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Hi! About your staticradio series (which is PHENOMENAL omg😍) - I know you said Vox is kinda falling in love while Al will remain aro. Which is awesome, we love to see rep! But I'm wondering if they will end up as QPPs (who fuck, lol)? Or it'll strictly be FWBs? Gah it's diffifult to describe it bc labels are so subjective and often too limiting, but I guess what I'm asking is whether they'll have an emotional relationship too, however it might look with their orientations? Will Al in particular have any soft feels for Vox & be fond of their unique bond? Even if Vox is in love with him when Al himself isn't? (I worry that would scare Al away😭) An intimate emotional closeness regardless of the specifics?

Thank you so much!! I've been enjoying writing it enormously so it always brings me a lot of joy that other folks are, too. >:D Just a heads up, this post has turned a little long because it got me talking about Alastor and the way he handles his feelings vs his ego in general.

First: I think the answer to this depends fully on how you personally define a queerplatonic partnership! I don't think Alastor would ever go for, like, a committed relationship with Vox in any form, but I also don't think that this would necessarily be a sad state of affairs for Vox, who I obviously write as poly as fuck with his toxic yaoi husband. Maybe it's because I'm aro af, but I feel like from Vox's end, "Yeah, I get to fuck around with the guy I'm obsessed with and he's not, like, nice, but I think I Stockholmed him into giving a shit about me!" is not actually a state of affairs he'd dislike! Especially since it's got that shiny "I'm special!" vibe in the sense that Nobody Else Gets To Get This Far With Alastor.

As for Alastor's side of things...

I think that so much of their dynamic dynamic isn't just set by Alastor being aroace, it's also set by him being a fucking sadist and a narcissist, HAHA. Like, he is very much in the middle of developing feelings about Vox, which (if my favorite interpretation of his little breakdown in the finale is correct) is also where his character arc is heading with regards to the hotel crew in canon, too, but his friendship-and-trust arc is slowburn as all hell and not entirely linear.

Part of the fun in writing Alastor is the process of qualifying all of his feelings with his sense of superiority in a way that is protective of his ego. He is freely and openly fond of people when that fondness doesn't expose any kind of emotional vulnerability in him. For example: He feels a condescending but genuine fondness for Niffty and Mimzy, whom he protects, and that's safe! He's quirky friends with Rosy, who is a benevolent semi-equal who uplifts his ego, and that's safe! He... may or may not have started caring enough about the hotel crew to have put himself at risk for them, and that is not only dangerous to his physical well-being but also massively humiliating, which is arguably worse to someone like Alastor.

He has SO many ego-prioritizing defense mechanisms and it's fun for me to pay attention to because I, too, am someone whose cardinal sin is probably pride. Anything is permissible only as long as it can be framed in a way that doesn't insult his ego.

Anyway, the point is: I don't think "soft feels and fondness for their unique bond" is on the list of ways that Alastor is able to find himself feeling about someone like Vox. The whole reason their whole situation in 666: Live on Air! started is thanks to Alastor's awareness and amusement at how obsessed Vox is with him. He sees himself as above Vox, and knowing that Vox is more emotionally invested than he is is part of the appeal. It's just gone from (derogatory) to (fond). (Which is, guess what? Safe!)

(It also means realizing that Vox is falling madly in love or whatever just nets a reaction somewhere in the region of, "Wait, is that significantly different from what you were already doing?", lol, because the only thing that's changed is the flavor of feeling, not the level of exposed emotional underbelly that he thinks Vox is showing him.)

TL;DR: He likes Vox like a cat likes a favorite mouse.

#ask #personal #Anonymous #my writing #radiostatic #staticradio #long post #meta #alastor #hazbin hotel #this is one of those things that I have trouble putting to words in meta-essay format rather than #“look just. here's a fic. it's like this. you get it??” format #so I'm not sure I did my thoughts justice but hopefully I got close #at any rate. THERE ARE INDEED FICS. IT'S LIKE THAT. >:)))#666 live on air

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letteredlettered · 3 months

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Hi! I was wondering are there any other pairings that you would consider for Draco and Harry? What appeals to you about those pairings?

Honestly, the only other person I ship Harry with is Ginny. I'm not likely to read Harry/Ginny fic, but that's a ship I can really imagine being happily ever after in a way that lives on in my head. Meanwhile I will totally read Harry/Snape, Harry/Sirius, or the crossgen ships, but I do not ship them and mostly really just want some nice smut in those corners of the fandom.

But for Draco, I ship Draco/Hermione in a major way. But I'm really afraid of reading fic for them because I'm just kind of assuming the dynamic will be a lot of a) Hermione deciding Ron isn't her intellectual equal and therefore is a bad partner, which is something I cannot stand and makes me almost want to like Ron out of sheer spite, b) Hermione deciding Malfoy is her intellectual equal and therefore a suitable partner, when he's really not; no one is her intellectual equal and that really is okay, c) Hermione deciding Malfoy is really hot and fuckable, or d) Malfoy deciding Hermione's gotten really hot and fuckable because she's smoothing down her hair and wearing fashionable clothes, which I despise viscerally.

Meanwhile all I've ever wanted in my life is Malfoy growing up and being a bit more mature and having some regrets and then meeting Hermione again and absolutely losing his mind for her. Like she is so smart and so talented and so powerful and so honorable and so good that he just worships her. And he's like "well that's very nice; I've turned over a new leaf and can respect a Muggleborn; I am an improved member of society," except his dick keeps being inconvenient about it.

And slowly Malfoy realizes that Hermione with her bushy hair and bad clothes is perhaps the hottest woman on earth. And it really, really sucks because Hermione is infinitely kind to him and the only person in this new society who has ever really given former Death Eaters, and also him specifically, a second chance. And she's so warm to him and generous and good and laughs at his little jokes. And also she would never be romantically interested in him in like. Ever.

She's literally never thought of him that way, not even once. She mostly pities him and kind of thinks he's a funny little guy. And Harry is like WTF he called you slurs and you were tortured in his house, and she's like, "We must move beyond our past, Harry," and she really does, but it literally never occurs to her that Malfoy is a man. He's a human being who deserves a chance. And at some point maybe someone even points out that Malfoy is a man that may have some kind of romantic or sexual desires in this world, like maybe they think Malfoy's a hunk and wonder who he might be dating, and Hermione is a startled by this because she's literally never considered it and then goes right back to not considering it, she has so little interest.

This is really the fic that I want to read. Like Draco making heart eyes for hundreds of pages and meanwhile Hermione pioneers space travel and the cure for cancer. BUT I would also be fine if eventually Hermione did notice him and return his affection, but only after like, a RIDICULOUS amount of him pining while she is so completely oblivious that she makes Wei Wuxian look super aware.

Anyway, that's my other main Draco ship, though I quite like Draco/Ginny too. I'm not sold on a particular ship dynamic, though I somehow doubt fic about them is really focused on the shared trauma of Voldemort befriending them and using them and threatening them and throwing them away, which is what I would really be into for them. I also just think they're kind of hot, I guess, though honestly most Ginny pairings are hot because she's hot.

I'll read some crossgen stuff and I'd possibly read like, idk, Draco/Lupin or Draco/Neville and like it, but I think my heart is really set on Draco/Harry or Draco/Hermione, even if I'll never read the latter.

#draco/hermione #draco/harry #harry/ginny #various harry potter ships #draco/ginny

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gingerylangylang1979 · 9 months

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How Colorism fuels BW/WM swirls in media

I guess this is maybe a counterpoint/companion post to this one and the dialogue started with @theonlyamazingtazmin in the comments.

That post was an ask that black women set personal boundaries around how the ship and media about the ship is effecting our well being. But an equally important conversation is why do we so often have to look to interracial couples for a well written romance for dark skinned black women. While I'm cautious about the level in investment in these pairings, I cannot deny the appeal and why it's almost a default because of how much romance for dark skinned black woman is gate kept.

