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#i just love actually seeing it in obsidian!!!
forlix · 7 months
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𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞𝐬, 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞𝐬 !・h.h.
— you’re just trying to do your job; your client has other ideas.
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𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬・1.3k 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠・idol!hyunjin x gn!makeup artist!reader 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬・very suggestive so mdni, reader implied to be shorter than hyunjin 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞𝐬・fluff, flirting, humor, big fwb vibes
𝐚/𝐧・this took me less than half an hour to write i am actually the biggest sucker for this trope. also, we hit another milestone recently!! i appreciate all of you immensely; look forward to more ♡
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[!]・hi hey hello as of one month later a full-length fic based on this au has been posted!! here it is; you can read the two in any order. ok bye much love
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“Five ‘til!” A crew member calls into a walkie-talkie, and you’re so surprised by this information that you stumble right over him, your heel ungracefully ramming into the poor man’s toes. 
You apologize hurriedly, bowing yourself out of the awkward situation—and then you check your watch. 7:55 P.M. A quiet "shit" leaves your lips as it dawns on you that you'd completely lost track of time.
Briefly, you contemplate your predicament, drumming the palette of makeup you’re holding in your right hand against the palm of your left: do I have to? Is it really necessary? But you know your answer even as you’re asking yourself the questions. You’re damn meticulous—sometimes to a fault, but always to your own satisfaction.
You had a vision, and you’re going to see it through.
With impeccable timing, your coworker appears out of nowhere, and you fasten a hand around her arm. “Hey, where are the members again?”
“Stage left.” Then she registers your question in full, and snaps her eyes to your face; stylists were supposed to have finished up with their respective members nearly an hour ago. “Hang on, are you out of your mind—”
“I won’t be a minute!” You call, scurrying away.
“You won’t be employed!” She returns, but you’ve already disappeared into the curtains’ dense shadows.
You jog a short distance, turn a few corners, and finally spot the eight members clad in outfits of varying amounts of silver and black, every inch of them so sparkly that they’re reflective, even with how little light reaches this part of the stage.
You’re looking for one man in particular, though, and you single him out right away: long, black locks falling into his eyes as he adjusts his microphone, broad shoulders and tall frame flattered perfectly by an obsidian suit, looking like he fell off a Paris Fashion Week runway and into a wormhole that teleported him to Osaka.
All your doing, by the way.
“Hwang Hyunjin!” You shout, and he (along with several of the other members) whips around at the sound. And Hyunjin furrows a perfect brow when his stylist materializes before him, four minutes to curtain up, wielding a palette of makeup like it’s a baseball bat.
“Are you out of your mind?” He calls.
“Why does everyone keep asking me that?” You lift a pointer finger into the air and curl it twice. “Come here. Hurry."
Hyunjin gives the others an apologetic glance before hurrying over, and you are met with a blast of Byredo Blanche when he arrives in front of you, the expression on his face equal parts amused and confused.
“Down,” you say, flicking open the eyeshadow palette with one hand.
And then Hyunjin understands. A loud, uninhibited laugh leaves his lips, a sound you’ve become so accustomed to by now that you’re completely oblivious to the fact that only you bring it out of him.
“You really are something,” he says, spreading his feet apart until he’s brought himself to your eye level.
With that, you get to work, one hand gathering some eyeshadow on the pads of your fingers, the other moving to hold his shoulder. Brushes are luxuries you can’t afford right now.
“Close your eyes,” you direct, your voice softer now that your face is only inches away from his, and Hyunjin heeds your words obediently. You begin to dab the crimson powder against the curve of his lids, careful to avoid messing up the rest of his eye makeup. His lashes flutter involuntarily at your gentle touch.
“A shadow to match the lip,” you murmur absently. “I pictured it and knew it had to happen."
Hyunjin makes a sound of approval, and then there is that smirk on his face, the one you’ve learned only means trouble. “You’ve been thinking about my face the whole night, then?”
“No. I’ve been thinking about whether vegetables can feel pain,” you deadpan. “Yes, I've been thinking about your face. It’s my job.”
“Is that all?”
“Sure is.” You blow gently on his finished eye and move on to the other. “Now save your voice for the stage.”
He obliges, but that dreadful, self-assured expression remains on his face, and you're immeasurably grateful that he can’t see the blush that you’re well aware paints your cheeks.
“Done,” you say a minute later, straightening with a confident flourish. And you think you could squeal when Hyunjin opens his eyes, and you see that the exact effect you’d hoped for has been realized: a splash of maroon that is both subtle and seductive, sleek and suave; that not only accentuates the shape of his eyes but pulls attention to his lips, which are dyed a similar hue. Damn, you’re good at your job.
“I don’t have a mirror,” you say, looking around. “I can use my phone if you want to—”
“It’s fine,” he says. “I trust you.”
You grin at this. “Good. Because you look sexy as hell."
Upon hearing your words, he straightens to his full height. You don’t think much of this at first, too busy re-examining the masterpiece you’ve created on his eyelids, but in the blink of an eye you’re suddenly aware that Hyunjin is standing conspicuously and intentionally close to you. You instinctively move away, but you’re too late; he’s already guiding your back to the wall behind you, his body enclosing yours against the smooth surface.
You send a panicked look over Hyunjin’s shoulder, only to realize that the two of you are completely out of anyone’s line of vision. That doesn’t stop the sharp hiss that leaves your lips: “Hyunjin, are you cr—”
But then there is a familiar gust of breath against your skin, a thumb over your cheekbone.
He knows he shouldn’t, but he can’t help himself when you get like this; all bossy and concentrated, an ambitious glint in your eyes, an air of confidence in your gait. He always thinks it’s ironic that your job is to make him look good when all he’s ever done is admire your beauty, so effortless and profuse that it feels timeless, like freshly bloomed forget-me-nots.
He knows he shouldn’t—but that makes him want to more.
When your lips meet, they move together with an ease and familiarity that reveal how many times you’ve done this before. He brings a hand to the small of your back, and you tangle your stained fingers in his luscious hair, the delicious pressure of his mouth upon yours rendering your reluctance (and the eyeshadow palette, which clatters noisily to the floor) momentarily forgotten.
As the kiss deepens, the bridges of your noses slide together; your every sense becomes overwhelmed by the slippery plush of his full lips and the warm caress of his large hands; you drink in the rosy musk of his cologne like your cells need it to live as opposed to oxygen. The tip of Hyunjin’s tongue teases the seam of your lips, as if requesting access, and you grant it to him with a light moan that is both blissful and thoroughly exasperated. When he hears the gorgeous sound, he has half a mind to scoop you up and leave the venue then and there.
Then, a voice bellows from not too far away: “One minute, everyone! Places, places!”
You’re so startled that you not only break away from him but jump a meter into the air, giving Hyunjin’s bicep a hearty slap on your way down. But he is entirely unbothered, dipping his head to press a trail of light kisses along your jaw instead.
“You’ll be watching the performance, yes?” He murmurs against the sensitive skin.
“Of course, what else—”
“—don’t take your eyes off me.”
And the words throw your heart against your ribs like uncooked French fries in a vat of oil.
He is just about to walk away when you realize how decidedly disheveled you’ve left him, and you yank him back to you with a fresh wave of panic. You wipe at his smudged lipstick with the cuffs of your sleeves; nitpick his hair until every strand is back in its proper place. Only when you’ve gotten rid of all the incriminating evidence do you permit him to leave.
“Thank you very much,” he says, bending into a gracious bow, the perfect image of professionalism. The facade is given away only by the upturned corner of his still-flushed lips.
“Break a leg,” you return drily.
The last thing you hear is that stupid, bright laugh before Hyunjin rejoins his members, and they step into the strobe lights together.
Even when the concert begins and the stadium is drowned in fanatical screams, the heartbeat in your ears remains the loudest sound of all—and you bury your burning face in your hands.
Hwang Hyunjin will be the death of you.
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𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤? please consider reblogging, commenting, or sending me an ask to let me know; or, read my other writing here. thanks so much for the support ♡
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© 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐱 (est. 090323) · all works are pieces of original writing and all characters and relationships are purely fictional. please do not repost or reuse for any reason.
