#but i hate him so its inferred

[pen-and-umbra]

The second episode of the Remake, FF7 Rebirth, has proven to be a terrific experience thus far. SE obviously made a few big decisions here and there.

It is seemingly implied now that Jenova wasn't "brain-dead", and it is hinted that Sephiroth was addled during his breakdown.

It all begins with a strategically placed cut, when Sephiroth touches the door bearing the name Jenova and instructs "Cloud" to close the valve. The scene is merely functional for new fans, yet leaves a vacant space that Crisis Core players will quickly fill in with the inferred arrival of Genesis. Smart move that, leaving the interpretation to the player. Whether Genesis exists inside the Remake's continuity or not, the moment reads differently to each fan. Quite frankly, I was half-expecting “Cloud” to come across a banora apple, rolling on the floor, but I suppose that would be telling.

What's remarkable is that they give Sephiroth almost identical symptoms to those that Cloud has in the remake. Glitches and odd headaches superimpose themselves nicely over the original Crisis Core scene. And, as much as I loathe Tyler Hoechlin's acting in the game, he lends a tangible sense of rage to Sephiroth's disparaging remarks about Hojo and his experiments. You can hear the hatred, a touch of pity, and disgust directed at Hojo's work and the creatures he tortured. In Crisis Core, he refers to the test subjects as “abominations” with the same touch of bitterness.

Back to the point: glitches, pupil dilations, and headaches are visual cues for Jenovaroth's influence or proximity, as shown in the first part of the Remake. However, at this point, Sephiroth is still sane — cracking, but still himself — so the only agent who can exert influence on him is, well, Jenova.

Now, a widely established fan hypothesis maintained that Jenova was brain-dead or comatose. Bodily functions sustained, but brain activity plateaued. Rebirth, however, strangely suggests otherwise.

When "Cloud" returns to Sephiroth in the manor's basement for the second time, Sephiroth recites an excerpt from a journal purportedly written by Professor Gast: 

“The specimen, found in a strata dating back two thousand years, smiled with what could only be described as 'ethereal grace'… Though the truth eluded me at first, I later determined that she was an Ancient - or a 'steward of the planet', as they are referred to in legend”. 

Remembering the battles with Jenova Dreamweaver and Jenova Emergent, the creature is far from "graceful" or "ethereal". There is nothing graceful about her figure in the tube either, and she is not smiling. The game goes out of its way to lampshade the glaring contradiction by showing the flashes of Jenova’s fanged skull and grotesque body as Sephiroth quotes the passage. So how could Gast perceive her as such?.. The answer is most likely found in Jenova Dreamweaver's description given in Ultimania: the entity has the ability to induce hallucinations in individuals who come into proximity with it, which is further corroborated by Jenova Emergent description.

An ancient lifeform that Shinra Company has kept under strict confidentiality. Those who come into contact can have their conscience interfered as well as see illusions. Professor Hojo has dedicated half of his life to researching Jenova, and within the Shinra Company building's top floors lies a secret research center called the "Dome," where Jenova's cells are injected into lifeforms or machinery to conduct experiments. (Ultimania)

Gast even writes that “the truth eluded him at first”, but LATER he determines the specimen belonged to the race of Ancients, as if that answer was suggested. The implication is chilling: Jenova may have purposefully misled Gast in order to present itself as an Ancient. As Sephiroth later explains in the FF7Rb, Jenova is capable of seeing deep into one's soul and impersonating individuals you fear, love, or hate.

If ShinRA and Gast were determined to unravel the mysteries of Ancients and their Promised Land, it would make sense for Jenova to "scan" Gast and determine the best course of action: disguise itself as an Ancient in order to escape captivity in geological strata jail.

The scene in which Sephiroth reads Gast's notes is possibly the final time he is more or less himself, before Jenova's image intermingles with his for a brief moment. Again, I appreciate Tyler's voice acting in this particular section and the real rage he brought to it. Admittedly, I was concerned that with next-gen visuals, they would take a more gruesome approach, displaying Sephiroth conducting the Nibelheim carnage with sadistic pleasure, but they took a different route. Slow, zombie-like movements, and a glassy expression.

He speared the militiamen as casually as if he were spearing bugs, which is far more frightening from a narrative point. What jumped out was how they emphasized the possessed-like behavior: from snarling and flailing the book like a suffering person to an empty countenance and automaton-like strides, as if he was being beckoned. Which is what "Mother is waiting" implies.

The final segment of the Nibelheim flashback is likely the most essential as well. According to previous developer claims, Sephiroth's will took precedence over Jenova's, and he was in control — whether Jenova was brain-dead or simply of lesser willpower.  However, the Rebirth appears to suggest something different right off the bat. First, "Cloud" shouts, "I believed in you… No… Not you — whoever the hell you are!", highlighting the significant personality change and the resulting lack of recognition. But then "Cloud" sees Jenova's image superimposed over that of Sephiroth in a rapid, glitch-like succession.

In other words, he sees Jenova inhabiting Sephiroth's body as a vehicle to once again escape the confinements. Whatever that means, whether it suggests that Jenova is in control from the start, or whether Sephiroth is literally the greatest functional agglomeration of her cells, and therefore literally “becomes” Jenova. 

If Jenova's original body was severely damaged — either as a result of eons of incarceration or Hojo's tinkering — it stands to reason that, if she wished to carry out her plan, she would need a new body, one capable of moving at the very least. Perhaps Sephiroth, an able-bodied skilled Mako-infused fighter of considerable might, served as a better "vessel" than her original damaged one. 

But the crux of the matter lies elsewhere. The possibility of Jenova being conscious and influencing Gast is very terrifying. With the potential to affect others in close vicinity, she may have influenced the minds of the whole science team behind the Jenova Project, particularly those who had long-term contact with her tissue — Gast and Hojo. It could turn out that the whole idea to revive an “Ancient” was planted by Jenova in order to grow itself a powerful host. In fact, if it could "peer into one's soul," i.e. read minds and memories, it might have easily identified a pressure point to indoctrinate people who could forward her objective. It's one thing to inject tissue samples into an adult body; it's quite another to devise a plan to inject cells into a developing human fetus. Who knows. Perhaps Hojo is such an obsessed Jenova nutcase in large part because he fell under its spell; feelings of inadequacy and being overshadowed by his colleague may have offered a crack in his defenses.

One that Jenova easily took advantage of. After all, as Dirge of Cerberus implies, Hojo ended up implanting himself with alien organic material.

Again, Jenova's power to extract information from an individual when in proximity supports a bleak reading of the events leading up to Nibelheim's ransacking. A person who kept on carrying a photograph of his supposedly late mother and badgered others about his background, as suggested by Ever Crisis episodes, was literally wearing his weakness on a sleeve.

Perhaps the 30-something years of the Jenova Project were supposed to bring Sephiroth there.

Perhaps the chain of events had been nudged in that direction, starting from the very discovery of a derelict non-human lifeform. Nudged by an intelligence both cunning and incomprehensible. And that makes Jenova a much, much scarier presence in the remake than it was ever suggested in OG.

#ffvii@luv fandoms #ffvii rebirth #ff7 #ffvii #ff7 rebirth #jenova #sephiroth #hojo #gast

[norrizzandpia]

Could you please write something about lando and some sort of enemies thing? even just a blurb, i just need lando fucking the sassiness out of someone.

Ok so i loved this but it isnt smut and its very angsty and i kinda just took the idea and ran with it

IM SO SORRY IF THIS ISNT WHAT YOU WANTED PLZ FORGIVE ME 🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻

Enemies To Lovers, Ya Know? (LN4)

Summary: They’ve always hated each other. Always. Right?

Warnings: language, lando being highkey toxic but we can just ignore that!, im sorry i dont know if i like this plz let me know if its shit in the comments 🤞🏻, gender stereotyping? Im not sure the term lmk 💗

Note: SHES A LONG ONE SO GRAB THAT POPCORN also very cutesy and fluffy ones are on the way in apology for this

It wasn’t a secret to the fans, media, or the entirety of the grid.

Lando and Y/n hated each other.

No one was quite sure when it started or how it happened, but it was clear that the two couldn’t stand each other. Through menacing glares and snide comments, both of them showed how much loathing really went on behind the scenes. It didn’t help that they were teammates, both of them driving for the beautiful papaya, as it brought on horrible reviews and narratives. Continuously making McLaren look reckless, Lando and Y/n had gotten countless amounts of scoldings from the PR team, the employees pleading with them to stop the games and just get along, but, for some reason, they never could.

Y/n hated the sight of his face and the sound of his voice, and Lando…

Well, Lando didn’t exactly know why he hated her. She had never done anything to him, in fact, she had been so sweet to him the first time they met he had been convinced he was going to fall in love with her, but, over time, the anticipation of his inevitable love for her transformed into pure annoyance at her presence.

“Can you please stop breathing so loud?” Her voice broke through his thoughts as they waited for their next interview.

Rolling his eyes, Lando set his gaze on her, “Are you asking me to stop breathing?”

“No, I’m asking you to stop doing it so loud.” She countered.

Usually, he wouldn’t comment on someone’s bad behavior, but she made him so aggravated that he couldn’t help but look her in the eyes and say, “No.”

His sickly sweet smile made her fist twitch at her side as she got up from her chair and gathered her things, “God, you never stop, do you?”

He laughed as she left, “Not for you.”

—

“How do you guys even coexist let alone be teammates?” Daniel asked Y/n as they sat and ate lunch in Alpine Hospitality.

She shrugged, “I don’t know.”

He sat back, his fork falling to the side of his salad as he stared at her intently, “Would this have anything to do with that conversation you had with me when you first started racing for McLaren?”

Her head lulled against the table as she groaned, “Daniel, I’m so sick of you bringing that up. I was just hyped up with excitement over being the first girl to race in F1. What I said to you then was the product of delusion and a charming smile.”

His head tilted, “Mhm, sure. So, when you said you loved him, that was fabricated too?”

Her heart sped up and her cheeks burned at the inference, “Yes. You can’t love someone within a few months of knowing them.”

His eyes told her he knew exactly the kind of war that was going on in her head, “Y/n, it’s okay to love someone. It’s okay to put yourself out there.”

She saw the way his hand reached for hers lying on the table, but she pulled it back to dodge his digits trying to comfort her, “Well, it’s a good thing I don’t love him then.”

His mischievous smile haunted her, “I didn’t say his name, Y/n. All I said was it’s okay to love someone. I never said ‘Lando’”.

—

“So, your rivalry is one of the main things you two are known for on the track. How has this affected your relationship off the track? What I mean to ask is does the distaste come from what’s going on on track or just a wavelength you two can’t catch?” The reporter asked, his eyes searching for real answers in the PR-trained athletes.

Y/n opened her mouth to answer, the planned words ready to fly off her tongue, but Lando’s scoffing and interruption stopped her, “There isn’t a rivalry on track. If you know what I mean.”

The reporter’s eyebrows shot up, the opportunity for a juicy story right in front of him, “Are you saying Y/n doesn’t compare to your level of driving skills?”

Even though she hated him and expected nothing but the worst, she was still surprised when he didn’t hesitate to nod, “Well, she hasn’t been in Formula 1 for as long as I have. I have more experience and, therefore, I’m a better driver.”

His lack of humbleness had her blood boiling, “You’re answering this question as if I’m not sitting right here.”

All the men in the room turned at her voice, seemingly realizing she was sitting up there just like he was. The obliviousness to her presence wasn’t something she wasn’t familiar with, it happening on a daily basis, but that didn’t stop the sinking feeling from setting in.

“Do you have something to add?” The reporter shot out, his gaze flipping from both drivers.

She turned her head, glancing at Lando, before continuing, “I think it’s inappropriate for you to ask about Lando and I’s relationship. That’s something between him and I, not anyone else, and I think Lando’s answer is arrogant and inappropriate as well seeing as I’m actually ahead of him in the Constructer’s Championship.”

Each of the men addressed in her statement went to defend themselves, but she put up her hands, “I’m not done. As a woman in this sport, you have to be able to set boundaries with the people around you, especially teammates,” She glared at Lando, “It is clear you were and are trying to start something by your question and Lando may be too naive to see it, but I do not appreciate it. Next question.”

The room was silent before another reporter stood up, a woman this time, and asked her own question. A good, informative one that had Y/n smiling at her in gratefulness.

She answered it with ease even with Lando’s death stare drilling into her side.

—

“WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT? YOU MADE ME LOOK LIKE A FOOL!” He screamed as soon as they were alone. She knew it was coming. He had given her rude looks all throughout the panel ever since she shut him and that reporter down.

Looking at him like he had grown two heads, Y/n waved her arms around, “What did you want me to do, Lando? Let you talk shit on me while I was right there?”

His annoyed groan echoed throughout the room as he took a moment to reel himself in before looking at her like she could die and he wouldn’t care, “I wasn’t talking shit and you know it. All you did was take an opportunity to make me look stupid in front of people who control my reputation.”

“Oh, wow I didn’t know that, Lan! Thanks for clearing it up!” She said sarcastically.

His finger came to point at her, “I worked so hard to get where I am, I love my job, and yet you make me question leaving every single day.”

Her eyebrows furrowed, “Worked hard? Are you kidding me, Lando? Your daddy paid for your way in here and we both know it.”

That seemed to strike a nerve as his face heated up in anger before he hit the wall in a sheer mask of rage, “WHERE DO YOU GET OFF, BITCH?”

Her eyes closed and she inhaled a slow breath before saying, “Is bitch all you have? Really?”

He stalked towards her quickly, his frame towering over hers as he stared her down, “I have so much more, but, for the sake of your feelings, I won’t do that to you.”

She laughed with a dry, short sound, “Try me.”

His eyebrows lifted, “Really?”

“Go right ahead.”

Those three words seemingly ruined her life as Lando went into a full-fledged monologue about why he hated her with every cell in his body, “I think it’s crazy the amount of ego you have because all you really are is a PR stunt, so McLaren looks good. Why do you think they would sign a 20-year-old girl who can’t drive for shit? It’s because you’re a girl, Y/n. Your whole message about this industry needing to stop using women as pawns is bullshit. You wanna know why? It’s because you’re the epitome of that with the way you were only signed and you were only ever going to be signed because of your gender and the things it could do for our image. Do you understand me? You don’t mean shit to this team.”

It was as if he had pulled her greatest fears from the depths of her body and presented them in front of her, confirming them. Her eyes watered and her hands shook. Not from anger, but from the crushing reality that Lando never cared about her. From their early days when she thought he was flirting with her and that the jacket he draped over her shoulders when it was cold meant something more to now, where he was yelling at her and tearing her down piece by piece, she didn’t recognize him.

No amount of time spent in bed trying to understand what she had done to him to make him hate her in the way he did would never be enough to conjure up some form of an explanation.

She would have to live with the fact that the man she loved hated her more than anything else in the world. That he could see her lying wounded on the street and he would swerve his car to injure her more.

