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polysyndetonaddictsupportgroup · 6 months

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megumi 🤝🏽 yuuji

dying even if it’s only for a good minute only to be brought back to life bc fate realizes if they died for real then they would need to find someone else to fuck over. those two are like fates favorite barbie dolls.

apologies if this post is going to seem all over the place, just bear with me. i don’t even know if you’re going to see this BUT it’s okay bc i need to get this out my system 😭.

starting off — god, imagine the chaos that will ensue when megumi tells nobara & yuuji about his very tragic history with the zenins. but like he wouldn’t even tell them straight up, he’ll just make a little deadpan joke (my sarcastic, sassy son) & the others would look at him like : ??? wtf do you mean by that sea urchin head???

like imagine itafushikugi going shopping for like traditional japanese clothes for a little festival or some shit (megumi was dragged by his spikes to come along) & nobara is having the time of her life finding outfits for her & the boys. like it got to the point where she’s dressing them herself & she shows megumi an outfit that looked similar to the robe he was forced to wear bc of the zenin (it’s obviously not the same) & megumi just refuses to wear a robe with similar color patterns to the zenin robe.

megumi: that looks like the outfit the zenin forced me to wear. i wonder what happened to it, cause the last thing i know, i got blood all over it. so as the second member of the zenin hate club, im not wearing that….

megumi: wait that blue one looks decent. i’m going to try it on.

nobara:

yuuji:

nobara: …did he really leave without giving us the “ getting blood on a zenin’s robe” story?

imagine maki complaining about naoya in front of the first years, & maki just brings up naoya’s onesided beef with megumi & her stories of how naoya was so petty back in his childhood made him remember who tf naoya is (megs have selective memory, it’s okay)

megumi: ugh, he was so annoying. i remember when he came to my middle school back when gojo was busy dealing with the aftermath of his evil ex boyfriend evil plan & he basically kidnapped me. i was stuck in a car with that man for 40 minutes..you would hate him nobara.

maki: yeah you would hate him nobara.

yuuji: i’m sorry he kidnapped you??? why did you say that so casually?

nobara: fuck that. megumi is a disney princess, we know this already. BUT we’re just gonna gloss over gojo had an evil boyfriend?

& imagine when megumi finally tells his friends about the zenin clan was when yuuji just came back from the dead & they were asking how tf that’s possible. & somewhere in that conversation megumi just let it slip that his heart stopped beating once & itakugi looks at him in silence:

megumi: yeah the zenin clan basically forced me to exorcise some curses & complete a ritual to get a snake — that snake fucking bit me. it was my least favorite. but yeah i basically died. then yuuta brought me back. then i was blind for a good minute.

nobara, yuuji, & even sukuna:

megumi: it was a terrible time for me. gojo was even more clingier & protective. it got to a point where he started treating me like i was 6 again… reading me bedtime stories, singing me lullabies & describing the pictures in the stories since i was…yknow blind.

cue itakugi & even sukuna wanting to burn down the zenin but ofc they can’t do that…so they settle for pulling pranks on the members & traumatizing them ofc.

IM ALSO imagining how funny it would be for yuuji to be jealous of yuuta. like bro is basically living yuuji’s fantasy world. i’m giggling at the idea of yuuji fighting for his life to be either megumi favorite or nanami’s favorite.

you also opened my eye to the potential of maki & tsumiki… like i also like to imagine that in a happier world, they would understand each other on such a deep level. but they would also find parts of the other that they wished they had. but on a happier note i like to imagine that megumi would suffer whenever it was brought up that his aunt is basically dating his step sister. like maki would be a menace to megumi. every little thing he do? maki is texting tsumiki in a corner.

maki watching itafushi cook together in the kitchen: i can’t believe megumi has a boyfriend. it’s so cute that he thinks that he can hide this from me. lemme go snitch to tsumiki.

maki listening to megumi describe his fight with sukuna, a cursed spirit who apparently has a stripping problem: oh my god. megumi is truly yuuta’s boy. they both got cursed spirits obsessed with them…i need to tell tsumiki.

maki to megumi after witnessing his suicidal tendencies: don’t make me tell tsumiki.

i honestly love your story. the way you added so much more to megumi childhood is beautiful. it just make soooo much sense. but also your characterization of gojo is so precious to me. i’m waiting for gojo to go apeshit on the zenin. i’m also giggling in anticipation at gojo finding out about yuuta attachment to megumi. i like to imagine him to be kind of worried about it actually, bc that’s not fucking healthy. but i imagine him getting used to it since megumi will have a protector in the form of yuuta & his power of love.

i’m also curious to see mai’s role in this story since.

*sighs in disappointment at gege writing choices*

since she had a crush on megumi…yeah. but imma just interpret that as she wants to be his family. it keeps me sane

i also wanted to ask if there’s a chance that you would write a megumi POV of what happened in the zenin clan? ofc i would understand if you wouldn’t since it leaves a much more ominous feeling to the events. plus yuuta running commentary is a good mix of angst & humor so ofc i understand.

Yuuji: man fushiguro almost checks the boxes for a Disney princess. except he was never kidnapped or enslaved

Megumi, sold to the Zenin clan, who later kidnapped him: *sweating*

Nobara and Yuuji would be the co-vice presidents of the "fuck the Zenin clan" club if they knew what happened. They would be the presidents but yuuta and maki are already in a death match for the position and they're trying to avoid the bloodshed. they are not allowed to be treasurer because neither of them know how money works.

megumi is unaware that a formal club has been formed.

Megumi is suffering SO HARD in any world where maki and tsumiki are together. they won't stop ganging up on him when it comes to his love life and general wellbeing and holding hands where he has to see it. maki lectures him about his suicidal tendencies in the field, holds up one finger, calls tsumiki, and lets her pick up where she left off. maki tries to talk to him about relationships one (1) time and he tries to drown himself.

see i'm pretty open to writing a megumi POV but it, like most of my stories, falls in this nebulous category of "if i have the time." like, i've thought about writing megumi's pov before, there's a lot of stuff that happened that exists as like, background knowledge for me that will never make it through yuuta's pov because it doesn't make sense for yuuta to find out about it. It would be very tonally different, but if i did write it, it would be a different work entirely and i'd be making sea glass gardens into a series.

i'm eternally tempted by the siren call of making my works into a series. If i did it with sea glass gardens, i would want to add a one shot of Megumi's pov during the time leading up to sea glass gardens and a short multi-chapter of the gojo, nanami, shoko teen parenting trio. If I have the time, it will exist; if i don't, it won't.

#ironically the one thing that WOULD endear yuuta to yuuji is finding out about all of this #yuuji would instantly love him for all he did for Their Boy. it's the only way i see megumi actually fessing up to what happened #i think megumi's just someone who's really private and uncomfortable with people knowing a lot about him and he would try to hide this from #itakugi for as long as he could. it probably eats at him that the second years all saw him like this. i think he just hates feeling vulnera #megumi gives him the /extremely/ abridged version of events to get yuuji and nobara to chill about yuuta and how he acts (yuuji is convince #that there's no one who could be that perfect nobara keeps looking for homosexual explanations) and they instantly veer hard into finding #out everything there is to know about the zenin and how to hurt them and also yuuta's like. beloved in their eyes. megumi is their boy.#they love their boy. yuuta saved their boy. ergo they love yuuta now. it's simple math.#tonal shift is a huge sort of struggle with me as a writer just because i change my styles with every narrator #which is why it's kind of hard to flip between works if the tone is too different. i was trying to juggle sea glass gardens and toy rosarie #and i was just internally screaming b/c yuuta and jack could NOT be more different with narration styles and i was like 'fuckkkkkkkkk'#with yuuta i structure sentences with a lot of 'space' in them. i don't have a better word for it i'm not actually trained in writing so #it's all just whatever shit i made up along the way i have no officially terms. anyway. Yuuta's sentences are structured to have this sort #of detached distance between the actual message and the start of the sentence. So we end up with a lot of sentences that start w/ structure #like “yuuta thinks” and Yuuta feels“ b/c I think of yuuta as a very detached person because of how he lived. it's a survival mechanism.#a lot of the meat of what he feels has to come in almost absentmindedly. So you end up with Yuuta's suicide scene and losing the knife and #him having a line like “He swears he never meant any of the bad things he did” and the fact that he thinks his own survival is a bad thing #/he's/ to blame for is almost backdoor'd in as a given premise. it's assumed. it's not even the point of the sentence. he's been living wit #jack murdock meanwhile is an intensively retrospective character that's meant to make you almost feel claustrophobic from how “close” his #narration style is. a lot of the actual message is conveyed through imagined scenarios and emotional recollection. he's a character steeped #in regret who has been torturing himself with it for years. yuuta's survival mechanism is isolation but jacks been yearning to get back wha #he lost for so long and dreaming of it that he's steeped in really vivid internal imaginings.#with jack you have multipage lamentations remembering his son buying cereal with him but yuuta drops the fact that his parents stopped #loving him at some point and it's not even the most important thing in the sentence. it's included as a qualifier because yuuta has accepte #so much of the bad things that happened to him when he shouldn't have whereas jack hasn't accepted ANYTHING that happened.#Yuuta uses a lot of very clean cut grammatically correct narration and jacks is riddled with a bunch of “ain't's” and grammatical errors.#he has an accent for lack of a better term. so you end up w/ two characters who convey information in different ways prioritize different #info in their sentences use different sentence structures etc. so megumi would have a /very different/ style and tone from yuutas that woul #sort of shape any fic that came through him because all of my fics are primarily shaped through the narrator's voice. it's also why I set #kind of hard lines about whether a fic can have any narrator or just specific narrators b/c it determines the whole tone.

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wild-at-mind · 1 year

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I’ve always wondered about the whole razor blades behind facist or transphobic stickers thing, because articles about it happening are often frustratingly vague, and often without pictures which is odd as these days most people carry a device with a camera! Wouldn’t you want proof?

I found the below by an anti-facist writer about the issue: https://libcom.org/article/sticking-it-razorblades-and-anti-fascist-folklore-f-bear

The main conclusion the writer comes to is that it may have happened a few times for real, but it is also an urban legend that can be found referenced in the press as early as 1976. He notes that the razor blade articles tend to recommend not removing the sticker and reporting to the police instead, therefore leaving the message behind for the next person to see. (Tumblr and twitter posts tend to prefer a rather vague ‘be careful when removing!’) He points out that the razor blades would greatly increase the cost of the stickering, the time to apply the sticker, and the penalty for the stickerer if caught doing so. So yeah, I’m inclined to agree with all these points. I think sharing round the razor blade sticker one source articles from local papers, or tumblr posts, is subtly encouraging inaction and spreading fear in marginilised communities. There is no need for this. The writer says keep taking down stickers as your social duty- a 50p can help scratch off the stubborn ones, or a black marker to cover the message if it really won’t come off.

#razor blade stickers #interestingly he specifically mentions the white rose stickers #i saw a tonne but i never took them down because they were both terrible at conveying their message and impossible to quickly peel off #or slowly peel off!#they went in for very long screeds of unreadable text on small stickers #i would love to know if they successfully radicalised anyone into thw NWO conspiracy #they were mainly a lockdown reaction i think as there have been no new ones in ages #and hilariously the ones already there faded very quickly to become blank #though i did notice while getting my tattoo that there seemed to be a lot up in that particular parlour which... :(#most of it was anti mask anti lockdown covid is fake stuff but that is a gateway so i'm not saying they didn't get anyone #sadly they probably did :(#wish i'd carried a black marker...#also someone has been doing adult human female stickers round here but they are VERY easy to remove #to the point where i wonder if the person sticking them was half assing the 'message' or just cowardly

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peribytes · 2 years

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i feel like i don't really deserve (for lack of a better word) the artist title because, as much as i love art, i don't feel like there's enough passion in me for it. at least not enough passion in making it, and trying new methods and getting ~creative~ and spending a bunch of time practicing and being original and ~Expressing Myself~ through it. i feel like i'm doing Art wrong.

#should i have a portfolio at this point?#should i have well fleshed-out original characters that make frequent appearances?#should i have a collection of works that have a Signature Look or should they all be different as i try something new with each piece #i think i'm missing some.... enthusiasm and creativity and a Spark #idk if i'm explaining this correctly but this has been eating at me for so long #when artists talk about art i can Feel their love for the craft and for doing it #am i missing what they have?#i want to be able to sit down with a blank sheet of paper and pull something out of my brain and create it #but there's nothing. there's nothing in my brain #i don't know what message i'm trying convey through it. i don't what messages people are getting out of it. if there are any

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sapphic-loser16 · 3 months

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#So if you’ve been around for a while you’ll know that I really really like movies #As in it’s the way i contextualize my world and feelings and thoughts #Long story short movies and tv shows are just incredibly important to me #I was talking to a friend about how I don’t really like matpat and his movie theories #Because (again! In my opinion!) I think it encourages a general disingenuous attitude around consuming media #And what messages they convey #So I said all that #And then a guy just completely shot me down with “stop talking #it’s not that deep and why do you even care that much”#And shit! That kinda hurt!#Anyways #It’s a stupid thing to get sad over but it still kinda got to me :(

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jamminvroomvroom · 6 months

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everything.

ln x fem!reader

in which you’re his best friend until you’re something more

hi! here you go lmao. probs the fluffiest thing i’ve ever written and i am obsessed with the concept! thank you for being here and baring with me - i loved writing this one and i’d love to hear what you think! huge shoutout to my girlies @mcmuppet and @lavenderlando ily both!

songs that set the mood: pink and white by frank ocean, daylight by harry styles, angel by finneas, enchanted by taylor swift, hate to be lame by lizzy mcalpine

warnings: 18+!! minors dni!! smut, language, friends to lovers brain rot, slight corruption kink, readers first time, qatar angst

6.4k words

“do you wanna talk about it?” you whispered softly, your hand resting on lando’s sagged shoulder.

your eyes were fixed on the third place plaque on his table in front of you, his very much fixed on the floor.

“no.” his reply was short and sweet, his tone conveying exactly how deflated he was.

you’d only flown in to qatar this morning, the october sun hitting you hard as you walked into the paddock, drastically different to the london climate you’d grown accustomed to. lando had all but begged you to come, your evening before spent on the phone, and you knew that he needed a friend, otherwise he never would have asked you to fly halfway around the world.

friends. that’s what you were.

you’d hugged him tight and told him that the weekend had to get better, and then his teammate put it on pole and got his first win. so, yeah, maybe it wasn’t going to get better and not even the podium could cheer him up.

his radio messages had hurt your heart, your chest aching as he self deprecated in the cockpit. he owned his mistakes, sure, but he’d taken it a step too far and you knew you had a job to do. you’d do anything, quite literally anything, to cheer him up.

you’d always found a way to be there for eachother, your friendship spanning five long years after you’d knocked a coffee over a guy you quickly recognised as the new mclaren driver. both nineteen and awkward as hell, you’d um-ed and er-ed and danced around one another in the busy pret in central london, chucking tissues at him, attempting to mop up the frothy mess all over his white sweatshirt.

eventually you’d just burst into laughter, lando immediately following suit. your cheeks were hurting from smiling at the curly haired stranger, intrigued by the very way his faced moved when he laughed, and he’d looked at you like you hung the stars in the sky, not like someone that had just destroyed a brand new hoodie.

and just like that, a connection was born.

you’d gotten used to having a friend for only half the year, but he never let you feel the distance. paddock passes often fell through your letter box and you could usually be located in the background of his streams when he was home long enough to do them, the amount of times you’d been wrongfully accused of being his girlfriend a list as long as your arm. even in those moments of awkwardness, friendship prevailed and you both managed to crack up together about the conspiracy that you were more than friends.

and what an intriguing conspiracy it was.

“we should get you back to the hotel, you need to get some rest.” you told him, standing from the sofa and offering him your hand.

lando grabbed it, squeezing, his own special way of telling you he was grateful for your presence, and let you pull him up. as he tried to walk towards the door, you stopped him, hands on his shoulders. you wanted to shake him, tell him how fucking great he was. you didn’t think he’d appreciate that after an intense session in the car.