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itsheartbeat13 · 2 years
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Something I don’t think enough people recognize when it comes to making shows more diverse, there is so much going on behind the scene that you literally can’t “just add them.” 
Alex Hirsch had to wait until the end of Gravity Falls to show that Sheriff Blubs and Deputy Durland were in love so that way the show didn’t get prematurely cancelled. And even still, that was censored in other countries. 
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The Owl House has a bisexual afro Latina protagonist that falls in love with a white lesbian. They kiss several times on screen and say “my awesome girlfriend.” It also has Disney’s first nonbinary character (Raine Whispers), their bisexual love interest (Eda Clawthorne), and an aro/ace woman (Lilith Clawthorne). However, because like five people said that TOH wasn’t the “Disney brand” the show is prematurely cancelled. So even with everything that TOH did, it only won battle but lost the war. 
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The art crew for Encanto had to fight to make Luisa buff. And when they were finally able to make her buff, Disney didn’t make as much Luisa merchandise because they thought little girls would want Mirabel or Isabela’s since they’re more “feminine.” (I think the same thing happened with Namaari when RATLD came out but I’m not sure. So don’t quote me on that.)
*Also, Luisa out preformed. So that’s a win. 
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Bubblegum and Marceline couldn’t kiss until the series finale of Adventure Time because it would’ve been cancelled. So throughout the entire series, the crew always just had to imply undertones about their past. Since HBO produced Obsidian, they were able to kiss on screen.
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Korra and Asami’s relationship had to tempt down so that way Nick could continue airing the show and they weren’t allowed to kiss until the comics. 
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Turning Red got so much unwarranted criticism because not only did Mei’s mom say “pads” but she showed them on screen. (I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, if that made you uncomfortable, that’s a sign that we need to do this more and not less.)
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Some countries marked She Ra as 18+ because Catra and Adora kissed on screen. (Once again, I’m not sure if this completely true but Nate Stevenson had to fight to actually show them kissing on screen instead of a fade to white.)
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Steven Universe is the gayest show I’ve ever seen in my life which was both good and bad. It was good for obvious reasons. Example being that it was the first show that introduced to me nonbinary people in a way that wasn’t “haha, look, she uses they/them pronouns. She’s so funny and quirky.” 
And it’s bad because it put a target on it’s back. SU has been censored so much that it’s honestly a miracle that we got an ending. And in most of the countries that censored SU, they usually portray Ruby as a man. So I can’t imagine how bad the censors were when the wedding happened and Ruby wore a dress and Sapphire wore a suit. 
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Also, you have to remember the outdated idea that gay/trans topics are “too mature” for kids to handle (there’s an episode of Adam Ruins Everything that talks about this). So it’s easier for shows with an older audience (like Arcane) to have queer/trans rep.
Not to mention, if you ever go on Insider’s website to look at the queer/trans characters in cartoons [here], most of the characters are revealed to be queer only online and not in the actual show.
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All of this BS because God forbid that kids find out that other people exist. 
Representation is important but please, just be aware of the actually struggles that go on that you don’t see and be thankful that this is where we are now because even though it might seem like it at times remember that this is actual progress. We need to keep pushing studios to do more. I’m sure that there’s millions of untold stories that would be made if not for this prejudice. 
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brookbee · 8 months
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DS9 episode where Quark starts selling marriage licenses after seeing all the couples getting engaged on the station. Odo is suspicious about it.
Garak reminisces about a wife he had for 24 hours before the Obsidian Order killed her and when Bashir offers his condolences Garak says “oh no she was an awful woman, it’s just such a shame I never got to experience a divorce.” But he seems pretty broken up about it so Bashir says “oh well uh if you need anything let me know.”
One of Curzon Dax’s short lived love affairs with an arms dealer’s daughter arrives on the station. She insists they once had a Vegas wedding and they’re still married (by her people’s laws). She demands that Dax divorce her and pay alimony, but Dax is Starfleet and doesn’t have enough of the currency that the alimony would be in. Meaning that Dax would have to pay it off by becoming a gun smuggler or something. Dax says something about being a trill and responsibility for the past. Sisko orders Odo to find a way out of it before the divorce court opens in a week (they’re closed for convenient plot reasons).
Garak ends up with a marriage license for him and Bashir because, well, Bashir said anything and he always wanted to experience a divorce. Bashir is freaked out about it but he does want to make Garak feel better about everything. Except the divorce court isn’t open so he has to be married to Garak for a week. Shenanigans ensue.
Odo finds out that Curzon Dax never had a Vegas wedding and the arms dealer’s daughter bought a counterfeit license from Quark made with an older date. Turns out all of Quark’s marriage licenses are actually counterfeit.
Odo informs Sisko and Dax, and Dax has a gay moment that is also somehow heterosexual with the not-really-her-wife when they say goodbye to each other.
Quark gets threatened by Odo to stop selling the marriage licenses and for some reason there’s crazy sexual tension. But Quark agrees to stop selling them.
Bashir is relieved because he assumes that Garak bought a marriage certificate from Quark, making their marriage invalid. Quark looks confused and is about to correct Bashir, before he just shrugs and walks away.
Fade to black, music plays, they never bring it up again.
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fandomaya · 2 years
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JJK guys and the random type of kisses to expect
Genre: Fluff • WC : 660+ • CW//TW: None! • Format: Mini headcannons
Cast: Yuuji, Megumi, Toge, Yuuta, Satoru, Kento, Suguru, Toji (separate)
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Yuuji is the type of guy to hold your face with both of his hands, squish your cheeks to make your lips pout, then he doesn't kiss your lips and instead kisses your cheeks alternatively with exaggerated "mwah" sounds like the sunshine child he is from within. To him, you are a sunflower, cannot help yourself but turn your head wherever he leads you and be sure that his warm rays will always caress your petals to bloom for eternity.
Megumi is the type of guy to make you sit on his lap only to bury his head at the crook of your neck, rub his nose gently at your soft skin, to leave small peppering kisses on your collar bones while inhaling your essence. And at that moment, the way you caress his jet black porcupine locks, he feels as if not just his hair but his worries are detangled away from his head too.
Toge is the type of guy who would hug you tight whenever he meets you, just to quickly give a peck on the tip of your nose, that instantly tints your cheeks with the shade of rose, and soon you are laughing into his chest trying to hide your blush, which just makes Inumaki smile a bit more because there's nothing more important for Inumaki than to see you happy with the most beautiful blush on your angelic face.
Yuuta is the type of guy to take your hands no matter what and start kissing your fingers, trailing those kisses to your palm up to your arms till he reaches your shoulders and then he looks up, meets your eyes and you can clearly see that, how drunk he is on your love, on your presence, on everything that you give to him especially the ordinary that he lacks in his extraordinary world.
Satoru is the type of guy who never fails to have fun and that goes with his kisses too. For instance, when you are folding the laundry he would stealthily come behind you, and kiss your left shoulder swiftly, which makes you turn in that direction only for him to kiss the other shoulder and this brief game ends when you miss the beat and you face Satoru who quickly pecks your lips just to prance away like the kiss thief he is because he loves to steal his kisses from you.
Kento is the type of guy to randomly hold your hand and pull you towards him so that he could smell your hair and kiss your forehead. It doesn't matter if it's when he is leaving for work or coming back from a hectic assignment, he just loves to admire your face and place a kiss of gratitude on your forehead, gratitude for considering him enough, for always being by his side.
Suguru is the type of guy who loves lying down on top of you just so that he could kiss your cute tummy and draw constellations on it with his slender fingers, the same way you weave your fingers through his obsidian locks. Sometimes he teases you by giving small ticklish kisses just to make you laugh because to him, your laugh is the only sound that can make him feel sane and whole, that he doesn't need to worry about being alone ever.
Toji is the type of person who actually loves to kneel down in front of you just so that he could put on your footwear for you and get an opportunity to kiss your ankle. He also kisses your ankle when taking off the footwear for you. Many times, at such instances, he would gently trail his kisses from your ankle, rubbing his cheek on your calves only to gently kiss your knee, just to get up and put your footwear back on the cabinet. He loves you so much that kneeling down in front of you makes him feel happy instead of feeling weak.