Somewhere in the span of her thinking, she had begun to cry. The soft, wet tears slowly made their way down her face as if to tease Lando and the mistake he had just made. The meaningless words dawned on him too late as Y/n roughly turned away from him and made her way to the door, slamming it shut and being as loud as she could be.

The knowing faces she saw as she ran out of the hospitality told her that their yelling had been heard by everyone. Something which made her skin crawl and stomach churn at the thought of.

Her head throbbed as one idea bounced around its walls.

Her time at McLaren was effectively over.

—

Whispering increased as Lando made his way through the doors of McLaren’s Headquarters. He had been called for an impromptu meeting with Charlotte and Zak, a pairing that scared him shitless.

His footsteps halted when her short bob caught his eye outside of Zak’s office, “Hey, is everything okay?”

Her panicked gaze met him and she aggressively grabbed the sleeve of his sweatshirt and pulled him into the room, Zak already standing there in wait, “What did you do?”

His hard tone made Lando rethink his entire life, “What do you mean?”

Charlotte hit his chest, “Don’t be stupid, Lando. What did you say to her?”

He shook his head, “I seriously have no clue what you two are talking about.”

Zak yelled in annoyance, “Did you not check your phone? Your teammate’s just resigned because, and I quote, ‘it wasn’t the right fit’. Lando, what did you say to her?”

The air in the room disappeared as Lando’s eyes narrowed, “She what?”

He couldn’t think, all he could do was slowly slide down to sit in the chair behind him as his legs gave out under him.

“She quit, Lando,” Charlotte repeated.

“Lando, if you don’t tell us what you said to her right now, you won’t be the only driver out of a seat.” Zak threatened.

He put his head in his hands as he mumbled, “I told her she was only here because we wanted to sign a woman for good PR.”

A creepy, deafening silence fell upon the room as Zak and Charlotte gazed at each other. The two of them were finally at their wits end with the two driver’s misplaced dislike for each other.

Charlotte cleared her throat, “What?”

“I told her she was only here becaus-” He began to repeat, but she interrupted him.

“I heard you.”

At that, Zak leaned forward on his desk, his intimidating stance making Lando straighten up, “You better go to her and apologize for what you said. Lando, if she doesn’t come back here tomorrow asking for her seat back, I will personally ensure that your next years with us are pure hell. If you just drove one of the best drivers we have ever seen out because you couldn’t man up enough to tell her you love her and instead created this narrative where you hated her, I will ruin your career. I don’t care what kind of relationship we have built over the time you’ve been with us.”

Charlotte rested her hand on his shoulder, “Where’d you even get the idea that that was why we signed her?”

He shook his head, “Nowhere! I just wanted to hit her where it hurt because that’s what she did to me. I know we didn’t sign her on for that reason and I know the kind of talent she has! I don’t know why I did that! I-” He looked at them helplessly, “I’m sorry.”

“Save it for her,” Charlotte said sternly as she gestured for him to leave.

It didn’t take his body any moment longer to leap from his chair and go into autopilot, speeding to her apartment. There had been a few car crash scares on the way there, but he, ultimately, made it to her place with just a shaken feeling.

His hand wrapped against the wooden door, praying she would answer. The sound of her footsteps sounded from behind the door as the lock clicked and it squeezed open.

“What are you doing here? You got what you wanted. I left McLaren.” She said quietly and it was then that Lando realized how exhausted she was of their ongoing feud.

“Y/n, I never wanted that.” He said softly as he rested against the edge of her door, looking down at her adoringly.

His quiet words seemed to aggravate her as she swung the door open and yelled, “THEN WHAT DO YOU WANT? I WENT QUIET WHEN YOU TOLD ME YOU WERE ANNOYED WITH HOW MUCH I SPOKE OUT, I STOPPED MAKING JOKES WHEN YOU TOLD ME I WASN’T FUNNY, AND I LEFT WHEN YOU TOLD ME I DIDN’T HAVE A REAL PLACE ON THE TEAM. WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME?”

He couldn’t help the way his heart sunk at the hell he had put her through.

All because he couldn’t be honest with himself.

“I want you.” He whispered, looking in her eyes like it would help her understand.

However, it didn’t and she scoffed, “Oh, so you hated me yesterday, but you want me today? Real mature, Lando. How about you leave me alone, okay? I can’t take your mood swings anymore.”

The door began to close on him, but he stopped it with his hand. Pushing it open and stepping into her apartment, he forced her to hear him, “I never hated you. Never. I know it seemed like it and the things I said to you yesterday were absolutely disgusting. I don’t blame you for being confused about why I’m telling you this now with the way I have treated you over the time we’ve been teammates. But, and just listen to me here, I never hated you. I hated the way you made me feel. I hated the fact that I loved you more than I ever could’ve loved Luisinha, I hated the way you made me want to give up a Grand Prix just so you could win it and feel happy, and I hate the way you’re right there yet I can’t have you.”

Her resolve cracked, he could tell, but she still held her ground, “You think you coming over here and telling me what I’ve been wanting to hear for years will erase what you said to me yesterday?”

His hands came to gently rest over her arms, trying so hard to show her how much she meant to him, “No, I don’t think that. I know what I said to you will always be something you think about, an insecurity that will never go away, and I hate myself for doing that to you. But, I would hate myself more if I let you walk away from F1 and McLaren thinking all you ever were was some ploy.”

She stared at him, clearly dodgy and untrusting of his words, but the look in his eyes, soft and pleading, told her that he had come here with good intentions.

Trying to stop herself from caving in, she looked away, “Okay, you’ve made your point. You can leave now.”

He shook his head, “No.”

Groaning, “Why? You told me what you wanted to and I believe you so what else is there?”

“You haven’t told me that you’re coming back to McLaren.” He said as he pulled her face back to look at him with his fingers.

“Why would I do that? How do I know this thing between us stops here?” She asked hesitantly.

“It won’t,” He began, his words causing her eyebrows to furrow, “It won’t because I still love you. I can’t make up for the things I said to you nor can I take them back, but what I can do is show you that I never meant any of it. If you come back, I’m telling you our hostile relationship won’t be hostile anymore, but I can’t promise I won’t work to get you to love me too.”

Her head fell down, so close to leaning into his chest, as she whispered, “I already do.”

He lightly nudged her head to rest against him as he softly said, “Well, that cuts down my workload by a lot.”

She chuckled, the sound reminding him that he might just be out of the woods, as she looked up at him, “And what if I gave you a chance?”

His smile reached his eyes, “I wouldn’t let you down.”

“Well, then maybe I’ll give you a chance.”

He kissed her forehead lightly before her tone shifted, “Is it true what you said yesterday? Did McLaren only sign me because it helped their image?”

He rapidly shook his head, “No, that was a stupid comment to make. That has never and will never be true. Your skill and talent speaks for itself, Y/n. Do you wonder why I get so defensive when someone talks about our ‘rivalry’? It’s because I know you’re better than me.”

“Don’t do that.” She said.

“Don’t do what?” He asked.

“Lie to me.”

He smiled at her, “Love, you said it yourself yesterday. You’re beating me in the Constructer’s Championship. If you look at our numbers side by side, it’s a fact you’re the better driver.”

Her mischievous smile greeted him, “I know. I just wanted you to say it out loud.”

Scoffing with a loving smile on his face, “Oh, you drive me crazy.”

She returned his smile, the look telling him she was in this with him for a long time, “Enemies to lovers, baby. Enemies to lovers.”

#f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1 x reader #lando norris imagine #lando norris x reader #mclaren #lando norris fanfic #lando norris fluff #lando norris imagines #lando norris #lando norris fanfiction #lando norris x you #lando norris edit #lando norris smut #daniel ricciardo #daniel riccardo x reader #daniel riccardo imagine

[readychilledwine]

Glory Hole

✨️Kink Education with Elizabeth✨️

We all probably know a glory hole is a place, typically in a bathroom, where people can pay for an anonymous sexual encounter. Here's what I didn't know before digging into this kink a lot more, though!

Glory holes have been used for hundreds of years but are believed to have originated or grown most popular among the LGBTQIA community. It was a safe way for closeted members of the community to be able to have sex with someone without risking their identity being revealed. Glory holes have resurged in popularity since 2020 due to the CDC and WHO being unable to provide people with ideas for safe sex during the Covid 19 pandemic. They can now be found in sex clubs, legal practicing brothels, and a ton of other locations. Typically, oral is what commonly happens with glory holes, but modern motivation and technology have made so much more possible with them, allowing both parties to receive pleasure and enjoy the experience.

The appeal of glory holes is the anonymous aspect of it. Sex with a stranger is always more thrilling, right? There's no expectations. You aren't as focused on impressing them. It is about pleasure and pleasure only, and that is the appeal that has made so many people fall in lust with the idea of them.

At least, Cassian will think that's pretty exciting.

💕Peep the Valentines Day List Here💕

As always, NSFW below the cut

Cassian x Reader

Warnings - reader is a sex worker, sketchy business practice, inferred danger, dp via toy use, toy use, p in v, unprotected sex, restraints, praise, Liz throwing possible fic content into what's supposed to be one shots. Sorry, friends 💕💕

You sighed as you walked into the pleasure hall for the night. 

To the outside world, it was no different than Rita's. Drinks, loud music, a dance floor. The only difference was the upstairs of the hall. 

Whereas Rita's had private booths, here had something much much different. For a pretty penny, only the wealthiest of guests could enter and be taken into a whole new experience kept private from the High Lord himself. 

You were led up the steps, already going numb to what you had to do to pay bills, to stay alive. You entered the room males and females alike stood in. It was a haven here, a place you all could run to after one too many clients as you were asked to call them. A board with countless messages and warnings on clients who were banned sat on the largest wall. Every day, each of you received a new assignment, a new place you were to be stationed and kept until you were purchased and moved into a new room for the time allowed. 

You did not know if the Mother was blessing you or mocking you as you read your assignment, “The Hole.” One of your coworkers, a new girl fresh out of school, came next to you, taking your hand. “You can take the lay down spot,” you squeezed her hand gently. “It's your first time in there. You'll want it.”

“I heard we'll make good money tonight.” You smiled at her, kissing her forehead as you walked her towards the room.

“You'll make your rent within two hours. We have an 8 hour shift, so you'll be able to safely afford recovery time off. Or a spa trip.”

Cassian hated being used by Azriel for spywork. 

The general was hardly stealthy, too bold and loud to keep secrets, and frankly, everyone knew who he was. This was one spy scout out he was salivating at the idea of, though. A pleasure hall with a brothel hidden above it. A brothel that was hidden so well it and its workers had sat under Rhysand's nose for years, dodging thousands in taxes. 

Nesta accidentally told Azriel about it after doing something to him that had the spymaster seeing the heavens. “A pretty female taught me when I went to Haven once.” 

Haven wasn't an unknown pleasure hall to them. The inner circle would go there when they wanted more of a party atmosphere than Rita's offered, but Nesta had unknowingly confirmed a rumor that had been circling the court for years. 

The large sum of gold in Cassian's pocket was a heavy reminder of why he was here. He handed the guard of the club 100 gold, a steep price just to be taken up the the brothel, and almost had a heart attack when he entered.

It was the cleanest whore house he had ever been in. The females all wore dresses similar to what Rhysand dressed Feyre in for the court of Nightmares. The men wore silk boxers. Cassian was approached by a pretty blonde with a menu of services they offered. One section stood out to him, though. “Anonymous Sex.” It was 800 gold, 2 hour time limit, a room with two females, a female and a male, or two males. “The females room please.” 

The blonde smiled, head tilted almost longingly. “You're the first in there tonight. My girls will think they've been blessed with a God.”

He almost died again upon entering. Inside the large room, a wall of toys and discipline implements say, chairs in case you had brought friends with you, and a sink for aftercare for the girls. What really had Cassian stirring, thinking he was going to partake instead of question, was the two naked females, one on her back with her feet positioned into a harness, the other standing bent over whatever lied beyond that wall. All he could see was their lower bodies, wet and waiting with anticipation.

And the best part, the absolute best part? They could not see an inch of him. 

You could hear the new girl crying out to any Gods that would listen as the wet sound of flesh smacking against each other was rhythmic. It was rare for one guest to enter the room normally reserved for parties of 2 or 3, but who were you to just if someone wanted to pay to have females to themselves. 

It had happened once before in your time here. The female had not thought any of you would know who she was, but a sandy blonde female with grey eyes spending and tipping so freely and without concern was clearly a high ranking member of the court. And from the glimpse you had gotten, it was clearly Nesta Archeron. 

You wanted to applaud when you heard your partner finishing. It was a genuine completion, not her faking the orgasm, training you all had and thanked the Cauldron for daily. You were dripping, but would have been content with being left alone. Maybe that's why you were so surprised when a harsh smack landed on your ass, cracking through the air and sending pleasure through you like a wave. 

Cassian was memorizing the scent of both of the females in front of him. He wasn't going to waste the gold he had already spent to get into the brothel and into this room, so instead, he made the choice to mix work with pleasure, and fuck both of these girls until he could stand it anymore. 

He left the first girl, dripping his cum and hers while she whimpered, legs visibly shaking. She had a preference for gentler sex, no aftercare. Whereas the girl, who's ass he was currently stroking himself to the sight of, had a preference for rough, toys allowed, aftercare preferred. 

He saved her for last for that reason alone. 

Cassian looked at the wall of toys, eyes locked on a thick dildo and lube and went to grab them. He set the lube down after taking some on his hand, rubbing it on the toys and then her pretty waiting holes. If she liked rough sex and toys, then fine, he'd stuff her full, filling both of those pretty waiting holes.

“Pretty thing, aren't you,” he purred, voice laced with lust. “We'll see how pretty you are when I'm done with you.”

You jumped in surprise and moaned as the male behind you began working a toy into your back entrance slowly. It was suddenly torture to be in the restraints they used to keep you both in place, to prevent you from ruining the allusion that the fae paying for these rooms were unknown to everyone. Every slow inch stretching had your body igniting, wanting you to beg for more. 

You whimpered once it was fully inside of you, wiggling your hips in a silent plea. “Eager little thing.” That voice, Gods that voice, it had your cunt twitching around nothing. “Oh don't worry, kitten, I plan on filling that too.” 

And Gods did he. That stretch started after a few sloppy thrusts of the dildo, and you could have sworn you saw the Mother once he was seated inside of you.

He either had the largest cock you've ever taken, or, the use of the toy made it seem that way. He gave you a few moments, cooing praise to you as a large calloused hand ran the outsides of your thighs. 

The first roll of his hips inside of you did have you seeing the Mother. His cock was heavy and perfect, rubbing every nerve in your velvety walls. Once his testing was over, you felt those hands grip your hips, bruising them instantly, and he began.

This male began fucking you like both of your lives depended on your orgasm. He fucked you like he owned you, like he owned that peak of pleasure he was quickly driving you to. Between his cock and the toy, you were stuffed full and so sensitive, mind going numb and you moaned, cried, and begged. 