“hey, look at me. you got this, okay?” you smiled reassuringly, managing to get the smallest crack back from him, his lips upturning ever so slightly. something in his eyes told you that you’d succeeded, a small glimmer of an emotion that you didn’t know how to unpack.

friends.

that’s what you were.

you tried to ignore how touchy lando was being. you figured he just needed some comfort, physical touch not out of bounds in your friendship, but a new level had been reached.

on the entire walk through the paddock to his car, his hand sat comfortably on the small of your back, despite the endless amount of cameras pointed at you. his hand skimmed your thigh in the car, accidentally, you told yourself, and you had to avert your eyes when his hand graced your headrest as he reversed out of the parking space. knowing that he needed you in qatar so desperately that he’d flown you out was one thing, the way he was treating you once you got there was something else.

he’d opened your door when you pulled up at the hotel valet, helping you out of the car, his hand tucked in yours for a second longer than necessary. once again, his hand seemed to be glued to your lower back the whole way to the elevator.

the ding of the lift had you both shuffling out onto your floor, trailing towards your rooms in a heavy silence, something more left unsaid in the air.

you reached your door first, coming to a stop and shuffling around in your bag for your keycard.

“um, i need to be at the track early tomorrow. breakfast?” lando asked.

you turned to look at him, nodding your head profusely.

“of course, just drop me a message and i’ll come down and meet you.” you affirmed, your fingers finally grasping the piece of plastic that had, of course, fallen to the very bottom of your tardis of a tote bag.

you expected him to leave, but he lingered, as if there was something else on his mind.

“you okay?” you raised an eyebrow, unlocking your door. lando seemed to snap out of it then, awkwardly running a hand through his curls that had taken a brutal hit from the humidity. you liked the look on him, nonetheless.

“yeah, i- yeah, i think i just need some sleep.”

“okay, well, goodnight. let me know if you need anything.” you disappeared through the door then, the tension getting the better of you. you slumped against the shut door, wondering what he so clearly wanted to say.

the clock read 1:32am on your bedside.

a faint tapping had woken you up, and you groggily scanned the room, trying to find the source of the noise. you deduced that it was coming from your door, letting out a groan as you threw the cosy comforter off and trudged towards the disturbance.

you cracked it open, peeking through the gap and coming face to face with your best friend.

“lando?” you croaked, opening the door further.

“i’m sorry, can’t sleep. can i come in? it’s okay if not, i just didn’t know what to do.” he sounded so shy, something you didn’t recognise in the man stood before you, and you quickly swung the door open, ushering him inside.

“come, sit.” you waved for him to follow you across the room to the foot of your bed. he sat down beside you, the mattress dipping.

you patted your lap and he instantly knew what to do, laying down with his head in your lap. it’s something he did quite frequently when you were sprawled on his sofa at home, watching a shitty movie that neither of you were really paying attention to. you’d often be looking at him, praying he didn’t notice, and he’d be playing with your fingers, tracing the palm of your hand.

you couldn’t help yourself, running your hand through his curls. you didn’t mean to, stomach instantly twisting with embarrassment, but it was quickly twisting with something else. his eyes fluttered shut, a low groan falling from the back of his throat. it made your thighs clench, and he must have noticed, the tiniest smirk on his face.

“you okay?” lando asked, his eyes still shut, a look of relaxation finally on his face.

you coughed awkwardly.

“yeah, sorry. are you comfy?” you said teasingly, trying to cut the growing tension in the room.

“i am now, could fall asleep here.”

“you can, you know.” you whispered. his eyes flew open. your heart was hammering in your chest. this was new territory and you were worried you’d fucked up. sleepovers were also a norm, but one of you usually retired to a guest room, not the other side of eachothers beds.

“you want me to stay?” his voice rose in surprise.

“well, i mean, you can if you want, like, there’s space and-“ you rambled.

“do you want me to stay?” he repeated.

“is it gonna help?” you questioned cautiously.

“yes.” the confidence in which he replied did something to you.

“then stay.”

you crawled up the mattress, falling back into the place you’d so comfortably occupied just minutes before. you laid so still, watching with quiet curiosity as he slipped his hoodie off. his shirt came with it ever so slightly, riding up over his back, and you had to pry your eyes away, the ache between your thighs still ever present.

what on earth were you doing, allowing your best friend to crawl into bed with you? emotions were running so high, but it felt like a switch had been flipped ever since you hit the tarmac in qatar. every look, every touch was fuelled by something different to what it had been before and you weren’t sure if it was a good thing or not.

lando turned towards you, making his way back over to the bed. he looked apprehensive, as if he was thinking the same thoughts as you, wondering if there was any logic in what was about to happen. he seemed to come to the conclusion that this was, in fact, happening, crawling into bed beside you.

“is this okay?” lando breathed into the darkness of the room, his hand brushing yours. you were both as still as planks, mere centimetres separating you, the only light coming from the lamp beside the bed.

“yeah,” you took a deep breath, preparing for the words that were about to come tumbling out. “i’ve just never done this before.” you spoke quickly, sucking in another breath as you finished.

“you’ve never…”

“i’ve never shared a bed… like this.”

“like what?”

“with a… a guy?” your anxiety riddled words came out more like a question than an answer.

“oh. oh.” it seemed to dawn on lando then. “so, you’ve never… oh. i mean i can go if you’re uncomfortable.”

“lando, no, i just wanted you to know. i’m always comfortable with you.” you said, quietly baring your soul to him.

you weren’t sure why you’d basically told him you were a virgin. it held no relevance, he was just here to sleep, for some friendly comfort. he was not here for any other reason. and yet here you were, spilling the beans, all over the bed you found yourself sharing.

“i didn’t come here to, you know. i just needed you.”

you tried to ignore the pang in your chest and the annoying, minuscule butterfly springing to life in your belly.

“god, yeah i know! i didn’t think that you wanted to, well i mean not with me because why would you want me like that anyway, i get why you’re here, lando.” you rambled into the empty air. you heard yourself, groaning in embarrassment and dragging the cover over your face. lando laughed, pulling it back so he could see you again.

he was leaning over you, perched on his side, resting on his elbow.

“trust me, i’m more than happy with any part of yourself that you wanna give me.”

“don’t tease me, lando.” you scoffed. he was joking, right? right?

“i’m not! i promise, this is the one place i want to be.”

“why? why with me? i mean you could’ve called max. all he does is stream when you’re not home, think he misses you.” you were half joking, half deadly serious.

“come on, it’s you. it’s just… its been so hard this year, being away from you so much more. and then you came all the way here…” lando trailed off, averting eye contact.

you turned on your side to face him, placing your hand over his affectionately.

“you needed me.”

“exactly. i needed you. you.”

he gave you a look, one that you didn’t recognise, but you understood what it meant. it said more than anything had done since this confusingly beautiful interaction began. you got it, then, why you were here.

“lando-“

“i know that i shouldn’t tell you this and i can’t just spring this on you in the middle of the night, but i-“

“lando!”

“what?”

“kiss me.”

and god, he kissed you. the air was sucked out of your lungs, dragged out of you by the way he put his hands on your body, so urgent.

you sunk back into the mattress, his body over yours, a hand cupping your cheek while the other rested on your waist, stroking the skin there, exposed from your ridden up top. your hands were in his curls, and you revelled in the way that you could shamelessly touch them now.

he paused for a second, nose brushing yours, breathless and grinning down at you, a knowing smile that was so beautiful that it rendered you speechless.

“you have no idea how long i’ve waited for this.” lando breathed, scanning your face as if he was trying to take it all in. you, panting beneath him, coy smile, cheeks flushed. you’d never looked so gorgeous to him.

you leaned in to kiss him again, slower this time, relishing in the moment. you were lost in him, thinking back to the very first time you’d locked eyes and how you never thought it would come to this. this, the way he was holding you, was the best surprise.

lando pulled away, peppering your flushed cheeks with kisses, a dazed giggle passing your swollen lips.

he flopped onto his side, grinning at the ceiling mindlessly. you hadn’t seen him smile that big all weekend.

“are you tired?” you whispered, lips brushing his cheek, his light stubble rough against you. you wondered how it would feel elsewhere, scratching over your bare skin.

“no.”

“then why did you stop?” you asked, the words falling off your tongue slowly, sinking all over him like honey. you felt the way he tensed up, the suggestion that laced the seemingly innocent question making you tingle.

“i didn’t come here for that.” he reiterated.

“and i didn’t let you in for that. but here we are.” you weren’t ashamed of what you were asking, the moment was right, the one, and you knew it.

“it’s too soon.” lando was apprehensive. he was always overly protective of you, previously as his friend, but this, god, this was an entirely different ball park and he was proceeding with caution, against every natural instinct in his body screaming at him.

“says who?”

“it’s your first. it needs to be special.”

“everything about this is better than i could have ever imagined.”

“are you sure you want it to be me?” there it was again, those unrecognisable nerves that made everything inside of you flutter.

“lando, there is no one else i could ever want to do this with more than i want to do it with you. i want it to be you.”

“but… now? are you sure? i don’t want you to regret this.”

“the only thing i regret is that this didn’t happen sooner.”

“one last time. i just need to hear it one last time.”

“i want you, lando.”

and with that, the air changed, charged with a different kind of tension. lando pulled you on top of him, hands firm on your body, the action itself gentle. you steadied yourself, hands on his shoulders, his resting on your waist.

“can i take this off?” he tugged at the hem of your shirt. you nodded profusely. “words, sweetheart. i need you to use your words.” lando cupped your jaw as he said it, squeezing ever so slightly, enough to turn you into putty in his hands.

“please. yes.” you said shakily.

he smiled softly, slowly peeling the material off of your body, up over your head and tossed carelessly onto the floor. he kept his eyes on yours, despite the fact you were now left bare, aside from the white cotton panties that separated you both. he pawed at your sides, kneading gently at your soft hips.

“we’re gonna start slow, okay? gonna take my time with you.” he muttered, eyes on yours before they trailed slowly down, across your face, neck, collarbone, further and further until he was taking all of you in. he began to stroke the underside of your breast with his thumb, watching the way your body tensed under his feather-like touch.

“okay.” you choked out, head tipping back as he placed a kiss to the base of your throat.

his kiss trailed further down your body, peppered in the valley of your breasts, and then you stopped breathing, the air caught in your throat because he was looking at you, really, truly looking at you, as his tongue found your nipple. you couldn’t take your eyes off of him, not when he was looking at you like that, not when he was making you feel this good already.

lando pulled away, just for a second, just so that he could shift you from his lap onto his thigh. he was still fully clothed beneath you, totally in control, and you craved him in a way you didn’t know was humanly possible, so much so that you didn’t need the encouragement he was giving you to start rolling your hips, pussy grinding down on his covered thighs, the friction of your underwear driving you insane.

“oh, baby. you want me so badly, don’t you? should’ve asked me sooner. m’gonna make you feel so good.” his hands were on your hips, guiding you backwards and forwards on him.

“it feels so- oh, god.” you whimpered, fingers tangling in his curls, back arching further into him as your thighs clenched around his. he licked over your collarbone oh so slowly, a shiver running down your taut spine.

and then he was kissing you again, tongue slow over yours, his fingertips surely leaving marks where he was controlling your pace. the kiss was filthy, untameable, and you found yourself dragging against him slower, harder.

“i need you.” you panted, forehead falling on his shoulder as you pulled away from his lips, goosebumps pricking your sweat slicked skin. you were so close to an orgasm, desperate to feel him everywhere.

“i want you to come for me like this first, okay? can you do that for me, baby?” he cooed, bouncing his leg ever so slightly. “look at me.” and you did, somehow mustering the strength to pull yourself back up and find his darkened eyes.

you were a mess of curses when you let go, your body convulsing, collapsing into him as you came. you were throbbing on his thigh, one glance down at where you were grinding against him displaying your slick. his arms went around your body, flipping you onto your back so that you were resting against the mattress.

“you did so well, baby.” lando crooned, resting over you on his forearms. you stared up at him in awe, blinking away the haze. “do you want more?”

“i want everything.” you breathed, pulling him against you. you smoothed your hands over his shirt until you reached the hem, dragging it up over his back. he helped you take it off, and then it was lost to the room. you grabbed at his shoulder blades, smooth, muscular planes of bronzed skin so warm under your touch. you felt insatiable, like nothing was enough, totally intoxicated by him and everything he was managing to make you feel.

lando’s hand slid down your body, searching for the band of your underwear. when he reached his destination, he toyed with the lacy edges, letting them snap against the pudge of your belly, teasing you. you bucked your hips, frustrated, and he used the opportunity to cup your pussy, feeling where you’d soaked through the cotton. the groan he let out was carnal, animalistic, almost needy. he could feel all of you, how you ached and dripped, how you needed the everything that you’d requested.

“you’re so fucking good for me, god.” lando almost slurred his words, voice lower than you’d ever heard it. you keened at the sound, pushing your hips further into him.

lando didn’t give you much time to dwell on it, mouth latching onto your underwear where it met the crease of your thigh. he was so close, so tantalising close to where you were aching for him and you were just about levitating off the bed when his teeth grazed your inner thigh. you couldn’t see him looking at you, losing it, inhibitions out the window. your eyes were already squeezed shut when he began mouthing over your cloth-covered pussy, spit further ruining the sodden material.

“take them off.” you cried out, tugging hard at his curls that you hadn’t even realised you were clutching for dear life. and lando was a good listener, because he complied immediately, tearing the lace down your legs like a starved man.

his tongue was on you then, everywhere all at once, running through your folds and over your clit. you didn’t know if you were dead or alive, a different kind of pleasure than anything you’d ever experienced coursing hot through your veins. lando switched between long, slow licks, his tongue flat against you, and rapid kitten licks, burying his face in your cunt.

everything was moving in slow motion, your hands grasping frantically at anything you could reach; his curls, the sheets, his shoulders. you could barely make out what he was saying, his words muffled, lost to the soft flesh between your legs. it seemed to echo, every lick, stroke, word. you snapped out of it, finally, when he pulled away.

“more? you want my fingers, baby? gonna get you nice and ready for me.” you just nodded, voice lost to the air of the room.

one arm locked around your thigh, pinning you still, and the other snaked up your leg until he reached the mess between your thighs. he took a moment to take it in, how wet you were, how fucked out you looked, knowing full well he must have looked the same, unhinged as he gave into your shared desire that he’d tried his best to keep hidden. he’d never felt more stupid in his life for holding back, as he took in the ethereal delight sprawled under his touch.

when lando slid the first finger in, your stomach twisted deliciously. he watched you carefully, searching for discomfort but all he could find was sheer bliss, written all over your face as clear as daylight. he worked the digit in and out, nice and slow, curling against your walls. he could feel how tight you were, clamping around just one finger and he thought his head was gonna explode. he added another finger, watching the way you took him in, twisting his fingers.

“are you gonna let go for me again, sweetheart?” lando punctuated his words by putting his mouth back on you, teeth grazing your clit as he sucked.

you were thrashing, a silent scream building from the fire in your belly. you could just about make out the way he was spurring you on, his mouth running as you spilled over the edge, covering his fingers. you saw white, maybe god, ears ringing, and when you finally mustered the energy to look at him, you could have come for a third time. lando looked feral, lips red and coated in everything you had to offer him. his eyes were glazed over, a hazy grey that sent a jolt through your body, the aftershocks of the orgasm setting in.

“christ.” was all you could sigh out. a lazy smile painted your face, your eyes blown out, everything a little blurry. everything except him.

you could feel him scaling up your body, crawling over you until he was level with your face. he placed a kiss to your throat, your jaw and finally your lips; when he pulled away all that was left was shared giddy smile, both of you suddenly shy. you couldn’t stop the roaming of your hands, exploring all the parts of him that you could reach. when you found the waist band of his joggers, your hand grazing his abs as you did, he sucked all of the air out of the room, a sharp inhalation making him tense up.

“you still want all of me?” he breathed, his shaky breath fanning your face. lando was obsessed with hearing you say it, obsessed with how you wanted him as much as he needed you.

“all of you. lando, this is… you’re perfect.” you admitted, lips brushing his. your hands pushed the material down his hips, nails raking over him as you did. he couldn’t seem to wait any longer, kicking them off the rest of the way, his boxers quickly following suit.

you couldn’t help but stare, all of him bare against all of you. your nipples brushed his chest, his hands holding you close, your hands threaded through his curls. it was like you were sussing each other out, eyes watching lips and hands getting lost. you stayed like that for a moment, pressed together, closer and closer, until he was slotted between your legs like he was coming home. lando searched your face one last time, hunting for a smidge of discomfort.

“are you ready for me?” he whispered.

“yes.”

the initial stretch burned, but he slid into you smoothly, his cock slipping through your folds with ease. he felt you clamp down on him, his head thrown back as far as it could go, thick neck exposed to you. you bit down on his shoulder, where it met the base of his throat, trying to mask the gasp of pleasure that sent your eyes rolling back in your head. he grunted at the sensation, enjoying the sting.