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A/N: I am feeling soft at 3am right now. Anyways if this flops then *awkward silence*. Anyways I hope you all enjoy!
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vaguely-concerned · 1 month
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Ever since watching The Wire for the first time, my brain has doggedly kept working away at the Especially the lies of it all, and specifically at how much the structure beneath the different stories Garak tells contributes to the overall meaning of what he’s trying to say. While the contradicting narratives of course expertly obscure the factual circumstances of his getting exiled, using them also allows him to tell aspects and facets of the emotional truth I don’t think he ever could have, if he’d simply told the actual story of what happened. (It’s very Varric-core of him honestly.)
The first story — the ‘oh, you think you know me?’ story — says I have done things that would sicken you if you knew any detail of it. It’s clearly meant to scare Bashir away so he’ll leave him to die shamefully in peace already lol. But it’s also one of his (probably much-needed lbr) little lessons to Julian that are so frequent in the beginning, given while Garak still has some hold on himself — “Don’t be so quick to forgive me if you don’t even know what I’ve done; what would you do if this really were the sum total of what I am?” (And Julian seems to surprise him by going ‘Well, exactly the same thing, because no matter who you are I am a doctor. But I sort of take your point.’)
The second story — the letting the orphans go story — says I have failed to smother my soul in its cradle when it was required of me, and I regret that more than anything I’ve done. To my ears this is the one most shot through with active self-loathing too, which is interesting. He’s officially lost the control he’s been clinging to and it’s about to get ugly. His TL;DR is ‘Sentiment is the greatest weakness of all’, even all the way back here. (Which is the one lesson Julian steadfastly refuses to learn, which I think in turn does some serious rearrangement of Garak’s soul over the course of the show haha. Get uno reversed into the process of loving and being loved without shame asshole.)  This is also where he builds up to admitting to having any sort of need for companionship or closeness at all and — so much worse — that Julian’s role in his life actually has fulfilled some of that need, and he’s DRIPPING with defensive venom over it b/c well I get it Garak vulnerability is scary it can take a person like that. 
(I also feel there’s something honest and forbidden in ‘Suddenly the whole exercise seemed utterly meaningless’. I suspect ‘actually… why the fuck are we even doing this???’ is not a welcome sentiment in an Obsidian Order water cooler environment, no matter what you’re saying it about lmao. The very first seeds of him deconstructing the things he’s been taught about Cardassia and his work might be hinted at here, though they of course take a looong time to come to any real fruition.)   
The third story — the ‘Elim was my best friend’ story — says hey, remember that thing you said once, about how sometimes, you have to be loyal to yourself before you can be loyal to anything else? Well. guess what. I couldn’t even be that lmao. It also furthers that thread of being divided from yourself, split, that having ‘Elim’ as a separate person around in all versions of the story brings in. He’s in control of himself again, but he essentially hands his life and soul over to Julian to decide what should be done with them. 
I’ve done horrible things and it finally caught up with me, I’m getting what I deserve → I let sentiment master me and the fact that I’m too weak to do what’s needed of me shames me more than the evil I’ve done → I fucked up. I betrayed myself and everything I held to, all for nothing, and I have no one to blame for it but myself. But it’s very nice that you’re here anyway, Doctor. (Wow. I didn’t realize quite how isolated and lonely that last one was before right now. The way Tain has shaped him really has just… locked him completely into himself, huh.) We can also see a movement through from a completely professional context in the first story, to an intensely interpersonal and internal context in the last one — even his fake stories spiral in towards intimacy, which I think is what he longs for here even if he can’t quite like. Touch that without the stories as a buffer yet, it’s clearly like touching a hot stove for him to interact with it too directly. 
And you know what I find incredibly interesting the whole way through? Even on his deathbed, where he’s dying from the thing Tain had put in his head, he’s protecting Tain. He puts all the blame for where he is on himself (‘My future was limitless, until I threw it away’), even if he has to employ a strange twisty logic where he’s split himself into two to do it. Don’t get me wrong, Garak has done horrific things all on his own haha, but it’s notable that he almost isolates Tain from that. ‘Tain was the Obsidian Order. Not even the Central Command dared challenge him. And I was his right hand.’ Tain in Garak’s stories is this infallible implacable weirdly distant figure, even now. Indeed, as will make a lot of sense with the revelations further down the line, more than anything it seems the gaze of an abused child desperate for recognition looking up at an idealized (if not in any way nurturing) parent.‘He was retired at that point; he couldn't protect me’, Garak says, as if what he’d need protection from in the first place isn’t Tain himself lmao, as if Tain had no active part in any of this. He never lets blame touch Tain at all. At this stage he would rather consider himself a broken flawed tool than accept that the hands that have wrought and wielded him have ever had any fault in them. AND in the middle of it all, with plausible deniability, on death’s door and knocking meekly to be let in before he must finish the mortifying ordeal of being known and test the even more daunting possibility of being loved, Garak at the same time manages to drop the breadcrumb trail of clues to make it possible for Julian to find Tain if he so chooses and gets in the ‘sons of Tain’ thing too for future dramatic irony purposes. Truly he is the Michelangelo of lying. Every falsehood a multifaceted masterpiece. Elim ‘achieving a state of intertextuality in real life is possible if you work hard and believe in yourself’ Garak. I love him so much. 
I think all of this is why “I forgive you. For whatever it is you did,” works so well, because it too works on a structural level. It’s such a deceptively multilayered response — it has the syntax of a joke, in a way, and it is kind of funny even under the circumstances, but delivered with such earnest warmth and fondness. It’s both recognition and acceptance (forgiveness!). It’s saying ‘I finally understand enough of what you’re trying to tell me beneath and through all that, in whatever way you’re capable of, I see you’ and ‘my answer hasn’t changed (bitch)’. The forgiveness Julian offers here is complete — on principle, and out of personal feeling and empathy (only one of which Garak deigns to respond to during the second story, where he calls it ‘smug Federation sympathy’, placing it more completely on the principle side than it probably is. ‘Dude you’re my friend please don’t just lie down and die in a completely avoidable way on me, who else is going to not only tolerate but actually gleefully enjoy me being annoying as fuck over lunch’ seems to be the subtext that’s a lot harder to acknowledge and invite in for both of them. And yet Tain seems perfectly clear on the fact that Julian is Garak’s friend, which, y’know. Must be fun living with the knowledge that Tain has eyes everywhere looming over you every day haha guess you’d just have to tune that out.) 
Most of all — ’Don’t give up on me now, Doctor’... and he didn’t! He didn’t. Augh. Ow.
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yandere-daydreams · 7 months
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Title: Well Directed.
Written for a very lovely, very patient anonymous commisioner.
Pairing: Yandere!Arlecchino x Reader (Genshin).
Word Count: 2.0k.
TW: Unbalanced Power Dynamics, Intimidation, Biting/Blood, Unhealthy Relationships, and Slight Dehumanization.
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Arlecchino greeted you the way she always did – through touch.
Despite everything, you had to admit Arlecchino’s ability to dampen her footsteps, to muffle her breathing, to somehow disguise the weight of her state and heat of her unnaturally warm body and the very fact of her own existence was undeniably impressive – even more so when she managed to hide herself from someone like you, someone so preoccupied with knowing the exact position of every actor as soon as they stepped onto your stage. Your first hint that she was coming to see you was the feeling of her talons on the dip of your shoulder, drifting upward to the curve of your neck, then the sight of her reflection in the mirror of your vanity, appearing as if she’d always been there, as if your eyes hadn’t been fixed to the door of your dressing room since locked yourself behind it, content to spend your intermission in peaceful seclusion. You’d planned to use what little free time you had to clear your head and prepare yourself properly for the rest of the night, but as always, she was there to make sure your mind would be filled with only thoughts of her. If Arlecchino had it her way, there was a good chance you’d never be able to think about anything else.