He was so deep inside of you he hit places others had easily failed to. “Fuck you feel like Heaven, kitten.” 

Your eyes rolled back at the praise, a soft “Thank you, sir,” leaving your mouth as you began to twitch around him.

Cassian was lost in the softness, warmth and wetness of this female's heat.

He would have paid 800 gold just for her. For just one hour with her. Each twitch of her silk had him on edge, ready to pump his seed so deep into her every single fae trying to fuck her afterwards would have to use him as lubricant. 

She tightened around him again, moans becoming higher in pitch and more desperate. “Gonna cum for me, kitten? Gonna cum around my cock? Cum with that toy in your ass like a good whore?”

He was practically begging for it knowing he was going to finish in what he felt was embarrassingly record time. One of his hands moved to her clit, groaning as she gasped and wailed loudly. “That's it baby, cum for me.”

Those skilled fingers circled your clit over and over in time with him fucking into you with reckless abandonment. You were right on that edge, ready to fall, and then he growled. The noise so primal it shot through your body like an arrow, and in true nature, you came. 

You came so hard you saw the cosmos, the afterlife, the ocean. Your high ripped through you like a tidal wave, walls milking him as he roared behind you. 

You heard him him lean against the wall, panting as he gave a few sloppy finishing twitchs. He pulled himself and the toy out at the same time, chuckling as you whined from the sudden emptiness. You heard him following protocol, washing the toy and setting it on the table closest to you so any Other clients knew who it had been used on. 

The warm rag he used to clean you while he whispered to you gently was almost better than the sex as it wiped away the remnants and dripping reminders of this sin. 

Something made you pause, though, the rough sound of leathery wings flapping. 

You replayed the voice in your head over and over after he left. Thinking to where you had heard it before and then whispered, “Oh fuck.” Your hand slapped the release for the restraints and you stepped out and into the room, grabbing your robe and pulling it to the other side as you did. You touched the new girl's leg, “I'll be right back, babe. We have a problem.” 

You left the room, entering the hall quickly. You made eye contact with the front desk girl, then the Illyrian male leaving tips for you and your partner.

Cassian, the general of the Night Court, paused as he saw you. He smirked, but that quickly fell when you hit a button. On the wall and the fae lights died, the establishment was going dark. 

The female before him began to glow. “You should leave before she gets the owner.” Cassian blinked, confused as to what was happening. “Big daddy doesn't like having his business potentially fucked with. He's killed for less. Leave before she gets him. It won't end well if you don't.”

Cassian heard movement in the room, cursing himself for not wearing his siphons and left, throwing gold on the table for the females. 

He called for Rhysand to send Azriel as he walked through that shady part of Velaris alone. His shoulders fell in relief as his brothers both walked beside him in time.

“One,” he started. “I just had the best sex experience of my life.”

“Two,” he sighed. “It's fucking expensive, Rhys. The common citizen isn't getting in there unless they've saved for months.”

He turned to Azriel, “They call the owner Big Daddy.”

The shadowsinger paled before masking his concern. “Let's winnow,” he said firmly. “I do not feel like dealing with him tonight.”

General tag list:

Rhys nodded, grabbing Cassian's arm and then Azriel's. “Let's go home, and then I want to hear about this sex.”

@hnyclover @glitterypirateduck @slytherinindisguise @mischiefmanager @bloodicka @starsinyourseyes @the-sweet-psycho

@mariahoedt @rinalouu @sarawritestories @starryhiraeth @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @cumuluscranium

Valentines Day Taglist:

@sfhsgrad-blog @amara-moonlight @eternallyelvish @novaksangel @teenageeggscissorslawyer @thisblogisaboutabook @amygdtjhddzvb

@justasillylittlegoofyguy @avajustreads

@littlestw01f @azriels-shadowsinger @acourtofladydeath

#acotar #acotar x reader #cassian x reader #cassian x y/n #cassian x you #cassian smut #cassian of illyria #lord of bloodshed #cassian acotar #readychilledwine valentines day bingo

[lowtaperfeyd]

A Scintilla of Excitement (Chapter 1)

Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x Mentat!reader

author's note: This is the first chapter of the mentat series I am writing! I'm so excited for you to see what else I've come up with for this :D (It has now taken the spot for longest thing I've written.) Also go check out my beta-reader @zzleeper!!!!

warnings: house harkonnen, death, mentions of knives,

wc: 1529

You sat on the cold, metal seat of the ornithopter the Harkonnens sent to come and get you from the heighlinder. The scraping of metal startled you when they screeched unexpectedly.

 How tragic, you thought, my final moments will take place in a world with no normal sun. And no normal sons either. 

The entire two day trip on the heighliner was not so bad. You were allowed to wander the empty ship corridors and explore even up to the staff decks. The only part that was scary were the ‘servants’ aboard the ship. Their bald heads, that seemed to engulf any light that shined on them, made you feel uneasy. 

If this is how I feel when I see people like this, I wonder how I’ll feel when I see the baron. 

They always seemed to look at you as if you were an alien. Which I supposed you were. The color to your skin that made you look more alive than them. It probably scared them just as much as it scared you. 

As you continued to sit there in the cockpit, thinking about the heighliner, you fiddled with your fingers and did not sit fully still. 

“We have a nervous one I see!” Shouted a voice from the front of the cockpit where the pilot was. A voice that had a distinct inflection that just screamed Harkonnen, even if the owner of the voice was whispering, 

“Don’t worry the baron doesn’t play with his food.” The pilot laughed out, “But the Na-Baron, oh boy watch yourself around him!” 

As you sat there, mildly disturbed at what you just heard, the pilot went on and on about the things he had seen the Na-Baron do. Almost like he was proud of him,

“There was this one time Na-Baron took a butter knife off the table and stabbed one of his uncle’s advisors because he didn’t agree with what he was saying!” He exclaimed, “One of my friends was there, he barely survived with just one eye left. Told me all about the story.” 

“That's,” you swallowed so as to not hurl at what you heard, “really something…” 

FACT: HARKONNENS AND THE PEOPLE OF THE PLANET, IN GENERAL, ARE USED TO THIS VIOLENCE AND ENJOY IT. 

INFERENCE: DON'T ACT LIKE YOU HATE THOSE THINGS, BE VERY NEUTRAL ON IT.

HYPOTHESIS: IF YOU CAN ACT LIKE YOU FEEL INDIFFERENT ABOUT THESE THINGS MAYBE THEY'LL PUT IN A GOOD RECOMMENDATION TO KAITAIN. 

“It’s incredible, ” The pilot responded, “But the real question is, why does the baron need another Mentat?”

“Another good question is where’s the store that doesn’t sell chatty pilots?”(Y/N) retorted, feeling a little sick and tired from the traveling and what they had just heard.  

The snap seemed to shut him up just long enough before you landed on Giedi Prime. 

“About an hour before we land on the surface, Mentat.” The same pilot muttered in annoyance. 

Actually, 1 hour, 2 minutes, and 23 seconds. But who's counting or keeping track? Definitely not you. 

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

As the heighliner ramp went down, it allowed you to fully see the polluted land around Geidi Prime. The black sun changed the red, metallic bracelet you were wearing to a dark and shiny gray, almost sliver, instead of its normal vibrance. You saw the guards and their multitude of weapons and dark armor. 

If they were standing inside, that would be black. You thought, but that isn’t a surprising detail.

“Are you ready to walk down, Mentat?” one of the other workers on the heighliner asked.

“Yes.” You responded courteously, because you had a pretty good idea of what would happen if you disrespected someone with all the guards and important people around. 

The ramp underneath your feet was extremely slippery and steep and forced you to take very slow and precise steps to reach the end. At the rate I am moving I’ll get to the end after the sun goes down. You eventually got to the end of the ramp. But, you only looked at your feet the entire time. Once you looked up you saw a man with a black hood and robes, as well as the lip tattoo you had. 

That’s Piter de Vries. 

You took the final ten steps to walk to him. As you walked you noticed him look you up and down in an arrogant and almost disgusted manner. 

You put your hand out waiting for him to shake your hand. As you did this you said, “I’m (Y/N) (L/N), the new Mentat.”

Instead of him talking your hand he just continued to look up and down. Most likely reviewing the clothes you were wearing and the way you held yourself. Awkwardly, you put your hand down back to your side. 

“Well your arrival in the ornithopter was on time. But, the way you traversed down to the ground was quite untimely.” He remarked, “It must be quite exciting for you to have your first assignment.” He added sarcastically. 

Just a scintilla of excitement, it would be more if I was not here. 

“But, there is no time for talking,” he exhaled, “I can’t have you seeing the baron in such attire.” 

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

You looked around at the small bedroom you were given. The room had a hospital type of antiseptic-ness. The walls were bare besides small vertical groves and bolts into the walls holding things together. There was a little gray desk that had shelves that were indented into the walls above it. Beside your desk, was the little chest of belongings that were sent before you had departed from Tleilax. 

I’ll unpack that before I go to bed tonight. 

You turned toward your bed, a relatively small bed with dark covers and pillows. On top of that was a black butcher paper package. On the front of it, in clear print was, TO THE MENTAT, (L/N). In the package was a set of black clothes that looked similar to the ones you see de Vries as well as other people wearing, except without the cloak. On top of the clothes was a note from de Vries himself. 

(L/N), I have taken the liberty of getting rid of all the unnecessary clothes in your trunk and replacing them with more suitable attire for a Mentat. In your closet, you’ll find more of the same kind in the package.

De Vries.

What an asshole.

Quickly, you walked over to your closet and sure enough when you opened it. It was like the same outfit had been cloned over and over again. Black shirt, black pants, and a shiny black belt. Three pairs of black, leather dress shoes were in there too. At the back of the closet, there was a small amount of colder weather wear. A couple of insulated black coats and cloaks. 

Unwillingly, you shed your bright clothes from the academy for a dreary uniform instead. The fabric of the shirt was silking and smooth, but the pants itched badly when it met your skin. 

Once you were done, you exited your room to see two, bald headed, slave girls standing outside of your room. 

“Why are you here?” You questioned. 

“We are here to take you to the baron. Under the order of Mentat De Vries.” The girl on the left said timidly. 

“Alright…” you whispered as you closed the door behind you. 

As you walked through the halls of the Harkonnen’s castle you saw portraits of past rulers who were equally as bald as the next. After four minutes of walking, you ended up in front of a heavily guarded door. From outside the room, you could hear the sounds of yelling, screams, and a thud against the wall.  

Remember, indifference, and then you’ll get your way. 

You nodded toward the guard, signaling to him you were ready to enter the room. Slowly, the guard opened the heavy, metal door with a slight grunt. Walking inside, you saw a long table that had chairs on either side of it and a huge spread of food on top of it. But, there was only one chair at the head. The Baron was sitting there enjoying the elegant feast on the table. 

For the baron… all that food. 

You walked past important officials and advisors to Baron Harkonnen sitting in the chairs. You noticed De Vries sitting right next to the baron and opposite two bald headed men. These men were dressed not like the slave or advisors, but men of higher standing. 

The baron’s nephews Count Glossu and Na-Baron Feyd-Rautha Rabban. 

Beside De Vries, there was an empty seat. As you walked to sit in that seat, you noticed the younger man who was sitting opposite of you, the Na-Baron, eyeing you down and biting his lips at the same time. 

He probably picks the member of staff that gets eaten when a couple mess up. Is he imagining me fried or boiled?  

“I appear to be late, I’m sorry about that, my baron.” You apologized as you pulled the chair out and sat.  “Don’t be sorry, Mentat." The Na-Baron jested, "It’s not a good look for you.”

#dune x reader #dune #feyd rautha #feyd rautha harkonnen #feyd rautha x reader #house harkonnen #mentat!reader #feyd x you

[comicaurora]

These have been pent up for a while, so there's a whole list lol. Some are Aurora, some are not.

1) Can lacrimas carry out multiple purposes at once? Or will they blend them? I'm assuming that this is possible, considering that the automaton in the ruins was using a lacrima as a brain

2) Has anyone tried to make tools or weapons out of lacrimas? I'm talking like chisel that needs no hammer. Or maybe a Fire lacrima on a bow that sets your arrows on fire

3) Can you engrave runes on lacrimas to make them affect themselves?

4) Where can I read more about the Twins? If I'm not wrong they're the creator gods, aided by the Light dragon and the Void dragon to create life, but I might be getting a wrong read on that

5) Since we see Erin successfully become the first Void mage, does that now mean there's potential for him to make a Void lacrima? The dragon probably won't allow it, but still

6) What exactly does elemental corruption of each element do? Fire literally burns you up, as we saw in Arc 1. I can infer that Life likely makes you a chimera. Void corruption makes you a cave crawler. But what do the other one do? Does Earth make you a statue? Does Wind disintegrate you, Thanos style?

7) Now onto the non-Aurora questions, is your art vector or raster? I believe it's vector, but it's always better to confirm

8) What are your opinions on reading into the environment and the character design to infer things about the character themselves? In any type of media

9) Have you played Baldur's Gate 3?

10) Do you have any music that you'd recommend? I've listened to every song I liked so many times that I hate them now.

11) I'm new to Tumblr, anything that I should know? You don't have to answer this one if you don't wanna. I think I know some of the basics already. Reblog what you like, and avoid the terfs, right?

You might be able to tell that I like the idea of the lacrimas a little bit. Just a teensy bit. The artificer in me definitely isn't obsessed. I appreciate any answers you can give :3

Cheers!

Ooh, lots of stuff!

Yes, it's possible. A lacrima can be engraved with multiple spells, set in a casing engraved with commands, or some combination of the two. Typically, all spells engraved directly on a lacrima will activate at once when the lacrima is "switched on", but a spell can be quite complex, and conditional activations are possible - "if-then-else" statements, basically.

Yes, magic items exist.

Generally no. If the lacrima is disrupted or broken, the spell generally stops functioning, so a self-affecting lacrima will run only as long as it takes for the lacrima to distort or break.

There's an extra lore page about them!

He probably could if he wanted to (and the Dragon allowed it) but Void energy is very dangerous, so he likely doesn't want to.

Each form of elemental corruption agitates the presence of the element in the mage's body. Earth corruption can damage or alter bones, encourage unhealthy petrification of soft tissues, etc. Wind corruption can have physical effects but it often most obviously produces breakdowns in the person's ability to speak or understand language. Lightning damages, numbs or intensifies a person's physical senses.

Raster, I draw with CSP's digital pens. I've only very briefly experimented with vector art - I don't like how it simplifies the lines.

I think it's a fun school of analysis but, like all literary analysis, it runs into trouble if it tries to lock down exactly what the writer was thinking or intending (which is an objective fact that one can be incorrect about) rather than trying to analyze the story on its own and what meaning might, intentionally or unintentionally, be factoring into it.