“oh, fuck.” he was shuddering, trying to keep himself in check.

“don’t, oh god,” you started, meeting the roll of his hips. “don’t hold back.”

“we gotta go easy.”

“i don’t want easy.” you tightened around him then, and he saw stars.

“you’re so fucking good.” lando groaned, an edge of excitement in his voice, and then he unleashed everything that he’d held back. how much he wanted you, and a bittersweet weekend of frustration versus success came crashing down and he couldn’t do anything except give himself to you exactly how you wanted.

lando was a delicious weight on top of you, the drag of his hips slow, meeting yours hard. the pressure made you lightheaded, his body moving against yours like the thick drip of honey, smooth and sweet. you couldn’t make sense of it, of how fucking good he felt, grinding deeper and deeper into you like he’d found buried treasure. the overstimulation had your third orgasm building nice and quick, waves of pleasure making you dizzy.

“you like it like this? like when i fuck you nice and hard?” yes you did. “don’t think i can go without this now, you know that? such a good fucking girl.” you couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, just let his words wash over you. “so beautiful, taking me so well.”

you couldn’t process that this was your best friend lando. this was a different person, it had to be. yet, somehow, it made sense that the man you knew, the one who spoke his mind, mischievous and troublesome, would be like this, a god above you as he fucked deeper into you with every thrust. he was filthy and gentle, brutal and sweet. it didn’t make sense, but it also just did.

“are you gonna come for me? one more time, baby. need to feel that perfect fucking pussy.” well, his wish was your command, because then you were gushing. the one thing you could feel was him, none of your other senses worked, you couldn’t see past the tears that fell, couldn’t get any words past your lips. maybe you screamed, you weren’t exactly sure.

lando was kissing you everywhere. each hip bone was met with his lips, your stomach, over your ribs, breasts, clavicle, neck. your face was covered in kisses next, your cheeks, forehead, a dainty peck to your nose.

“can you look at me?”

your eyes cracked open slowly, the exhaustion hitting as you came back to reality.

“was that okay?” there he was again, this shy version of lando that you couldn’t get used to.

“okay? lando that was…” you shook your head in awe. “that meant everything to me.”

he smiled then, that gorgeous, gorgeous smile, the one with the crinkles by his eyes and his teeth on full display. you melted.

“me too. you’re fucking beautiful. so, so fucking beautiful. should’ve told you sooner.” he murmured.

his words made you think, way too hard for your current state. what happened next? lando had said some things, some pretty big things that you didn’t know how to comprehend. it was crazy, how scared you were to bring it back up to him, considering he’d just been inside of you.

“sooner?” you whispered, hardly audible. lando was midway through tucking you both into bed, pulling your flushed, naked body into his own under the duvet.

“yes. a lot sooner.” he replied, not a trace of doubt in his voice.

‘how much sooner?’ you thought to yourself, unable to stay awake any longer to agonise over it, your dreams haunted by the way he touched you so well. it was magnificent to fall asleep in his arms, and you couldn’t help yourself from wondering when it would happen again.

you woke up tangled with him, fingers stroking your cheek, smoothing your hair out of your eyes.

lando was always so warm, but now his tanned skin radiated sunshine, a beacon of light in your bed. you smiled, eyes still shut, shielding yourself from the streaks of light casting over the room from the crack in the curtains.

“what time is it?” you croaked, bringing a hand to your eyes to rub away the sleep.

“gone eleven. i need to go, baby.”

baby.

you hadn’t gotten a chance to take my notice of the things he’d called you last night, too caught up in the way he played with your body. now that you heard it, in the calm after the storm, it made you swoon.

“already?” you tried to hide your disappointment, not quite ready to detangle yourself from him.

“need to get to the track. i think i’m already late. i just wanted to be here when you woke up.” lando sounded so soft, not as groggy as you, and you wondered how long he’d been awake, watching the soft rise and fall of your chest.

“thank you.” you knew that you’d have spiralled waking up alone, and you were immensely grateful that he’d stayed.

lando began to get up, wincing at your whine of protest.

“i’m sorry. i’ll have someone pick you up later, okay? i’ll see you soon, i promise.”

you knew he had to work hard today, knew how much analysis he needed to do before the race. he was starting further back than anyone would have liked, and he had something to prove as well, oscar starting too close to the front for lando’s liking. there were places to make up and hard work to be done to get back to the front.

“don’t apologise. i hope it goes smoothly today.” you smiled at him, watching him collect his long forgotten clothes. you were entranced by the way his body moved, the lines and shapes that tensed and rippled as he dressed himself.

“i’ll message you.” he promised, creeping back over to the bed. you weren’t sure what to expect, but the soft kiss to your lips, almost apprehensive on his part, could have killed you off, your heart pounding.

your grinned like a fool when the door shut behind him.

the shower was burning hot, loosening up your muscles. you cleaned yourself slowly, examining your body, the same one that you’d given to lando. he’d taken you apart, piece by piece, and put you back together, the traces of him that he’d left behind delectably apparent.

you followed the trail of marks he’d left, starting with the love bite below your right breast that you couldn’t even remember him leaving, making your way to the litter of fingerprints that were tattooed into your hips. your fingertips ghosted over your swollen lips, the kiss that he’d left at the junction between your neck and your shoulder, reminiscing the evening. you seemed to ache everywhere, the dull pain setting into your bones so nicely.

you prayed it would happen again. you felt like it would, everything between you had changed now, changed from any possible return to the norm. you wanted it to change, you couldn’t fathom the idea of staying friends when the lines had blurred like this, when he’d kissed you so deeply, touched you so intimately.

the shower was much needed, refreshing your body that was now tainted by him in the best way. you tried to keep a clear head while you got yourself ready, taking your time to make yourself presentable to the paddock. the time of your departure was looming, the pink and white sunset outside your window indicating that the race was only a few hours away. the air had cooled slightly, and you knew you needed to make your way to the lobby.

your phone dinged in your hand as you were packing your essentials into your bag. you glanced down at the device, unruly smile gracing your face.

see you soon, the text read, an orange love heart punctuating the short but sweet text. it was safe to say that the butterflies in your belly were well and truly alive.

the screen beeped as you scanned your paddock pass, and you slipped through the gate, making your way into the paddock. it was beautiful in qatar, they’d outdone themselves with this structure, the glass ceilings and jungle of greenery an expression of wealth and elegance.

you made a beeline for the mclaren garage, greeting lando’s pr officer who smiled warmly at you. you recognised oscar smirking as you appeared in the garage, and as you got closer you realised why.

“nice to see you. looking for lando?” his monotonous voice held an amused twang.

“hey oscar, great job last night!” you said, waiting for the other shoe to drop. “yeah, is he around here somewhere?”

“yeah he’s just doing press i think. extra spring in his step today.” oscar gave you a knowing look, one that made you blush.

“what do you know?” you deadpanned, fighting back laughter.

“i know that this was a long time coming.” he smiled, and then he was gone, lost to the bustle of the garage.

you stood there, probably in the way, lost in thought about what oscar had just said. he was right, this was a long time coming.

you jumped a bit when a hand landed on your waist, relaxing instantly into lando’s body when he pressed himself against you, head on your shoulder.

“i’m so glad you’re here.” he whispered, pressing a secret kiss under your ear, and then he, too, was gone, before you could even react.

your nerves were shot, ushered to the back of the garage where you found a headset. you chewed your nails, anxious about it all. the race, the changes that you were surely coming. you wanted it, wanted everything from him that he’d give you, willing to commit to all of it, to him. the distance, borrowed time, chaos of his world. last night had changed everything and you couldn’t have asked for more.

eventually the lights went out and the fight was underway. you found your hands clasped together, sweating in the dry heat and the anxiety. you clapped every time he made an overtake, storming through the field. when he made it into p3, picking the pace up on oscar, the nerves resurged and you prayed for a clean end to this race.

lando’s radio messages flooded your ears, and your leg bounced uncontrollably, your shoe slapping against the floor.

“be sensible, lando.” you muttered under your breath, resting your chin on your tightly clasped hands. he would be on the podium, but you knew it wasn’t enough for him, it never was. would you be enough for him?

eventually he agreed to hold position, thank fuck, and you could breathe again. he’d driven a beautiful recovery drive, bringing the car onto the podium, and you rushed out with the team to congratulate him. you lingered at the back of the pack behind the metal barriers, watching in quiet admiration as he jumped out of the car. he slapped oscar on the back, hugging his younger teammate before bounding towards the team. his head was darting around as if he was looking for something, but you couldn’t make it out with his helmet still on. and then the helmet came off and it became clear.

he was looking for you.

lando pulled away from a hug with a mechanic, leaning over the barrier right in front of you. you gravitated towards him, somehow moving through the swarm of team members until you were pressed against the metal too. he was beaming, eyes brighter than they had been all working weekend, and then his hands were on you. the hug he pulled you into was tight and you clung to one another for a moment, unbothered by his damp race suit, or the tickle of his sweat slicked curls.

the kiss he pressed to your cheek was far less secret than the one in the garage, so was the one he pressed to your forehead, but the one he pressed to your lips, as quick as it may have been, was the one that really took the cake. you were blushing when he pulled back, a mischievous grin on his face. you shook your head in disbelief at his boldness, unable to tame your bewildered smile.

“what are you doing for dinner, baby?” he called out to you as he walked away. the podium high had clearly set in.

nothing, you mouthed back, not quite confident enough to shout across parc ferme.

“good, we’re going on a date.” lando winked and then he was gone, pulled into the chaos of post race duties.

tears pricked your eyes when he stood on the podium, a much happier man than the one you found when you’d arrived. you couldn’t put it into words, how one night had changed everything, giving you everything you didn’t realise you wanted.

then again, lando was always good at beating expectations.

hehe the end

taglist

had to remove some tags that aren’t working! let me know if you wanna be added or removed xo

@boysthatgovroomvroom @thegirlinthefandoms @welld0nebaku @mcmuppet @japanesekel @vinvantae @ggaslyp1 @dr3lover @smiithys @turningxstrange @rachstash @infinitebells @multilovebot @fizzpopsnap101 @gaily19 @icecoldtires @mysticalnightenthusiast @thatchickwiththecamera @oyesmendes @disneydaydreameralways @yeolsbubbles @canyouseethesainz @ferrarifwendvale @fcbformulaeri @tony-stank3 @maih23 @nokiaholland @soleilgrec @carolineworld @anthonykatebridgerton @allywthsr @iamasimpingh0e @ophcelia @lovelynikol16 @coffeehurricanes @jennx03 @organasith @micks-afterglow @blueflorals @juno-1610 @lqvesoph @wilmasvensson @sidcrosbyspuck @better-dead-than-smeg @buendiabebeta @h0e-xoxo @mattxxamryli @pjofics @kovalcin @wintergilmore3

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thatbadadvice · 3 months

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Help! I'm a Perfect Genius, but This Potential Employer Asked Me a Boring Interview Question!

Ask A Manager, 13 Feb 2024:

I was rejected from a role for not answering an interview question. I had all the skills they asked for, and the recruiter and hiring manager loved me. I had a final round of interviews — a peer on the hiring team, a peer from another team that I would work closely with, the director of both teams (so my would-be grandboss, which I thought was weird), and then finally a technical test with the hiring manager I had already spoken to. (I don’t know if it matters but I’m male and everyone I interviewed with was female.) The interviews went great, except the grandboss. I asked why she was interviewing me since it was a technical position and she was clearly some kind of middle manager. She told me she had a technical background (although she had been in management 10 years so it’s not like her experience was even relevant), but that she was interviewing for things like communication, ability to prioritize, and soft skills. I still thought it was weird to interview with my boss’s boss. She asked pretty standard (and boring) questions, which I aced. But then she asked me to tell her about the biggest mistake I’ve made in my career and how I handled it. I told her I’m a professional and I don’t make mistakes, and she argued with me! She said everyone makes mistakes, but what matters is how you handle them and prevent the same mistake from happening in the future. I told her maybe she made mistakes as a developer but since I actually went to school for it, I didn’t have that problem. She seemed fine with it and we moved on with the interview. A couple days later, the recruiter emailed me to say they had decided to go with someone else. I asked for feedback on why I wasn’t chosen and she said there were other candidates who were stronger. I wrote back and asked if the grandboss had been the reason I didn’t get the job, and she just told me again that the hiring panel made the decision to hire someone else. I looked the grandboss up on LinkedIn after the rejection and she was a developer at two industry leaders and then an executive at a third. She was also connected to a number of well-known C-level people in our city and industry. I’m thinking of mailing her on LinkedIn to explain why her question was wrong and asking if she’ll consider me for future positions at her company but my wife says it’s a bad idea. What do you think about me mailing her to try to explain?

Sir,

You have been wronged in the most grievous of ways by a coven of retaliatory, self-aggrandizing women who have failed in the extreme to recognize your brilliance, your talent, and above all, your general superiority.

Of course you should mail this mediocre "grandboss" on LinkedIn to inform her of the deep offense she caused you by interviewing you in the first place, let alone doing so using a boring question — indeed, you have a moral and professional obligation to do so in order to preserve your honor and the honor of scores of men like you who have never done a single solitary thing wrong in their lives, ever.

But I beg you to consider doing more. A single, private message to one incompetent bitch may not convey to the necessary parties the depth and breadth of the situation. Many, many people have important lessons to learn from your experience, and I encourage you to share it widely. Consider making a public LinkedIn post, and ensure that it is shareable across platforms. Depending on your financial resources, a billboard with your name, professional headshot, and contact information could go a long way toward ensuring that everyone in your industry who needs to know just how you handled the way these women treated you, does know about it. I hope that in your continuing job search, you are able to connect with potential employers who have a much better grasp of all you bring to the table.

#advice #bad advice #ask a manager #workplace #workplace advice #linkedin #bosses #working #developers #coding #fedoras #men #misogyny #workplace misogyny #hiring #job searching #employment

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artsekey · 5 months

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Disney's Wish

Look, Disney's Wish has been universally panned across the internet, and for good reason.

It’s just…kind of okay.

When we sit down to watch a Disney film—you know, from the company that dominated the animation industry from 1989 to (arguably) the mid 2010’s and defined the medium of animation for decades—we expect something magnificent. Now, I could sit here and tell you everything that I thought was wrong with Wish, but if you’re reading this review, then I imagine that you’ve already heard the most popular gripes from other users across the web. So, let me focus in:

The biggest problem with Wish—in fact, the only problem with Wish—is Magnifico.

Whoa, that’s crazy! There’re so many things about Wish that could’ve been better! The original concept was stronger! The music was bad--

I hear you, I do. But stay with me here, okay? Take my hand. I studied under artists from the Disney renaissance. I teach an adapted model of Disney’s story pipeline at a University level. I spent a ridiculous amount of time getting degrees in this, and I am about to dissect this character and the narrative to a stupid degree.

First, we need to understand that a good story doesn’t start and end with what we see on the screen. Characters aren’t just fictional people; when used well, characters are tools the author uses (or in this case, the director) to convey their message to the audience. Each character’s struggle should in some way engage with the story’s message, and consequently, the story’s theme. Similarly, when we look at our protagonist and our antagonist, we should see their characters and their journeys reflected in one-another.

So, what went wrong between Asha & Magnifico in terms of narrative structure?

Act I

In Wish, we’re introduced to our hero not long into the runtime—Asha. She’s ambitious, caring, and community-oriented; in fact, Asha is truly introduced to the audience through her love of Rosas (in “Welcome to Rosas”). She’s surrounded by a colorful cast of friends who act as servants in the palace, furthering her connection with the idea of community but also telling us that she’s not of status, and then she makes her way to meet Magnifico for her chance to become his next apprentice.

Quick aside: I'm not going to harp on Asha as a character in the context of Disney's overall canon. Almost every review I've seen covers her as a new addition to Disney's ever-growing repertoire of "Cute Quirky Heroines", and I think to be fair to Asha as an actor in the narrative, it serves her best to be weighed within the context of the story she's part of.

As Asha heads upstairs for her interview, we're introduced to the man of the hour: Magnifico. He lives in a tower high above the population of Rosas, immediately showing us how he differs from Asha; he’s disconnected from his community. He lives above them. He has status. While the broader context of the narrative wants us to believe that this also represents a sense of superiority, I would argue that isn’t what Magnifico’s introduction conveys; he's isolated.

Despite this distance, he does connect with Asha in “At All Costs”. For a moment, their goals and values align. In fact, they align so well that Magnifico sees Asha as someone who cares as much about Rosas as he does, and almost offers her the position.