My initial remedy to this frustration of how we attach ourselves to this pairing was, we need to watch and support black romance and and black tv shows and movies. But a lot of the problem is in doing just that. I watched mostly black shows in my youth and the pattern was already established of me always seeing the dark skin woman alone or butch while the lighter girls had their pick.

My favorite show as a teen was A Different World. And as ground breaking as that show was in many respects I do have to call out the paradigm it reinforced. Dwayne was obsessed with Whitley, the whitest looking woman shown on campus, and he was the darkest man shown on campus. Ron liked her best friend, Millie, a light skin girl, after that wasn't a thing it was like so crazy that he ended up with Jaleesa. His mom (the fab Patti LaBelle) kept telling him to get with the dark skinned girl with the pretty teeth, but it was like he resisted vehemently beforehand. He does, but then ends up with biracial Freddy and Jaleesa ends up with an old man and becomes a stepmom as her best option.

Back when I had HBO (I only pay for one subscription at a time and my current roommates decided to do the Disney+ package, but I only end up watching Hulu) I watched Insecure but didn't finish. I'm curious to see what happened romantically with the characters. Did they follow the same playbook? I don't want to be spoiled because I hope to continue that show one day, so please don't tell me. But I remember in the precursor to this show, Awkward Black Girl, Issa's love interest was a like pretty average, kinda lame white guy. Her black crush never panned out. I kind of rooted for her and white boy but like not that enthusiastically. I just wanted her to be loved, so tried to be into it, but honestly was like, is this her best option? I didn't finish because it frustrated me that he was her best option. Personal note: I need to finish an Issa Rae show.

Fast forward to literally as of yesterday. I started watching Queen Sugar (Hulu tries to represent black shows and movies but the selections aren't the best, if anyoen has recs, please share) because I said I want to watch more black entertainment like I did in my youth. The most recent try before this was Atlanta and I just wasn't impressed. Come to find out how douchey Donald Glover is about black women and got turned off. Anyways, I did get invested in QS after a few episodes and even cried. So what turned me off a bit and I hope doesn't put me off the show? Spoiler alert: The darkest woman, Nova, is a white cop's mistress. This isn't revealed right away. It opens with them having a sensual morning after but for some reason despite him being hot, I felt ick. Like, I predicted there was something ick coming, and sure enough she's the long term side piece. Her fine af dark skinned brother's ex is a light skinned woman and there seems to be a mild flirtation with his son's Latina teacher. The light skinned sister is married to a man about her skin tone. The aunt who is medium skin tone has a husband darker than her. So it kind of reinforced the colorism and that Nova's only option out of everyone else has to be a white man, and a white man that can't fully commit to her at that.

Now, let me jump back to why I got so invested in Richonne. I know some people probably like does this girl only hardcore ship traumatized curly haired blue eyed white men with dark skinned black women? Not intentionally, haha! But that was the most epic love story I've seen with a black woman who looks anything like me. I wasn't even expecting to ship anything on that bleak ass show. Not my fault. Maybe I'm not looking hard enough? But yeah, when I reached my adult years I kind of got tired of looking for the romance I wanted to see, that represented me, in black media and being disappointed. Because the dark skinned girls didn't get the same love as the lighter ones (or they are lesbians but that's a whole other post). I'm not saying white media isn't guilty. It's just white media when they tend to give a dark skinned black woman a romance it's with a white man if she isn't alone or a lesbian, just like black shows, but the romance tends to be deeper if it's main plot point, or at least that's what I see in Richonne and Carmy x Sydney.

I think there is a good and bad side to this. On one hand yes, give it to me. On the other is it only palatable for a dark skinned black woman to get love in a show with a mixed cast with a white man because there is still and aversion to black love for these women? It's so complex. This is why when I wrote my Syd and Carmy fic I intentionally made her ex a dark skinned black man. Carmy is mad jealous of him. It's not a real love triangle, he just frames it as one because he's insecure of her highly successful, young Idris Elba looking almost fiance, who her dad loves and is a family friend. So, of course Carmy is in his feelings. Although Syd dated white guys I didn't want the strongest competition to be another white guy. And I have Syd speak to the lameness of these other white men on purpose, on multiple occasions. She was always kind of chasing a Carmy replica but not because they were white, it's because he imprinted on her. But she chased trying to be with her ex just as hard, but for different reasons and in a different way.

Anyways, I don't even know what to expect from media at this point because often what we see onscreen does reflect reality. I'll describe myself. I'm a petite, slim curvy girl, cocoa complexion, kinky curly who often gets that "so pretty for a black girl" type compliment in the black community and from racist white people. My dating history has been mixed and mostly white (two Asians also in the mix) in my latter years by default. When I was in high school the few black boys (I went to a mostly white school) chased the white, Latina, or light skinned girls. And the few that were interested were not desirable trouble makers. One was so bad he verbally abused me in front of people consistently and then I found out he had a crush one me. No thanks, red flags galore. The first somewhat decent boy that was interested and actually knew me was my white boy best friend who tried to make a move one day. I wasn't interested, didn't see it coming, but it started a pattern. I just wanted to be his bestie because we were both film geeks, had family trauma, were loners, smoked weed, and were in theater together. It's so funny because he was a dead ringer for Leonardo Dicaprio and all the white girls swooned for him and I was like eh (never thought Leo was all that). So, no, I didn't view him as a prize romantically. But this same type thing continued with white guy friends secretly having a crush and me like not being that excited. But one day I did like one, gave it a try, and was like, ok cool, I can try this. And since then I get way more interest from white men than black men.

*Caveat, I'm currently single and don't think race has any influence on quality of men. My long term Asian ex was the worst boyfriend of my life and I'm still traumatized. Long story.

So should I be this surprised that media reflects my same experience? I don't know what the solution is going forward. Like, will media change and influence society or does society need to change to influence media?

#carmy x sydney #chefs kiss #syd x carmen #sydcarmy #interracial relationship #swirl #black women on tv #black romance #misogynoir

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chiarrara · 2 months

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Nanami anon here. I really hope they develop Mahoro with these sorts of themes in mind. I can't believe I forgot the princess aspect of Nanami, it's such a big thing in Utena in regards to self delusion and how people end up stuck in gendered social roles. This general perspective is what's keeping me interested in Bucchigiri cuz I can see so much potential for that sort of depth. I'm so glad I could help spark this sort of discussion (it's been sorta hard to find people willing to engage with these kind of interpretations).

Hiiii Nanami anon! I'm so glad you came back!!

Yes I think this story is so interesting even just in the potential it sets up. If it doesn't deliver on that potential it could be disappointing, I guess. but it brings up a lot of interesting discussions either way, so I'm just enjoying where we are right now and the conversations going on in the criminally tiny fandom.

To be completely honest i spent a lot of time arguing with people about the literary worth of this show on another platform and it was just depressing. Nobody wanted to engage deeper than surface level appeal, and only would approach it through an extremely narrow lens of expected tropes of the type of show *they* wanted to watch, and a demand for pandering to one type of fan in a genre it doesn't even really belong to, instead of honestly approaching it for what it is and the story it's trying to tell. I've been trying to curate my experience more so I can actually enjoy myself, and interacting with the small community of people here who actually like to enjoy and analyze the show within the literary conversation it's clearly trying to have has been so much more fulfilling.

ANYWAY, I love what you're bringing up because self-delusion is such a big theme here! and specifically how it interacts with compulsory gender roles!!! Like, Arajin is trying so hard to fulfill compulsory heterosexuality, but is running away from the very masculine coded honor-through-fighting that senya and the general culture value. A lot of people suspect that his pursuit of losing his virginity is a way to make up for his self-perceived weakness and failure to uphold the masculine ideal of honor-through-fighting when he was young.

THEN when MAHORO stands up and displays that ideal, he is able to achieve it (at least for a moment). There's also discussion that if this follows Aladdin, he's going to lose the genie and some point and will have to essentially prove himself as honorable without the genie's help. This could be interesting. We'll see what happens.