Nope

don't trust my taste in music it's 90% nu metal and sonic OSTs

Like what you like, reblog what you want, generally it's considered dubious form to add a comment to a reblog unless you have something profound to contribute (commenting in the tags is fine), steer clear of discourse and callout posts and generally the sectors of the site that are constantly on fire, blocking someone for any reason is 100% fine

#asks #aurora #not aurora

[sh0tanzz]

wonbin as your boyfriend based on astrology !

(reminder that this for fun and astrology is something I study for a hobby, these are all inferences based off of observations and not exact fact unless I knew him myself !!)

warnings: small mention of suggestive innuendo but nothing extremely graphic I'll only do NSFW asks if requested.

Pisces Sun : Honestly I knew from the jump when I first started to stan Riize that Wonbin would be a water sign 😭, people claim that pisces men are toxic+manipulative etc. However EVERY sign is capable of toxicity/negative behaviors so I will not feed into those stereotypes. As a boyfriend he'd be pretty shy in the beginning, before you two even dated he would probably stalk your socials and eavesdrop in your convos to gather info before even actually talking to you. He's be pretty...delusional LMAO ! especially with his venus in pisces, you could post a song on your notes and he'll think to himself... "she wants me.." yet wont text you until his confidence was high enough. Ngl he might be slightly flakey, he'd take a min to respond at times and might not be super precise when planning things out for the two of you.

Libra Moon: This makes me feel like he'd be pretty considerate and would thoroughly think out the pros and cons before doing anything just to avoid upsetting you and to ensure your comfort. He could be very observant on the reciprocity of the relationship so if he feels like things aren't even or fair he might retaliate, for example if he feels like you're distancing himself he might take a step back as well. Also do NOT make him question your feelings for him because he will FLEEE THE COUNTRY libra moons take their love and kindness seriously and will feel upset and even embarrassed when taken for granted .

Aquarius Mercury: This placement makes me giggle knowing he couldn't keep up with the whole "cold mysterious guy" persona SM tried giving him 😭. He'd be goofy especially in private and would use his wit to flirt. Would most definitely mess with you and rile you up just for jokes. In a recent vid I've seen he said he'd play/joke around since he's relatively shy to break the ice and it seems super true to me. Would also use music to communicate or send you songs pretty frequently.

Pisces Venus : Siri play Dangerously in love 2 by Beyonce !! Venus in pisces can be soo sweet. He'd love you unconditionally and for your authentic true essence. He could be pretty clingy, tagging a long as much as he can and will want your attention and this paired with his Libra moon points towards him wanting to impress you/get praised. Once again would love to bond over music. The gifts he'd give you would be things that make you feel special and customized to the info he knows about you. He'd be literally stuck and severely down bad once he fully develops feelings. Would plan dates with an aesthetic touch and would want romantic moments between you two to have a "straight out of a movie" feel to it. He would also fall very hard very fast. He'd also want to have a sense and feeling of being "taken care of" since there's sm venus influence in his chart and a lack of domineering energy. Downside he can be too lost in the glitz and glamour of the relationship that he ends up not acknowledging or downplaying the problems in the relationship or even his own red flags.

Taurus Mars : He may not be super direct or would want to take certain things slow during the beginning of the relationship since Taurus values its boundaries as well as comfort and hates to be rushed. Before the relationship even begins he might be a bit hesitant to even approach or out his feelings unless he was 100% confident or sure. Taurus rules the neck, throat/vocal cords, and shoulders. Sssooo he may enjoy receiving neck kisses/hickies, kisses along his shoulder or even massages along his neck and shoulder line or would try to do that to you. Similar to Gemini mars he also may find your voice as a sensual turn on and very attractive and would try to hear it often.

Other Aspects:

Moon/Mercury trine: Would most definitely remember facts about yourself that you've told him especially those he deems important to you. He'd also remember the nostalgic moments between you two

Mercury/Neptune conjunct: Generally sensitive and it can show in how he communicates especially in high tension or stressful moments in the relationship

Mars/Uranus sextile: Random moments where he's very spontaneous and will require a lot of freedom and could feel suffocated within the relationship if not given time to himself

Potential Toxicity: (reminder that any/everyone is capable of being toxic and everyone has negative traits these could be POTENTIALLY true)

Venus/Pluto square: His feelings can become quite intense and he can become extremely possessive as well as SUPER jealous to the point his partner might feel constricted and like he's their shadow. Can also be super sensitive and take things that you might not find as deep very personal.

Hope you enjoyed, I might do Sungchan or Anton next :P

#riize #riize x reader #riize imagines #riize smut #riize fluff #riize wonbin #riize fanfic #kpop astrology #riize soft hours #riize soft thoughts #riize reactions #riize astrology #riize x you #riize x y/n #nct #nct 127 #wonbin #riize anton #shotaro #sohee #sungchan

[fishsticksloser]

Crush Pt 2

Donnie x gn!reader

Warnings: angst (once again just Donnie's feelings), comfort, fluff, human!reader inferred, swearing, NO TCEST

A/N: The requested part 2. I have so many Donnie requests right now, trying to space them out... I'm gonna go watch the FNAF movie today!!!

Previous | Next

Donnie sits in his lab, fingers strumming against the desk. He stares at the pile of parts you'd managed to find for him. The newest one made his head spin, it could only be found in the Hidden City, this meant you went down to find it for him. You probably had to go to a bunch of places to get one in such good condition.

But you couldn't possibly have a crush on him. His brothers were imagining it.

Leo pointed out that you started wearing purple. Which of course Donnie noticed, but he tried to say that maybe you just liked it. Raph followed up with saying that you hardly ever wore purple before now.

"Its a sign" So Mikey and Leo said.

Donnie wasn't buying it.

Mikey pointed out that you were wearing lighter purples which are associated with with light-hearted, romantic feelings. He also brought attention to the fact that Donnie also started wearing lighter purples. Which Donnie quickly turned attention away from.

⋆｡ ﾟ｡☁︎👾｡ ﾟ｡⋆

"Why won't you even consider that they might actually have a crush on you?" Leo asks as he lounges in Donnie's lab while he works.

"It's simply out of the question." Donnie answers, as it that was a good enough answer. He looked at his twin for a moment, seeing the look on Leo's face. "I have hardly any redeeming qualities. The ones I do... Probably shouldn't be considered."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Leo sits up and frowns at Donnie. He rolls his chair over to Donnie, ready to give him a talking to. "You realize that you're actually likeable, right? We just joke around about each other."

"Sure, sure." Donnie rolls his eyes and turns back to his work. Unfortunately, Leo managed to keep him from turning, making Donnie face him. Donnie huffs and glares at Leo. "Just like the time you made sure I was taken by bats so I 'didn't ruin another mission'? Or reprogramming Shelldon to prove that my inventions suck?"

"Okay, that last one I admit was a bit far..." Leo sighs, looking at his twin with pleading eyes. "But you're my best friend, my twin. I wouldn't be sitting silently in your lab if I didn't like you, you know how hard it is for me to sit still and be quiet." Donnie smiles a little at Leo's last statement, letting out a weak snort, which makes Leo continue more passionately. "You're the opposite of me. In almost every way, but that's what makes us work. Sure I'm charismatic and insanely attractive... But you're mysterious, stoic, and fucking genius."

"And those are redeeming qualities?" Donnie asks, genuinely wanting to know. Did those things pull you to be attracted to him? Were those qualities really attractive?

"Absolutely!" Leo says, shaking Donnie a little. But then Leo stops to think for a second. "Well... They might think you hate them now."

"What?" Donnie replies, eyes wide. "Why? Did I do something?" He's panicking now. He had to fix this. He had to finally admit that you might maybe have a crush on him.

"You have been pretty... Guarded lately. You've been kind of blunt and mean to them, we've-"

Donnie stands up and rushes out of the lab quickly to resolve the issue. He quickly went to your place, not even knocking. He slipped in through the window, seeing you cooking dinner.

"You think I hate you?" Donnie asks softly, making you jump.

"I should really put a lock on the window..." You laugh anxiously. Donnie frowns at you for avoiding his question. "I didn't think it was out of the question."

"I'm sorry, that was never my intention." He murmurs, moving closer to you. You stare at him, a little shocked. He's apologizing? And sounds sincere? "I've been... Fighting my emotions. I guess I didn't realize I was taking it out on you."

"I don't understand..." You reply, brows furrowed as you look up at him. The look in his eyes is much different, softer than they had been recently.

"My brothers say you have a crush on me?" Donnie asks like he's wanting reassurance, wanting confirmation that these rumors where in fact true. You nod, even more confused. "I've been... Fighting with believing that... And with understanding how I feel about you."

You stare at him still, finally the pieces click. "Oh..." You whisper in realization, adverting your gaze for a moment to collect yourself. "So that's what Leo's text meant..." Donnie cocked his head a little before you showed the text.

Mayday! Donnie is about to explode emotionally!

Donnie rolls his eyes at his brother's text, but then looks at you. "So... What does this mean for us?" He questions quietly.

"I would like to... Figure this out with you, if that's something you'd be interested in."

"Sounds intriguing... I'm in."

#rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt #rise of the tmnt #rise leo #rise donnie #rottmnt x reader #rottmnt x you #rise x reader #rise of the turtles #rise movie #rottmnt donnie #rottmnt donatello #rottmnt disaster twins #donnie x reader #donnie hamato #teenage mutant ninja turtles donnie #donnie tmnt #donatello hamato #donatello x reader #tmnt donatello #tmnt #tmnt 2018 #donatello x you #donatello x y/n #donnie x you #donnie x y/n #save rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #save rise of the tmnt #save rottmnt #unpause rise of the tmnt

[geminiwritten]

hold on ; billy butcher

fandom: the boys

pairing: billy x reader

summary: you’re the youngest member of the boys and you hate that butcher insists on calling you ‘kid’ so you show him in more ways than one that you are not a child

notes: this is very weak, but it was kind of good writing practice because i definitely don’t write a lot of action (i’m so sorry if it sucks)! as always, please let me know what you think!

warnings: a lot of swearing, google translated french, age gap (not specified, but inferred) guns, violence, a dagger, explosion, descriptions of wounding (please don’t read if any of this is triggering for you!)

word count: 4310

Butcher is an asshole. You knew that from the moment you met him. He is rude, and brash, and impulsive to the point that made you believe he didn’t have an angel on one of his shoulders, only two antagonistic little devils. You often found yourself itching to dig your fist into his face, especially when he called you by the stupid nickname he coined the moment he met you. Kid, or The Kid, if you weren’t in the room. It vexed you beyond belief, and you knew exactly why.

Butcher is an asshole, but he’s also fucking gorgeous. He’s tall and broad, and his voice is so delicious, it often finds its way into your filthiest dreams. To say you were obsessed with the man wouldn’t be an overstatement, and it was no secret, everyone but Butcher himself knows it. You’ve wanted him from the moment you met him, but then he went ahead and called you ‘kid’ and you quickly realised that he didn’t see you as anything more than one of the boys. The youngest one of the boys.

“Are you okay, mon amour?” Frenchie asks, nudging you with his shoulder.

You look at the man sitting beside you, dressed head to toe in black with a bandolier slung across his body. The van rattles as it hits a bump, and across from you, MM casts an angry glare toward the driver’s seat.

“I’m good,” you reply, flexing your fingers around the gun laying across your lap.

You were no stranger to the weapon, having spent years training in the special forces before flunking out the minute you found out about the movement for Supes to be contracted into the military. You were furious and scared, and then you ran into an old neighbour whose mother used to be book club buddies with yours – Hughie – and the rest is history.

“Butcher’s on location,” MM says, tucking his phone back into the pocket on his vest.

“Make sure he waits,” Hughie calls from the front of the van. “It’ll take me five minutes to get eyes on the whole building, but he can’t go in blind.”

MM looks at Frenchie, “Are you sure about this?”

“Positive,” Frenchie replies, “They will not be prepared for a raid, and they will have the information we need.”

“And how many are going to be willing to give it to us?” you ask.

He grimaces, “Not many, but I do not doubt your persuasion skills, mon cherie.”

“Persuasion,” you scoff, looking down at the weapon in your lap.

Don’t get it wrong, you weren’t some kind of super CIA motherfucker who should be feared by all, but you were pretty swift when you needed to be. You weren’t overly worried about the mission, not with Frenchie, MM, and Butcher at your back, but you hadn’t properly exercised your training in months. You know you’re going to be rusty, and you don’t exactly know what you’re walking into, but Frenchie does, and he’s confident in your ability.

The objective was simple. Frenchie had some old friends who were keeping tabs on his and Butcher’s movements and feeding them back to someone who was then getting them to Vought somehow. All you had to do was shut them down and find out who their contact was, and probably murder more than half of them in the process. Simple, right? Except for the fact that not even Frenchie knew exactly how many men you were running in on, or what kind of weapons they had.

“We’re here,” Hughie announces, just before the three of you in the back lurch forward with the sudden stop of the van.

You button up the fastenings on your fingerless gloves and check that your bandolier is packed with extra magazines before standing up. MM opens the doors for Hughie, and he jumps up into the back of the van with his laptop under his arm. Frenchie pulls a small stool from the storage cage and plants it in front of the flip down desk as Hughie begins unpacking his equipment. No more than five minutes pass before video images start popping up in black and white squares across the screens.

“Butcher,” Hughie says, tucking his earpiece in, “can you hear me?”

You fix your own piece into your ear before routinely checking the clips and fastenings across your tact suit.

“I can ‘ear you,” Butcher’s voice rumbles in your ear, and you can feel your cheeks flush pink.

“Alright,” Hughie scans the screens in front of him, “they’ve got pretty high tech surveillance, but their security isn’t great. I’m getting twenty-two heat signatures, most in the basement, a couple on the ground floor, and three on the fourth. According to Frenchie’s intel, there are other tenants in the building, so my guess is that three up top aren’t apart of this.”

“The two at ground level are most likely security,” Frenchie says. “There are always one or two of them watching the building’s main entrance.”

“But there’s another way in?” MM asks.

Hughie nods, “Looks like you can access the basement from the back, but that’s probably their main point of access, so you’ll want to find another way in.”

“You tellin’ me there’s one fuckin’ door to this place?” Butcher’s voice comes through the earpiece again, and you have to flex your fingers around your gun to remind yourself to focus.

“The backdoor and the building’s main stairwell,” Frenchie replies.

“Two fuckin’ doors?” Butcher says. “Fuckin’ hell, Frenchie, how the hell are we s’pposed to get out if things go wrong?”

“Nothing will go wrong,” Frenchie states, giving you an incredibly confident grin.

Your stomach twists nervously, but you don’t let it show, returning his grin with a nod and a small smile.

“There are windows,” Hughie says, “but only Y/N will fit, maybe Frenchie.”

“Then we go first,” you look at Frenchie, “through the windows and make sure Butcher and MM can get in the back.”

“No fuckin’ way,” Butcher snaps. “We don’t know what kind of weapons these cunts got, and if you two get overpowered, we won’t be able to get in ‘n’ help. We all go in the backdoor, force our way in.”