… Until she asks him to grant Saba’s wish.

This is framed by the narrative as a misstep. The resonance between their ideals snaps immediately, and Magnifico says something along the line of “Wow. Most people wait at least a year before asking for something.”

This disappointment isn't played as coming from a place of power or superiority. He was excited by the idea of working with someone who had the same values as he did, who viewed Rosas in the same way he does, and then learns that Asha’s motivations at least partially stem from a place of personal gain.

Well, wait, is that really Asha's goal?

While it's not wholistically her goal, it's very explicitly stated & implied that getting Saba's wish granted is at least a part of it. The audience learns (through Asha's conversation with her friends before the interview) that every apprentice Magnifico has ever had gets not only their wish granted, but the wishes of their family, too! Asha doesn’t deny that this is a perk that she’s interested in, and I don't think this is a bad thing.

So, Is Asha’s commitment to Saba selfless, or selfish? I’m sure the director wanted it to seem selfless, wherein she believes her family member has waited long enough and deserves his wish granted, but we can’t ignore the broader context of Asha essentially trying to… skip the line.

Then, we get our first point of tension. Magnifico reveals his “true colors” in snapping at Asha, telling her that he “decides what people deserve”. This is supposed to be the great motivator, it’s meant to incite anger in the audience—after all, no one gets to decide what you deserve, right? But unfortunately for the integrity of the film and the audience's suspension of disbelief, at least part of Magnifico’s argument is a little too sound to ignore:

Some wishes are too vague and dangerous to grant. Now, there’s visual irony here; he says this after looking at a 100 old man playing the lute. The idea that something so innocuous could be dangerous is absurd, and the audience is meant to agree.

... But we’ve also seen plenty of other wishes that might be chaotic—flying on a rocket to space, anyone? The use of the word vague is important, too—this implies wording matters, and that a wish can be misinterpreted or evolve into something that is dangerous even if the original intent was innocuous. His reasoning for people forgetting their wish (protecting them from the sadness of being unable to attain their dreams) is much weaker, but still justifiable (in the way an antagonist’s flawed views can be justified). The film even introduces a facet of Magnifico’s backstory that implies he has personal experience with the grief of losing a dream (in the destruction of his home), but that thread is never touched on again.

What is the audience supposed to take from this encounter? If we’re looking at the director’s intent, I’d argue that we’ve been introduced to a well-meaning young girl and a king who’s locked away everyone’s greatest aspiration because he believes he deserves to have the power to decide who gets to be happy.

But what are we shown? Our heroine, backed by her friends, strives to be Magnifico’s apprentice because she loves the city but also would really like to see her family's wishes granted. When this request is denied and she loses the opportunity to be his apprentice, she deems Magnifico’s judgement unfair & thus begins her journey to free the dreams of Rosas’ people.

In fairness, Magnifico doesn’t exhibit sound judgement or kindness through this act of the film. He’s shown to be fickle, and once his composure cracks, he can be vindictive and sharp. He's not a good guy, but I'd argue he's not outright evil. He's just got the makings of a good villain, and those spikes of volatility do give us a foundation to work off of as he spirals, but as we’ll discuss in a bit, the foreshadowing established here isn’t used to the ends it implies.

While I was watching this film, I was sure Magnifico was going to be a redeemable villain. He can’t connect with people because he's sure they value what he provides more than they value him (as seen in “At All Costs” and the aftermath), and Asha’s asking for more was going to be framed as a mistake. His flaw was keeping his people too safe and never giving them the chance to sink or swim, and he's too far removed from his citizens to see that he is appreciated. Asha does identify this, and the culmination of her journey is giving people the right to choose their path, but the way Magnifico becomes the “true” villain and his motivations for doing so are strangely divorced from what we’re shown in Act I.

Act II:

His song, “This is the Thanks I Get!?” furthers the idea that Magnifico’s ire—and tipping point—is the fact that he thinks the people he’s built a kingdom for still want more. Over the course of this 3:14 song, we suddenly learn that Magnifico sends other people to help his community and doesn’t personally get involved (we never see this outside of this song), and that he’s incredibly vain/narcissistic (he's definitely a narcissist). I think feeling under-appreciated is actually a very strong motivation for Magnifico as a character-turning-villain, and it works very well. It’s justified based on what we’ve seen on screen so far: he feels under-appreciated (even though he’s decidedly not—the town adores him), he snaps and acts irrationally under stress (as seen with his outburst with Asha), and he’s frustrated that people seem to want more from him (again, as seen with his conversation with Asha in Act I).

But then… he opens the book.

Ah, the book. As an object on screen, we know that it's filled with ancient and evil magic, well-known to be cursed by every relevant character in the film, and kept well-secured under lock and key. But what does it stand for in the context of the narrative's structure? A quick path to power? We're never told that it has any redeeming qualities; Magnifico himself doesn't seem to know what he's looking for when he opens it. It feels... convenient.

I think it's also worth noting that he only turns to the book when he's alone; once again, the idea of connection and community rears it's ugly head! Earlier in the film, Amaya-- his wife-- is present and turns him away from taking that path. In her absence, he makes the wrong choice.

This decision could make sense; it contains powerful magic, and if it were framed in such a way that the people of Rosas were losing faith in Magnifico’s magic, as if what he can do might not be enough anymore after what they felt from Star, going for the book that we know contains spells that go above and beyond what he can already do would be logical. Along the lines of, “If they’re not happy with what I do for them, fine. I, ever the “martyr”, will do the unthinkable for you, because you want more.”

It would keeps with the idea that Magnifico believes he's still trying to help people, but his motivation has taken his self-imposed pity party and turned it into resentment and spite.

But, that’s not the case. Instead he talks about reversing that “light”, which has had no real negative or tangible consequences on Rosas. Everyone had a warm feeling for a few seconds. Again, it’s meant to paint him as a vain control freak, but… he hasn’t lost any power. The citizens of Rosas even assume the great showing of magic was Magnifico.

Act III

Then, we get to the consequences of opening the book (and perhaps my biggest qualm with this film). The book is established as being cursed. Magnifico knows it, Asha knows it, and Amaya—who is introduced as loyal-- knows it. The characters understand his behavior is a direct result of the book, and search for a way to save him. This is only the focus of the film for a few seconds, but if you think about it, the fact that his own wife cannot find a way to free him of the curse he’s been put under is unbelievably tragic. Worse still, upon discovering there is no way to reverse the curse, Magnifico—the king who built the city & “protected it” in his own flawed way for what seems to be centuries—is thrown out by his wife. You know, the wife who's stood loyal at his side for years?

It’s played for laughs, but there’s something unsettling about a character who’s clearly and explicitly under the influence of a malevolent entity being left… unsaved. If you follow the idea of Magnifico being disconnected from community being a driving force behind his arc, the end of the film sees him in a worse situation he was in at the start: truly, fully alone.

They bring in so many opportunities for Magnifico to be sympathetic and act as a foil for Asha; he’s jaded, she’s not. He’s overly cautious (even paranoid), she’s a risk-taker. He turns to power/magic at his lowest point, Asha turns to her friends at her lowest point. Because this dichotomy isn’t present, and Magnifico—who should be redeemable—isn’t, the film is so much weaker than it could’ve been. The lack of a strong core dynamic between the protagonist and antagonist echoes through every facet of the film from the music to the characterization to the pacing, and I believe if Magnifico had been more consistent, the film would’ve greatly improved across the board.

I mean, come on! Imagine if at the end of the film, Asha—who, if you remember, did resonate with Magnifico’s values at the start of the film—recognizes that he's twisted his original ideals and urges him to see the value in the people he’s helped, in their ingenuity, in their gratitude, & that what he was able to do before was enough. Going further, asking what his wish is or was—likely something he’s never been asked— and showing empathy! We’d come full circle to the start of the film where Asha asks him to grant her wish.

Pushing that further, if Magnifico’s wish is to see Rosas flourish or to be a good/beloved king, he'd have the the opportunity to see the value in failing and how pursuing the dream is its own complex and valuable journey, and how not even he is perfect.

The curse and the book (which, for the purposes of this adjustment, would need to be established as representing the idea of stepping on others to further your own goals/the fast way to success), then serve as the final antagonist, that same curse taking root in the people of Rosas who’ve had their dreams destroyed, and Asha works with the community to quell it. Asha’s learned her lesson, so has Magnifico, and the true source of evil in the film—the book—is handled independently. Magnifico steps back from his role as King, Amaya still ends up as Queen, and Asha takes her place as the new wish-granter.

This route could even give us the true “Disney villain” everyone’s craving; giving the book sentience and having it lure Magnifico in during “This is the Thanks I Get!?” leaves it as its own chaotic evil entity.

All in all, Magnifico's introduction paved a road to redemption that the rest of the film aggressively refused to deliver on, instead doubling down on weaker motivations that seem to appear out of thin air. Once the audience thinks, hey, that bad guy might have a point, the protagonist has to do a little more heavy lifting to convince us they're wrong.

Look at the big-bad-greats from Disney's library. There isn't a point in the Lion King where we pause and think, "Wait a second, maybe Scar should be the guy who rules the Pridelands." Ursula from the Little Mermaid, though motivated by her banishment from King Triton's Seas, never seems to be the right gal for the throne. Maybe Maleficent doesn't get invited to the princess's birthday party, but we don't watch her curse a baby and think, Yeah, go curse that baby, that's a reasonable response to getting left out.

What do they all have in common? Their motivation is simple, their goal is clear, and they don't care who they hurt in pursuit of what they want.

Magnifico simply doesn't fall into that category. He's motivated by the idea of losing power, which is never a clear or impactful threat. His goal at the start seems to be to protect Rosas, then it turns into protecting his own power, and then-- once he's corrupted-- he wants to capture Star. The problem is, there's no objective to put this power toward. Power for power's sake is useless. Scar craves power because he feels robbed of status. Ursula believes the throne is rightfully hers. Maleficent wanted to make a statement. Magnifico... well, I'm not really sure.

#wish #disney #review #magnifico

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cherryredcheol · 29 days

Text

two boyfies

tldr: do you actually have two boyfriends like jeonghan said? and why doesn't cheol know? a/n: god, the way i feel about this man should be criminal... references to: drinking and a brief mention of sex

the latest episode of your drama had just finished when seungcheol walked through the door. he was right on time, just like he said he’d be. you were so delighted to see him, running to the door before he could even get both his shoes off, wrapping your arms tightly around his middle.

“missed you,” you tried to convey the sweet message to him but the words came out muffled because of how your face was buried in his chest.

he understood you nonetheless, he always did, “missed you too, baby.” he pulled you impossibly closer, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head, breathing in your soft scent as he did so.

you two stayed like that for what felt like hours, just holding each other after a long day apart: him doing his schedules, you going to work. although you lived together now, it never felt like you’d get enough time with seungcheol. you’re not sure how you survived the days of living separately.

“baby” he spoke softly, not wanting to disturb the peace in the apartment.

“hmm?” you hummed at him, acknowledging that you heard him but making no real attempt to remove yourself from him.

you could hear the smile in his voice when he spoke, “hannie told me something crazy today and i just have to tell you.”

this piqued your interest but not enough to get you to look at him, still content to listen to his steady heartbeat, “what?”

“he said,” seungcheol paused for dramatic effect, “that you told him you have two boyfriends.”

you knew instantly what your (only) boyfriend was referring to. as a blush crept up your neck and onto your face you felt cheol’s chest shake with laughter, you whined and tried to bury yourself deeper into him, not wanting to face his teasing eyes yet.

“know anything about that baby?” he asked, finally pulling back from you in an attempt to get you to look at him, a little smirk on his lips.

your head swiveled around, looking around the apartment to find some excuse to get you out of this awkward moment created by your big mouth and your boyfriend’s best friend.

seungcheol grabbed your chin, pulling your face to look at his, forcing your eyes to meet and in them, you saw nothing but mirth.

your blush deepened and his smirk grew, “i asked you a question baby. don’t make me repeat myself”

he released you and you groaned, wholly embarrassed, “cheollie, you know i only have eyes for you.”

at this confession his smirk bloomed into a full, toothy grin. he could end it here, but he was enjoying seeing you squirm, “are you saying jeonghannie is a liar?”

you rolled your eyes, “obviously not, he’s just not telling the whole truth.”

“will you tell me the whole truth then?” he pouted at you, “spent the whole day thinking my baby had another boyfriend. am i not enough for you?”

part of you wanted to walk away from him, leave the safe embrace of his arms, and rethink the offer on the tip of your tongue about making dinner. but you knew when cheol was playful like this, he wouldn’t let it go. he would keep badgering you all night to tell him what jeonghan had meant and if you really had another man besides him.

“first of all, in my defense, i only told hannie that i had two boyfriends when i was drunk so you can’t really take my words at face value,” you were trying to rationalize it to him, make him understand the context of this situation you were about to explain to him.

“you know what they say baby,” seungcheol continued to tease you, “drunk words are sober thoughts.” he looked so smug with his little smirk on, looking down his nose at you, nothing but completely endeared by your shyness.

“the only thing i said to hannie was it was like i have two boyfriends. i have my seungcheollie and then s. coups.” you couldn’t even look at him as you said this, far too embarrassed by drunk you from a few weeks ago. seungcheol however couldn’t look away, somehow feeling more and more fond as the blush staining your face got impossibly deeper.

“are they not the same, baby? both are me. how could they be different?” he was goading you on at this point. he knew what you meant, but he just wanted to hear you say it.

“cheollie…” you whined. you knew he was just dragging this out to tease you further.

he pulled you into his chest again, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead and you think you’re in the clear until you hear him murmur against your hairline, “explain it to me, baby”

you huff and whine against him, wanting to escape his hold and this embarrassment, but you know he won't let this go so you concede, dignity be damned, “its like you’re one person when its just you and i. that’s seungcheollie: all soft smiles and tight hugs. seungcheollie takes care of me in a way i never even knew i needed. he’s a lover boy” he hums and you can feel it reverberate in your chest that was tightly pressed against his. when he says nothing more, you take it as a cue to continue. “s. coups is sexy, domineering, and intimidating. he has this huge presence that’s impossible to ignore. he fucks. he’s different than just you cheollie, you know it.”

at first, it was quiet and you thought the teasing was over. you were so embarrassed you had just admitted all of that to him, hoping he didn’t think you were a weirdo.

then he giggles. his giggles trigger your own and suddenly you’re both holding each other, laughing in the entryway to your apartment, cheol with one shoe still on despite having gotten home a while ago.

after the laughter subsides, he looks down at you, smiling fondly, “you’re so cute, baby. i love you so much. we both do.”

he leans down for a kiss but you groan, pushing him away, walking towards the kitchen, intent on starting dinner but not sure if your boyfriend deserves it.

he laughs, following behind you like a lost puppy, determined to show you how even though you feel like you have two boyfriends, you’re the only one for him.

#seventeen imagines #seventeen #seventeen fluff #seventeen scenarios #svt #svt x reader #seventeen x reader #seungcheol x reader #seungcheol #choi seungcheol #seungcheol imagines #seungcheol imagine #seventeen seungcheol #seungcheol fluff #scoups #scoups imagines #scoups imagine

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taylorswiftstyle · 4 months

Text

2024 Golden Globe Awards | Los Angeles, CA | January 7, 2024

Gucci gown

Let it be known my Roman Empire is painted a shade of aurora borealis green.

I’m biased. I love it. You’re buckling up for a rave. But everyone knew that, right?

I want it on record that no one should be surprised when they see this lewk on the TSS Favourite Outfits of 2024 list. And that I’ll devise some maniacal strategy to make it make sense to include in every annual list from here to eternity.

Let's get the obvious out of the way in that this shade of green could easily be interpreted as very snakelike and thus a nod to reputation and its forthcoming re-recorded version. I'd even happily apply it to the teal-y and springlike green of debut if we want to go debutation on this.

But if we are to talk about Gucci we have to talk about the precipice the house is upon right now. As it relates to Taylor, I suspect her dress (specific shade TBD - Chartreuse? Apple? Pear? Some other adjacent fruit that’s a feast for my eyes?) is a preview of Fall 2024 and a clear indicator of the path the new creative director Sabato De Sarno’s will take the brand in. Which is to say, muting the eccentricity of Alessandro Michele’s era of Gucci that brought the brand to a new level of renown in favour of something cleaner and sexier. Nicole Phelps for Vogue already noted that De Sarno’s first collection for Gucci — Spring 2024’s Ancora, meaning ‘again’ in English and released in September — evokes a Gucci when Tom Ford was once at the helm, praising De Sarno’s approach to “the upfront sex appeal of those ’60s-by-way-of-the-’90s shapes, and straight riffs on Ford hits” while “establish[ing De Sarno’s] essentials, focusing on cut and proportion, and repeating shapes for emphasis.”