When you tried to stand, crumbling under the reflex to put any amount of distance between you and her, Arlecchino’s hand rose to your throat, catching you just under the chin and burying her claws in each corner of your jaw. Immediately, you went still, and she rewarded you with an airy chuckle, a tilted head. “Good puppet,” she praised, loosening her hold on you with the assurance that you’d learned your lesson quickly. “You were brilliant out there. Truly, the rest of the production is paler for having to stand in comparison to you.”
You wished you could’ve preened, could’ve basked her praise the same way you did when one of your performances caught the eye of a particularly flattering columnist, when you overheard one of your costars gushing about how proud they were to be working with someone of your renowned. Instead, all her words – no matter how kind, no matter how adoring – ever seemed to do was send a chill down your spine, to make you regret ever auditioning in the first place. Could her praise be considered sincere, if you knew she wouldn’t remember a single line you delivered a few minutes after the curtains closed? Could you take her compliments as anything but blatant condescension, if you knew the only reason she’d sat through your performance at all was to admire her newest toy?
But, you couldn’t say that out loud, so you only bowed your head, settling onto the stool of your vanity as you attempted to find your voice. “It was only the first act,” you mumbled, eventually. “And my scenes were hardly anything noteworthy. My character doesn’t really find their footing until the climax.”
“I disagree. Try as I might, I couldn’t take my eyes off of you.” She didn’t have to tell you that. You’d felt stare prying into you every time you were on stage, and if it hadn’t been for the blinding lights, you were sure you would’ve been able to see her in the dead-center of the first row, grinning wildly as she watched you put on a show she’d already attended half a dozen times since opening night. If she actually bothered to pay attention, you were sure she would have the script memorized, by now. “Although, I couldn’t help but notice you weren’t wearing my last gift. What if I lost track of you up there, dear?”
Her last ‘gift’. Your heart skipped a beat at the reminder. It’d been a gaudy thing – a rose-shaped breastpin, crafted with tens of hundreds of pinprick rubies and lined with a frame of pure obsidian. She’d let one of her masked soldiers make the delivery, but her note had been clear enough. You were supposed to wear the awful thing during your next performance, in front of a crowd of hundreds. You’d crushed it under your heel before your anger could turn into mortification. The dread had only taken root as you cleaned up the broken pieces and began to imagine how Arlecchino might react to your ungratefulness. She could weather most things, but such blatant disobedient had never gotten you more than a bruised cheek, rope-burnt wrists, and a few days spent in the guestroom of her manor.
“I’m sorry, my lord. I tried, but the costuming department overruled me.” You let your eyes fall to the ground, playing sheepish. As if you were genuinely apologetic. As if any part of you regretted not being able to wear her claim on you in front of half the population of Fontaine. “You know how it is. Everything has to be approved by the director, lest a misplaced prop lead the audience to the wrong conclusion.”
She hummed, letting her hand fall to the low collar of your top. It was far from the most risqué costume you’d ever worn, but the plunging neckline suddenly left you feeling more exposed than you would’ve liked. “Give me a name.”
You stiffened. “…excuse me?”
“Who made the call? Give me a name and I’ll take care of the rest.” Her pitch-black claws ran over your collarbone, playing with the idea of breaking the skin. You already knew that the ghost of her drifting affection would linger for seconds, minutes, hours after she was gone, when you were left alone with her voice still ringing in your ears. It was more than likely that you’d spend the second act performing under the careful supervision of her phantom touch. “If it’s the director, don’t bite your tongue. The show can go on without that bumbling idiot.”
“No, I—” The threat was clear, direct. She’d made similar promises before – when the man behind the counter of her preferred bakery called you by your name as you hung from her arm, when one of her subordinates seemed just a little too excited to attend one of your shows. In her ideal world, you’d be little more than a ballerina twirling in one of her music boxes; there to smile and dance when she desired to see you and locked away from prying eyes when she did not. You’d do nothing but giggle and laugh and bend to her whims, too happy in her gilded cage to ever throw yourself at the bars. “I’m sorry,” you said, again, and this time you tried to mean it. “I… I lied to you, earlier. I damaged it this morning while trying to put it on, and—” A pause, a laugh. “Archons, I’m so embarrassed. I just couldn’t stand the idea of letting you know I was so thoughtless with one of your presents.”
It was far from your best work. Your speech was too stilted, your tone too dire for the occasion, your body language too stiff to convey much of anything beyond the simple hope that she would believe you. You would’ve been mortified to let anything so visibly improvised make it in front of a real audience, but Arlecchino was far from a critic. Her grin – as unwavering as it was monstrous – softened, her sadism partially sated by your complete, unabashed submission. Her hand fell away from you completely, and you beamed, letting your heart soar at the thought that she’d finally found some scrap of empathy for you.
Of course, your elation was quickly punished. It always caught you off guard – just how fast she was, just how strong she was, just how much she enjoyed reminding you of exactly why she could afford to be so self-indulgent when it came to her ever-growing collection of pretty little things. One moment, you were smiling at her reflection, and the next, the mirror had been shattered into more pieces than you could ever be able to count, anything it might’ve once shown distorted beyond all recognition. An intricate web of hairline fractures stretched outward from the point where her fist connected with the glass, but she regarded the devastation with little more than a slight hum, a sleeve dragged over her bleeding knuckles. “I think it’s my turn to apologize.” The sound of her heels against tile, the feeling of her arms wrapping around your waist. “You know how I get when I’m upset.”
Upset. You could’ve laughed, if you hadn’t forgotten how to use your lungs. You could’ve cried, if you weren’t too scared to move. If your unresponsiveness bothered her, if she noticed you hadn’t blinked since she lashed out, your paralysis wasn’t deemed worthy of her concern. Instead, she only pulled you against her chest, letting her chin rest on the dip of your shoulder. “You’re special, you know. I don’t lose my temper for every little actor who thinks they can get away with being so…” Her claws skirted over your side, threatening to tear through the delicate fabric of your costume. “Unappreciative. That’s a good word for it, isn’t it? You’ve always been the more eloquent one, between the two of us.”
Multiple temptations surfaced in you all at once. Part of you wanted to cry, to beg for her forgiveness, to promise you’d never be so selfish and so stupid again if she’d only let you go unharmed tonight. Another more rebellious faction screamed at you to run, to try in vain to hide yourself away from such an obvious predator, unwilling to acknowledge how many times you’d tried that before and how many times it hadn’t worked. And yet, neither impulse overwhelmed you, in the end. Arlecchino’s training took control and you left you speaking hollowly, the words finding your way to your tongue before your conscious mind could so much as realize that you’d opened your mouth. “Unappreciative, my lord. I’ve been unappreciative.” Then, leaning against her, “What can I do to earn your forgiveness?”
“Good little thing,” she said, by way of an answer. Her grin was the widest it’d ever been. “My perfect little puppet.”
This time, you were able to find a note of joy in her praise, to seek comfort in the fact that her faux-affection meant you wouldn’t be the next thing crushed under her rage. That happiness was only partially dampened by the weight of her lips against your shoulder, then drifting upward, latching onto the tender patch of flesh just below your jugular. Her teeth, like her fingertips, were sharpened to fine points, each able to pierce your skin with all the thought it would’ve taken her to swat a fly out of the air, to pluck a wildflower from its patch. You felt warm blood trickle past her lips and down your collarbone, let a low whimper slip past your grit teeth as she dug that much deeper, as she carelessly tore through everything she touched. When you shifted, attempting to relieve a fraction of the pressure on your throat, of the burning ache just underneath your skin, her hands clamped down around your hips, her hold on you tightening and dragging you that much closer to her chest, that much deeper into her embrace.
By the time she pulled away, there was a dark ring of bruising carved into the side of your neck, emphasized by the bright red stain of her lipstick against your skin, the trail of crimson dripping down your chest and pooling above your collarbone. You weren’t able to stop yourself, cursing as you scrambled for something on your vanity table that you could use to limit the damage, but Arlecchino stopped you, taking up either of your wrists and forcing your arms to your sides. “Trying to hurt my feelings again?” She ran her tongue up the side of your throat, adding a vulgar smear to the mess she’d made of you. “Leave it as it is – I want you wearing my mark for the rest of your performance. And, if someone tries to stop you, tell them I’m the only one you’ll be taking direction from, from now on.”  