So is fighting masculine coded in this show? Or is it just the height of honor? Or is fighting for the right reasons or in the right ways honorable. Because not all the fighting is portrayed as a good thing.... I'm thinking out loud here.

Anyway, Mahoro is also stuck in this gendered role obviously, but I wonder how much self-delusion will play into it. She believed she needed to use her role as a cute girl to stop the fight, but all those attempts failed. Ultimately what worked was dropping the facade, dropping the role & those tactics, and standing up to fuckface (i do not care about this man I'm so sorry lol) as HERSELF. Saying what she really thought, how she really felt about these people and the whole situation. And basically willing to sacrifice her well-being to do so. Ooooh this is so interesting!!!!

I really can't wait to see where this goes, I know I keep saying that but. It's true. I mean, Matakara could be said to have some delusions about honor. Maybe the way he sees his brother is diluted. He believes in Arajin to a fault, but he was proven correct. Although it wasn't him that sparked the change. I dunno, a lot to think about.

I'm so glad I could be an intermediary for this discussion! I don't know anything about Utena, but if y'all do feel free to talk through me lol. I'm loving this.

#bucchigiri?!#bucchigiri #jin mahoro #arajin tomoshibi #matakara asamine #revolutionary girl utena #mahoro jin #bucchigiri analysis #bucchigiri meta #bucchigiri predictions

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man-moth-hook-hand · 1 year

Text

Welcome to My Nighmare Ch. 2

I absoluty clown on david in this and my scrunkly boi deserves it. Also, I fully believe that Paul uses the most cheesy words/phrases in his speech. He’s pulling no bitches, he’s hypnotizing women to convince the boys he has sex appeal.

Master list

Chapter Two: The Freaks Come Out at Night

There was a dead guy on the porch of my new residence. Jesus-fucking-Christ, I’m with crazy people.

“Dad?” Lucy checked on the old man on the steps. “Dad?” She asked sounding more worried.

“If he’s dead, does that mean we get to go home?” Sam excitedly asked. Lucy gave him a stern look but was brought out of it by the dead guy.

“Playin’ dead. And doing a damn good job of it!” The old man finally spoke. Lucy hugged him, laughing off the encounter. She then told us to go inside and unpack.

“So, you’re living with us now?” Michael asked.

“Sorta,” It was kind of a complicated question, “I’m only staying until I can afford another place. Don’t get me wrong, you guys are nice, I just, Uh, want somewhere else to live. Plus, I’m sure it’s kinda weird for you guys. I mean you did just move states after your mom got a divorce and now you got some homeless kid in your house.”

“I guess.” Michael left it at that. “Well, it’s still nice to meet you. It’ll be nice having someone other than Sammie around.” Same gave him a dirty look for that.

Lucy introduced me to ‘Grandpa’ which I guess is what I was supposed to call him, the brought me to the attic. “It’s not very big, but,” she trailed off. I cut her off saying it was fine and that I was more than happy to have somewhere to be. It wasn’t really an attic anyway; it was more like a small room that had a few steps above the rest of the walkway. It overlooked a field in the back, I gazed out of the window and noticed some horses playing with Nanook. Horses are a symbol for total freedom from everything. I think maybe I finally got that freedom, even if it’s a little unorthodox.

In the room was a full-sized bed and an old chest of draws that came up around to my chest. At least there were sheets on the bed; however, they most certainly weren’t my style. It looked like someone’s grandma died and became the bed. It didn’t help that dust covered every corner of the room. I decided to unpack the few things then sweep. All my clothes fit in one of the five drawers. On top I set my Walkman, wallet, book, and new pair of sunglasses to give it a little bit of a homey feel.

“Here,” Mr. Emerson gave me some kind of taxidermized animal, “As a welcome gift.” He smiled at me. I smiled back and said thank you. At least it was kind of cute, it was a fox. I think. Maybe it was a janky coyote.

/|\^._.^/|\

Later that night, we clamored into the car heading for the boardwalk. It had such a different feel to it at night. I’ve always been a bit of a night owl, but oh my god this was beautiful. The lights, the salty air, the music, everything felt so alive! It wasn’t like during the day where kids rounded every corner crying and parents gave you dirty looks for wearing a crop top. No, at night, it was when the real freaks came out. Goth kids, weird surfer guys, bikers, and drunk teenagers flooded the area. They infected every corner, crevice, and as much surface area as possible. It was intoxicating.

I quickly remembered that I needed a job, fast, so I looked anywhere for a help wanted sign. I went into that bookstore from earlier, but the man just looked at me with pity. He gave some excuse of not being able to afford more people besides himself. Then there was a burger joint, the manager looked at my low-cut crop top before saying no. Seriously, what gives? I looked at a few other places and almost gave up, but a jewelry store had the sign saying HELP DESPRETLY WANTED, WILL HIRE FELONS. Couldn’t hurt, right? Every other place rejected me.

“Hi! How can I help you?” A girl a little younger asked me. She had long, straight, black hair and wore what some would consider too much blush. She was tan wit freckles, so I guess it events it out.

“Actually, I saw the sign for help wanted. Who should I talk to?” I asked as polite as I could. The girl yelled for a woman in the back.

A woman who looked like blonde Joan Crawford came out from behind a beaded curtain. She had dark purple eyeshadow and dark purple lips to complete her look. “I’m Ms. Brenda Cheney. I heard you’re looking for a job?”

“Yes ma’am,” I shook her hand and said It was nice to meet her. “When can I start?” It was a little bold, but damn I needed a job.

“Tomorrow!” she smiled while chewing her gum. “I like you kid. Be here by nine am, Jennifer will show you how to open.” Thank God. I introduced myself to Jennifer and spoke for a little bit. The rumbling of my stomach brought me out of it. I told her goodbye and that I would see her tomorrow.

After I ate probably a too processed hot dog, I noticed a really sweaty guy playing a saxophone. I didn’t usually go into crowds for fear of pickpocketing, but why the hell not? I literally just packed up and left home and I’m doing pretty good so far. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a dude that looked like Billy Idol got his shit rocked and was washed out from fame. He looked disgusting, it was a little hot. The other looked like a tall, punk Shaggy, with longer hair. I think I would have been put off by a Scooby with him. They made eye contact with me. It was kind of creepy how much Billy Idol was into it, so I decided to lose him in the crowd.

I saw a familiar glimpse of black hair in the crowd and spotted Jennifer with a guy. “Hey!” I said. “Do you remember me?”

“Of course!” She said “You’re that girl that came in earlier, it��ll be nice to have someone other than Brenda and James around. This is my brother Adam,” She gestured to the guy beside her.

“Hey,” He was a little taller than me, freckles, dark brown curly hair, and best of all he had a nice ass. I noticed from when I walked behind them to catch up. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you too, do you guys mind if I follow you for a bit? I’m not from here.”

“Sure! I know all the best places here. Let’s do the Ferris Wheel, ice cream shop, then I’m thinking the movie rental. Sound good?” she asked.

“Sure, you seem like you got a plan.” I laughed. I scanned the boardwalk trying to locate where Jennifer was talking about, spotting the Billy Idol guy. He was just watching me. It was creepy instead of mysterious now.

“Oh, she’s bossy.” Adam piped up. I laughed, damn was he cute. Once we got to the front of the Ferris wheel they split us up into groups of two, I told them I’d catch the next one.

“I could be your rider.” The shaggy guy from earlier said, “I’m Paul, sugar."

“I’m not sugar.” I hated men like that. He apologized and asked if he could ride with me. I caved; he was weird but sadly I liked weird. I had to admit, he was decently interesting and had a good face. “And if you look over there, there’s a bridge that I jumped off of.” He pointed to a bridge not too far from here. He had been pointing to almost every location and telling me tid bits of his ‘adventures.’

I laughed, “It’s like when your mom asks, ‘if your friends jumped off a bridge, would you?’ I’ve always like falling from really high places, which is ironic since I have a fear of height.”