Indeed, Taylor’s gown is directly reminiscent of a Fall 2004 look from Ford’s Gucci - all green sparkles and sexy disco energy. This makes sense when we consider De Sarno’s history and homeworking when he decided to take the creative director post. He told WWD, “Gucci to me equals luxury … the first fashion piece I ever owned was a Gucci jacket by Tom Ford. I still remember I traveled to Rome to buy it with my friend … luxury was really not part of our world. Television was the only way to see fashion for me back then.” He added, “My ambition is to build an aesthetic message with an edited collection that is mindful of Gucci’s heritage and close to my own aesthetics.”

When we consider my personal history with Taylor and Gucci, I don’t have to look very far to immediately picture one of my all time favourite Taylor looks — the 2014 Grammys when she wore a sparkling Gucci Première column gown which is not too dissimilar to this one. What can I say, I’m consistent. The shape, the perfect kiss-the-floor hemming, and obviously the divine colour that really pops on Taylor will have me swooning for a long time.

At the end of it all, what I come back to is De Sarno’s sentimentality to naming his first collection: Ancora. Again. He told WWD, “Ancora is a word that you use when your desire is not over yet … I want to fall in love with fashion all over again — ancora.” In the same interview he said, “I like words a lot, they have weight and a precise meaning, they convey emotions, so I like artists who use words.”

It dawns on me that Taylor’s light is shining at its brightest now as she highlights, celebrates, and - indeed - falls in love with all the versions of herself she has ever been. Revisiting her eras past again. And again. In every re-record. In every step she takes on stage. In every cutting line she writes in ruminating and revisiting the experiences of her life and translating them into song. She’s flitting, flirting, memorializing all her past selves in celebration of their summation of her current self. And that’s what this ‘era of eras’ has been.

So if this is De Sarno’s Gucci I say welcome. Ancora.

Photos by Monica Schipper/GA and Amy Sussman via Getty Images

#taylor swift #award #dress #gucci #january 2024

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aluciahaz · 1 month

Note

Sub Adam who had been a brat all day and reader punishes him by edging him and making him beg for forgiveness 🙏🏻

he would try so hard to not give in but once he does it's nothing but sobs and whimpers, begging his mommy to let him cum and to call him a good boy<33

LETS GO!! i have to admit this is super long, sorry!! i feel like my fics keep getting longer and longer cause i just start throwing a shit ton of metaphors for no reason 💀💀 im trying to work on shortening them!!

burns good

—adam x gn!reader (reader’s gender not specified but term mommy is used)

—includes: mommy kink, crying, overstimulation, multiple orgasms

“come on just—stop, ngh! stop fucking with me-EE!” he jolts as you touch his cock again with your feathery touch before writhing against the ropes that bind him to his chair.

it’s been an hour of this. and although his words may be sharp, you can tell he’s losing his edge.

“maybe if you used your manners, you wouldn’t be in this situation,” you spit out, grabbing his face roughly to force him to look up at you, fire still behind his eyes.

you’ll extinguish it soon enough.

“why would i need to? i’m a legend—AH! ha, fuck!” he shouts as a quick slap from your hand stings his inner thigh, making him shiver in pain, but his flushed face shows his true emotions.

“you’re a slut, that’s what you are,” you say with venom, and the shudder through his body showed that your words ran through his veins like fast poison. he gazes up at you in almost awed disbelief, unable to respond with a witty response.

“you love it when i treat you like this, huh? is that why you act out all the time? acting like an asshole just so i can put you in your place? answer me.” you seethe, your fingers digging into his legs until they bruise.

his bites his lip, not wanting to confess the truth. but he can’t lie. not when you’ve got him cornered like this.

“maybe—NGH! fine! okay—yes—i do it on purpose for you to—fuck—to do this shit to me! happy?” he admits, his back arching as you touch his cock once more, teasing adam with the finish line that’s so far away.

“good boy. see? that wasn’t so hard, wasn’t it?” you see his hips try and buck up from his seat and quickly move your hand away, enjoying the pathetic whine of aggravation from him.

“now all you need to do is say it nicer! come on, you can do it,” you say, smirking at his hesitation. but his uncertainty wasn’t due to your patronizing tone, no. he wasn’t collected enough to catch onto that.

it was the subtle praise. the encouragement. he did something right, he’s getting your attention. good attention.

it makes his head swivel in delight, and even though he’s reluctant to follow through with your request—his pride was on the line!—he opens his trembling lips, his shaky voice conveying a lovely message.

“i act out so you…you can punish me, and—hnn—so you can drive me crazy, i—i…” he takes in a deep breath as you watch him intently, smiling at his confession. it only spurs him on more.

“i need it, please—mommy, please!” he begs weakly, yet his eyes scream for your help. they shine with tears from overstimulation, but what’s more noticeable is the pitiful desperation in his look that overrides his crying.

you can’t help but want more. he was pretty rude this week.

“please what? use your words, baby,” you coo, watching him battle between his ego and desires. his small whimpers as he tried to figure out what to do were adorable, but soon, he looks straight up at you, the victor clear.

“please let me cum!” he begs, his voice crawling into a high-pitched whine. it’s desperate, it’s sweet, and it only makes you want to play with him more.

“oh, but…baby, you don’t deserve it.”

those words were enough to make him wail and shake in his seat, but the feeling of your breath right against his ear and your harsh punishment sent him flying into a true spiral of delirium.

“nononono PLEASE! i’ll be good i’ll—hic—be…” his arms push against the binds frantically, trying to break out of them to just do something. anything.

for a few seconds.

“AH! hm—ngh! fuckfuck—!” adam’s voice is almost non-existent with half of his words filled with the raspiness of pain and the airiness from unrequited yearnings as another lash runs against his leg, red blooming on his skin.

god, he wanted you so bad. he wanted you to touch him, to make him feel special, to just let him cum after what seems like decades. he needed you to help him because even without these ropes, he knew he would never be fully satisfied without your hands on his skin.

but he had to serve penance for his actions. no matter how sweet he wailed, no matter how much he writhed, he had broken a covenant of sorts between him and you. and he had to learn that yes, his unruliness will not be tolerated, even if he begs—

sorry is not enough.

so you keep getting him close to the gates of heaven, only for him to fall back down from seeing stars. each time, he would cry without fail, and each time, his attitude would crumble.

now, there is no hesitation when he pleads for mercy, there is no question as to whether he should follow what you say, and there are no thoughts of defiance corrupting his mind. he was as unchastely pure as one could be, following every sinful demand you say.

you call him all sorts of things. slut, whore, pathetic, giving him whiplash from how kind you were earlier. it makes him cry earnestly, just wanting any semblance of praise to feed off of; to taste the sweetness of love that danced between your words

“i need it—hic—i—please, please be nice to me! m-mommy, mm! i’m so sorry! imsosorryplease, i’ll be a good boy—please, stop being so mean!” he sobs, shaking in his chair as you refrain from giving him what he wants.

adam’s voice quivers, and his breath hastens. his eyes are lidded like he’s inebriated, and he is. he’s drunk off of your words, your demeaning, cruel, vicious words, and they only motivate him more to beg for your forgiveness like a sinner at church.

when you speak again, he feels like a weight has been lifted off his chest, the thorns of your piercing words completely burning away with the warmth of your blessing.

“you’ve been so nice to me for quite some time. perhaps you can be good after all,” you observe with a hum, watching his eyes sparkle with excitement.

“yes—yes i can!” he says frantically, trying to persuade you to do something more. to let his head soar into the clouds and get dizzy from the height.

there was a brief moment of pause as you pondered if you should give in to his pleas, but considering it has been a while, you don’t mind handing him a brief blessing. one that will slowly grow further and further, his brain distorted by the constant pleasure that you put upon him. until he cries and says he can’t cum anymore, and the overstimulation was making everything feel too much.

too good. too perfect. perhaps heaven was overrated when things like this existed. when you existed with your perfect hands running over his body, kissing his neck with delicacy and following it up with bites filled with carnal pleasure.

it was a thought that’s crossed his mind plenty of times. well, when he’s able to think. as you let him cum, your fingers now around his cock as he thrashes in his ropes, screaming and wailing as you keep moving your hand, his legs trembling as you ruin him so well.

“w-wait! wait too much—ngh—fuck! mommy, please!” he squeaks, his whole body shuddering with his sobs as he tries to collect himself somehow, but he can’t fight this sensory overload. not even with the experience of being the first man.

there’s a certain feeling burning inside of him. like a flame that was comfortably warm, yet was flickering too high out of the fireplace, signaling danger. but he can’t stop getting closer, even if it melts his ability to think in the process. the burn of lust was just too good.

he didn’t even try to fight the fire, not even caring about his appearance as he begs for you to both stop and keep going, unsure of which poison to drink from.

yet, as he was engulfed in the divine flames of your sinful blessing, he couldn’t help but feel a bit happy as he sniveled, his tears glistening against his skin. you were giving him so much attention. it didn’t matter that the pleasure was intertwined with pain, it was just a more direct sign that you had all your focus on him, and that’s all he ever wanted.

“ngh..i can’t—i c..can’t…” he says weakly, his voice practically fading into nothingness. at some point, his position changed to him lying down on the bed, still completely tied from limb to limb. but you thought that after cumming for the third time, he deserved a more comfortable environment for the rest of the night in order to soften the cruelty of your hands.

and although his voice is cracking at the seams, and his body is at your complete mercy, the mere action of you having him moved to the bed made his heart swell. it was that slight affection that made the sting on his thighs feel so nice, the almost overbearing heat of your body over his feel so loving.

“you’re doing so well. come on, just one more for me, baby,” those words were the sweetest things in the world. it made every red mark and each brutal remark worth it.

“mmn…okay—AH! mommy!” he keened, weeping as his legs jolted up just barely, too weak to even react properly as your fingers delved inside of him, quickly finding the spot that made him shiver all over.

“so—so much! i feel—i can’t—!” his eyes shut tightly as he cries, unable to put his thoughts into words. but you’ve been here time and time before, his words aren’t necessary to understand what he’s thinking.

he begs with his tears, says ‘i love you’ with the arch in his back, and screams that he wants to cum against all odds with the dazed look on his face, his eyes slowly opening to show a man who’s lost the inability to speak with words, but fluent in the language of bliss.

as he cums with a silent scream, barely anything coming out of his used cock, you watch as his eyes run to the back of his head. you watch how his whole body stiffens in a single moment before becoming limp, pleading for you to take care of it.

you can’t help but oblige, gently removing the ropes that bind him, kissing each angry imprint of love on his body, and whispering words of well-earned praise to your angel.

adam can’t cry anymore, yet if he could, he would, as being overwhelmed with love and care was just as intense as drowning in lust and desire.

he feels so vulnerable, yet he enjoys it wholeheartedly. it allowed him to get pampered like some sort of royalty. perhaps he should start doing this more just to get treated like this.

but when he suggests for you to call him ‘king’ the next day you put him back in his place, rolling your eyes in annoyance. he never learns, but he doesn’t want to. your lessons felt so good after all. why would he want them to stop?

tags: @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx @mvskedxrtist @drlucichen @luciferspetduck

#hazbin hotel #dom reader #hazbin hotel x reader #sub hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel dom reader #adam x reader #bottom adam #sub adam #hazbin hotel adam

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unmarlou · 3 months

Text

time to pretend.

pairings. slytherins x fem!reader

summary. a typical day at the summer house.

lacy says. saltburn inspo but no bath water :/ this is bad lol purely for the aesthetic.

· · ౨ৎ · ·

"oi!"

the morning sun was beaming down stronger than yesterday. your sunglasses weren't even enough to keep you from squinting, though the book in your hands did good job if held at the right angle. and had it not been for the towel between, your skin would've been sticking to the lawn chair.

"morning blaise..." pansy said dreamily at your right. she was still half asleep.

you looked over your shoulder and saw blaise approaching, draco in tow. "didn't even bother to tell us you were out here, i see."

"we wanted you to get your beauty sleep, darling. nice swim trunks." they had tiny hula girls on them.

"i am a man of fashion." he plopped himself at the chair to your left, adjusting his shorts and sunglasses. he flashed a smile - a pretty one that only he could own and flaunt regardless the time of day. he quickly nudged your leg and pointed to draco, who sat at pansy's feet.

he was covered in noticeable amounts of sunscreen, head to toe. not only with a look of distain on his face but his slouch conveyed a message just fine on its own.

involuntarily a snort escaped, followed by stifled laughs.

"oh shut up."

even pansy, who was curled on her side away from everyone, sticking her hand out to some small animal, laughed, "we're only admiring you.”

all he could do was roll his eyes.

"stolen my chair then, have you?"

everyone’s attention turned to the voice, only to see enzo, also in his bathing suit, holding a platter of fruit. he almost looked like the cover of a magazine your mother wouldn't let you buy.

glancing over the back of the chair you could see mattheo and theodore walking in the field, talking lazily, probably sharing their first hellos of the day.

lorenzo placed the silver plate down on the small table between the chairs. you had asked him to bring something to eat expecting a piece of toast, though with him, you should've known better.

"well we can share, you know?"

"thank you, enzo."

he gave you a quick nod and wink, his way of saying no problem, never wanting to make a big deal out of gestures he found to be the minimum in his friendships.

"want me to sit on your lap then, blaise?"

draco rang on your left, "past a strawberry… please."

your arm extended to him, presenting three instead of just one. he cracked a reluctant smile, always surprised at how well you all knew him, never letting him stay miserable for long, "thanks."

a new shadow appeared on the ground in front of you causing you to peer up and greet theodore, "fruit?"

he shook his head, eyes still puffy and barely open, indicating he had just awoken. he stretched and rested his hands on either side of yours and pansy's chairs. bringing his forehead down to his left hand, he seemed to be taking a chance at sleep again.

"theo's had a rough morning."

you turned again and almost cackled at the sight of lorenzo sitting in blaise's lap, and mattheo sitting in lorenzo's. you could've sworn you saw the chair slightly give way under their weight.

pansy teased, "but an excellent night, isn't that right, teddy?"

he groaned loudly. drinking was never his strong-suit. he could roll and smoke all day, even on his worst, but going shot-for-shot was something he did only when feeling the most audacious. and something he always came to regret.

he shuffled his way to the small dock at the pond in front of you. eyes still closed, he laid down on the edge, his arm hanging over and into the water.

"hangover so bad he had to reconnect with nature."

“we’ve all been there.”

you smiled idly. placing the book on your stomach, not even considering an odd tan line. tilting your head back, your eyes closed.

a breeze blew, giving your skin a break from the exhausting heat it was under. you could feel the full trees above sway, and hear the water of the pond move with theodore’s helping hand. the low indistinct chatter of your friends simply background noise to remind you you weren’t alone in this oasis.

most mornings were like this. easy and quiet, any and all problems excluded from this place, this bubble of a world you had. if ever asked what moment you wished you could relive again and again, it would always be this.

the large, wall lining, arched windows of the left wing hallway made it the sunniest place in the house at this time of day. and the cold tile felt nice under your concrete-burnt feet.

the windows were wide open, allowing the plants and hung-dry linens of the courtyard to creep in and fill the corridor with a scent that could make one nostalgic for a place and time they’ve never even been.

your steps were the only sound until they multiplied. by the cadence of the walk, you knew who it was.

“theodore feeling any better?”

“loads,” in the corner of your eye you could see him pull a cigarette out and spark a light, he took a long drag before continuing, “gave him one of my cures.”

you shuddered, twisting your face. mattheo had an affinity for putting ingredients in a pot, mixing it up, and saying it would fix any and all problems. sometimes you thought even he didn’t believe his own words, he just liked seeing your face contort in disgust. “let me know when his tail starts growing.”

entering the room at the end of the hall, the sound of the shower running became clear. the french doors of the back wall were open, allowing air to flow freely.

you spun on your heel and allowed yourself to fall onto the four-poster, now staring at the charm displayed up on the canopy. one you recognized, as all your parents used to do it when you were children; a depiction of the night sky, to lull you to sleep and wish you sweet dreams.

mattheo was on his stomach next to you, carefully tapping ashes off the side of the bed. in the lighting of the room you could see how summer had be treating him, skin tanned by the sun, while his hair only got lighter. he tapped your arm for your attention, and pointed to the bathroom, furrowing his brows.