You were too stunned to respond, too mortified to blink. Somewhere in the distance, a stagehand called five minutes to curtain, and Arlecchino let out a breathy laugh. With no small amount of hesitancy, she detangled herself from you, making her way to the door of the dressing room, the space now too contaminated to be called your own.
As her fingertips grazed the knob, her glanced back to you, her eyes meeting yours in the shattered remains of your mirror. You could’ve sworn you could still see the faint tint of your blood on her teeth as the corner of her lips tugged upward and something buried deep, deep inside of you withered and died.
“I’ll be watching, dearest.”
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starry-bi-sky · 4 months
Text
more clone^2 thoughts
you know who i just remembered ALSO has long hair? Vlad. Vlad Masters. Danny's worst enemy and biggest pain in the ass ever since he sent those vulture ghosts after his fucking dAD. Danny having long hair would make Vlad so inSUFFERABLE. Like look!! Proof that you are much better off as MY son. We have matching hair lengths! Come be my son! I will make you a halfa like me and we will become powerful allies together!
Danny almost chops it off out of spite. He ends up not doing it because he likes his hair long, actually, very much so and he's not growing it out again just because you're crazy! He's attempted to take a pair of scissors to Vlad's hair though -- THAT was a fight that got ugly. Danny's go-to threat whenever he sees him after that is that he's going to chop off vlad's hair when he's not looking - just you watch, Masters. He'll do it. HE'LL DO IT.
And if Danny wasn't keeping it a tight secret, he'd turn around and taunt Vlad about being a) a clone and b) a clone of BRUCE WAYNE. he'd say stuff like:
"How's it feel knowing my parents cloned a man richer than you"
"you're just mad that bruce wayne is more my dad than you'll ever be!"
"it could've been you that my parents accidentally cloned instead of Wayne, but instead you fucked off for twenty years instead!"
but also its a constant question Danny asks himself how he and no one else ever figured it out sooner that he was a clone. He doesn't understand how Vlad of all people didn't realize it when he went to college with the man with his parents and was also stinking rich, before remembering that he doubts Vlad remembers anyone who wasn't his parents in college, and has been a rich, recluse loser this entire time.
its a good thing though, danny's pretty sure vlad would attempt a hit on the man if he found out out of pure jealousy and indignant rage. And then he'd get his ass beat by Batman and his army of children.
All in all, Dany is a pure menace towards Vlad whenever he gets the chance, as is normal, and then Vlad's suffering gets doubled after he makes Ellie - of which she is even worse than Danny because she's the halfa that Danny Is NOt and thus has the powers to break into his house easy peasy and wreck shit. She steals his obsidian black card and goes on a shopping spree. This is a regular occurrence.
(and for anyone who isn't aware - Ellie is the same age as Danny in clone^2 bc i thought it'd be fun)
And then it gets tripled once Damian joins the family and gets caught up to speed on all of Vlad's tomfoolery and whoops, Damian's got better stealth skills than Danny and looks like Ellie has a partner in crime whenever they need to sneak into vlad's house to cause him grief.
Vlad's walls are the first canvas for Damian to test out his new spray paints on once he gets them :)
next up
Wes weston! i love this guy, he's so funny and he definitely knows danny is the Phantom in the clone^2 au. it's not as easy to figure out as it is in canon since its not just a simple colorswap, but perhaps he sees Danny taking off his mask after a daytime fight. and after that he becomes determined to reveal that quiet, strange fenton is the vigilante phantom.
he's putting some real,,, detectiveness? stalkerish? skills to use because catching photos of phantom is not as easy as it is if he were a halfa. He can't just snap a few dozen photos of fenton and phantom and then color compare the two of them either - Phantom wears a mask, and works primarily at night or in evenings, and typically avoids the living during the day. And he doesn't speak to the living either. Wes has to put in some extra work into his investigations and evidence.
He also makes the dumb mistake of cornering Danny in the bathroom one day early on and telling him he knows he's the Phantom -- now that Danny knows that Wes knows, he's going to be even more careful not to get caught. He puts in a little extra work in both Fenton and Phantom - another layer, perhaps a jacket, as Phantom, and baggier pants and boots he never wears as Fenton. His hood stays up in the daytime.
He was already putting in some extra effort to appear creepy and unsettling as Phantom - things like crouching low, tense movements, fluid movements. If he's perched on something he does a kinda-crawl like movement - think a mix between a bear and a gorilla crawl. It's weird, creepy. And he stares. Danny's mastered the art of not needing to blink for long periods of time, so if he sees you and sticks around he stares. It doesn't help that you can't see his eyes that well through his mask - its just two piercing green.
It helps endear him to ghosts and his enemies though - the annoying little human boy is engaging in ghost culture! That's eliciting some form of begrudging respect from his enemies.
And then compare that creepy, almost cryptid-like behavior to Fenton who, while considered a freak, really isn't anything more than just some dorky weirdo with occasional heart problems. He's kinda unsettling - he has those 'stares into soul' eyes - but its leveled by the fact that he's kinda just... dorky. It reads as normal, awkward kid behavior, and then gets disregarded completely as he gets older and it bleeds into 'very chill teenager'. Fenton being Phantom doesn't compute that much.
Paulina: you think Phantom is Fenton? Wes: I don't think, I know he is! I have proof-- Star: Just because they both have black hair doesn't mean they're the same, Wes. That's like saying Paulina and Manson are sisters because they also have black hair.
Wes's attempts to out him as Phantom means that Danny is a little more wary of him than he is in canon, since his vigilante identity isn't an entirely different ghost form its just him, so he has to be careful about where or when he takes off his mask in case Wes is around. Especially during daytime fights.
But other than that he has a lot of time messing with him. Wes is trying to convince his table group at lunch that Fenton = Phantom (again) and Danny just so happens to be within earshot of him and starts making fun of the idea.
"You think I'm Phantom?" and he's got the most disbelieving grin on his face that's only partially convincing. "That's totally bogus, man. The Phantom famously doesn't get along with my parents, why would I be a ghost hunter and not work with them?"
He has this most shit-eating, delighted look in his eyes that Wes knows is pure manic glee at being able to mess with him and get away with it. Wes is going to strangle him.
"Besides, dude, did you forget I have a heart condition? I can't be chasing around ghosts - my heart would give out from all that running and jumping."
Although Danny can get really serious at the flip of a coin if need be - especially with Wes when he gets too pushy about him being Phantom. A notable instance is when Wes cornered him in an empty bathroom to again talk about him being Phantom.
Except Danny, who had been working on a really difficult cold case about the death of a child, and hadn't gotten much sleep in the last 72 hours, plus a plethora of other stuff (like recently acquiring Damian, fighting ghosts, etc), wasn't in the mood to entertain him. It ended with Weston getting pinned to the wall and lowkey threatened by Danny. He apologizes for it afterwards but it's not forgotten.
Additional note: Wes Weston having a crush on Danny Fenton is a hilarious trope to me so Wes absolutely has a crush on Danny and the only one in denial about it is him. Everyone else - except Danny because he's more focused on the fact that Wes knows his identity, and has other things to worry about - knows about it, and everyone chalks up his obsession with Danny as being part of said crush.
Wes' friend: you know usually when you have a crush on someone you normally confess, maybe ask them out, pine from afar....
Wes: i dont--
Wes's friend: not accuse him of being the local ghost-fighting vigilante. Seriously, wes! His parents are ghost hunters!
Wes: i do not have a crush
Wes's friend: and ghosts aren't real! everyone knows that's a lie!
next up
Dan! Or Dante, but i'll call him Dan for the time being. Even if I dislike the name with a passion. Much like Wrath from my Childhood Friends au, Dan here is pretty different from his canon counterpart. Mostly because I wanted to experiment with Dan and different interpretations of him, and I thought; hey, where no better than an au where Danny has no powers?
so, dan? Dan is not a combination of Danny and Vlad's ghost halves -- now, don't get me wrong, danny still ends up under vlad's custody care after the death of his family, but he just doesn't fuse with Vlad's ghost.