“Nah, it’s like flying,” we reached the top. “So, you looking to hang our with some cool cats?” Paul finger gunned me. “Oh, by the way, the coaster goes higher.”

“How charming, but no thank you.” I did consider it, only for a moment, “You’re really cheesy, ya know? And maybe I’ll ride the coaster with you.” I peered down into the crown and spotted that white haired guy again, Jesus Christ he’s persistent.

“Hey, that’s what draws the babes!” Paul said bringing me out of my daze.

“I don’t think it does Paul.” I had noticed we reached the bottom when the attendee pulled the safety bar off. I thanked Paul for riding with me and suggested the coaster again, he said he had to get going. Just when you think a guy’s into you.

“Who was that guy?” Jennifer asked.

“Uh, Paul. He rode with me, so you guys didn’t have to wait.” I explained.

“Oh, ok.” she said. I spent the rest of the night with the both of them. The ice cream was good, Adam is a strawberry guy. I noticed a glimpse of white hair in the distance. I should find Lucy and go home before it’s too late. What if he’s stalking me? Is he gonna kill me?

“What’s wrong?” Adam asked. He noticed I had been acting a little weird.

“At the concert that happened earlier, there was a guy and I made eye contact with him. I started noticing him at the Ferris Wheel and at the ice cream shop. It’s like he’s stalking me.” I felt weird explaining it to Adam, maybe it was all a coincidence.

“That guy got kicked off of the boardwalk a couple of days ago, that night, the security guard that kicked him off went missing.” Adam said. I guess I was making a weird face since he said, “Well, maybe it was just a coincidence, ya know? I don’t think he wants to kill you.”

“Ok.” I didn’t really believe him. “I think I’m gonna find my ride and head back home. It’s been really nice to get to know you guys.” I waved my goodbyes and made my way to find Lucy. I spotted Nanook about 30 feet away.

“Hi Lucy, are you about to leave?” I asked her.

“Oh, yeah. I was looking for Michael, but Sam said he wandered off with someone.” She dug in her purse for her keys. We clamored into the car and mentioned her new job at the video store.

“That’s nice, I also got a job to help pay for some rent. It’s at a jewelry counter here on the board walk.” I felt bad for what I was about to say. “My job starts at nine tomorrow, it’s ok if I can’t, but could I borrow your car to get here?”

“My shift starts at ten tomorrow, so I’ll just drop you off and wait for Max’s store to open up.” She explained.

“That’s great, thank you.” Thank God. I didn’t want to have to walk like 12 miles to get here.

Once we made it back to the house, everyone started to settle in for the night. Lucy gave me some pajamas and hygiene products. It was a set she was gifted and never used. They were still in date and actually smelled pretty good. After peeling off the clothes that reeked of other people, I scrubbed every inch of my body. My mind wandered to that man from earlier. I couldn’t understand why he was watching me.

I stepped out and dried off, thankfully Lucy’s pajama’s fit me. They had hearts all over them, it was probably also gifted in the bathroom set she didn’t use. I made my way into my room and began to close the window. A man with white hair. I quickly shut the curtains and went to bed. There’s no way he knows where I live. Even if he did, we would’ve seen headlight following us, right? Eventually, I found a way to calm myself enough to fall asleep. That’s a problem for tomorrow.

#the lost boys #the lost boys 1987 #the lost boys david #the lost boys paul #the lost boys marko #the lost boys dwayne #david the lost boys #paul the lost boys #david x reader #david tlb #paul x reader #paul tlb #dwayne the lost boys #dwayne tlb #marko the lost boys #marko tlb #david x rear

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77gigabytes · 1 year

Text

Things I might turn into full fics later Pt. 3

Cursed Fox Spirit! Reader x Miya Twins

So I wrote this, and mid-way, I realised that it has a similar concept to 'Forest of the Firefly Lights / Hotarubi no Mori e ' which if you haven't watched, I WHOLLY recommend you do!

JUST SAYINGGGGG (if you don't know the plot of Forest of the Firefly light), but the reader starts off older than the twins, but then since she's kind of stuck in time, eventually the twins are older than her

Anyways, enjoy :3

|| Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 ||

Okay...SO

You've been cursed by some witch to become a fox spirit

a kitsune essentially.

What did you do to be cursed like this, Y/N-chan?

today, it's absolutely sweltering

you're high in the canopy of the thick forest around you

you're leaning against the main trunk with one of your legs dangling and the other propped up on the branch

But even the shade couldn't help you from the humid air

fanning yourself wasn't doing much either

so relaxing wasn't really an option, especially when the cicadas around you are screaming at each other.

soon your pointed ears twitch at the tinkling sound of children's voices coming your way

not many children go this far into the forest and if they do, they couldn't bother you even if they tried...

no one can see you

no one can help you

You hear them long before you see them - two small brunette-haired boys coming your way, hand in hand, knees covered in dirt.

You subconsciously stop fanning yourself as you take a look at them

Brothers, you guess, they look exactly the same. Maybe eight, or so, years old

"Astumu~" one whined, "We're not allowed to go this far."

The other boy waved him off, "I won't tell if you won't, Samu. Don't worry." He says as he continues to lead the other boy

You sigh and turn your head away from the two and continue fanning yourself

You were tempted to take your mask off because of the heat, but you don't know what other spirits are lurking around

If the two boys aren't careful, another spirit will follow them home. They'll probably take one and leave the other in agony over the loss.

The spirits here were awful, sadistic even, but you couldn't leave.

Not until you break the spell

the only problem is... you don't know how.

"Oh...Pretty." you hear one of the boys say

you turn in their direction with pinched brows, wondering what they could possibly find appealing in this forest

but they're looking up in the tree you're in

you frown and then look above and around you

maybe there was a bird? you think, but you don't see anything up in the branches and you definitely didn't hear anything either

"Wahhh, yer right, 'Samu!"

You turn back to the two who are now standing at the base of the tree you're in

"Pretty Onee-chaaan!" One of them calls as he cups the side of his mouth

What?

He continues, "Howdya get up so high?"

Your eyes widen, They're looking at me! but then your brows furrow, Are they looking at me? you question yourself, Can they really see me?

"Ne~, can ya help us get tha' high, too, nee-chan?" One boy lets go of the other boy's hand and begins to climb the tree

He gets a couple of metres off the ground, but his foot slips

without thinking, you're pushing yourself off the branch and gliding down the tree

You sweep the small boy up into your arms, whose eyes have become glassy and his lips begin to quiver

you gently float and set him down on the ground

his knees collapse under him and he's glomped by the other boy in an instant

Not a minute later, he's wiping his eyes and nose, "Onee-chan!"He looks at you, honey-brown eyes sparkling, "Let's do that again!" He tugs at the sleeve of your kimono, "That was fun."

You look at him incredulously and so does his brother

"'Tsumu!" The other boy lightly punches him on the shoulder, "What do you mean? You just fell!"

The other boy shrugs with a cheeky smile

"What if it happens again, idiot?"

"Well, Onee-chan can catch me." He reasons and then turns to you, "You will, won't you, nee-chan?"

"I..." You don't know how to respond, "You...You can see me?" you ask in disbelief

The boy doubles over in laughter, "Wahaha, this nee-chan is so silly," He wipes his eyes, "Of course, we can see you."

For the next few years, they would come into the forest at least every other day.

You noticed little things about them, like how Osamu's eyes were a little more grey whereas Atsumu's were still that same honey-brown colour from the first time you met him

You also noticed things about yourself that began to change.

At first, your tails were beginning to shorten, until eventually, they disappeared

"Y/N-nee," 10-year-old Osamu tilts his head, "What happened to your tails?"

cue Atsumu asking where you hid them and reaching for the hem of your kimono's skirt which earns him a whack on the head with your fan and a smack on the stomach from Osamu

Then your ears shifted from where they were on the top of your head and the chirping birds of the cicadas weren't so loud and there was no longer the ringing in your ears when Atsumu would talk.