“pansy.” you answered.

an oh formed on his face.

the sound of wind chimes rang in the distance, accompanied by tree leaves brushing against each other, and birds singing softly. there were actually a few birds gathered at the small balcony just outside the french doors. they always seemed to gravitate towards pansy, all the beauty in life resided to her.

“i wonder what snape is doing right about now.”

you groaned, putting your hands over your face, trying to hide from the imagine of your professor in your mind, “don’t mention him, his energy will invade the space.”

“say his name three times and he’ll appear, you know!” pansy’s shouting voice carried into the room. there was actually no need for her to, you could hear her perfectly fine seeing as the bathroom door was wide open; she hated having it closed, never wanting to be separated from the rest of world for too long.

you shouted back, “says she who flirts with him for a higher grade!”

“it’ll work one day, just you wait!”

this was true, she was absolutely convinced she could charm her way to at least Exceeds Expectations. not that anything had given her an indication it had worked in the past. or ever.

mattheo sat up, almost choking on his laugh, “just do what enzo does, pretend your best friends with him.”

the shower turned off, followed by long rustled movement before she walked out. she held a stark white towel to her body, water droplets coming off her hair and onto her freckled collarbones. “does it work?”

he ran a hand through his hair while reaching to put his cig out on the bedside ashtray, “ ‘course not. but easier to watch and keep the lunch down than your attempts.”

she made a face before opening one of the dresser drawers next to her and chucking a pair of balled-up socks at him.

suddenly the door bursted open, presenting blaise and lorenzo. they wore cheesy smiles and had their arms extended out beside themselves, “OUR DINNER OUTFITS!”

both were still wearing their swim trunks from earlier in the day, yet this time accompanied by suit jackets, ties, - that certainly did not match and they definitely dug up from the attic - dress shoes, and jewelry to go with. theo ran up behind and wrapped a boa around blaise’s neck.

“no fair! i want one!”

“there’s a whole lot more in the boxes we found, hurry up and we’ll get you one.”

“didn’t think to include me, then?”

“those have to be at least 60 years old.”

“jesus enz, what kinda parties did your dad used to throw?”

he flopped on the bed, a dust cloud emerging from the jacket, causing you to cough and wave your hand through the air. “no clue,” he leaned closer to you, showing his wrist, “but look at this fancy watch i found.”

it looked as old as time.

“no doubt you’re sweating enough for all of us in those?” draco leaned on the doorframe.

“would be unnatural if we weren’t.”

pansy walked to the armoire, and shuffled her hanging clothes along until she found what she was looking for: a silk black dress. she picked the hanger off the rack and walked it over the french doors, putting on the doorframe. she turned to everyone’s eyes on her and shrugged, “might as well.”

playing dress up was always fun, especially when all the glamour was real. watches and diamonds, boas and silks.

the dining hall was lit, wall to expansive wall with candles. the curtains up high drawn back, displaying the rising moon. the long table in the center was decorated with the most gorgeous grand arrangement.

the house elves had absolutely outdone themselves, platters of food spanning each end of the table. and though you didn’t see much of them, you made a mental note to seek at least one out and thank them.

after more digging around and even a trip to the attic, which made you consider taking a second shower of the day, you had found the best box of all; charles berkshire’s record collection. bowie, zeppelin, beatles, queen - it was a 60s/70s wet dream. so for the first time in what must’ve been years, the gramophone record player of the dining hall was to be put to use.

with everyone now standing at their respective seats, prosecco was to be poured.

mattheo, who sat on the right head of the table, was the one to open it; he always was. his naturally mischievous smile was one to be admired, especially when each of you wore the same one. with a big POP! he went around and filled everyone’s flutes - although you all cheered, the night hadn’t started just yet.

each with your drinks, lorenzo danced over to the record player and placed the needle down. a night at the opera began. he slowly turned to face you all once again, raising his glass and walking back to his seat, the left head of the table. all other glasses were then raised high, and his role as host was to be fulfilled, “live forever!”

“live forever!” you chorused, arms extending closer to each other before cheers erupted once again, louder this time, accompanying the crescendo of death on two legs. cups were brought to mouths, and taking your first sip you could’ve sworn you recognized that phrase, somewhere in the deep recesses of your mind, but couldn’t seem to place it.

pulling chairs forward, everyone was sat. looking around, under the immense candle light their faces had a new glow, one that filled you with an unexplainable excitement. the night had begun.

the feast was lovely, you all agreed it must’ve been the best you’d ever had. though you could’ve just been drunk and hungry.

“this is the best food i’ve ever tasted.”

“best.” emphasized lorenzo.

mattheo covered his mouth, still chewing, “never been better.”

this conversation happened multiple times since you had started eating. each time blaise ended it by saying, “god we sound like our parents.”

the room smelled like the extravagant parties back home, the boys smoking their macanudo’s - inspirado black’s, they swore by - leaving strong cigar smoke lingering above you. pansy had drank enough to pull out her cigarettes, and one was passed around the table. your glass was bottomless, literally, allowing your feeling of weightlessness to continue.

the conversations around were indecipherable, you just sat picking at whatever food was left on your plate, intent on listening to the music in the background. the record player was enchanted, never needing for someone to get up and change the record; once the needle was down, and an album was over, a new one would take its place.

you took another sip of whatever it was in your glass, listening to the end of some song, what was going to play next didn’t even cross your mind until the beginning chords of a new one rang out. standing up suddenly, causing your drink to slightly spill on the hard wood, you gasped, “this SONG.”

your arm immediately shot out to pansy, who looked up at you mid-drag and smiled. you couldn’t even remember what song it was or where you had heard it before but you knew it was imperative to give it its own moment. meeting each other halfway, arms waiting for the other person and giggling, your hands interlocked with hers.

dancing, spinning around, and laughing; you had never felt so blissfully unaware. or dizzy.

more bodies appeared around the two of you, but ones you knew well and invited with the most love one could feel for another person. blaise’s boa wrapped around him and draco as they danced and sang, theodore holding a bottle of champagne while mattheo bent lower to waterfall it, and enzo grabbing both yours and pansy’s hands to spin you simultaneously.

you weren’t sure who’s laugh was who’s, or what song was playing, who’s hand you were holding, or what drink was being poured, not like any of it mattered. once again you had entered a bubble, impenetrable from the outside world.

the library couch was the comfiest in the whole chateau. the fire had been crackling for some time, accompanied by lorenzo’s piano playing on the west wall. he was actually the best you’d ever heard, though he shyly kept his talent close to his chest - until the proper moments.

you watched the embers pop off the fire mindlessly, not thinking about anything in particular. a book sat in your lap but it had been forgotten long ago, your unfocused eyes unable to retain the words. they were however able to travel upwards to the painting on the mantle, for the first time you truly looked at it - it was a group of people, slightly older than yourself. you immediately recognized lorenzo’s father, although here he was more handsome, his son certainly took after him. searching farther you spotted a woman, and after some staring you deduced it was bellatrix, her cheekbones being the exact same as mattheo and enzo. she truly was beautiful, regardless of the sinister look she was giving through the paint. you couldn’t make out the others, though you noted a boy, who was definitely younger than the rest, with curls that fit his face well and a solemn expression that carried a worlds worth of weight.

mattheo and draco sat on the rug, silently playing chess. they had become more and more fond of muggle chess as the summer went on.

pansy was sprawled out on the lounge chair to your right, the spaghetti straps of her dress daring to slip off her shoulders. her eyes were closed as she hummed - incorrectly - to the piano. she hung her head over the edge, causing her bangs to fall off her face, and her now open green eyes found yours. your smiles matched each other.

blaise, who was seated next to you on the couch, had his legs resting on the ottoman. he was holding a letter from his mother that had arrived a couple days ago, just now finding the time to read it. theodore was in the opposing lounge chair, eating the chocolates that accompanied the letter. she had sent them just for him - his favorites from honeydukes he had sorely missed. he watched mattheo and draco’s game intently.

“play that last one again.” you had called out to enzo.

he scooted his chair and looked over his shoulder, “liebestraum no. 3?”

“sure.”

“you like liszt?”

you paused, turning to face him and furrowing your brows in obvious confusion, before replying to the best of your ability, “…i like you?”

he gave a smile that was only reserved for you. liebestraum no. 3 began again.

you slumped down on your side, your feet now hitting blaise’s clothed thigh, he gave a tap to your ankle, indicating recognition but not taking his eyes off the letter. with your ear now against the armrest, your breathing slowed.

you focused on every sound. the chess pieces gliding across the wood board followed by draco’s or mattheo’s huffs of concentration, the faraway wind chime carrying in through the open window, lorenzo playing that piece you had grown to love in the last few minutes, the pops of fire, pansy’s subtle soft humming, and the crinkle of the papers blaise held.

your eyes closed, whether voluntarily or not you weren’t sure, but you didn’t fight it. overwhelming comfort and content had taken you, warmth from all over allowing absolute relaxation.

“hey… hey, wake up.”

“y/n… y/n…”

the harsh nudge of your arm made you open your eyes. squinting up, you could make out blaise and theodore. you, unintentionally, matched their tone by whispering back to them, “what?”

“wake up, we’re going for a swim.” blaise flashed you the same smile from the morning, it was so genuine even your groggy mind thought of how you’d never know anyone else with one like that. theo had moved on to wake pansy.

draco’s voice came from behind the couch, “she awake?” before an answer came he peered over from above and your eyes met, “lovely. now get pans and let’s go.”

sitting up and looking around you finally realized why everything looked different - the fire had gone out. now the only light was the full moon shining through the windows. the room was coated in silver.

you rubbed your eyes harshly to adjust and looked over to see pansy doing the same, “what do you want again?” her voice was raspy and tired.

“swimming.” you answered, standing up with the help of blaise’s hand. once to your feet you realized you were still in your dinner attire, suddenly feeling uncomfortable. you stuck an arm out to her. grasping it and standing, she opened her eyes wide and blinked rapidly. her voice was abruptly normal again, “well c’mon then.”

the boys were close behind the two of you, exiting the library. the entire manor was the same coloring of silver and blue. any other place and you would’ve been creeped out and uneasy, but in this place with these people, you could never feel anything other than safe.

going your separate ways from them to change, you and pansy walked the corridors, chatting nonsensically.

entering your room, you undressed quickly, happy to get the confining dress clothes from what seemed like hours ago, off of your body. you picked a bathing suit from drawers, tossing one to pansy too, who couldn’t be bothered to go to her room. both of you helped the other tie their suit.

voices in the hall approached your door, before a series of knocks. you both called back, “yeah?”

draco’s head peered in cautiously, before noticing you both were clothed, then opening the door fully to reveal the others. he held his arm up, “we’ve got towels, come on.”

all the boys said some iteration of come on and let’s go, eager to get out. rushing, you both were handed towels. excited chatter overtook the group, voices echoing and bouncing off the expansive walls. lorenzo appeared suddenly from the back, running, and yelling at the top of his lungs.

this triggered a domino effect, everyone was now chasing each other down the halls. something in the back of your mind told you to look around, and when you did, it seemed as though childhood had come back. playing games and having races with the same people that ran beside you now. watching their faces as they passed you saw summers long gone, of late night swims and early sun-basking mornings, dress up dinners and quiet library lounging. you ran and ran and ran.

your bare feet hit the concrete of the patio before hitting the dewy grass. though night, it was still warm, humidity latched to your skin. you had joined hands with blaise, a silent agreement. the moonlight illuminated the pond, beckoning you to come forward. it was just a ways away.

lorenzo had made it first, his shout as he jumped in rattling everything in a 10 mile radius. for the rest of the summer he would go on to say that he had to have made the world record for largest splash.

mattheo was close behind, so close in fact you thought he might land on enzo’s head, though he resurfaced just in time to watch him jump in and moved out of the way.

you and blaise were next, hand-in-hand again, running off the dock, your screams silenced by the water. cold consumed your entire body for the first time in months. it was relieving to have your body soaked in something other than sunscreen or sweat. feeling the last of your friends enter after you, you opened your eyes and found them. swimming to each other, you grazed skin as if to say even in water, i’m right by your side. if you didn’t need air, you would’ve considered staying down there forever.

breaching the surface and taking a deep breath, you brushed all the hair out of your face. you looked around to find some with droplets combing through from their hair to their eyelashes, and others with water slicked-back hair. each was breathing as heavily as you, half from having to catch their breath, half from pure exhilaration.

water splashed from all directions, making you squint and do the same. you weren’t sure who was splashing you for the fun of it and who was splashing you because you had splashed them. yelps and laughs were echoing off the surrounding trees. the plants were drinking well tonight.

“let’s play chicken!” someone had shouted over all the noise. cheers of agreement erupted from the chorus and subsequently the excessive pushing of water was halted.

you had fond memories of chicken. it used to be the boys on the girls shoulders, back when they all were still shorter than pansy and you. but now they were taller and had built quidditch bodies. as much as you believed in yourself, you didn’t desire feeling a draco sized weight on your shoulders.

“girls versus boys!” you announced.

theo shrugged, “not much of a competition.”

blaise took him by the shoulder, “ay, beware of the black haired one, she likes to go for the eyes.”

it was decided you and pansy versus theodore and lorenzo. they were a great duo, the two of them were the beaters on the quidditch team. they surely knew how to work together.

theo stood behind enzo, waiting for him to dip underwater.

“oi try not to pull the hair, i’ve got a sensitive scalp.” enzo reached a hand up and combed the back his head. theo looked like he was going to say something, before just shaking his head and sighing, “m’sure i’ll manage.”

a countdown from three began, then hitting one, you and lorenzo went under. water engrossed your entirety once more. feeling pansys hand upon your shoulder for balance, then her leg, you held on. within less than a few seconds she was securely on and you rose. you took a big breath once again, pushing your hair out of your face. the boys were in sync with you.

almost immediately pansy and theo were at each others throats. their arms went up, interlocking, and their bodies casted a shadow on lorenzo and you. it was like a tiny pocket. shouts came from beside you; blaise, mattheo, and draco each yelling out what could’ve been tips but when shouting over each other it really just sounded like a bunch of nothing. you were pretty sure whatever they were saying was going to be unhelpful anyways.

between keeping your balance, trying to push enzo, and still treading, you were determined to win.

“ah! ow! STOP TRYING TO PUT YOUR FINGERS IN MY EYES I CANT SEE!”

pansy clearly was as well.

it suddenly hit you who you were up against. this was lorenzo, the single most ticklish person you’d ever know. you weren’t sure why you hadn’t thought of it earlier. with a mischievous smile and lots of trust that pansy could remain on your moving shoulders, you reached to his bare stomach and began prodding at him.

just as you expected, he started to freak out. “hey! HEY!” he laughed between his shouts, “STOP- STOP THAT! NOT- FAIR!”

the boys on side were having a field day.

“ENZ!”

“I CANT-”

“DONT YOU DARE DROP ME.”

and with a strong push from pansy up top, and another prod to enzo’s side from you, both of their exclamation were stifled by gurgles of water.

pansy dived down, quickly coming up and hollering. cheers were shared all around, even from theo and enzo.

“let’s stick to quidditch.”

“agreed.”

in the midst of it all, you turned to face the house. it wasn’t foreign to any of you by any means, yet catching it in this moment you couldn’t help but feel amazed by its beauty. as if you were truly noticing it for the first time. it harbored your love within its stone. your love for this season, your love for this place, your love for these people. looking at the scene you saw your friends, you reached for them and they accepted, reaching for you. you heard their laughs, saw their smiles, and felt the same on yourself.

all in one breath you realized what lorenzo had said earlier was not just some toast; it was a definitive proclamation.

in this bubble of a world, you would live forever.

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dilatorywriting · 1 year

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Monster Mayhem: Donkeys & Dragons [PART 2]

Gender Neutral Reader x Malleus Draconia Word Count: 3.1k

Summary: Everything's all fun and games until everyone assumes you're just being a Horny BardTM when you have, in fact, actually been kidnapped by a dragon.

🌶️ Obligatory Warning for Mild Spice

[PART 1] [PART 2] [PART 3] [PART 4] [EPILOGUE]

“Wow,” Ace whistled, long and low, and you fought a twitch in your jaw.

He and Deuce were certainly beat to shit, but not quite ‘hurled dozens of feet through the air and a roof’ level of shit, so your spell must have cushioned at least a little of the fall. The pair of idiots stood at the entrance of the cavernous room, shifting back and forth on their heels and faces twisted up in varying degrees of horror.

“I mean, I know there’s a stereotype about bards and whatever,” he continued, aghast. “But, really? Really?”