Frenchie chuckles, “You are a fan of forcing yourself into the backdoor, Monsieur Charcutier?”

MM snorts while you and Hughie snicker, but there isn’t a sound from Butcher.

“Look,” you say, “I appreciate your concern, Butcher, but we have the best chance of surprising them by slipping in where they won’t expect.”

Frenchie giggles again at your unintentional innuendo.

“Listen, Kid,” Butcher says, sending wave of irritation through your body, “I appreciate your concern, but I ain’t lettin’ you ‘n’ Frenchie get killed for somethin’ as trivial as a bit of intel.”

“I’m not a fucking kid, Butcher,” you bite back, at which everyone in the van startles. “Frenchie and I will meet you at the backdoor.”

You pull your black kerchief up over your nose and crack the van’s doors open, peaking out cautiously before stepping down and into the dark night. Frenchie and MM follow your silent footsteps toward the brick building, skirting around the side until you find the low and narrow basement windows. You point at MM and then toward the back of the building, and he nods before hurrying off.

“There’s a guard waiting outside the backdoor,” Hughie’s voice comes through your earpiece.

You hear a couple of grunts before MM says, “Not anymore.”

“Do you have Butcher?” Hughie asks.

“We’re in position,” MM affirms.

You nod at Frenchie and he gestures for you to go first, so you turn to the closest window. You take a deep breath before crouching beside the window and gripping a lip in the brickwork to help swing your body through. Using your chunky black boots, you kick the window in and follow the momentum with your feet first. You hit the concrete floor with a thud, quickly darting to the side before Frenchie drops down in the same fashion.

“What the fuck?!” one of the men shouts, scrambling to get up from the old and torn sofa on which he sat.

Your hands are on your gun before you can remember thinking about it, and a gunshot bursts in your left ear as a thug across the room fires at you, missing completely. You take aim and shoot his shoulder, making him drop his gun and crumple to the floor in pain. Two more bullets hit the brick wall behind you, and two more of the gangsters fall with wounds in their shoulders. Frenchie is already rushing to the backdoor, and you cover him easily by dropping three more men with pistols and hitting one in the leg who was scrambling toward the stairs. A cluster of lankier looking men cower in what looks like a makeshift drug lab, all wearing rubber aprons and protective goggles over their eyes. You turn away from them and take down another heading for the stairs, watching him fall on top of his comrade before whipping around and firing at a thug who was pointing his gun at Frenchie. The bullet cracks as it hits him in the side of the head, but you don’t have time to regret your aim before someone tackles you from behind. You duck forward, gripping his thick arms before he can strangle you, and use his momentum to throw him onto his back on the floor in front of you with a loud thump.

Your gun is back in your hands as you scan the room over its barrel, a familiar sense a satisfaction quelling your fight mode when you find every assailant either downed or cowering with their hands up. The backdoor creaks open, and MM and Butcher march in with guns up before stopping abruptly at the sight of the pacified room.

“What did I tell you, eh?” Frenchie says, and you hear it more in your earpiece than from across the room. “She is fucking incroyable.”

“Holy shit,” MM mutters, lowering his gun.

Butcher’s eyes are wild above his face covering, filled with an emotion you can’t discern as he stares at you across the dark room.

“Alright,” Frenchie shouts, pulling his kerchief down, “where the fuck is Lafeyette?”

The room stays quiet, but the four of you slowly cast heavy glares across the fallen thugs until one of the timid lab assistants points a shaking finger toward the two men collapsed by the stairs.

“Time to talk you filthy sac de merde,” Frenchie spits, as he and Butcher stalk toward the men.

MM nods at you as he readjusts his gun and widens his stance, guarding the door in case anyone thinks of trying to escape. Your fighter instincts settle at the slight sense of security, and you sling your gun over your shoulder as you approach the small drug lab.

“What are your names?” you ask the men.

Three of them glance at the shortest of the four, and with trembling hands he moves his goggles onto his head, revealing two clean circles of skin around his bright blue eyes.

“I am Gabriel,” he says, his accent thicker than Frenchie’s, “this is Théo, Lucas, and Éliott. They do not speak English.”

“Can they understand it?”

He nods, “Mostly.”

“Good,” you nod and hold your hands up, “I’m not going to hurt you, unless you give me a reason to.”

They all shake their heads vigorously.

“Are you here because you want to be?” you ask them.

“No,” Gabriel replies, and the other three shake their heads again.

“How did you get here?”

“Théo and I came together,” Gabriel says, “without papers, and Monsieur Toussaint said he would get us citizenship. Lucas and Éliott were here already, and they have kept us from leaving.”

You gesture to the bench full of laboratory equipment, “You make drugs for them?”

“Oui,” he nods, “Lucas is a- uh, how do you say un scientifique?”

“A scientist,” MM calls out from behind you.

“Oui,” Gabriel nods again, “he teaches us to cook.”

You frown, “Do you have any family here?”

“Théo has family in America,” he replies.

“Does he know where they are? Can you contact them if we help you leave?”

His bright blue eyes sparkle with hope, “Oui!”

You nod, “Good, we’re going to try and help you, okay?”

You barely finish your sentence before MM screams your name, and you feel the weight of a large hand on your left shoulder, dragging you back and blocking your ability to grab your gun. You crouch under the pressure and reach your thigh holster with your right hand, gripping the hilt of your dagger. You unsheathe it as you turn in a full one-eighty, escaping the assailant’s grasp and sweeping underneath his arm with your dagger outstretched. The blade slashes horizontally right beneath his kneecap, causing him to buckle as you rise to your full height and lacerate his throat. You leap back to avoid the spray of blood and falling body, watching the man slump face first into the concrete floor at your feet.

When you look up, you find every pair of – conscious – eyes on you, a mixture of terror and disbelief written across the room of faces.

“Are you okay?” Frenchie asks, though there is more pride than concern in his expression.

“I’m good,” you reply, crouching down to clean each side of your dagger on the dead man’s shirt before tucking it back into your holster.

Butcher drops the collar of who you assume is Lafayette, and you still can’t read his face behind his kerchief as he stares at you.

“Uh, guys,” Hughie’s voice speaks into your ear, “someone heard the gunshots, you’ve got emergency response on site in less than five minutes.”

Frenchie swings his foot into Lafayette’s stomach before nodding at MM, “Let’s go.”

You turn to the four lab assistants and gesture toward the backdoor. They scramble to remove their protective gear before hurrying toward MM who guides them out. Frenchie jogs past you, but Butcher stops and holds his hand out.

He pulls his kerchief down, “I’ll do it, you get out of ‘ere, Kid.”

“Fat chance,” you scoff, “now go.”

You’ve already got the gas canister in hand, and he knows you’ll pop it before he can argue, so he turns and mutters something inaudible as he stalks toward the door.

With your kerchief securely up over your nose, you release the pin and throw the gas into the room before turning to the lab table. You work quickly, pouring the two vials that Frenchie gave you into an empty beaker and setting it atop a lit burner. In five long leaps, you’re out the door and slamming it shut before sprinting away.

Butcher is waiting for you just around the side of the building, his hand outstretched. You barely have time to grab it before a huge explosion blows through the low basement windows and shakes the entire building. Butcher pulls your body against his, pivoting so that his back is to the blast as it knocks both of you off your feet. You hit the ground and your ears ring, but you don’t feel a single bit of debris hit you thanks to the body lying on top of yours.

“Fuck,” Butcher curses, though his voice sounds distant in your ringing ears.

You look up at him, his face inches from yours and smattered with dust and dirt. The adrenaline coursing through your veins has your whole body on high alert, overly aware of every part of him that is pressed against you.

He looks down at you, his pupils blown wide as his gaze darts to your lips. He licks his own, his chest heaving against yours and your head spins with a thousand filthy thoughts. For a split second, you think he might kiss you, and your breath catches in your throat in anticipation, but then he pushes himself up and offers his hand. You sigh and take it, letting him haul you off the ground.

“You alrigh’, Kid?” he asks.

“I’m not a fucking kid,” you spit, snatching your hand from his.

You run toward the van and leap into the open doors, Butcher at your heels. Hughie slams on the accelerator before Frenchie has even closed the doors, and you instinctually grab onto the nearest thing to steady yourself. It just so happens to be Butcher, and you know not from the scratch of his beard against your temple as you cling to him, but his scent. Warm and woody, with hint of apple-scented soap and whiskey.

You retract quickly and fall into the seat on the opposite side of the van, resting your head back against the blocked-out window.

“What the fuck, Frenchie?” MM exclaims. “You said that would be a small explosion, that it would look like an accident.”

Frenchie grimaces, “I did not account for the other reactants in the lab.”

Butcher sits quietly across from you, his eyes trained on you as you do everything you can to avoid looking in his direction. You focus on your gun, unlocking the empty clip and clicking the safety on. MM and Frenchie speak with the four timid men huddled at the back of the van, asking them a series of questions before deciding where would be best to take them.

After a painfully long drive, Hughie stops the van and Frenchie helps the four men out of the back doors. He tells you all to go back to the safe house and he will be there soon. The rest of the ride home is tense and silent, MM not daring to speak once he sees the irritated frown on your face as you fiddle with your equipment, packing it into cases and locking it in the van’s storage cage.

Once safe inside the decrepit apartment you currently call home, Hughie grins at you, “Holy shit, Y/N, you are fucking bad ass.”

“Thanks,” you mutter, starting on the clips of your tact suit.

“I wish I saw all of it,” MM says, “you’re deadly.”

A small smile quirks the corner of your lip, and you let out a small sigh as you release the last buckle on your Kevlar vest. You drop the heavy thing on the dining table along with your bandolier.

“I’m still pissed that you didn’t listen to me,” Butcher states, at which you roll your eyes, “but you did good, Kid.”

Your head snaps in his direction, your eyes narrowing at him. “Do I look like a fucking child, Butcher?”

Hughie’s grin vanishes and MM freezes on his way to the couch.

“Do I?” you press, holding your arms out as if to emphasise your attire. “Because a fucking kid couldn’t do what I just did, yet you insist on calling me by that fucking name!”

He doesn’t flinch the way Hughie does, nor are his eyes as wary as MM’s. He remains his usual cool self, though his frown is more curious than irate.

“Didn’t realise it bugged ya so much,” he says.

“You don’t fucking realise much, do you, Butcher?” you snap, before turning on your heel and marching toward the room that was designated yours.

You march inside and slam the door, but a pair of heavy boots are hot on your heels, and you curse the landlord for not installing any locks as the door swings open again.

“What the fuck is your problem?” Butcher demands, slamming the door once again behind him.

You unzip your outer jacket and throw it on the bed, “Didn’t I make it clear?”

“Uh, no, actually,” he steps toward you, “I’m not fuckin’ pissed about the raid, I’m pretty fuckin’ impressed, but you’re still throwin’ a tantrum like a fuckin’-”

“Like a child?”

His eyes narrow, and he crosses his arms over his chest, “I was gon’a say kid.”

You clench your fists in an attempt to refocus your frustration, digging your fingernails into your palms until it stings.

“Look,” he says, “I know you’re capable, and fuckin’ talented with a gun, but I wasn’t tryin’ to be a dick, I was tryin’ to keep you safe.”

“Because I’m so young and stupid?” you ask, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Because I can’t fucking handle myself even though I just prevented all of you from getting your fucking asses kicked?”

He sighs, “I never said you’re fuckin’ stupid.”

“But I am young,” you mutter, your voice revealing more emotion than you intended.

His brows shift into a dubious frown, “What’s this fuckin’ obsession with your age?”

“What’s your obsession with my age?” you snap, “Calling me ‘kid’ all the time and acting like you’re my fucking babysitter.”

“Oh, so fuck me for caring ‘bout your safety, is that it?”

“No, Billy, that’s not it,” you sigh, tearing your gaze from his to focus on unclipping your thigh holster.

“Then what is it? ‘Cause I don’t know what I’ve fuckin’ done!”

Your holster comes loose and you grip the hilt of the dagger with white knuckles, standing straight again.

“You haven’t done anything!”

“Then what haven’t I fucking done?!” he exclaims, unfolding his arms and throwing his hands up.

The little voice in your head splits into a thousand, screaming a thousand different commands at you. Cry, yell at him, throw something at him, scream, hit your head against the fucking wall, punch him in the throat… kiss him.

Your ears, still numb from the explosion, fill with the sound of your thumping heartbeat as you take three quick steps toward him. His height is intimidating, but you don’t have time to regret your decision as your fingers curl into the material of his shirt and pull him toward you. You have to stretch onto your toes, your other hand finding his chest for stability as you crush your lips against his.

For a second, you think you’ve seriously fucked up, but then his mouth begins to move against yours and your knees buckle. His arms catch you, wrapping around your waist and holding your body against his as his tongue slides across your bottom lip. You part your lips with a sigh, and he takes all control, claiming your mouth and wiping your mind of any thought that isn’t him.

In two easy steps, he backs you against the bed, sitting you down without his lips ever leaving yours. He crawls on top of you, straddling your thighs and catching your hands as they find the buckle on his belt.

“Love,” he sighs against your lips, “hold on.”

You blink up at him, slowly coming down from your high, “To what?”

He chuckles, “I meant slow down a sec.”

“Oh,” your cheeks burn, and you snatch your hands out of his grasp. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t ever fuckin’ apologise for that,” he says, a dopey smile on his lips, “but I don’t know-”

“I do,” you interrupt him, holding yourself up on your elbows.

He raises his brows, “What do you know?”

“I know that I want you,” you reply, “and I know that you want me. I don’t know if this is a good idea, but it fucking feels like it, so please, Butcher… please.”

“Fuck,” he groans, his eyes lingering on your lips before trailing down your body to where he sat. “I know I want you, but why the fuck do you want me?”

You snort, “You’re kidding, right?”

He only frowns.

“Butcher, I have wanted you from the moment I fucking met you,” you fall back against the bed with a sigh, “I don’t know how you haven’t fucking noticed.”

He leans over you, holding himself up with a hand either side of your head. “Why?”

His voice is so deep and his eyes so dark, you struggle to breathe as your clothes suddenly feel like they’re strangling you.

“Because you’re-”

“An asshole?”

You giggle, “Yes, and rude, and brash, but you’re also fucking beautiful.”

His heavy breathing suddenly stops and his eyes widen as they search yours, as if looking for some sense of deception or sarcasm. You open your mouth to reassure him but he swallows your words with a kiss, his lips crashing into yours with bruising force. His mouth moves across your jaw and down your neck, and you whine when pulls away before quickly realising that your high-neck undershirt is in the way. His fingers find the hem and yank it up over your breasts, not bothering to remove it completely before his lips assault your chest, biting and soothing your skin in five separate spots as you writhe beneath him.

He moves down, placing a kiss on your sternum and your stomach, before pausing at the waistband of your pants and looking up with hungry eyes. “You sure ‘bout this?”

His hot breath fans your skin and goosebumps rise in response.