So, what happened? What happened is that Vlad convinces a grieving Danny that he should let him make him a halfa (despite the fact that he has no idea how) because the he could go find his family in the ghost zone. Danny is in no mental state for any kind of experiments, but his hope and want to see his family and friends again gets him to agree.
It backfires. Vlad doesn't make Danny a halfa, he just ends up killing him completely. Danny comes back instantly as a ghost however, and enraged over being lied to, betrayed, and murdered, ends up killing Vlad in furious cold blood. He doesn't fuse with his ghost half, there's no ghost half to fuse with.
So a grieving ghost, Danny flees into the ghost zone. And, in this iteration, doesn't end up destroying the world. So how does TUE end up happening? Well, ten years later - with Danny remaining a forever 14 year old ghost - Dan ends up finding out about time travel. He finds out a way to travel back into the past, and he does.
So he can take over his past self's life. Danny just thinks he's fighting a weird doppleganger ghost, but ends up getting overshadowed. It's like being in a weird limbo, and Danny's not really sure what's happening - but his friends figure something out. After all, its been ten years since dan saw his friends, something has to give.
And that episode happens. Danny ends up meeting clockworth, beats Dan. But, well, it's not really happily ever after - somewhat. Ehh.. sorta. Danny's been traumatized by Dan's overshadowing - making him realize that despite everything, there are things ghosts can do that danny simply cannot and he needs to prepare for it. Onset paranoia, anyone?
Dan tells them his whole tragic backstory - there's a chance for redemption here, for him. For forgiveness. Not immediately, not yet, but its there. And he doesn't want to go back to the future - he's alone there. He's tired of being alone.
But he ends up being convinced - he needs to learn to look forward, not cling back. He can build himself up again, find new family. He doesn't have to be alone. So Dan goes back to the future.
"But come tell me if Vlad's giving you trouble --" and he smiles something wicked, "I'd be happy to handle him again"
and finally
not so much as any concrete thoughts as it is just me being emotional over Danny and Damian's brotherhood in this au and also Danny's hands. Again.
lIKE.. I put it in the tags of my reblog of my "danny's scarred hands' ficlet but im putting it here and its just?? Danny grabbing the blade of Damian's sword. Him grabbing the sword multiple times despite the fact that he knows it will hurt, that he will hurt himself. That he will keep hurting himself until Damian himself stops.
its just like??? whats it mean to spill your own blood just so that this little boy you've just met won’t have to ever again. he doesn't know any english and he is hurting you and yet you take him home and get him new clothes. he runs away and you go looking for him, every single time. you teach yourself arabic first so that you can converse with him.
this boy is a clone and so are you. you're a clone of his father he's a clone of your son - by nature of your existence this is your child. except its not your child, you don't have one, its just a little boy who happens to share the same dna as you. and you take him home and he becomes your little brother.
what's it mean when its you whose been hurt rather than him? whats it mean when you’d hurt yourself again just so that he can start to heal, so that he knows that he’s worth it? you cut your hands on his blade, catch its swing, just so this boy can know, can learn, that there’s someone who will bleed for him. that there's someone who will scar their hands just to make sure that you wont scar yours.
you’re a bleeding heart and its spilling out onto your palms. you take bloody fingers and wrap it around your little brother’s and say "its okay. it’s okay. you’re safe. no one will hurt you here. i promise. i wont let them. no one will hurt you so long as i'm around."
"put the sword down. i can show you how. let me show you how."
and damian in this au just reminds me of the song "eight" by sleeping at last. like?? the lYRICS. he is sO "eight" coded
'show me how to lay my sword down for long enough to let you through.' 'here i am. pry me open. what do you want to know?' 'im just a kid who grew up scared enough to hold the door shut and bury my innocence' 'but here's a map. here's a shovel. here's my achilles' heel. im all in palms out. im at your mercy now and im ready to begin. i am strong enough to let you in.'
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"by nature of our existence we are father and son, but by choice we are brothers. we are brothers we are brothers we are brothers. and i love you"
#dpxdc#dp x dc#dp x dc crossover#dpxdc crossover#dpdc#clone^2#danny fenton is not the ghost king#dp dc#dp dc crossover#dpxdc au#dpdc au#ITS JUST. THEM. IM SORRY BUT ITS THEM AND I LOVE THEM.#damian's guilt of hurting danny and the consistent conversations they have from that. danny always tells damian he forgives him.#'i hurt you' 'i know' 'im sorry' 'i know'#'one day i hope you forgive yourself just as much as i have forgiven you.' 'repeat after me: its not your fault'#'youre my brother and i hurt you and im sorry. i love you.'#i should get around to making a post about the batfam meeting them but i just!!! I love damian and danny i love their dynamic#and i know that i was the one who decided that its years before they meet the batfam after meeting each other but its still just a choice#that im stil so happy about because they become brothers! they meet the batfam and they're expecting baby damian to be like how damian was#when he arrived in the manor but he's not. he's not. he wears funny graphic tees and his older brother is bruce's clone and its so clear#that they love each other. bby dames steals his brother's flannels and gets chased around by him. and they roughhouse like brothers do#and his older brother is bruce's clone and he throws damian over his shoulders and calls him 'dames' and 'dami' and 'my boy' and its so#so obvious that this clone of bruce utterly adores damian.#and i had the idea before writing this that damian's first english word is 'star' and he turns to danny and calls him star when he wants#his attention for something. he points at him and says 'star' and he doesn't do that much anymore now that he knows english#but its one of the first signs of him trusting danny when he first arrived.
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b00kdiary · 2 months
Note
Can we please please please get a part 3 for stay with me where they actually fuck? Love your stuff btw absolutely amazing ❤️
Stay With Me | Rhysand (III)
Rhysand x Plus size reader
It's been a week. Rhysand's patience has worn thin. So has Y/N's.
Warnings: Mature themes (18+), swearing, and smut.
MASTERLIST - 1 and 2
PART ONE PART TWO
Are you awake, darling?
I stared at the note that appeared on my nightstand fifteen seconds ago, the luxurious, broad sprawl telling of who had sent it. The word darling made my stomach coil – like I could hear Rhys purring it in my ear.
I fought my smile as I turned, dropping my bare legs off the side of the bed, and grabbing the quill that had appeared with the note. It was slightly warm, and I envisioned Rhys holding it, smirking like the fiend he was.
I am awake.
Missing me already?
I could feel my anticipation thrumming in me as I sprawled the words before neatly dropping the pen beside it. It vanished the moment I released it, wisped away to wherever Rhys lounged and for some reason, I could practically hear the rumbling laugh that would escape him the moment he read my teasing response.
My smile grew when the note reappeared not even thirty seconds later. I grabbed it with shaking hands, and I could feel the heat blazing through my blood and bones and veins at his words.
I always miss you; you know that.
And while I usually am the most patient male, that patience is starting to wear very thin.
I want you, darling.
He had been patient. So had I. One week since the Hybern attack, one week since I had sustained that injury and Rhysand had taken care of me – in more ways than just my leg. One week of stolen touches and yearning glances and pleasuring myself to quell the urge to seek him out.
I didn't want to be patient anymore. The ache between my legs wouldn't let me be.
Then why aren't you here?
I'm waiting, High Lord.
The note vanished and not even a second later, I heard the distant sound of wings thundering. I felt Rhysand's dark, obsidian power misting over Velaris stretching from the Town house to the House of Wind.
Call it impatience, call it confidence, call it whatever you want but my body was alight at the power of him, the need of him. And as Rhys thundered closer and closer, I took off piece after piece of clothing. My socks, my nightshirt, my underwear, my bra, everything, until I was bare sat upon my bed desperately needing to be touched.
My thighs clenched when Rhys landed on my balcony, the ground and walls shaking with the impact of his arrival. I could see his silhouette outlined by the moonlight and sheet of stars above as he stalked on silent feet toward my door, looking like a God that shouldn't exist.