And it's then that you realise that Osami talks a lot softer than you thought and for once you were having trouble understanding him sometimes, especially as their accents began to thicken as they got older.

Eventually, your little snout stopped protruding and you were finally able to take your mask off.

The boys were speechless when they saw you

They were around your height now, around the age where you were cursed and at the age that you will stay until you break the curse.

"Hmm..." Osamu hums, "I was right the first time I saw you."

You look up at him, "Huh?" you tilt your head.

Then Atsumu is grabbing both of your hands, "Yeah, yeah, you're really pretty, Y/N-nee." He shoots you a dazzling smile

you shrink under their affectionate gaze and the heat is radiating off of your cheeks

But one day... They stoped coming

at first, you thought maybe they were on holiday, it wasn't the first time that they were gone for more than a week

that day, they seemed to be struggling to tell you something, so you ended up asking them straight, "Do you two have something you wanted to say?"

the three of you are seated under the shade of a sakura tree in a meadow within the forest - something that the three of you found together

They turned to each other and eventually, Osamu says, "We're going away for a little while."

Your eyes immediately turn downcast, "Oh..." but then you take a quick breath and put on a smile, "Okay."

"But we'll be back within a week." Atsumu grabs both of your hands in his, "I promise, Y/N."

You were now used to them calling you by your first name. Especially, now that they were technically older than you.

Osamu hums, "Mmm, we'll always come back, Y/N." he coughs and averts his eyes from your gaze, "I promise, too."

you let out a small smile at the pink rising up in his cheeks that he was trying to hide with his hand

you quickly enveloped them in a hug, one arm around each of their broad shoulders

"Ne, come back quickly." you say and place a kiss on each of their cheeks and say, "I'll be here waiting for you both." you squeeze them in your arms and then pull away with a smile, "I'll see you soon, then."

but then 1 week passed...

then one month...

and then one year...

Had they said those things that day to appease you?

Were they struggling to say it because they knew they were never coming back?

Because they knew they were lying to you?

You let out a whimper and curled your tails tighter around your body

even though you were in the den that you dug out, the winter is relentless this year

you nudge your mask with your pointed snout so that it covered your head, your ears and some of your body

you were small enough to hide under your mask from the cold

even with your fur and even with the discarded fabric of what was once your kimono, you shivered

I'm okay, you nuzzled further into the fabrics, I'm, I'm used to it, you think

and you weren't talking about the cold

that thought left a bitter taste in your mouth

and that bitterness festered inside of you for days on end

you look to the opening of your den with half-lidded eyes, looking at the snow that too quickly fades away into the blanket of white on the ground

Maybe if I slept a little longer, I, too, would fade away with the snow, come spring. Leaving only a shell in the shape of a fox.

When you wake, the snow is gone, replaced by pink petals of the sakura tree your den was under

you blink your eyes and yawn, letting out a small mewl

your rough tongue swipes at your wet nose and brushes against your whiskers

I'm hungry

you trod to the entrance of your den and stretch like a cat

but you stop and raise your hackles at the sound of branches snapping

"Y/N?" you hear a deep voice call

you snarl and let out a low warning growl

you see a tall muscular man with his big palms out in front of him as he looks at you

"Hey, I, uh... shoo, shoo." he waves his hands

you back away, closer to your den, but continue to growl

"I'm just lookin' fer my friend, Y/N."

Y/N? you tilt your head

He notices this and crouches down to your level, "Yeah, yeah, do ya recognise the name?" He comes closer, "Do ya know 'er? Are ya a spirit, too?"

Your eyes wandered around his face, dyed-grey hair covering cool grey-brown eyes

you've seen these eyes before...

O...Osa...mu?

the name pops up in your head

then your eyes widen and you hop off to your den.

"Hey!" he calls to you and follows you closer, "Oh, did I scare ya?"

He sits in front of the entrance to your den

you pick up your mask between your teeth, dragging it across the ground

You shimmy backwards until you can place it on his lap

"This...This is," He runs his finger over the markings on the mask, "This is Y/N's mask..." He looks at you with glassy eyes

you let out a small high-pitched yip

"What..." he stares at the mask

you stand on your hind legs and place your paws on his shoulders

"No, go away!" He pushes you backwards, "Where'd ya get this?" He growls at you

to which you growl and snap your teeth in a bite, It's mine, you idiot! you pace around in a circle, Ugh, how am I meant to tell you that?

He looks past you to your den and gets up to his feet

you follow behind him, yapping and barking, struggling to keep up with his large strides, What are you doing? Where are you going? I'm right here!

He's on his knees in front of your den and you see your dirtied kimono wrinkled tight in his fists

"Y/N..."

you bark and nuzzle his thigh, I'm here, Osamu.

"Y/N." his voice breaks

you see a few droplets fall onto the fabric of your kimono

as annoyed as you were that he wasn't understanding what happened, it still broke your heart to see a usually strong and stoic Osamu crying

How can I tell you that I'm right here, Osamu?

you look at the kimono and mask in his hand

for a few seconds, you don't know what to do, but then you bite at the mask

"No, stop it!" He tugs the mask closer to him, but then he lets go when you growl at him

"What're ya going to do with that?"

you drag the mask closer to the kimono and then get under the fabric so that it was draped over your body

then you nudge the mask onto your head, but it slips off because of your ears

you try again and you have to crane your neck backwards so that it doesn't fall off

you hope he understands what you mean this time as you sit nicely with the mask and kimono on you

"Y/N...?" His eyes widen, "You, are you Y/N?"

Yes! Thank God Osamu is the more observant twin!

You drop the mask and the kimono slides off of your back as you jump up so that your paws were on his shoulders again

"You're Y/N?" He says once more

You nod your head as best you can and then lick his cheek

"Y/N!" he holds you under your forearms, "Oh my god, what happened to you?"

for the next few hours, you and Osamu are essentially playing charades to communicate with one another

"Oh, Atsumu?" he raises an eyebrow

you nod, dropping the stick from your mouth

"He couldn't make it," he looks to the setting sun, "He's a pro volleyball player, now, ya know?"

you tilt your head

"He doesn't have that much time on his hands." He states and runs a hand through his hair

you whine and nestle your head on his lap

"But I'm sure he'll come back... He promised. You...We'll see him again. I'm sure of it."

He runs a hand down your back, "And when he does...We'll figure out how to break your spell. Something we should've done a long time ago."

I don't really know how I feel about the ending. I was really struggling with it. To be honest, I didn't really have a clear picture of how this was meant to go ¯\_(ツ)_/¯, but here's what came to me at 2AM.

I might look at it again some other time and change it, idk.

-Seven

|| Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 ||

#haikyuu!!#haikyū!!#hq #miya #miya twins #miya osamu #osamu #miya atsumu #astumu #miya twins x reader #miya x reader #osamu x reader #atsumu x reader

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zhoras-bitch · 12 days

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Chiming into the UT/UB discussion with my two cents.

The reason I didn't like UT is because its whole conflict felt so very artificial. They push these ideas, but the story gives me no reason to believe them.

The story tries to push MC and Kit's relationship as a forbidden romance, but the only thing that makes it forbidden is that Austin will throw a temper tantrum when he finds out about MC and Kit. As trashy as affair books like TNA, FCL, and TBB are, at least the MC and LIs' relationships actually feel forbidden.

They try to say MC and Kit's relationship affects the ranch, but the story gave me no reason to believe that.

They try to push Kit as a heartbreaker and a player, hence Austin trying to "protect" MC from them, but all we ever get is two scenes of fangirls/fanboys flocking around Kit, with Kit being totally unresponsive (on that note, I personally found Kit to be textbook definition of a personality-less customizable LI).

They try to give MC and Austin this backstory about their parents passing away when they were young, hence Austin's overprotectiveness and infantilization of MC, but it felt very poorly set up compared to MC backstories/traumas like the ones in ACOR and ILITW. They just kind of throw the background details at you and expect you to roll with it. Also, was MC being set with having a business major even all that important?