You nod, “Yes, please, Butcher. Yes.”

The buckle and button are loosened in a second, and he groans at the sight of your lacy black panties. He places a hot, wet kiss just above the hem before sitting back and unbuttoning his own shirt. He doesn’t manage to shrug it off though, because you take the opportunity to grip either side of it and pull him back down on top of you. The feeling of his skin against yours makes your whole body clench, and you know you’re kissing him sloppily but he doesn’t seem to mind.

Your fingers find his belt again, struggling to remember how the damn thing works when he pulls away with a gasp, “Hold on.”

You frown, “What now?”

He chuckles, “No, sweethear’, not like that.”

His hands take yours guiding them up over your head until you feel the wood of the headboard at your fingertips.

“I said, hold on.”

END.

#billy butcher #the boys #karl urban #billy butcher x reader #one shot #imagine #fanfiction #homelander #hughie campbell #karl urban x reader #butcher x reader #mothers milk #mm #frenchie

[foxglovetawny]

Some Mahito x Reader Smut I Wrote

Contains/tws: Fem!reader Blood, Non-consensual sexual activity(reader secretly likes it tho), teasing

(please tell me if I missed any)

Im sorry I wrote this when I was half asleep so apologies.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

You exhaled quickly, unintentionally doing an aerial in attempt to dodge the curse's spiked figures. Seeing the opening left over from the previous attack, you lunged, aiming for his pale, patchwork face. Unfortunately, you had not been fast enough, causing Mahito to grab you by the throat and pin you to the ground.

He laughed. "Well, I was going to kill you, but I wouldn't what that preeeetty face of yours to go to waste." He picked you up by the neck and pushed you against the nearby brick wall.

Your hands immediately went to your throat, grabbing and clawing at his hand. You weren't exactly strong because of your small, petite body, but your agility and motivation made up for the weakness. You stared him directly in the eye, not even bothering to hide your fear.

"Awww, you're trying to escape!" Mahito made a fake pout. "Its okay! I won't hurt you, maybe." Four tentacle-like appendages sprouted from his back and mounted your ankles and wrists to the wall.

You were scared, it was no secret. You had tried to fight a special grade curse as a second grade sorcerer. You could infer from just the fact that it could communicate that it would take a special grade sorcerer or at least three first grades to exorcise.

As your face was starting to turn pale, the curse dropped this hand from it. You gasped, coughing out spit.

You scowled at him as Mahito's right index fiber morphed into a small blade. He lifted your chin with his other hand and pressed his finger to your temple, drawing blood. Mahito pulled his hand back, sucking your blood of his finger. "Mmm. You taste sooo good!"

"What the fuck are you doing." You snarled at him, straining your head forward in attempt to bite his hand.

Mahito sighed. "Should I restrain your neck as well?" He pressed his now normal finger to your lips. "If you behave, I'll let you go unharmed."

You opened your mouth to insult the curse, but a sharp gasp left your mouth instead as Mahito reached under your skirt and pressed two of his fingers to your clothed clit. "W-What the fuck!" You would have screamed right there and then, but drawing attention to your self would likely end you up in a mental asylum.

Mahito seemed amused at your reaction. He started rubbing slow around the bud, drawing profanity from your lips. "You like this, huh?"

"Fuck... no.." You strained. As much as you hated it, you could feel your cunt starting to soak at his touch. Are you enjoying this?

Mahito smirked "Your pussy says otherwise."

Right then, he moved your panties to the side and inserted two fingers, drawing a loud moan from you. He curled his fingers and pumped them, rubbing your clit.

You came. Right there and then. You squirted all over the curse's hand, causing him to chuckle. He drew his fingers out and sucked your juices off of them. "Wow! You're really sensitive! Is this your first time?"

The tentacles securing to the wall retracted and you fell on your hands and knees. Your body had burned through its energy in the fight prior, so you just paused there, panting. "God damnit" You murmured, staring at the concrete ground. Mahito kneeled down and grabbed a fistfull of your hair, pulling your head up so you stared up at him in the eyes.

"I'm not done yet, silly!"

Part 2?

#mahito smut #mahito #jujutsu kaisen x reader #mahito x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen #smut #jjk smut #jjk x reader

[trickstarbrave]

i still really hate ppl saying vivec is a liar or a historical revisionist bc the 36 sermons aren't 100% factual historical accounts. its extremely obvious they are not supposed to be. they are not called "the life of the god vivec" they are SERMONS. they are meant to teach religious and moral lessons, not give you an accurate, objectively correct, factual account of real historical events. his parents are not named. he was an 'egg' in the womb and then when he was 'born' he was a fully grown being. its cloaked in poetic language because what you are supposed to take from them is not a historical lesson but a religious or spiritual one.

like. lets say you wanna communicate how a traumatic event has impacted you. and that you have only two options to do so: one that is as factually accurate as you can make it with a limited perspective told unbiasedly, or a creative project like a poem or novel that is designed to evoke an emotional reaction in the reader. the first one will give an accurate account of the event but not how it impacted you. by nature of how its being told you are giving only the cold hard facts because your emotional state might involve leaving out important factual details to get an accurate view of what happened. the other one is not telling someone exactly what happened to you, but is communicating something that might be much more important: how it impacting you emotionally, mentally, and physically by making your audience relate to, sympathize with, or even empathize with those feelings. it is also not a 100% factual historical account and cannot be used to paint an accurate picture of the events that effected you, though someone could infer many details.

the 36 sermons are about trauma and achieving divinity and what that divinity even means. vivec is a person who was deeply traumatized. abusive family, ran away, ended up joining a gang selling both his body and hard drugs. he was then picked up off the streets by nerevar (a mer significantly older than him), and learned a lot from him, before likely killing him in at least one timeline, breaking his oath to not use the tools in all others. those are the details about vivec's life we can infer from the sermons or from other lore texts or in game dialogue. there are reasons why he made nerevar HIS student in the sermons and why he never names his parents (at least in the in game ones) and why he describes seht and ayem as both his siblings and parents simultaneously. but if you go "this isn't factually correct, vivec is a liar" you are straight up not going to understand the sermons or vivec or take away any important lessons from them.

[portaltothevoid]

you're losing me part ii -- copia x reader

a/n: i was giggling and kicking my feet at the interest in part one so i hope you all enjoy part two of this lovely little angsty break-up scenario. many many thanks to everyone who read part one!

song inspiration: you're losing me & it's time to go by taylor swift

warnings: some angst, some fluff, a breakdown, hurt with comfort, inferred cheating, flashback

word count: 3.8k

read part one here

There was something about the spotlight you used to love. Maybe it was sharing it with your equal, your partner. The changing of the seasons meant lavish parties at your Ministry. You used to be filled with excitement to plan, to see the decorations change, to set intentions, even to socialize. Now, these celebrations filled you with nothing but dread and misery. 

The Mabon Ball was arguably one of your favorites and you vowed you would at least try to get back to your old self. Maybe you used it as an excuse to distract yourself from everything going wrong in your relationship. Maybe you were using it as a way to help its smoldering embers reignite. 

There were moments leading up to the ball that were reminiscent of the beginning, when you knew Terzo was so smitten with you. And only you. It was enough to fool yourself into thinking things could work and everything would be okay again, as it once was. When Mabon finally came, as you both were getting ready, he even commented on your shift in demeanor, how you had softened. You only glared at him because of loving annoyance at his antics and teasing. He liked this side of you. Of course, this all happened in the privacy of your living space. Your attitude blazed like hellfire every time you saw his touchy flirting with another. The storms in your eyes returned as you glared at him.

No matter what happened tonight, you braced yourself. You wanted to talk to him. You wanted to bare your feelings. Every instinct told you to wait until after Mabon. Your offering would be to reveal why you would had been lashing out and then distancing yourself. There was nothing you hated more than confrontation, no matter how civil it was. Well, maybe except for being lied to.

The feast had your hopes up high. You both talked to those around you as a unit. You were included in the conversations. There was laughter, there were shared looks and smiles between the two of you. 

The butterflies in your stomach whispered to you that there was hope. You wanted to believe the glisten in his distinctive eyes was for you. It wasn’t just from the wine or because of the stolen glances he took of certain others near him… repetitively. No. Things had been going so well. This old, familiar ache in your body was left over from unaddressed past wounds. It wasn’t from when you had felt your heart and soul break before. They couldn’t be calling out to you now, warning you, whispering to you the pulse had faded. No. This was to be a wonderful night, a joyous celebration.

Digging your nails into this delusion, you savored every moment of the first dance of the evening. The one he always saved for you. The first dance, arguably the most important one, was customary for Papa and his beloved. Just the two of you on the dance floor. His contrasting eyes never strayed from you, never faltered. You saw how they shined with love and affection. At least, that was the first half of the dance. During the second part higher members of The Clergy were invited to dance with you both. Even then, he never took his eyes off you. 

He wasn’t putting on a show. That smoldering gaze wasn’t just for the tradition of the evening’s starting dance. He would make his way back to you. Now that you both were to go off and mingle amongst your Brothers and Sisters, he would make his way back home to you. He would find you. Wouldn’t he? 

As he bowed to you and moved throughout the crowd, you watched him for as long as you could. You felt yourself start to slip off the precipice of this delusion. 

You mingled. You smiled. You laughed. Almost every person in attendance could never have guessed that your soul, your heart, was breaking as you looked to the outskirts of the room. Time slowed when you caught sight of him. You saw his telltale smirk, his hand wandering down a fellow Sister’s back. You knew exactly what that meant. As you turned back to your conversation you ignored the snaps from the breaks, from the wounds, that were calling out to you. No. It wasn’t time to go, not yet. The pulse grew even quieter, but it was still there.

But even so, it happened again. You saw that same smirk from across the room. This time, a gloved finger traveled sensually across another Sister’s shoulders then trailed down her arm, until he grabbed her hand to pull her through a different side door. That smirk turned into a devilish grin. One you knew all too well. 

You felt the breaking of your soul. The snaps, so much louder this time. Your face faltered. Whoever you were listening to drone on about something frivolous, missed it. They didn’t know you, not the real you. Unbeknownst to you, there was someone who saw, who also heard the snapping sound. The only other person in the room who you had let in, who truly knew you.

Excusing yourself, you left. You went to catch your breath in the restroom, which praise be to Satan, was empty. The person you saw staring back at you, this current version of yourself, was so unfamiliar. It was as if you could see the breaks, the wounds that had been torn open. They covered you. They were beyond repair. You shook your head, trying to rid the thoughts from your mind. 

No. It wasn’t time to go. Not yet. You held your head high as you went to return to the party. You dug your nails so deep as you clung to the edge of your delusion, you could have sworn they were bleeding.  

You scanned the crowd, in search of him. A light tap on your shoulder stopped you. You never found him. 

“May I have this dance, Sorella?” Your face softened when you saw who vied for your attention. 

“Certo, Cardinale,” you nodded, smiling tenderly as you took the hand he held out to you. You would never know how storms erupted in Terzo’s eyes when he stopped in his tracks on his way back to you. You would never know how he knew exactly what it meant as your face relaxed into a wistful bliss as you looked in the eyes of someone else. He couldn’t remember the last time he had seen that look on your face. It made his heart ache.

As the Cardinal held you as you danced, you were barely hanging on to the edge of your delusion. You fought not to let go being this close to him, intensely aware of every centimeter of his touch. Letting go, falling into the arms of the Cardinal, felt like the right thing to do, but no. You couldn’t. It wasn’t time yet. There was a chance after tonight, you could save what you once had with Terzo. The pulse may be faint, but it was still there. Wasn’t it?

“Is everything alright, tesoro?” he asked softly.

You smiled, but it didn’t reach your eyes. “Why wouldn’t it be?” you laughed. You didn’t mean for it to come out as cold as it did. 

He sighed. “Must you always hide the truth under lock and key?” This was the one person you couldn’t lie to. Hiding your emotions here was nothing but a fruitless endeavor. 

“I have to…” you told him, letting the pain flash on your face for just a moment before you stuffed it away as you averted your eyes from his and turned in time with the music.

His only response was to pull you closer to him. You knew exactly what he was telling you. It’s okay. I’m here, I’ve got you. A sad smile perched on your lips. You held him tighter to let him know that you heard his actions, loud and clear. 

You turned once more. A good amount of guests had left the party, so it was even easier for movement along the perimeter of the banquet hall to catch your eye. A door opened and of course you just had to look as you saw him. He was pulling a ghoul by their belt loops into this room of secrets. You had a sudden, sharp intake of breath. You swore you saw his white eye lock with yours. A challenging look dawned on his face, but he slyly directed it up at the ghoul in front of him. 