The curtain parted with a phantom wind, and I felt my nipples pebble and my core soak as it danced into my room, brushing my skin like a lover's touch. Rhys ducked under my door, powerful wings tucked close to his back and violet eyes gleaming like midnight constellations.
"You beautiful, wicked thing," Rhys groaned as he slid into my room, eyes latching onto my naked figure sitting patiently atop my sheets. I felt his magic thrum at the sight of me, eyes razing across my bare flesh. "You couldn't wait two minutes?"
"I waited one week, Rhys," I lifted my chin defiantly, feigning arrogance. Even as every long step he took toward me made me tremble. "I'm a patient female but not that patient."
"Tsk tsk tsk," He clucked his tongue tauntingly at me, his thick brow raised in a challenge. I traced his long, lean angles, the broad muscles of his shoulders, and that infuriating smirk as he came to a stop before me. "As much as I love your eagerness, darling, I didn't say you could undress."
I moaned when his ringed hand came forward, cupping my aching breasts and squeezing it in his palm. His chest rumbled appreciatively as it spilt from his hand, another moan slipping from me when his thumb brushed over my taut, sensitive nipple.
"Perhaps I should punish you?" Rhys mused softly, eyes transfixed on my breasts, his forefinger and thumb clamped around my bud, abusing it, and watching me gasp. I craned my neck up to meet his towering form, cruel amusement in his eyes. "Unlace my breeches."
A firm, powerful command – his High Lord's voice. Gods, it made me wet. Rhys smirked at the spike in my pulse, the pleasure that coiled through me at his authority.
I was more than eager to follow his command, my hands moving to his slacks, tugging furiously at the laces. I could feel his hard length under my fingers, twitching and straining against the material, begging to be let free.
Rhysand released my breast, and I would have whined in protest had he not begun tugging the ties at the back of his shirt, striping the material from his wings and chest, revealing acres and acres of beautiful tan, tattooed skin as he discarded it.
I whimpered as I tugged the last lace, my pussy clenching around nothing as Rhys's thick, hard length slipped free from his pants, slapping back against his stomach, nearly hitting my face in the process. My mouth watered, actually watered at the sight of him.
"This is meant to be a punishment, darling," Rhys chuckled darkly, fingers gently folding into my hair and tilting my head to meet his eyes. He grinned at the heady intent on my face. "You shouldn't look so happy about it."
"You’re about to let me suck your cock, Rhys," I breathed, my voice rasping and hoarse. His hand tightened in my hair, fisting the root as I purred the word cock. I eyed his length, the red angry tip, the small pearly beads of pre-cum, the strong veins that danced on the sides. "How is that a punishment?"
"You're not sucking my cock, my love," Rhys smiled – it was not a comforting sight. No, it was dark and terrifying. I gasped when the tip of his cock traced my lip, his eyes glinting as he pushed it slowly into my warm mouth. "I'm going to fuck your throat."
He slammed the rest of his length into my mouth until he hit the back of my throat, and I was gagging and moaning and choking for air.
"Good girl," Rhys moaned, his cock stretching my mouth until my jaw ached and he seated so far down my throat I could feel every twitch. He pulled out after several seconds, beads of spit and cum lacing my lips and down my chest as I gasped for air. "Such a good girl."
I hummed at the praise, even as I felt my lungs burning from the lack of oxygen. But Rhys tasted so good, and he was moaning so loud as I slipped him back into my mouth, my throat going lax as he shoved his length in until he maxed out.
I gagged, desperately breathing through my nose as his hips rolled, every stroke dragging his pulsing cock in and out, hitting the back of my throat again and again. Rhys growled, a pure sound of pleasure, one of no control as he truly fucked my mouth raw.
Tears streaked down my face, drool dripped down my chin and onto my breasts and Rhys's hand fisted my hair brutally, keeping me in place while he drove his hips into my mouth. I moaned at the feel of him, every ragged breath he took making me that much more eager.
"That feels incredible, darling," Rhys hissed, his voice shaking as his climax neared. His cock twitched in my mouth, and I let my tongue graze along his shaft in a way that had him cursing. "This mouth is better than I had imagined."
I could feel my arousal leaking down my thighs at his words, and my eyes rolled when Rhys bucked his hips forward, burying himself so far, that my nose brushed the trail of hair at his navel. I could smell his sweet scent, addictive enough that it distracted me from the burning in my lungs, the full feeling of him shoved down my throat.
"Fuck," Rhys swore, and I whined as he tore my head back, his wet, angry cock slipping out. Air rushed into my lungs, spit dribbled down my chin and then Rhys was upon me, his head ducking down and crashing his lips to mine.
I could taste the wine in his mouth, could taste the possession on his tongue as he shoved it past my swollen lips and into me, battling and furious and needy. My fingers clawed and scratched along his marble skin, tracing the hard muscles and rippling abs, memorising the perfect feel of him.
"Rhys," I whined against his lips, breathless as his large, ringed hands kneaded along my body, grumbling in approval as he palmed the flesh at my hips and back and thighs, his eyes stark with lust as he pushed me to lie on my back.
"I know, I know," He crooned, a tint of arrogance and appreciation in his voice as he settled onto the bed, his arms bracing his towering figure over me, his hands guiding my thighs around his lean hips. "I'm impatient too, darling. I know you need it; I've got you."
My back arched as he grazed his nose along the side of my neck, his magnificent wings erecting high behind him as he inhaled the sweet, sweaty scent of me. I was breathless as he touched my skin, touched my flesh like I was a dream come to fruition.
"Cauldron, I wish I had time to get my head between these soft thighs," His teeth scraped my nipple, his hands parting my thighs as he rubbed his tip through my soaking wet folds. "I'd have my tongue fucking your sweet hole until you came all over my face. Until you were begging me to stop."
For a second, I nearly begged him to do exactly that, nearly begged for the feel of his tongue and teeth, for the burn of his skilled fingers slipping inside me. But then he rubbed his hard length against me again, smearing my wetness and I couldn't wait another moment.
"Stop talking Rhys,” I snarled, my fingers curling around his short raven hair, dragging his face up to mine. He chuckled at the ire and frustration behind my words, behind my touch as I pressed desperate kisses to his lips, "I want you to fuck me. Now." 
“Such dirty words for such a pretty mouth,” Rhysand laughed against my lips, a hint of violence tinging his tone, his touch, as he toyed his tip against my swollen clit. “I’ll have to think of a better punishment to remedy that. But right now – “
I screamed as he drove his hips forward, shoving his hard, pulsing length into me in one forceful thrust.
“Rhys!”
An explosion of pain and pleasure, like stars erupting through my core as Rhysand forced his way into me, stretching my sore walls, languishing in the wetness of my arousal until he maxed out. Pain and pleasure –  it was all I knew.
“Cauldron, you’re fucking incredible,” Rhys growled into my ear, his hands bruising against my waist as he forced my flailing body against the bed. He pulled out to the tip, the sound filthy as he pushed back in, moaning as he did so. “So fucking incredible.”
“Rhys, oh Gods –“
I was crying out for him as his pace picked up, my walls moulding around him perfectly as he fucked me, that pain fading into pure, unfiltered pleasure. He grunted with every roll of his hips, his lips suckling my pulse point and reverberating his noises against me, through me.
Rhys scraped his canines against the junction of my throat possessively, marking me as he fucked his hips against me again and again, tits and body jolting with every stroke. I keened when he threw my leg over his shoulder, kissing my knee before he sunk so deep, I thought he’d tear me in two.
“Right there,” He panted,  sweat coating his forehead as he grinned down at me. I gasped, breathless as he pressed a hand down on the stomach – pressed down on the imprint of his cock shaped there. “You feel how deep I am, darling? Feel how far my cock is inside you?”
“S-so deep,” I blubbered, my words half caught between a sob and a moan as my walls fisted tighter and tighter, that familiar pool filling within me, filling more and more as Rhys whispered those dirty words and fucked me raw. “It’s so deep, Rhys.”