Heck, it didn't even feel all that sexually charged to me outside of the CGs, despite being a "17+ sexy" book. I generally hate PB's style of smut writing but at least books like TNA and Surrender and Witness are interesting in that their smut is fun to mock. UT just had me either bored out of my mind or frustratedly yelling at my phone.

There's also a point that a lot of people have brought up, where the whole "older brother protects younger sibling from their player friend" is supposedly meant for wlm and doesn't make sense otherwise. In a mlw route, that attitude would come off as slut-shamey; and in a mlm or wlw route, it'd come off as homophobic. These can be interesting concepts to explore, but the story doesn't acknowledge them. Though I'm not fully sure how I feel about that aspect, so do with it what you will. Though even as someone who likes to see gender-reversals of typical cisheteronormative relationship tropes (hence why I generally play GOC LI stories with a mlw route when I can), this book still felt incredibly flat to me.

Now I haven't started UB yet, but I do think that part of what appeals to me is Mandy being a LI. And not just in the aspect of having two non-GOC LIs. Despite Mandy veering dangerously close into the stereotypical "girly girl talk best friend that only exists to validate your feelings for LI and be your walking wardrobe" back in UT, she was actually the only prominent character I found remotely likeable. Like, the only one I felt was able to bring some degree of common sense to the table while Austin was acting like Caillou over MC and Kit's relationship.

So seeing her return as a LI is pretty awesome. Buuuuuuut like someone else said, it is weird that they did this despite hinting towards Mandy/Austin at the end of UT. Like, why not a throuple relationship between MC and Mandy and Austin? I mean, as much as I hated Austin, that still would have been pretty interesting.

One last thing I will say though. Outside of Mandy... I'm not sure what connection UB and UT are even meant to have with each other. IIRC, PB even admitted that they couldn't be bothered to include the option to transfer data from UT to UB, hence why people were getting Kits and MCs in UB that didn't match the ones they chose. I'm gonna hazard a guess that even HSS:CA has more to do with OG HSS than UB has to do with UT. Not that UT had a lot going for it anyways, but you get the idea.

Sorry for the long post, but yeah these are pretty much my thoughts.

I somewhat agree. I think that UT conflict works in theory, but there are a bunch of issues with the book's implementation that make it hard for some readers to feel invested and even plot points that seem to work against it, thus lowering the stakes. I'll try to keep it as short as possible, but here are my thoughts:

The story would work better if MC was in high school. I understand that they wanted to write smut, and that's why they couldn't do it. But narratively, 'My parental figure doesn't approve of my crush' is 1) very juvenile 2) works better when the parental figure actually has legal power and authority over MC. But when MC is a 20 something adult it's like. Girl (gn) you can do whatever you want, what's Austin gonna do about it? Get mad?

Austin and MC’s relationship should've been a bigger focus since it's essentially the main conflict of the book. Specifically I wish we saw more of Austin's loving side, saw how much he did for MC and grown to care about him the way MC does. That's another reason to set the story earlier too. That way we could've seen more of the aftermath of their parents dying, MC relying on Austin more as their caregiver and their only living relative and him fighting tooth and nail to protect his sibling. Without that emotional investment Austin is just some asshole, and it's really unclear as to why I as a reader should care about hurting his feelings.

Kit should've been more problematic. I agree with your point about how them being a player is stated but never really shown. I guess they were too afraid to make them unlikeable, but you have to give Austin a legitimate reason to be against their relationship with MC. Give them and Austin a sour past. Or make them wear a leather jacket. Just something that would scream 'trouble' to an overprotective older brother.

Finally, the resolution of the whole Austin and MC's conflict felt a little too... easy to me? I wish MC could call out the problematic side of Austin's behaviour more overtly, Austin reflect and meaningfully change, and them both come together as a family again.

(Typing this all out, I now honestly want a retelling of UT with highschooler MC, which is set shortly after their parent's death and centers largely around MC's relationship with Austin and his struggle to keep custody of their sibling without letting the family ranch completely fall apart.)

As for Unbridled, I think it's pretty obvious what they were trying to do. They saw UT was successful, so they wanted to capture that audience again with a sequel. But UT had no more story to tell, hence the spin-off. So to answer your question, the connection between UB and UT is literally just smut+cowboys+grumpy ML. Mandy is really only there to tie these books together so that they can market it under the same brand and (hopefully) pull in the same audience again. Which makes it doubly funny that UT fans seem to hate UB and vice versa.

Maybe they did plan to make UB about Mandy and Austin initially and then back paddled when they saw that a lot of people didn't really like Austin all that much? It's kind of a conspiracy theory, but it is funny to think about. It does make the entire Austin and Mandy plot line in UT essentially irrelevant, which is objectively not very good writing. But I didn't like Austin, so I'll take it.

#answered #cadybear420 #playchoices #anti untameable #choices unbridled

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beevean · 5 months

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Want a really unpopular opinion?

Circle of the Moon is grossly overrated, it feels extremely amateurish in terms of design and the fact that many consider it the perfect blend of the series' classic and SOTN styles confuses me more than most things in life

I once saw someone say that the game's penchant for grinding shouldn't be criticized because Aria of Sorrow also has it, forgetting that Aria is easy enough that you can absolutely get by without souls anyway, since they're more like a cool extra to spice up combat encounters and help a bit against the occasional tricky boss, unlike Circle where you pretty much need Cards and good combinations of them so you have little choice but to spend a truck load of time grinding just to have a decent time in this hard as fuck game that doesn't even have a shop for healing items thus forcing you to grind for those as well :).

Agreed.

Most of the time, when people love a game I don't, I can at the very least understand what they like about it. I don't care about Sonic Adventure 2, but that doesn't mean it's a bad game: it simply does things, like streamlining the level design, changing the gameplay style in the middle of a story instead of having six storylines, incentivizing replay value through the ranking system, that appeal to others but not to me. It's fine.

But I genuinely can't understand the appeal of CoTM. Nothing it does seems to me remotely likeable.

Yes, it's hard, for the joy of Classic fans. But why is it hard? Because it cheats.

The movement is ass. You either walk at the speed of snail or you double tap to run. This was annoying in Richter Mode in SoTN, but even more so when it's the default state of the game. Guys, it's one thing to move slowly in a Classic game, because all you have to do is to follow a set path and dodge the obstacles, but in a Metroidvania, where you need to backtrack, I'd like more agility. What literally is the point of giving you the run powerup in the fourth room of the game? Why can't I start with it?

There is no shop, forcing you to grind for something as basic as healing potions, necessary for this kind of genre. This is mean.

There is no healing orb at the end of a boss, literally the only game in the whole series that does this, which forces you to run to the nearest save room to heal - fine most of the time, but after the grueling fight against Hugh, you need to dodge the strong and aggressive Dark Armors before you can get to safety. Oh, you died and have to fight that bastard again? Oh no, sorry, guess you can just go fuck yourself :) this is even meaner.

The castle is not well designed, aside from the excessive platforming. The rooms are copypasted without any significant landmark, and there are too many obstacles of the same kind, meaning that once you get a new powerup, you're going to fumble for a while before you stop finding Heart Max Ups and actually find your way through. Say what you want about HoD, but the sections are so visually distinct that you are going to at the very least orient yourself better.

As you said, the main gimmick of the game, the DSS cards, have an abysmal drop rate, meaning that you pretty much have to glitch in order to use the spells. I was very lucky during my playthrough that the first Ice Armor dropped the card necessary to become immune to ice: without it, the Underground Waterway would have been an awful experience. (with it, it was only extremely annoying due to the constant 5-second stop every time you hit a switch)

and that is not even mentioning the problem most gba games had, especially the earliest ones: screen crunch.

tl;dr: order of ecclesia is not my kind of game either, but i recognize that it's fairly hard, at least.