You grit your teeth. The pointed chin resting atop your head shifted and you felt claws flex at your hips.

‘My friends will probably be coming back here soon to find me,’ you’d entreated, not five-minutes prior.

‘Your friends?’ the dragon had repeated, slow, like the concept of comradery was something completely alien. And then his eyes had narrowed. ‘Ah. They intend to steal you away,’ he’d said with all the indignation of someone who’d clearly forgotten he had literally just proclaimed his intent to the do the exact same thing.

Sparks had shot out from between his teeth, and the already too-sharp black nails tipping his fingers had curled into talons—ashy darkness trailing up his arms like a seeping stain.

‘What? No,’ you’d lied. ‘They would never. I’m sure they’re just curious. Whether I’m still alive or not, I mean.’

‘Oh,’ he’d blinked, that venomous ire seeping from his gaze as if it’d never been there to begin with. ‘I suppose that does make sense.’

So when your loveable idiots had eventually stormed in—swords drawn, banners flying—you schooled your countenance into something as placid as possible. Something that perhaps conveyed ‘I would love for you guys to help me out here, but also I would really like not to see the three of us become tonight’s entrée. So like. Maybe sit this one out.’ But whatever expression you ended up making clearly wasn’t doing what you were aiming for if Ace’s first instinct was to accuse you of Horny Bard Shenanigans.

Or maybe your face wasn’t the problem. Maybe it was just the nearly seven-foot-tall, naked, dragon man draped across your shoulders. Who’s to say.

“This has nothing to do with that,” you snapped, ears burning.

“Do with what?” The newly dubbed Tsunotarou rumbled. He was pressed close enough that you could feel the worlds roll through his chest—annnnd you were going to stop yourself right there and focus very, very, intently on getting through this conversation alive.

“Human things,” you spluttered frantically.

“Ah,” he hummed, his chin shifting from the crown of your head to dip down and instead rest atop the curve of your shoulder. “You’ll have to explain it to me later, then. I do find our cultural differences very intriguing. You humans are so… new age.”

“Explain it to you later…?” Deuce frowned, and you could see the words zipping around behind his eyes to slowly put themselves together into a cohesive thought. He shot ramrod straight and whipped his arm out accusatorily. “You’re staying?!”

“Of course,” you said, with all the enthusiasm of someone with a knife held to their throat. You locked eyes as obviously as you could—hoping he’d get the message. “It’s in everyone’s best interest.”

You could see the pinched look on his face, the heavy weight of discontentment tugging at his brow. There was a war being waged in that man’s head—a battle between what lingering, frail, shreds of rationality and comprehension remained, and the desire to be a good friend and save our bard! Because mama said I should be good to my friends! You stared him down hard, silently begging, pleading, to just let it go. The fingers gripping his axe tightened and you could hear the leather of his gauntlets creak with strain. Tsunotarou hummed, something like amusement coloring the throaty rumble, and it tingled all the way from the tips of your toes to the cheek he was tucked up against. The claws at your side flexed—not deep enough to hurt, but firm enough to know that funny as the notion of a teeny, human, barbarian hurling themselves at a dragon was, it wasn’t going to be a good enough joke to earn said dragon’s mercy.

“Well, duh, you’re staying!” Ace interrupted slickly, sliding in front of Deuce and his burbling rage like a fox finally skulking from its hole. “Look at what a great new friendyou’ve made! You can’t just leave him here all on his lonesome, now can you?”

The low rumble skirting along your back melted into something that was very nearly a purr. Your eyes flickered to your captor’s face—or as much of his face as you could manage to make out, considering he had plastered himself to your side like an overgrown cat. His lips were curled back into that smug, contented, smirk—the tips of his sharp canines just barely peeked out over his bottom lip.

“We’ll come back and check on you, of course,” Ace continued. He waved his hand at the dragon, like they were old chums shooting the shit over a pint of ale in a tavern. “You know how it is. Gotta make sure they’re settling in all right—make sure you’re keeping with your honorable intentions and whatnot. How’s two weeks from now sound?”

“Two weeks?!” you wailed.

Tsunotarou grumbled, clearly also displeased. “I agree. That seems far too soon.”

“Two months?” the ginger countered easily.

“Ace!”

The dragon seemed to consider this new proposal quite thoroughly. You could feel his long lashes flick down against your cheek as his eyes went hooded, heavy—slipping back into his thoughts to ponder upon this newly proffered timeline. After a long, long, moment, he lifted himself from your neck and plonked his chin back down atop the crown of your head.

“That is acceptable.”

Deuce looked entirely unimpressed. You had a feeling you looked like you were about to shit yourself. Ace, naturally, seemed more or less content.

“Well then!” the traitor chirped. “We’ll see you when we see you then, yeah?”

You grit you teeth, but your gaze flicked to your other, kinder, friend and you bit back the slew of heinous insults brewing on your tongue. Deuce still looked more than ready to jump into the fray, consequences be damned. And you were not going to let your terrible, horrible, no-good, rotten luck end all his valiant attempts at redemption when he inevitably attempted to go toe-to-toe with the business end of a dragon.

“…Are you sure you’re gonna be alright here?” Deuce asked, face twisted up in distaste.

There was a pissy rumble from over your shoulder.

“Do you doubt my abilities as a host?”

“Of course he doesn’t!” Ace cut in, ever the bootlicker. “And besides,” he drawled, elbowing his companion in the ribs. “You know how bards are. I’m sure this is right up their alley.” He wiggled his eyebrows and Deuce went pale—then green. Ace turned on you with a smile that was all vinegar. “Right?”

‘I should not let them be murdered horribly,’ you repeated to yourself past the crimson rage leaking into your vision. ‘I should not let them be horribly murdered—’

“Righteo!” you forced yourself to spit. And if you somehow managed to survive these next two months, you were going to string that red haired traitor up by his pinkies and feed him to the crows that lived outside your window.

Your friends slipped away slowly, hesitantly—Deuce looking like he’d been struck down by a horrid case of food poisoning or something else equally as stomach churning. Once they were gone, Tsunotarou lifted his chin from your head so that he could crane his neck over your shoulder and look at you more directly. Not that he had to try very hard, seeing as he was gigantic, whether on two legs or four.

“What was the small, ugly, one referring to?” he asked curiously. “About your profession?”

Your life flashed before your eyes.

“Bards are known for their hearty curiosity and drive to experience new situations,” you repeated, verbatim, from the little adventurer’s handbook you’d been gifted by Lord Crewel all those years ago.

“Oh,” he hummed, nodding into your hair. “Of course.”

The first major hurdle cropped up barely two hours later.

“I need to use the bathroom.”

The dragon blinked slowly, as if mentally tallying through a list of human bodily functions to try and figure out just what on earth you were talking about.

“Ah,” he said after a moment. And then he began to melt away—limbs stretching and cracking, and porcelain complexion bubbling up with inky miasma so thick and dark it may as well have been tar. It was both horrifying and awe-inspiring to watch, like some great creature of old emerging from an arcane cocoon. And not two minutes later, a familiar, ebony, dragon was standing before you in all its glory.

He lowered his snout and nosed around your shoulders for a moment, snuffling and searching. And then he pinched your collar between his teeth and hauled you into the air.

You tried not to scream. Really, you did. But humans just weren’t meant for flying, let alone while suspended between the jaws of a beast that could swallow them whole. By the time you landed, you were so wobbly and windswept that you nearly collapsed to the ground then and there, bladder be damned. Tsunotarou warbled something deep in his chest, and you glanced up past the thin veil of icy sweat dripping into your eyes.

He'd placed you into a blown-out enclave that had probably once been a very nice hallway. And in the corner was the remains of what indeed looked like a bathroom. You straightened yourself as much as you could and began hobbling woozily towards what you hoped was a proper, enchanted, toilet and not just some block of stone with a bowl at the bottom.

There was an echoing thud from behind you and you jumped, startled, and turned to see what the ruckus was all about. Tsunotarou had sat his massive head at the entrance. And he continued to sit there. Watching.

“Uhm,” you mumbled. “Thank you.”

He stared, unmoving. You sighed and squashed your fingers into your temples.

“…We’re going to have to establish some boundaries,” you said. The dragon’s gigantic, neon, eyes closed and opened—like a question. “Boundaries,” you repeated. “Things that we do on our own.”

The beast’s lips flattened into a grumpy line and he grumbled something unintelligible at you, spitting loose sparks from behind his overly long canines.

However, mouthful of razor-sharp teeth in your face or otherwise, everyone had to draw the line between pride and self-preservation somewhere. And having to piss in front of an audience was apparently yours.

You waved your hands in a shoo shoo motion and those amethyst crests flattened irritably atop his skull. He settled in further, the structure of the terrace groaning beneath the weight of his scaly chin. You worried your lower lip between your teeth. It wasn’t exactly like there was a door or anything that you could just, like, shut in his face. And beating him off with a broom or something like a stray cat was out of the question—just out of sheer impossibility. You were going to have to get creative here…

An idea popped into your head and you leaned forward with a charismatic little smile that you’d unleashed on so many traders, and shopkeepers, and unsuspecting bakers that it ought to be considered a weapon in its own right. You’d practiced it in the mirror for weeks.

“I’ll tell you a story,” you offered, and his slitted pupils rounded a bit—intrigued. “That’s what I was before all this, you know. A storyteller.” You had his full interest now, those purple crests rippling behind his horns. “But you have to close your eyes,” you said. “It makes it easier to imagine that way.”

He stared you down curiously for a heartbeat or three, and then Tsunotarou’s gigantic, luminous, eyes slipped shut.

You sighed and plopped yourself down on the decrepit, stone, toilet.

“Once upon a time,” you began, sweeping your cloak out in front of you to give yourself at least a little bit more dignity. One of those crests twitched at the sound of swirling fabric, but his eyes remained dutifully closed. “There was a bard who made some very terrible life decisions—"

The next bump in the road came the following afternoon.

“People tend to wear clothes,” you said.

He canted his head at you. “I am not a person.”

Oh for fucks sake.

Tsunotarou was stretched out along one of the many, grand, banisters lining what you assumed had once been a ballroom—lounging in the dim light like a lizard sunning itself on a rock. Apparently, before your arrival, he’d very rarely, if ever, shed his wings and scales for this more compact form. And he seemed to be thoroughly enjoying spreading himself out across all the new surfaces that the change in size allowed him. Part of you would have thought it was a bit endearing—seeing this eldritch monster merrily falling into the ‘if I fits, I sits’ way of life. The other part was sick of nearly collapsing in cardiac arrest every time you caught sight of his very naked self reclining across some new piece of furniture.

“Yes,” you intoned, deadpan. “But you look like one.”

He blinked slowly, as if putting together a thought. “I see. The dissonance of observing a vestige of humanity which does not actually fit the mold of a human must be disconcerting to you.” He rested a knuckle lightly against his chin as he pondered. “In the same way I may feel uncomfortable if you took on the form a dragon with no teeth or tail.”

“Sure. Whatever,” you bemoaned. “Just. Pants? Please?”

He observed you quietly for a moment, amusement dancing across his features. And then he grinned, putting the pointed tips of those impressive canines of his on full display.

“Well I suppose if you’re going to ask so sweetly.”

He sat up with a stretch that was outright spitting in the face of your plea for modesty, and then spread his hands. His black-tipped fingers twisted gracefully, artfully, and the cavernous room filled with the scent of packed earth and ozone. Soft puffs of emerald light glided along his arms, and in their wake sprouted tendrils of sheer, silken, sleeves. Those dancing lights traveled merrily from his shoulders to his hips, and then back again—spinning magic into fabric like little, ghostly, seamstresses as they went.

The soft glow faded and the silk settled around him with all the delicacy of a cloud. It was stunning, certainly. A true work of beauty. With billowing sleeves that cinched neatly at his wrists, and swept into an open window across his front. The fabric wrapped itself snuggly at his waist and draped low enough to offer at least what should have been the bare minimum of modesty. It pooled across his shoulders, splaying out into a split cape that looked eerily similar to the wings he dawned in his other, scalier, form.

But this lovely new ensemble—as gloriously shiny and magical as it was—was still nearly fucking transparent. And yeah, the shadows curling along the spiraling silk did a decent enough job at obscuring what ought to be obscured. But at the same time, somehow this impression of cloth, of loose fabric that dipped below his collar bones and hung uneven and open across his pale chest, was worse than the outright fucking nudity. Scandalous. Like walking in on a seduction scene in a trashy novel.

“…maybe you should just do whatever makes you comfortable,” you managed to cough out, gaze slipping downwards of its own accord. And then more down. You gulped. “D-Don’t feel the need to change yourself on my account.”

He stared grumpily at his swanky new outfit. And then back at you. His lips pursed into a pout.

“You don’t find it pleasing.”

Your eyes rolled up to stare miserably, tormentedly, at the ceiling, and you began reciting every religious verse you could think of. Thou shall not steal or covet. In the name of the Mother, the Crone, and the Hallowed Throne. Head, shoulders, knees, and toes. Aye, Macarena—

“It looks perfectly nice. I just think that you have as much of a right to be happy in your skin as I do,” you reiterated. “I—I mean, you’re already keeping yourself human more often than not just so we can talk.” Which was true enough, but also mostly an attempt to make it seem like your concern was genuinely aimed at him and not your steadily rising blood pressure.

“…you’re incredibly strange,” he grumbled after a moment, his brow tugging low on his forehead. More pouting. “And impossibly frustrating to read.”

The heat radiating off your face like a fucking active volcano felt ‘possible’ enough to you, but what did you know.

“That’s why you’re keeping me around,” you reminded him.

Ten minutes later, he was sprawled out with his head in your lap, the ridges of his horns bumping your hips and inky black hair spilling over your thighs. Naked as a jaybird.

“Tell me another story,” he hummed, eyes slipping closed.

“Sure,” you agreed, gaze once again firmly locked on the hundreds of cracks in the ceiling. You’d probably have them all memorized by this evening, or at the very least have managed to count them all up a dozen times over.

You were halfway through some yarn about armies made of playing cards and worlds beyond looking glasses when Tsunotarou sighed, heavy and bone deep. Content. And then he turned to bury his cheek into the rough fabric of your traveler’s pants with a rumbling drawl that was not unlike a purr. His nose pressed itself into the inseam of your thigh and your brain fuzzed out like you’d been shot pointblank with a Wand of Lightning Bolts.

“Child of Man?” he huffed after a moment—one, neon, eye flicking open to glare up at you grumpily. “What happened then? To the cat that smiled too wide and the man with the mad hats?”

“R-Right,” you squawked. “Uhm—so as I was saying—”

You stared back at all those cracks and started counting again from zero.

#twisted wonderland imagines #twisted wonderland #twst x reader #Malleus Draconia x Reader #Malleus x Reader #Malleus Draconia #Malleus x Yuu #Dragon Malleus #Monster Mayhem #My Writing #Twst Fantasy AU #Monster Mayhem Malleus Part 2

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taffywabbit · 11 months

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idk if i'm way off the mark on this, but the way some people are responding to that Guillermo del Toro interview about the decline of studio animation is a bit frustrating to me. specifically the bit where he talks about "emoji animation" and how everything is over-animated and pushed too far and things are rarely allowed to not be ultra-cartoony (y'know, because animation always needs to be marketable to children who are never trusted to have attention spans, right?). like, i think he's generally correct about it! but some folks are taking the wrong message away from that.

i've seen people going off about how "soulless" and "corporate" various recent examples are, and talking about these pieces of media as though they're the result of some kind of personal failing or lack of skill/range on the part of the animators, and it's just like. do people realize that's the only animation you're usually allowed to DO in the industry, unless you get incredibly lucky and land yourself on a project/studio that's unusually cool?

when i was in college for animation it was literally drilled into us nonstop that everything had to be pushed more, that exaggeration was not a guideline or a sometimes-treat but a hard rule that always had to be applied regardless of what was going on, because the viewer couldn't be trusted to pick up on subtlety and we sure as hell couldn't be trusted to convey it. you ever wonder why there's such a specific vibe to a lot of self-directed student films, particularly ones that are focused on character acting/interaction or deep emotions and introspection (especially when there's minimal/no dialogue)? it's because for a lot of young animators, they haven't had the freedom to experiment with realism and subtlety up to that point and they're likely not going to have it again for a while (or at all, unless their career path leads to higher positions where they might have more creative direction over the things they work on. which also becomes a lot less likely if they're anything other than a cishet white dude, for what it's worth).

i would LOVE to see more nuanced, realistic, understated motion and acting in animation. i WANT more characters to be able to express what they're feeling through natural body language and facial cues and for scenes to allow me to breathe instead of spelling everything out in giant bold flashing text all the time. what del Toro wants to see changed in the animation industry sounds great, and i hope others join him in seeking to revamp what modern animation is allowed to be.

but as things currently stand, and as they've stood for a long while now, most artists doing the grunt work on the shows and movies you see are completely at the mercy of corporations and networks who have a vested interest in producing a very specific kind of marketable and cost-efficient media all the time. (and by extension that style is ALSO what's taught in most animation schools, because their job more than anything is to grind you down into a perfect little sweatshop worker who will bend over backwards to meet quotas and get your work approved and not question the higher-ups, even if you have little to no personal investment in the projects you're working on, so that the studios who employ you can maintain their good reputations or whatever)

anyways idk what my point was here, this really just sorta became a rant and my views have undoubtedly been coloured by my own personal experiences (this kinda shit is largely why i dropped out before my last year of animation school, for the record).

i guess just be kind to folks in the animation industry? they've had it fucking rough nonstop for well over a century (the majority of them are still not unionized and there's HUGE pushback against doing so in many places). i assure you they are doing their best to infuse the latest uninspired illumination flick or weird spinoff kids' show with literally any amount of soul they can. you don't have to like the stuff that gets produced by any means! be a hater! i'm certainly not gonna stop you. just remember where these creative decisions come from and why these conditions exist, and consider that when YOU watched something and thought "hmm that could've been done better", you can bet your ass someone actually working on it probably thought the same thing but couldn't do anything about it. these things WILL change as the industry itself improves, but in the meantime folks have to pay their rent, and that usually means doing what they're told and working in a way that will minimize revisions and meet quotas so they can keep their jobs. it sucks, but it is what it is.