The Cardinal turned you away from the scene as soon as he saw the look on your face. His face darkened when his similarly mismatched eyes saw what you had. That was the moment that you let go. You couldn’t hear the pulse anymore; it was gone. That final blow crushed any glimmer of hope, any chance you thought you had at saving your relationship with Terzo. That was when you knew. Yes. It was time to go.

~~~~~

Furiously you wiped the tears away from your face. You had to stay strong for just a little bit longer. If you started crying now, you feared you wouldn’t stop and the last thing you needed was to crumple in the middle of the hallway where the seniors members of the church lived. 

The Cardinal only lived one floor down from you, but the walk to the elevator alone felt excruciatingly drawn out. The whole time, a part of you hoped you’d hear someone running behind you shouting your name. This had been a long time coming. You had been searching for a pulse for far too long in that relationship. Your heart had been torn out and shredded too many times to count. You gave him everything you had, while he gave you nothing.

Still fighting back tears, you bit your lip as you raised your hand to knock on the door. You paused to hear the commotion coming from inside.

“Ow! Questo è il mio dito, non un giocattolo di masticare!” he yelped. “Basta! Torna nella tua gabbia. Ow! Cannoli! Brutto topo!” (That’s my finger, not a chew toy! That’s it! Back in your cage… bad rat!)

You shook your head as you lightly chuckled. Somehow he could always make you laugh. Finally you knocked on the door. 

“Sei fortunato ad essere carino, eh?” you heard him mumble as he made his way to the door. (You’re lucky you’re cute.)

When he opened the door to find you standing there, his eyes lit up. As he took the sight of you, your eyes brimming with tears, your lip quivering from trying to hold back sobs, the bag over your shoulder, concern flooded his features. Without a moment’s hesitation he ushered you into his room. 

Gently, he grabbed you by the wrist to pull you inside, guiding you with a strong hand on your shoulder. Just as the door clicked shut, you let your bag slide off your shoulder, hitting the ground with a thud. He placed both hands on your shoulders now, looking for a sign of what exactly happened, if there was any physical damage. You could only look up at him through your watery eyes. “I-it’s over. It’s o-over,” you managed to get out before sobs wracked your entire body. This… this was the moment when the floodgates truly opened. 

Months and months worth of tears you had held back started to pour down your face. All you could do was reach your arms around his waist and hold on to him tightly, like he was your only lifeline, the only thing left tethering you to this world. Burying your face in his chest, you finally, finally allowed yourself to drown in the waves that had been threatening to take you down. 

Guilt. Betrayal. Remorse. Regret. Fear. Pain. Loss. One after the other, crashing down on you like you were in the eyewall of a hurricane. 

“How could he do this to me? Why did I ever love him? Why didn’t he ever just choose me? Why did I let it go on for so long?” you lamented brokenly through your breakdown.

He gave you time to feel, to let out as much as you could. He knew how much you bottled up everything inside. The only thing he could do for you at that moment was hold you tightly and tenderly stroke your hair while choking back tears of his own. 

You would never, ever let anyone see you cry. Displaying this level of emotion in front of anyone was unknown to you. The only time you ever did it was when you were alone. Terzo had never seen you cry like this and you had been with him for a few years at this point. Granted, the only times you ever cried this much recently was because of him. 

Even when you had first found him with someone else, you managed to pull yourself together when the Cardinal… when Copia had offered you a safe haven for the first time. In front of him you immediately transmuted your sorrow into rage. But here? Now? Sorrow took center stage.

You couldn’t do this alone anymore. You couldn’t fight your battles without anyone by your side. You couldn’t fight for anyone else. You needed someone to fight for you. You just needed someone to hold you, someone that loved you, truly loved you.

After every fight, after everything you had gone through, you rose from the ashes. You were exhausted. All you wanted was to lay here in the ruin of what once was so you could process what happened, so you could mourn. You were finally ready to let someone else in, to let someone else take care of you.

Eventually, he stepped in when you were sobbing so much you couldn’t catch your breath. He adjusted you so you were looking at him. His hands moved to cup your face. “Breathe, cara. You need to breathe. Breathe with me,” he instructed as he over exaggerated his breathing in order for you to mimic it. Soon enough, you had calmed down. Wiping your tears away with his thumbs, he nodded. “There, that’s better. We sit now, si?”

Sniffling, you brought your hand up to cover his, leaned into his touch, and nodded. He led you to the couch. You took a seat on one end, your back up against its arm as you hugged your knees up to your chest. He motioned he would be right back while your eyes drifted around his small apartment. They landed on Cannoli’s cage. You swore the little rat was staring at you, it’s little paw holding the bars as if he also wanted to make sure you were okay. You couldn’t help but crack the slightest smile.

Copia rushed back into the room, juggling a bottle of wine in one arm, a box of tissues in the other, a glass of water in one hand, and two wine glasses in the other. You let out a breathy laugh through your nose at the sight of him. Reaching up, you took the glasses from his hands, placing them on the coffee table in front of you, keeping the glass of water as you chugged half of it. Then you grabbed a tissue, not realizing how badly you needed to blow your nose. 

After pouring the wine, he placed himself right next to you. You sighed as he handed you your glass. Once you downed half of it, you set it in front of you. Already, it had felt like a massive weight had been lifted off your shoulders. You curled up into his side, swinging your legs into his lap and nuzzled your head into him. He wrapped his arm around you. The two of you stayed like that for a few moments just listening to the sounds of each other's breathing and the chirping crickets coming through the open window behind you. 

“Do you, uh, want to talk about what happened?” he asked quietly, breaking the silence. 

You hesitated for a second. “I… I’m sorry for what I said when I was, um, wailing. I didn’t mean to–”

He shifted to look at you. “Sorry? Sorry for what?! There is nothing you have to be sorry for,” he scolded. He sounded more taken aback that you even felt it was a necessary thing to say. 

“I just… didn’t know if that put you in an awkward position… You know, me sobbing over my now ex to you even though we have this thing…”

“Dolcezza, we’ve had this talk before. You’re allowed to feel what you feel. I… I’ve been here the whole time. Waiting for you, yes. But… you had to reach this point on your own. You knew I’d be here waiting for you when you did, hm?” he said adoringly as he brushed stray hairs away from your eyes. You nodded as you wrapped your arms around him as you nestled your head against him. “So now will you tell me what happened after the party?” he whispered affectionately as he traced the tattoos covering your forearm.

“He acted like nothing had happened. He asked about how great the party was. Completely casual. Just the sight of him alone, never mind him trying to hold my waist, was just… revolting. So. I was a sarcastic bitch to him,” you paused and let out a dry chuckle. “And then he had the nerve to ask me why I was being like that. So I snapped. I told him everything. How the spotlight changed him,” Copia couldn’t help but scoff at that, “how I went on the backburner… How I just wanted him to see me...”

“Does he know about… about us?” he questioned cautiously.

“He threw it in my face that he knew why I didn’t go home some nights. I told him I went where I actually felt wanted and loved. And I made sure to point out how you’ve kept everyone’s secrets.”

“So you… told him it was me you were with?” His question sounded more like a statement.

You held back a wince as you felt his body tense. You nodded. “When we were dancing… and we saw him go– I know he saw me… saw us… He already had his suspicions.”

“And now he has confirmation. You know more than anyone else that he can't be trusted!” he spoke harshly.

You moved so you could look at him. You placed your hand on his cheek as you made him look at you. “And we have the upper hand. We know he knows. There’s no way he can bring us down without bringing himself down too.”

He knitted his eyebrows with worry as he took your hand away from his face, but he never let go of it. Silence fell between you both once more. You couldn’t stop replaying the memories in your head. The flash of jealousy in his face when he saw you dancing with Copia. The broken look on his face as you confessed everything. Tears started to pool in your eyes again. He did love you. He still did. He was just incapable of showing it. Then you remembered how you looked in the mirror of the bathroom during the party. When you saw yourself in the closet mirror before you left. A shell of your former self. He turned you into something you didn’t even recognize. There was no use holding back the tears.

Your sniffles got Copia’s attention. “Cara? Oh, non, non, I’m not upset with you! We will figure–”

“I just miss who I used to be. I miss being… happy,” you said, your voice cracking. “How could I have l-loved someone who– who turned me into… into a monster?” you asked, your voice dropping into a whisper of disbelief.

“A monster?! Cara mia, how can you think that?” Copia was appalled that you would even dare think something like that of yourself. If he didn’t see red before, he was now.

“Because I’m just like him! I cheated on him too! Not even Lucifer would pardon–”

Copia shot up and turned you to him. Your tear stained face broke his heart. “Listen to me. Lucifer would celebrate what you did. You didn’t do it out of malice. You didn’t do it because you couldn’t help yourself. Your relationship had ended long before we were together. And you accepted that tonight. You stood up for yourself. You even said it yourself, you needed what he stopped giving you. You are no monster. He’s the monster for making you think these things about yourself. And I will do whatever it takes to make sure that… that dickhead knows it.”

You looked up at him as he defended you. As he spoke the truth you needed to hear. This was the love you not only needed, but deserved. 

You reached your arms up around his neck and pulled yourself into his lap. You held his head between your hands and you leaned down to kiss him with nothing but passion and love. As the kiss deepened, you realized this was exactly where you meant to be. Everything that had happened led to this point. Every moment with Copia was one you would cherish. You would do anything for him as he would do anything for you. 

When you parted to catch your breath, you leaned your forehead on his. You stared into his two-toned eyes. “I love you,” you said softly. For a brief second, Copia looked shocked at your sudden confession, but he knew you meant it with every fiber of your being. “Sei la miglior cosa che mi sia capitata,” you added breathlessly. (You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.) And without another word, he whisked you away to his bed.

It wasn’t long after you arguably had the best sex of your life, that you had drifted off into a blissful and peaceful slumber. Copia’s mind, on the other hand, was reeling. He reached for his phone on the nightstand beside him, careful not to wake you. He went to his messages and found Sister Imperator. 

It is time we take care of the Terzo problem. Immediatamente. He typed and hit send.

He put his phone back and watched you sleep, softly stroking your hair. You stirred, but only to snuggle closer to him. He was going to give you the world. And he was going to stop at nothing to avenge you.

tag list: @ivycasket @da-rulah @water-ghoulette @fishwithtitz

part i | part iii

#the band ghost #ghost the band #terzo x reader #papa emeritus iii #papa emeritus iii x reader #cardinal copia #cardinal copia x reader #copia x female reader #cardinal copia x female reader #terzo x female reader #papa emeritus iii x female reader #terzo angst #copia fluff #copia angst #you’re losing me

[zykamiliah]

i don't think we talk enough about the two most mysterious characters in the whole novel:

the author and the reader, airplane shooting towards the sky and shen yuan.

yes, we know a lot about Airplane and Shen Yuan's lives post-transmigration, and we got a few details of their first lives, but those details are so scarce that to this day we still theorize about what was going on with them. we don't even know Airplane's birth name.

what we know is how different their economic and family situations were: shen yuan had a loving family and enjoyed the life of a rich second-gen, while airplane's parents divorced, he was unloved and neglected and struggled to make a living.

airplane lived off his novel, and shen yuan lived to consume it.

and i think that this happens because this two characters hide themselves behind The Story. Author and Reader use the Story to forget about themselves; or at least the version of themselves that they suppress, because there's a lot of underprocessed and internalized trauma and pain associated to it.

this is much more obvious in shen yuan, as his emotional repression has been talked about a lot already. even after the extras there are a lot of things that he'll simply shove into a mental box to never touch them again, but the same goes for airplane. I'd argue his case is worse, because his two lives have been so difficult.

airplane submerged himself in the world of his novel while he was writing, and then literally when he was forced to live in it.

escaping into the novel, first figuratively and then literally, was necessary for airplane to keep himself alive. his novel allowed him to live and gave him a goal, something to live for and be proud of. he made a story that was wildly popular and that had lots of people talking about it. pidw was such a big hit it inspired more novels that followed on its steps. he was so drunk on the attention, enjoyed it and craved it so much, he'd go to read what his fans talked about in the forums.

this is the way the author escaped into the story, because the story gave him money and a twisted form of adoration and attention, the only he could aspire for.

there's a very good meta by @/inefectualdemon about how PIDW could be seen as a reflection of Airplane's traumas, personality and worldview, and how you can infer a lot about how he portrays this characters and their relationships with each other.

shen yuan too participated in this form of escapism, just from the other side of the equation; it's not normal to read a novel in 20 days and get so obsessed with you die ragging about it. why is a guy who seems to have everything he needs, a loving family and a stable life, losing himself into the world of a novel he claims to hate?

i'm of the opinion that shen yuan's issues have to do with his lack of purpose in life, but i'd also argue that they may be related to his blatant sexual repression that derives the extreme compulsive heterosexuality and homophobia we see reflected in his narration. he's obsessed with sex, but with "straight" sex, so it's okay to read about it. it's okay to think about dick if it's in the context of heterosexual sex. it's okay to think about the protagonist's attractiveness and beauty if he immediately tags it with a "that's why women fall for him".

so, going back to the main point. i think that, just as the world of pidw reflects airplane's inner world, the way shen yuan relates to it and projects himself into it and its characters, says a lot about his elusive inner world.

(it's getting long, so continue under the cut)

at the end of the novel, shen yuan thinks that pidw, with all its plotholes filled and backstories revealed, is just tragedy after tragedy; for airplane, this is just how the world works from his point of view. there's no end to the tragedy, there's no happiness simply because he himself has never experienced it.

shen yuan's solution to the tragedy and cruelness of the world is kindness and understanding; airplane's is apathy.

another example: shen yuan admires yue qingyuan for his dedication, reliability and kindness; he sees him as good old brother, subconsciously projecting and relating to him in the same way he did with his real older brothers. this is not to say his feelings are not genuine; they are, but they arise from his own need to have that type of siblings relationship again. that's why he's so invested in cang qiong, among other things.

but how does airplane view yue qingyuan? a kind fool, someone who's easy to take advantage of. yue qi is the boy that failed to save his most important person (for a good reason, apparently) and yue qingyuan is the adult that allows disciples to be abused to assuage his own guilt.

the way shen yuan treats kids and teenagers, the way he perceives the women as aesthetically beautiful, and distant from himself, unless they fall in the category of family. the way he makes a point to comment on the appearance of every man he meets, specially the ones that reflect his own repressed tastes.

shen yuan care a lot about everything, from the plants to the monster to the people in pidw; he struggles trying to force himself to believe they are not real, that this are just novel characters, and fails every time (well, except when it came to binghe's agency, ironically). airplane is the complete opposite. almost everything in pidw was his own creation, and he can live through the tragedy and death unperturbed (well, with a couple of exceptions), unless this one character he got attached to gets in danger, in which case he'll do everything to save them. mobei-jun is the character that cracks airplane's shell of apathy. he cares so much about him it almost gave him a heart attack.

pre-transmigration, airplane escaped into his novel out of need; post-transmigration, he's apathetic, sometimes even resentful of his fate, but mostly doesn't care unless it's related to his own survival.

pre-transmigration, shen yuan view everyone as characters that served a purpose in the story; tropes and archetypes. but post-transmigration, as early as the demon invasion, he is incapable of viewing the characters as fictional, and is deeply affected by what happens to them.

we joke about svsss being fanfiction of pidw, but if we look deeper into it, isn't fanfiction a reflection and projection of the fic writer, a way to reinvent the story in a way that resonates with you? don't we sometimes have a love-hate relationship with a popular media that inspires both admiration and criticism in us?

this was a very long-winded way of saying how intrigued i am by airplane and shen yuan's lives pre-transmigration, the things that made them into Airplane and Peerless Cucumber, the way both Author and Reader escape and project themselves into the story, and how this is a reflection of who they are.