#castlevania #circle of the moon #sorry for the salt #i did not have fun with this game at all #i don't want to touch it again

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yolowritter · 1 month

Text

Plagg's past holder is...Not Great™

Hello there everyone, and welcome back to another post! This here is a little something I cooked up for Plagg in "A Case of Ladybug Luck". To give some context, I very much consider the Kwami to be Gods, and treat them like it. So when the story moved towards exploring them further, I decided to write a piece of Plagg with a past holder. Yes, Sullivan's name is a Dark Souls 3 reference. I'm a nerd, sue me. Actually don't, I can barely pay for my readers' therapy. Anyway, this can be read as a standalone, so I figured it wouldn't hurt to post! Enjoy!

Trigger Warnings: Emotional manipulation, extreme apathy, plague and disease, and mass-genocide. Abusing Cataclysm is very dangerous to others.

A man sits on an old throne, inside a forgotten, crumbling keep. The roof has long caved in on one side of the chamber, letting the rain and thunder slip through the many cracks. The halls of this castle are silent, without so much as the squeak of a mouse to interrupt the heavy breathing echoing in the wind. His face is covered by a cracked helmet, one adorned with the faceplate of a panther’s skull. And the rest of the body rests inside an ever-rusting suit of black plated armor, decorated at the knees and shoulders by silver claws. Those very arms extend to wrap around the body, as if in a tired, pointless gesture of protection. Pontiff Sullivan sits upon his dusty throne on an eerily quiet night, with only the occasional strike of thunder to shatter the silence.

Beyond what tired eyes can see lies the rest of the keep, a forgotten Lord’s castle than once stood tall and proud. Moss and tangled vines have begun growing on the exterior walls, most of the windows blown to pieces by howling winds, and not a single soul’s footprint to be found. Rather, all Plagg can see with his endless eyes are the harsh claw marks on the ground, another result of his master’s choice of adornment. On the bottom side of Sullivan’s boots lay the jagged claws of a fierce black panther, a terrifying beast whose presence haunts every speck of air the God of Destruction can perceive. By his rough estimate, Plagg guesses it must have been at least two decades since even a stay cat set foot inside this old keep, at the top of a small hill overlooking a small town. Even the massive greatsword laying against the throne’s arm has been gathering dust, slowly eroding with the passage of time.

His master does nothing but sit on this very spot, has not moved in what the Kwami thinks may be weeks or even longer. All ‘round the ancient castle lay dark scorch marks of pure Destruction, one of which is visible through a half-crumbled wall just a few halls away. The howling winds continue to tear the keep apart one stone brick at a time, and Plagg is left only with memories. He recalls the battlefield, those very fields just outside the main gate. Said former testament to human engineering now lies ajar, with worms slowly eating at the wood it’s mad of. But once, many years ago, it had been the sight of war. Sullivan, then a young and determined knight, had finally gathered whichever friends could be mustered to retake his ancestral home from the boy’s uncle. Plagg cannot remember for the life of him if they were actually ever related by blood. Yet…the Kwami cannot find reason for the detail to matter. No, instead his jumps to Sullivan’s bravery and courage, to the sheer presence of shining gold that almost three hundred men had rallied behind. A kind smile and encouraging words had appealed to morals and knightly conviction once, the same features now lay hidden behind a faceless mask.

That boy…is gone now. Plagg knows as much, but is still tethered to this shell of a man, a shattered reflection of valiance twisted into nothing more than self-righteous foolishness. That was why, in the pride of his old age, Sullivan had sent his servants and knights all away to far-off lands, back when a single sliver of goodness still nested in his heart. The breastplate’s tattered cape billows in the wind as the Pontiff finally stands, armor crafted by the magic of Plagg’s Miraculous creaking with every movement. The Kwami feels himself strain as much as the metal plates, having held Sullivan’s pitiful existence together for so long that he, a literal God, has begun to long for the separation that so defined his kin before first contact with humanity. Truly, even being formless once again would be preferable to this horrible stagnation that permeated the very concept of Destruction.

With great effort, a single step is taken, and then another…and another…and another, until eventually the aging Pontiff’s legs have carried them both across the deserted halls and up a staircase that’s barely stable enough to hold a single man’s weight. It’s then, overlooking the surrounding lands from high above, that Plagg finally sees it. His Destruction, the echoes left behind by that great Cataclysm which brought Sullivan and his comrades victory, a gain in which the Kwami had once gladly shared. It’s been so long since he’s observed the full scope of that battle, if only because no mortal should be able to do the same. And yet, the Pontiff takes deep, ragged breaths as he gazes to the black flickers lining the grass, almost as if marking the ground with timeless scorches. Plagg feels it too, the subtle way in which they tremble in warning. He’s already known of course what any deviation from the throne-watching entails, but now it’s fully confirmed.

In the town below, a single traveler rests at a tavern, coughing lightly as if to clear his throat. Not a soul suspects, fewer have even heard the rumors, but what is death if not the slow, methodical destruction of physical matter? What is impending doom, if not something Plagg can feel? The stormy night goes on, and a blinding flash of thunder splits the skies as Sullivan begins to raise his arms. Trembling old bones and half-shattered armor both creak in protest, much more resistance than the God of Destruction can bother mustering. Still, the Pontiff manages to raise his clawed gauntlets up to an opening in the crumbling watchtower’s stones, and murmurs the word under his breath.

Cataclysm. A notion that Plagg had once been proud to personify, when that very same power had turned a legion of bloodthirsty, half-mad men to dust right before Sullivan’s eyes. The Kwami had used it then in desperation, this flicker of divine power. To save his Holder, a brave man he’d grown far too attached to for anyone’s good. With golden hair to match the aura surrounding the young knight, and green eyes glimmering with brilliant rays of hope as banners were raised in victory…Plagg had failed to see the darkness skulking underneath. That same evil was now made manifest in wisping black smoke ‘round the old Pontiff’s clawed arms, with a pained grunt as viscous veins of inky puss flickered to life all across his body.

The once rosy tint of the boy’s cheeks had long been stolen, replaced with a pale, ghastly complexion fit only for the horror stories told about the many creatures which had great aversion from the sun. Plagg hadn’t bothered to learn what the folktales were calling them this century. The black energy crackled all through Sullivan’s body, sapping both his and the Kwami’s lifespans to bring forth the very power that even a God like him had grown to fear. Of course, Plagg had heard the justification countless times, so many that he had truly began to lose count faster than Sullivan lost his mind. Yet it mattered little, when the dark mist of Cataclysm spread throughout the air, carried by howling winds all the way to its unsuspecting victims.

A raspy cough nearly tears through the Pontiff’s lungs, and he desperately clutches a crumbling wall to stay upright. “It’s a mercy, Plagg. They are all sick, and I am the cure…” he speaks the words with a conviction the Kwami once admired, and falls silent once more. In the town below, the Plague has begun to spread, from the traveler to the innkeeper, and then to another. The swirling dark mists flood the air around the slumbering villagers, and Plagg feels each and every bright soul disintegrate into absolutely nothing, leaving naught but tiny specks of ash.