#buny text #long post #animation #i don't have a rant tag because i don't necessarily want to encourage myself to make posts like this frequently #but this is obviously a touchy subject that's close to home for me and it felt important to get it out #i realize i am on the Getting Super Mad At People Who Make Popular Media website so hopefully this does not bite me in the ass

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icaruspendragon · 2 months

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hiii, this might be weird, but who is Lazarus? I'm not religious, so I've tried searching for who he is, but I can't seem to get a clear answer and was wondering if you could explain him?

ah yes, lazarus of bethany. a man i consider to be equal parts friend and foe.

lazarus lived in bethany with his two sisters, mary and martha. and when we meet him, he’s sick. so much so that his sisters send for jesus of nazareth saying, “lord, your dear friend is very sick.”

jesus of nazareth was in jerusalem when he received the message. and despite being only a few miles from bethany, and despite jesus loving martha and mary and lazarus, he waited. he didn’t go to them straight away. he waited. he waited until lazarus died and then said, “lazarus’ sickness will not end in death. no, it happened for the glory of god so that the son of god will receive glory from this.”

and when jesus finally made it to bethany he was told lazarus had already died. that he has already been in the grave for four days. and when martha, sister of lazarus got word that jesus was coming, she went to meet him. and mary, sister of lazarus did not. and when martha saw jesus she said to him, “lord, if only you had been here, my brother would not have died.”

and jesus said to her, “your brother will rise again.”

but then mary arrived and she saw jesus and she fell at his feet and she said, “lord, if only you had been here, my brother would not have died.” and she wept over her brother. because she loved him and he was gone. and jesus should have been there. because if jesus had been there, her brother would not have died.

and jesus saw her weeping. and he saw the other people wailing with her. because lazarus was deeply loved. and now he was gone. and they had sent for jesus. they had prayed for a miracle. and that miracle didn’t come until it was four days too late. and they didn’t know that jesus was going to bring lazarus back. they didn’t know that jesus had waited that long to teach a lesson. to prove a point. they just knew jesus was too late. and now they were forced to grieve.

and then a deep anger welled up in jesus. and he was deeply troubled. and jesus asks, “where have you put him?” and the people say, “lord, come and see.” and he does. and when he sees, jesus weeps. when he sees, we get the shortest verse in the bible. a mere two words to sum up an entire town’s grief. two words to convey the loss of a sibling. two words are offered for the preventable death of a loved man.

jesus is four days too late. and jesus?

jesus wept.

and the people who loved lazarus turned to him and said to jesus, “see how much he loved him!”

jesus loved lazarus. and then he let him die.

and some of the people said about jesus “this man healed a blind man. couldn’t he have kept lazarus from dying?”

and then jesus, who knew all along that he would revive lazarus. jesus, who let all those people mourn. jesus, who let those sisters lose their brother. jesus, who let them weep. jesus, who wept with them. that very same jesus said to those who loved lazarus, who mourned him, jesus of nazareth said to them, “didn’t i tell you that you would see god’s glory if you believe?”

and then the stone of lazarus’ tomb was rolled aside. and then jesus looked up to heaven and said, “father, thank you for hearing me. you always hear me, but i said it out loud for the sake of all these people standing here, so that they will believe you sent me.” and then jesus shouted, “lazarus, come out!” and he did.

lazarus the dead man came out, his hands and feet and face wrapped still in burial cloth. and then jesus of nazareth told them, “unwrap him and let him go!”

and then lazarus of bethany became lazarus of the grave. lazarus of the grave that will never be left behind even though he has risen and relinquished. lazarus of the grave who did not make good his escape unscathed. lazarus of the grave who will now check each darkened doorway as death and his sting is keenly felt.

lazarus was a man. a man whose family loved him. a man whose sisters sent for a miracle. a man whose sisters mourned him in the four days it took for that miracle to show up. a man who was made an example for no reason other than being loved by jesus. a thing that we are all told to be. loved by our savior.

lazarus is a man who makes me wonder three things. firstly, if jesus had been there that my brother may not have died. secondly, if jesus of nazareth too weeps for me. and thirdly, if jesus loves us and we in turn love him too like the scriptures command, why does he use us in the lessons he teaches.

why must we be the men he makes believers of?

so lazarus was just a man whose crime was loving jesus. and martha was just a girl whose crime was loving her brother. and they both suffered a miracle because of it.

#cw religion #yeah it’s always time to religious trauma post on main #lazarus was just a man #lazarus was brother #and my brother was a man #and i am a sister #and i too loved jesus as martha and mary did #so why did he get to come back when my brother did not?#i also tend to think of lazarus as dean winchester before i think of him as lazarus from the bible lmao #hence the title of my book being ‘lazarus rises (amongst other things)’#bc of hit cw show supernatural #and the bible too ig #but mainly supernatural

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moonstruckme · 5 months

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hey :)) first off, i love the hozier caption in your bio. second, I’ve been reading so many of your fics recently and i think you’re sooo talented! i wanna be like you when I grow up (im 20 almost 21 lol)

anyways, I’ve never really requested anything but i wanna give it a try. I was wondering if you could do a poly!marauders x reader fic or a just remus x reader fic where’s she’s driving and accidentally hits an animal and is really upset about it but they’re there to help to her move it and comfort her.

i just hit a cat and im not taking it well. we think it was just a stray cause I left my number with it in case but no one has called. my family kinda, but not really, made fun of me for being so sad about it and i kinda just need something with the guys being so affectionate and loving with her after everything.

it’s totally okay if youre not up to it! I understand that it’s such a hard topic so I won’t be offended if you don’t feel comfortable writing in this.

thank you again and im sooo looking forward to youre future work!! you’re talented, brilliant, incredible, amazing, show stopping, spectacular, never the same, totally unique, completely not ever been done before (lady gaga)

Mwah mwah mwah <3<3

-aves

(sorry this is so long)

Hi sweetheart, thank you so much! (Is your username a Lizzy McAlpine reference? I love that) I'm really sorry you went through this, I've been fortunate enough to have never hit an animal but I've seen it happen and it's so horrible, I'm really sorry you've been dealing with this :(( I think you did the right thing by leaving your number with it, and I hope the weight of that trauma and grief is starting to lift off you my love. Thank you for requesting <3

cw: mention of killing an animal, reader feeling guilty

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.8k words

James hears the door and is up instantly, bounding down the hall to greet you and Sirius.

“Hello!” he calls ahead, eager for company after being left alone in your flat for over a half hour. “You guys took your time today, I thought even Remus might beat you home. Was traffic a riot, or…”

Sirius is looking at him with panic in his blue-gray eyes, clearly trying to convey one of those telepathic messages James has never been great at interpreting, and you…you’re looking at nothing. Your gaze is distant as you work off your shoe, the area around your eyes puffy and gray with smudged mascara.

“Hey,” James breathes, then feels stupid. It sounds like he’s accusing you of something. He tries again. “Is everything okay?”

Sirius gives him a look that says What do you think? and crouches beside you to help with a stubborn knot in your shoelace. Your hands are trembling, James notices. Dread settles like a stone in his stomach.

“I’ve got it,” Sirius murmurs to you, fingers gentle as they intercept your own, but the alarm doesn’t leave his expression as he watches your face. Ah. As much as it kills James to see you upset, Sirius will have no idea what to do with you in this state. Tears have always set him on edge.

James squats, joining the two of you on the floor. “Hi, sweetheart.” He does his best to keep his own anxiety out of his voice as his hand finds your ankle, fingers wrapping around the bit of skin between the hem of your jeans and your socks. “Has something happened?”

Your eyes meet his already full of tears, and James braces himself. Sirius does too, by the look of it, his shoulders tensing as he watches your face like you’re about to crumble away to nothing right here on their doormat.

“I—” That’s all you get out before you have to bite down on your lip to keep from crying. A tiny whimper escapes, and spider web cracks spread across James’ heart. A sluggish tear leaks from your right eye.

“It’s okay,” he swears, though he has no way of knowing it. You press the back of your hand to your mouth, trying to quell the sobs that shake your frame even with no air to feed them. “Oh, honey.” James leans forward, wrapping you in an awkward but very heartfelt hug, your knees between his chest and yours but your head crossing the distance to wet his shoulder with your tears.

A sympathetic pressure builds in James’ sinuses, but he does his best to breathe through it. Stability tends to help you more than sympathy in these situations, and since Remus isn’t home yet, it’s left to James to be the reasonable one (Sirius would have all sorts of jokes to make about that, but he doesn’t seem to be feeling up to them either).

He gives you a few moments of reprieve, a few passes of his palm up and down your spine, before trying again. “What’s going on?” he asks, gently as he can. “You guys are scaring me. Sirius?”

Sirius’ brow pinches like he almost doesn’t want to say it either, and the anticipation in James’ chest heavies. “We were driving home,” he says slowly, keeping a wary eye on you lest he worsen your upset, “and a rabbit ran in front of the car.”

Relief nearly chokes James at the same time as a sympathetic sorrow takes ahold of him. He pets the back of your head. You tremble with the force of your crying, leaning into his touch greedily.

“She was driving?” he asks quietly, though he’s nearly sure. If your reaction isn’t enough to go off of, he already knows that you usually pick Sirius up from work and drive the both of you home.

Sirius nods.

“It doesn’t sound like there was anything you could do,” he murmurs to you, cupping the back of your neck to encourage you to look up at him. You do, sniffling as your lip quivers, and James uses his thumb to brush a wet streak of mascara from your blotchy cheek.

“It must have been so scared.” Your voice breaks on the last word and James’ heart along with it, leaving a throbbing wound in the center of his chest.

“I doubt it had time to be scared, honey,” he tries to reassure you, but his own voice is fraught. He looks to Sirius. “Did you…do you know if it…passed?”

Sirius is half hiding behind his hair, a sure tell of his disquiet, and it brushes his shirt collar when he nods again. “We weren’t sure at first, so I got out to move it off the road. It was dead.” He winces at his wording, and you bite down on your lip harshly. His tone softens as he addresses you. “I really don’t think it felt any pain.”

You look nowhere near ready to believe him, and James is preparing to offer to make you a cup of tea and let you sort out your grief at your own pace when the front door opens again, stopping when it hits Sirius’ side.

“Oh.” Remus pokes his head through. “Hello. Why are we all sitting on the floor?”

Sirius scoots the rest of the way out of the door’s path before deciding to stand instead. He speaks to Remus in a low voice while James runs a hand up and down your side in an attempt to soothe you. He locks eyes with Remus over your shoulder, watching as the taller boy’s gaze takes on the weight of understanding.

“Oh, I’m so sorry.” Remus wraps Sirius in a half-hug, kissing his surprised boyfriend on the temple before stooping beside you. “That must have been awful to have to see. Let’s get you up, yeah?” He wraps a spindly hand around your forearm, more encouragement than anything, and James grips your other hand as he stands to pull you up with him.

Neither of them seem quite willing to break contact with you, walking you over to the couch like a newborn fawn despite your murmured I’m okay. Sirius follows close behind. The both of you look like you’re perching rather than sitting, unable to completely relax even now that you’re home.

“It must have been quite a scare,” Remus sympathizes, sitting on the edge of his favored armchair.

“A bit,” Sirius mutters, and your throat bobs.

Remus cocks his head. “What’re you thinking, darling?”

James almost wants to look away at the rawness in your expression as you raise your eyes to meet Remus’. “I just…I can’t believe I killed it. I’ve never” —your voice pitches, and you swallow again— “I’ve never killed anything before.”

“It was an accident,” James tells you, beseeching.

“You couldn’t have stopped,” Sirius says. His voice has an odd, desperate quality to it, and James sees Remus notice it at the same time as he does, both boys leaning forward to see Sirius better. For the first time, James notices—had he missed it before, or has it only just started?—that Sirius is trembling slightly too. James’ free hand twitches instinctively toward him, but his dark-haired boyfriend is only touchy when he’s in a good mood. He’s not keen on physical comfort; no matter how many years James has worked on him, Sirius has always preferred to keep his struggles internal. “Or avoided it,” he goes on. “It happened too fast.”

Remus nods at you. “As awful as it is, these things happen sometimes. Hopefully,” he adds when another tear slips down your cheek, “never again to you, but selfish as it is, I’m glad you didn’t slam on the brakes or anything else that could have gotten you and Sirius hurt instead.”

You glance at Sirius, and he gives you a weak smile, taking your hand and squeezing gently.

“Nothing you could have done,” he whispers.

Your lips tremble again. James watches as panic flashes in Sirius’ eyes, but he keeps it together. “I’m really sorry,” you tell him, voice wavering. “I shouldn’t have made you take care of the bunny by yourself.”

James' chest aches as Sirius takes a steadying breath. “You were frazzled. Understandably upset,” he corrects himself, squeezing your hand again. This time you squeeze back. “It was a one-man job anyway.”

You make a soft sound, leaning your head on his shoulder, and James has the sense something has settled a bit in each of you. He raises your joined hands to his lips, kissing the back of yours as Remus’ eyebrows furrow.

“Have you had a chance to wash your hands, love?” he asks Sirius, who blinks.

“No. I forgot.”

Despite the heavy atmosphere, James actually feels the beginnings of a smile tempting his lips as he watches Remus forcibly quell his horror. “Right, then. Why don’t we go do that in the kitchen now, and I’ll make us all some tea.”

“Good idea,” James says heartily, swiping his thumb back and forth over his own kiss on your hand. “Hey, could we take out the good cookies as well?”

Remus hums what James chooses to interpret as assent, shepherding Sirius into the kitchen.

“I’m sorry,” you say to James once the other two are out of hearing.

He looks down at you. “What for, sweetheart?”

You shrug, your shoulders remaining just a tad too high after the motion. You’ve stopped crying, and James is grateful, but he doesn’t think this shameful look is a vast improvement. “I feel like I’m being dramatic. And Sirius is the one who had to see it. He had to drive home too, I was too upset.”

James’ battered, broken heart wells for the both of you. He forgoes his attentions to your hand, wrapping his arm around your shoulders instead to tuck you against his side. “You’re not being dramatic,” he promises, “okay? You and Sirius were in the wrong place at the wrong time, and you both had to witness something awful.” Your head sinks onto his shoulder, and he rubs your upper arm. “I think it’s alright to be sad for a while. For yourselves, and for the bunny. Just, don’t torment yourself, alright?” He withdraws enough to see your face, and you tilt your gaze up to his. “Please. You don’t deserve the guilt.”

Your eyes cast down, contemplative and a bit shy, a moment before your head comes back to its spot on his shoulder. “Thanks,” you murmur.

“No thanks necessary, babe. You can cry all night if you need to, I’ll be right here. Just do me a favor,” he lowers his voice, glancing toward the kitchen, “let me sit between you and Sirius if you do. Many more tears and I think he’ll have a heart attack.”

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