if you read until the end, thank you! :D and let me know what you think.

#svsss #svsss meta #airplane shooting towards the sky #shen yuan #peerless cucumber #the scum villain's self saving system #zykamiliah-svsss #cumplane #(well sort of) #shang qinghua #shen qingqiu #long post

[neouime]

Love Wins All: An Analysis

Here are my notes for the music video. I have more to say, but it's already two in the morning where I live, and I have been sitting here admiring and contemplating IU's artistry since four hours ago. My butt hurts. I will come here later once I let my thoughts marinate.

There's a cube object chasing after them. - The cube is obviously the antagonist of the story. I have no idea why they chose a cube rather than any other creature or shape. Maybe because the design is simple? I think a cube is a smart choice. It looks like human technology, something man-made. The cube may be an invention that was once intended for the benefit of humankind but ended up becoming an instrument for control. The shape of the cube with its equal sides can represent a system that demands conformity.

IU is mute/deaf (she uses sign language), and Taehyung is blind in one eye. - There is one reading by a Korean UAENA about how they represent people with disabilities. There is one cube targeting IU and Taehyung. No other people are shown, but by the end of the music video, we can see several floating cubes outside the building. We can deduce how the cubes may be specifically searching for individuals like them who are marginalized and in hiding.

There is a scene where IU performs on stage, and black figures point their fingers at her. - IU explicitly declared that the song is dedicated to her loved ones, including her fans. We can interpret the black figures as representing people who spread unnecessary hate (혐오) against artists like IU. (Regardless of context, pointing your fingers in Korean culture is considered rude. It is associated with assigning blame or picking out flaws.)

Both the cube and the people in black are forces that persecute and discriminate, respectively. - This reading stems from the fact that IU is a well-known personality in real life and that her character in the story has disabilities.

While there is a male and female lead, the story and the song are not exclusively romantic. LWA is a fan song. Taehyung represents UAENAs. 

While IU sings on stage, he gives her flowers and looks at her adoringly. - They are able to spend moments both happy and sad by each other's side. At the end of the story, Taehyung stands in front of IU to defend her from the cube and destroy it, while IU comforts him and covers his eyes as they're killed.

The camera and the pile of clothes are details prompting an intertextual reading. - This will be familiar to ARMY, but the pile of clothes is an installation by Christian Boltanski. This does not require further explanation since we can infer what it symbolizes from the story's outcome. On the other hand, the camera is something that is more important to the plot than it seems. It captures only the beautiful and healthy appearance of IU and Taehyung. The Korean UAENA I mentioned earlier said that the camera shows an existence where people with disabilities can live happily. 

The camera shuts down by the end of the music video. - Nothing is recorded, and the memories are lost. But then, how does "love win all?" Okay, we'll look at the lyrics. "찬찬히 너를 두 눈에 담아 한 번 더 편안히 웃어주렴 (With my eyes, I memorize you thoroughly. Let's laugh in peace once more.)

Artists like IU come and go. - For every single and album she releases, IU writes an introduction. For LWA, she sums up the story as a promise to "fade away together splendidly." Also, the lyrics "필연에게서 도망쳐 Run on" appear, which both mean to run away from (도망쳐, to escape) and to run towards the "inevitable." (Korean is not my first language so pardon me if I'm wrong, but I think there's a mistake with the translation provided in the music video. There, the lyrics say "run away from necessity, run on." They use the word necessity, but she's referring to an event that is certain to occur.)

Memories [of their music and their moments with fans] are all lost to history; what matters is to live in the moment. (You don't need a camera to prove that you existed and lived your life.) This aligns with her values as an artist. In her interviews, IU says her goal is to perform (creation rather than chart success).

You may say that the story is tragic because they both die in the end, but they were at peace since they were together. "일부러 나란히 길 잃은 우리 두 사람" (The two of us, side by side, gone astray on purpose). **Edit: IU Team StarCandy on Twitter translated the phrase 길 잃은 우리 as "[we] who took the road less travelled."

I love the lines "너와 슬퍼지고 싶어 My lover" (I want to be sad with you) and "부서지도록 나를 꼭 안아" (Crush me, wrap me tightly in your arms). It illustrates the relationship between IU as an artist and her fans. The song is a declaration of her intention to cherish the good and bad with us. She does not mind even if the pressure of our love sometimes feels intense. She believes love has the power to break you down, but instead, it builds you up. 

Additionally, the line "나와 함께 겁 없이," which is translated as "Will you courageously set with me?" actually more literally translates to "together with me, without fear." There is trust between IU and her lover. In other words, they may not know where the journey leads them, but they consciously choose to walk to it together.

A few more details from the music video that I loved are as follows. I like that the food (the macaron) is connected to memory and joy. It's the end of the world, but they haven't lost their imagination, hope, and ability to delight in each other's presence. In a way, food is crucial to survival in terms of sustenance and because it brings simple pleasure.

After taking a bite, they are transported to a less dreary setting. Their clothes are the same, but they're no longer tattered. Of course, things aren't perfect because while things are more clean, the people themselves remain evil. IU and Taehyung maintain their cheerful disposition even as the black figures appear and surround them.

IU and Taehyung choose to be happy. They dress up and dance around the room despite the reality that everything is still in ruins. (The photo booth is lit in bright, warm colors, while the room outside is cold and blue. Another piece of evidence for this interpretation is that while they're blissfully taking pictures, the strips come out showing Taehyung's milky eyes.)

I also like the alternative explanation for why IU is deaf, and Taehyung is partially blind. - IU performs happily in front of the crowd of black figures. It may mean that she either cannot hear or will not listen to their words of hate. As for Taehyung, he is partially blind to IU's faults. IU (the idol/artist) is the one leading them as they run while Taehyung (their fan) follows, their hands clasped in each other.

Moreover, neither of them speaks throughout the story. Whether IU is deaf or she signs to avoid making noise and risk their capture, I think it's beautiful that they can communicate through gestures. The relationship between fan and artist goes beyond the need for words (which is ironic, too, since we become fans of IU's music before the artist herself. Through her lyrics, we learn of her personality and how she sees the world).

I LOVE their acting. It's almost scarily good how IU can convey her love through her gaze. The smallest details too!! Her softly tapping Taehyung's shoulder to calm him while he tightly grips her hand as they face death? Chills.

Okay, I'm back. I just want to add this:

I said that the song is not exclusively romantic. However, the element of romance is indeed important to the plot. It elevates the story by depicting people (including those with disabilities) finding love even in the middle of hardship. - Their hardship is not the disability itself but rather the prejudices in the world that limit the possibilities they can enjoy.

IU and Taehyung know that the "end" is "inevitable" (she uses both words in her lyrics), and they know that they can only steal these short moments of happiness, but they still try to "look for the opposite of loneliness" (오랜 외로움 그 반대말을 찾아서).

Trivia: IU says that whenever she's stuck with writing a song, she uses the suggestion of a peer (Kim Eana) to look up the meaning of a word in the dictionary. Thus, giving birth to the idea love = opposite of feeling/being alone.

Love as an act of resistance - Viewing a brighter world through the camera, IU wearing the veil, and the pair teasing the black figures (IU sings on the stage despite their jeering and they run around the room) are acts of resistance. They may have a poor imagination (가난한 상상력), wherein they still desire to become "normal" and without their disabilities, but it is also thanks to their imagination that they are able to endure.

Note: The translations are mine. It's always difficult to think of how to word sentences that fully preserve the sentiment of the source, especially since they're song lyrics.

#IU #Love Wins All #Love Wins All MV #Kim Taehyung #V #BTS #KPop #Music Video #Disability #Lee Jieun #Korean Lyrics #kdrama #Youtube #UAENA #ARMY #Korean Actress #kdrama edit #아이유 #BTS V #long post #sorry I got carried away #my literature degree finally being put to good use #edit 012625: It just came to me that Jieun's ears hurt IRL (like it physically hurts for her to sing

[edgelord-battle-bracket]

EDGELORD BATTLE BRACKET 2024: ROUND 2

Propaganda:

Seto Kaiba:

Seto Kaiba is an orphan. He's also a billionaire. He's all alone and nobody understands him. He also has a devoted younger brother and a whole gaming company. At one point he and his brother sunk an artificial island to prove a point. He has beef with a ghost. He has a jetpack. And a private jet. Both of these are shaped like a dragon. Specifically one dragon, blue eyes white dragon. Because he is in love with the dragon. The dragon is a card. He is in love with a card.

His abusive adoptive father committed suicide after he beat him a chess. The main character trapped him in a card for being a bit of a dick. Despite most people never recovering from punishment games Kaiba comes back; hes much worse. He makes a whole death game amusement park to kill his classmate in revenge. He makes this whole deal a day 1 attraction for people to watch. He then gets trapped in ANOTHER punishment game, a mind puzzle to find his true self, and comes back AGAIN through sheer force of will. His true self is not in anyway less evil. Its arguably worse than his first appearance but hes not trying to kill the protag anymore so we dont care. Hes arguably NOT the edgiest character in Yu-Gi-Oh.

Metal Sonic:

somewhat the blueprint for our reigning edgelord. a robot copy that thinks he's the original and HATES the real thing. when he rebels he first takes on a spikier form as neo metal sonic, complete with studded belt and black cape.. his end goal is called METAL OVERLORD and is a gigantic fucked up dragon robot. besides that he normally can't talk and i feel like the amount of inferred seething you get from his red glowy eyes is something special. he has sharp little hands and the way he swipes at people with them tells me he WANTS TO STAB SO BADLY. he's my special little guy.

#edgelordbattlebracket #edgelordbattlebracket2024 #polls #round 2 #seto kaiba #kaiba #yugioh #metal sonic #sonic #sonic the hedgehog #sth

[swordcreature]

Hellooo! I want to ask you to help me get rid of the thoughts, please. Angsty thoughts. Tieflings reaction to kidnapping of their loved one. Or a situation where they were both taken hostage, possibly to put pressure on the council. I can't sleep.

oh man anon i love thinkin' about sad men in love. hoooooo boy.

this was just something small for each tiefling becuse i wanted to keep things vague, and just talk about how they feel in that moment kind of thing. hopefully that comes across idek.

it's a lil different than my normal HCs

anywho. hope you enjoy and ty ty ty for the request! sorry it took so long!!!

Dammon, Rolan, & Zevlor - Kidnapped Love One

just the teeniest tiniest inference of self-harm/suicidal ideation (like you kinda got squint to see it) but wanted to say something just in case.

How the tiefling boys feel when their loved one's kidnapped

Dammon:  

For the first time in Dammon’s life that he can recall, smithing isn’t doing anything to keep his mind clear or calm. In fact, it’s making things worse. Every hit of his hammer, normally soothing and repetitive enough to lull his worries away, makes him recoil. The sound thrums through his head like a bad headache. It’s the only thing he’s ever known to help steady his thoughts, but with his loved one taken from him it’s not enough. The terror rattles around ceaselessly inside his head. They’re probably dead. You can’t save them – you barely know how to fight. What good are the weapons you make if you can’t protect them? There’s nothing you can do. When that voice in his head whispering all his faults and failures and fears gets too loud, he snaps, throwing the hammer across the room with as much force as his wiry arms will allow. He’s angry at the world, at the gods, but mostly at himself. Because he knows the little voice inside is right. There’s nothing he can do.  

Rolan: 

Rolan is furious. He’s fucking fuming. He paces around with his hands pulling at his hair because how in the world could something like this happen? After all this time? After everything he’s gained, all the power he has? It’s like the universe is mocking him and his hubris, shoving his face in the dirt to snivel at him for thinking he would ever have any control over it. What a pathetic fool he has been, he realizes now. The tower, Sorcerous Sundries, the hundreds of tomes he’s read, the magical knowledge he’s pursued – none of it was worth anything if he couldn't even do the simple job of protecting his family. The anger fades and in its place sits self-loathing and despair: two of Rolan’s oldest friends. He sinks to the cold floor as reality creeps in. As long as he has people to care for, he will never be powerful enough; the universe will always find a way to take them from him. And he fucking hates it.  

Zevlor: 

He should have seen it coming. He’s trained endlessly for situations just like this. But when it happens to someone Zevlor cares for, someone he loves? Everything he has ever learned goes down the drain. It’s his fault then that they were taken, he thinks. He failed, yet again. Like he failed in Elturel. And the Grove. Then the Shadow Cursed Lands. When was the last time he succeeded – the last time he was able to actually fulfill his duty to protect that he had taken on so many years ago? He can’t remember. Some part of his brain wants to give up, to dig a hole and sit there until the world crumbles around him. But if there is one thing Zevlor does well, it’s persisting. Because he owes it to them and to all the people he has failed to get up and move. So, even though he wants to let fear drag him down to the pits of Hell where he thinks he belongs, he tries to hope. To see the sunrise on the horizon after a long night. To believe they’ll be returned to him safe. He’ll take penance for his failure some other way.  

#bg3 #bg3 dammon #bg3 rolan #bg3 zevlor #rolan #dammon #zevlor #baldur's gate 3 #my writing #requests/suggestions #anon #rolan x tav #dammon x tav #zevlor x tav

[helluva-shit-show]

I swear I don't hate the show, I don't even hate any of the ladies above, not even Stella, it's just insanely unfair how the women get treated in Helluva.

And no, I don't need the creators of any given media to hold my hand and walk me through every tiny choice made by every character in said media.

Of course I can infer that Stella grew up in the same pre-determined mold Stolas was forced into. Of course I can infer that she learned tantrum behavior and violence probably got her what she wanted so her royal parents didn't have to hear it.

I can infer that Barbie self harms bc a tiny thin scar doesn't form a perfect circle around your forearm by accident, and an "X" doesn't perfectly cross out a tattoo that probably causes you great trauma to look at every day, on accident. Her tail scars are deeply concerning and saddening to think about, bc again, why do they PERFECTLY match her twin brother's natural markings? I can infer that his actions, intentional or not, deeply traumatized her, and her response was to remove a piece of herself that reminded her of him. It's dark, it's mature, it's compelling and it makes sense. The issue is, it will probably never be touched on.

I adore Millie, I adored her before season two was even announced. To the contrary, I actually don't care if she ever gets a deep deep dive at her backstory. There have been PLENTY of male characters across all kinds of media that are simply psychotic little murder gremlins, and no one ever bats an eye at it. I adore her as the murder gremlin queen she is. But as she's main cast, it's incredibly unfair by comparison how she gets utilized and how she doesn't. One minute she can take down a 60 meter tall fish monster single handedly, the next minute, because the plot wants this to be about the bois, a single hit breaks her arm to the point that BONE IS PIERCING THROUGH HER SKIN, and she just happens to get thrown directly into the world's MOST CONVENIENTLY PLACED AND ARMED bear-trap ever. It doesn't snag her face, her hair, or her hand or arm or torso or back, she falls just perfectly that her leg is just perfectly in its jaws. No arteries got caught? There's not an excess of blood, she's by the show's own dialogue, "fine." But she's benched for the rest of the episode.

And maybe it wouldn't be so bad from the critical eye if the excuse given for it wasn't SO hollow. "Helluva is more male focused and Hazbin is more female focused." Ma'am. Who do you think you're fooling out here. Angel Dust and Alastor built the HH fandom. Do you expect me to believe Mimzy or Niffty are going to be treated any better than the Helluva gals? Mimzy is literally already on the wiki as a "minor character".

It's truly ok to focus your story on males. There is literally a whole genre of anime focused on mostly male stories. But if someone, or a lot of someones, feel your female cast is lacking in substance, I find it insulting to dismiss them and say they're misreading the media and nitpicking. They care about the show, YOUR show, they care about YOUR characters, if you can remember back when you were a smaller creator HERE on tumblr, ppl love when you ask them about their OCs. And you don't have to spit out a quick bs backstory to your character if you haven't given it much thought, that's not what anyone is asking for. (Cough, Unhappy Campers, COUGH).

Idk how to wrap this critique up, so I'm just gonna say, Moxxie's mom is too badass to be Mrs. Knofirstname Knolastname. 🤡

#helluva boss #helluva boss s2 #helluva stella #helluva loona #helluva millie #helluva verosika #helluva sallie may #helluva beelzebub #helluva tilla #helluva Knolastname #helluva octavia #helluva barbie wire #helluva barbie #helluva critical #helluva critique #helluva boss critical #helluva boss critique #cw: selfharm #self-harm mention #selfharm mention