#miraculous ladybug #a case of ladybug luck #ao3 fanfic #plagg #past black cat holder #kwami as gods #abuse of miraculous powers #can you tell im mentally ill #and a menace to society?#but hey thats just a theory #anyway yeah #I'll post more acoll soon #just wanted to share #this magic moment #of ripping off Dark Souls

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juni-ravenhall · 21 days

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whats ur non mainstream film taste then? genuinly curious to hear. as someone whos ended up in some weird ass corners of the film world like Neil breen Zachary Oberzan 0 budget stuff i love hearing what kind of weird indie corners other people have gotten into :3

i will talk a lot below that prob wont be interesting anyway, but i have to say first that i mostly stopped watching movies and now i mostly watch things @yasminewestbank chooses (not all the time but mostly) bc shes a movie nerd, so she picks movies that are usually either genuinely good or at least watchable, and if it was just me alone id prob not be bothering to watch those anyway, bc even a great movie just doesnt give me that much. i suffer from pretty severe apathy :( so if u want someone who hypes up genuinely good movies rather than me who is like "this is genuinely good but im still apathetic and dont really care" then yasmin is better to talk to. (im also generally more of a nonfiction type when it comes to video content, i could hype up Tasting History on youtube most days of the week but i struggle to hype up any movie at all. oh, and animated shorts, there are always some interesting student films and stuff.) the rest ⬇

my taste is usually "its [symbolic or not] critical commentary on something i care about" (feminism and misogyny, classism, bigotry, racism, the queer experience, abuse, trauma, violence, human self development, etc etc) or "its portraying human experiences [internal and external] in an interesting or just realistic way", like. realistic but in a highly specific meaning of realistic. i dont care about realism as a concept itself in art (realistic visuals or realistic setting or realistic costume etc i rly do not care about), what i mean is just about capturing a real essence of human brains and experiences, not copypasting stereotypical ideas without meaning. i can also enjoy some more abstract like david lynch bc its expressing human feelings and experiences in an appealing way. im really big on symbolic stuff and will just keep talking about what different parts of the movie meant or represented after i watch something w yasmin.

(edit to add... i should prob note that many of the movies i mention have adult content and heavy topics depending on who you ask? but i assume ppl who read this would already know to check ratings and warnings)

on the criticising / teaching side of meaningful, it would be for example, Poor Things [2023].... on the realistic / documenting side, for example Burning [2018] or Naked [1993], and i liked ryuusuke hamaguchi's movies Wheel of Fortune and Fantasy, and Drive My Car (tho that one has a really badly written scene in it by the end that i hated) for the characters too. i dont know if those are the best examples its more just off the top of my head. theres also mainstream movies that fit my criteria, so for that criticising / teaching side, there's for example Pleasantville [1998], and Pretty Woman, which yasmin told me ppl tend to hate, but if thats the case i think ppl really didnt understand what it was about (it showed so much about misogyny and class issues, coated in such a way that you could get average boomers to watch it as a "romantic" movie without being aware of the actual meaning of what youre going into, the same way pleasantville can be watched as a goofy gimmick movie without being aware of the meaning youre going into, tho pleasantville is heavyhanded by the end, and i guess pretty woman manages to still fly over ppls heads? but not too surprising considering all those mainstream things now will literally just explain every joke and every meaning.... its like all of media is mickey mouse clubhouse, you know?)

i more or less prefer to watch an animated short or a weird animation on youtube/social media than watching a good live action movie. some animated shorts i really liked recently are Au Revoir Jerome, GLOIRE AMERE 40000, and BOLAVLK/WEREAWOLF, and vewn stuff. and i like those Molly Moon game tiktoks, as an example of like, low production stuff…. i dont care at all how much money or time went into something, but bc im usually not actively seeking fiction video content on my own, its more about what falls into my lap by chance, or yasmin/someone shows me.

i thought of listing more movies but its kinda hard for me to remember them after a while (re: apathy). i remember i liked another one from the Poor Things guy called The Favourite but i barely remember what happens in it. I liked one called This Must Be The Place, and one called Annette. those are movies yasmin showed me or that she picked for us to try together.

oh, one movie i saw on my own that i liked a lot is And Then We Danced. it has some less good parts, but overall it for some reason really lives rent free in my head. it felt like i went and lived in georgia with the characters for an hour, idk, it was done in an immersive way that impressed me and i found appealing. another one i remember from years ago is Lille Soldat (little soldier) which i really enjoyed the main character in. that stuck with me. ive tried to find this movie to show to yasmin, but its been hard to find.

i used to watch lots of random movies (from different countries, different times in history, i had a phase where i watched a bunch of really old horror movies) but most of its been forgotten and then i just stopped watching movies whatsoever bc the mainstream ones are generally unwatchably bad and i didnt have motivation to go out of my way to find good movies anymore. its still hard even with good ones. like, The Square, and Triangle of Sadness, i watched with yasmin and it was fine, but i had already tried watching The Square alone and had to stop after a minute bc it just made me cringe and feel bored. but watching it together with her was fine and i did enjoy the meaning. so thats why i say i might not even be watching good movies if it was up to me alone....

if u werent interested in that ramble i hope u stopped reading before now for ur own good :D i have an opportunity to express myself in rambles -> i will express myself in rambles

#ask #answer #reply #anon #nonhorsgaem

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princeshilo · 8 months

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oooooooo im. im wavibg my fingers tell me about juno

ooooooo

ooohhhhhh noooooo… ive been hypnotized by your finger wibbling…. i guess i have to talk about hiiimmmm……

@ my fellow players in the d4 campaign DONT READ THIS. none of them actively use tumblr but jic

(LOTS of text under cut)

the first thing i always always always say about him is that he fucking SUCKS. hes the worst man alive i hope he dies im literally obsessed with him. juno infyris is a tiefling celestial warlock :3 his patron god is homebrew that i made myself! basically he grew up in the underdark (gracklstugh to be specific) doing odd jobs to make enough money to leave. since almost all of the underdark is under lolth, he genuinely just didnt. think gods were real. he was an atheist he just thought everyone else was in a cult on something LMFAO once he was old enough he started a little shop of his own selling fake magic items (most of which he stole). like spamton but not actually like spamton at all. now while setting up his window display for candlenights he ACCIDENTALLY SUMMONED A DEITY. shes like ohhh brave one you have summoned me….. your wish is my command… i shall aid you in your journeys…. and hes like Uh Um Uhhh Can You Help Me Out. (<- INCREDIBLY UNSPECIFIC THING TO SAY TO A LITERAL GOD.) she takes this and fuckinf runs with it hes now soulbound to this deity thats trying to make him a better person and have him do good deeds and stuff amd he HATES IT. as aforementioned he is the worst fucking guy alive hes greedy and selfish and an all around bastard who literally scams people for a living and now all of a sudden hes forced to be a good person or else god will kill him and its the funniest dynamic ive ever written. anyways he escapes his master and leaves the underdark and meets up with the party etc etc etc BUT i wanna talk more about his life before then. see the underdark is a really shitty fuckinf place to live for like 90% of the population and basically anyone that isnt a drow or duergar. SO. you can imagine his life kind of sucks. he is forever in servitude of at least one master at all times & is FOREVER trying to convince everyone he meets to let him live. he used to have wings, in fact! however when they grew in, his master used him for his wings & made him do a bunch of shady shit for him before cutting them off, not wanting juno to seem too valuable to others and have him stolen. juno currently doesn’t remember ever having wings & is convinced hes just naturally discoordinated and clumsy but in reality he’ll never fully acclimate to living without his wings. for all of the 18 years he lived in gracklstugh he spent every day trying to be good enough so that he wouldn’t be deemed useless and killed. his main tactic for this is flirting. see, he knows he’s fucking annoying, and he’s spent years trying to ‘fix it’, and he just can’t. so if he cant change his personality, he believes his only use is his looks. he’ll flash a charming smile and a kiss on the cheek to the vendor he’s currently robbing, distracting them so that he can steal just enough to get by. he’s fucking pretty, and he knows it, so he uses it to his advantage. he exists as an accessory, something to be used, and believes that’s the entirety of his worth. when he escapes the underdark by killing his master (with the help of angel, another pc in our campaign), he takes his left eye out. the scar changes everything. if he’s not pretty, not appealing enough, then he’s fucking useless. he finally got his chance to escape the underdark and now he’s going to be left to die as soon as he sees the sun for the first time. OBVIOUSLY THIS ISNT WHAT HAPPENS. throughout the campaign, one of the other pcs, rpck (no that’s not a typo his name is rpck) falls in love with him. this shit changes EVERYTHING his entire worldview begins to crumble as he learns he can finally be loved and. Yeaghf. im fucking normal about him. theres ALWAYS more i can say abt him but this is long enough already LMFAO thank u for letting me ramble jack :-)

#d&d #oc tag #d4 campaign #juno infyris #ocs #frog answers

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