‘Look at you’ Rhys’s rumbling, arrogant voice filled my mind, mixed in with his stark arousal and overwhelming praise, ‘Crying for me, all fucked out and ready to come around my cock.’
His lips slammed against mine, all biting teeth and furious, exploring tongue and I could feel my orgasm ripping down my spine, feel it building at the apex of my thighs as he hit a spot within me, again and again and again. Something that felt so fucking good.
‘Come for me, darling,’ Rhys commanded through my mind, a bolt of obsidian power sparking along my nerves and through my whole body. I yelped, crying out at that feeling.
He sent another bolt, in tandem with the sweet, brutal roll of his hips and suddenly I was coming.
“Rhys, Rhys –“
White hot power splitting my core in two, strong enough that all I could do was arch my back and curl my toes, letting my body turn stiff and hard as Rhysand rocked into me, longing out the pleasure for what felt like hours.
I was coming and coming and coming. I couldn’t fucking breathe as Rhys ruined me.
“That’s my girl,” He gritted out, kissing my cheek, my jaw, my neck, teeth and spit and tongue as he fucked erratically into me. His climax was close, I was fluttering around him so furiously, that I knew he was close.
“Fill me up, Rhys,” I begged him, my orgasm dwindling and all my nerves endings on fire as he stroked and stroked and stroked. Rhys whimpered – actually whimpered, as I dragged my hand through the inner part of his wing, trembling behind him from the contact. “Want you to fill me up so bad.”
I touched his wing with a whisper of a caress again and again, until Rhys was cursing, until his beautiful body was trembling against me, and he was making noises I would kill, actually kill, to hear again.
“You beautiful – “ Thrust. “Cruel – “ Thrust. “Wicked –“ Thrust. “Thing –“ Thrust.
His hand brushed my clit as he rocked his twitching cock into me, harder and faster now. I felt the dwindling tendrils of my first orgasm before they began erupting like flames as a second barrelled into me.
“Rhys – “ I sobbed his name, scratching my nails along the talon atop his right wing. And as my core exploded with another all-consuming climax, Rhys reached his peak too.
He reached that peak roaring.
“Fuck –“ He curses as his climax hit him, obsidian mist erupting from him and blanketing the room as he halted inside me. I moaned, my walls clenching and unclenching as I felt him spill endlessly inside me, his wings and body tensed and shaking under my hands.
Our moans and releases were furious and strong enough that I felt the posters of my bed shaking, Rhysand’s face buried in the crook of my neck, moaning, and panting for breath as his hips came to a total stop. My walls pulsed, and his cock twitched in response as if our orgasms had become one.
Rhys laughs roughly against my throat, his canines grazing my sensitive skin as he collapses against me, both our chests rising and falling in shattered waves. It reminded me of that first day in the cabin, how he had been so euphoric as I ground against him until he came.
“That was a good day for me,” Rhys sighed, head lifting so his violet eyes met mine. So bright, so happy. “Almost as good as last week when you came all over my hand.”
I blushed, his grin broadening at the sheepish smile I gave him. He dipped his head, kissing my lips sweetly, a satisfied groan rumbling through him as his tongue gently explored mine.
“I hope you’re aware that this means you’re stuck with me, darling,” Rhys smirked, forehead resting against mine. He was still inside me, and it felt more than right. His eyes glinted, daring me to challenge him. “No male will ever touch you again.”
“Is that a decree, High Lord?” I gnawed on my lip, giggling at the way his eyes narrowed. My giggle erupted into a laugh as Rhys began peppering kisses against my cheek and jaw.
“Yes,” He growled, nipping my skin with his teeth, “That’s an order. With the penalty of death for any male who does otherwise.”
“Good,” I grinned, my heart skipping at his dark, tempting words. I cupped his jaw, bringing his eyes back to mine. “Because if another female so much as looks at you, Rhys – I will pluck her eyes out.”
“Fuck, I love it when you get violent,” He groaned, fingers digging into my waist possessively. “It makes me want to do very filthy things to you.”
“I’m all yours, Rhys,” I smiled, a hint of sincerity mixed with lewd intent in my eyes. “Do with me what you will. Unless you plan to be somewhere else tonight?”
His eyes flashed, stars exploding, shadows coiling, and I felt him harden in me again, my walls stretching inch by inch until I was soaked around him.
“I’ll be here, with you,” He whispered, his nose brushing mine and I whimpered when he rolled his hips, stroking his cock inside me slowly. “I’ll always stay with you.”
----------------------------
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celiciaa · 2 months
Text
GILBERT VON OBSIDIAN EVENT STORY....
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CHAPTER ONE.
I just love you.
translations are not 100% accurate. expect mistakes.
special thanks to @otomehoneyybearr for proofreading! ♡
minors and ageless blogs dni.
One day, I was caught in a runaway carriage in town and lost my memory.
Gilbert: This is trouble. I never expected the little rabbit would forget about all our time together. 
Gilbert: The coachman who caused this accident will be executed at once…
Gilbert: The main issue is this distance between us.
(….This is a nightmare.) 
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(I'm having a bad dream right now.)
I was working at the small bookstore in Rhodolite, the land of roses and art.
But for some reason, I woke up in the castle of Obsidian, an enemy nation of military and ore.
The unrealistic nightmare of being confronted by a handsome looking man with black hair and one eye from the royal family makes me feel dizzy.
(Why am I in Obsidian? And why is a member of the royal family approaching me?)
I rolled off the bed and ran to the wall but,
The man who introduced himself as Gilbert steadily closed the distance between us.
At first glance, he looked like he was smiling, but his blood-colored eye was not, which was simply terrifying.
(He’s the infamous Obsidianite royal family who must have killed many people so far—-)
(If I'm not careful, he could kill me too.)
Gilbert: Hmm, to be so frightened by the little rabbit who loved me so much...
Gilbert: I'm so shocked that I feel like I want to prepare a cage right away.
Walter: You idiot! Don't say that even if it is a joke!
Then, the man who claimed to be the royal physician, Mr. Walter, yelled so loudly that it made me flinch involuntarily.
Walter: You always think of imprisonment and execution whenever someone is in trouble.
Gilbert: I’m serious, you know? Once I confine the little rabbit, she can't escape.
(…)
Walter: Don't threaten the injured person. Look at how pale her face is.
Gilbert: Aah, sorry? I'm the kind and sweet villain to you, so if you don't like it, I'll stop.
Gilbert: But, you know what will happen if you keep acting like that...right?
(I might actually end up being trapped.)
It didn't seem like this was the right time to be afraid and try to escape from reality.
I fought the urge in my body to escape from Gilbert standing in front of me, and held my ground. 
(First, I’ll assess the situation. If I can’t recall anything, I won’t know the right way to act.)
Emma: Why…am I in Obsidian?
Gilbert: Of course, because I brought you here.
Emma: But why a commoner like me….?
Gilbert: Because I’m the big villain who loves the little rabbit very much.
Emma: …Am I the little rabbit?
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Gilbert: Yes, that's right. I love you.
(…I don't understand.)
But surely, I see my reflection captured in those seemingly indifferent red eye.
I felt his genuine feeling of love, and had no choice but to accept Gilbert’s words.
Emma: Can you tell me how I got here?
Gilbert: Sure, I'll spend the whole night telling you.
Gilbert: In bed. 
(!?) 
━━
(I never thought he would actually bring me to bed…)
After Mr. Walter finished treating me, I was led into a spacious room covered in black interior
I was intrigued by the shelves lined with many books that rivaled any bookstore,
Gilbert stopped in front of the bed and urged me to sit down.
(Perhaps this is Gilbert's room?)
(…I can imagine the consequences for not complying would be horrific.)
I tried to sit as far away from him as possible, but Gilbert mercilessly settled down close enough for our shoulders to touch.
I quickly gave up. 
Gilbert: Now, let's start off with the fact that you were chosen as Belle.
━━
Gilbert: ——And so, you are now loved by me, the world's greatest villain, and we lived happily ever after.
(No, no, no….!) 
(Wait, is what you just said true!?)
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I was chosen as Belle to select the next king of Rhodolite,
Apparently, I caught Gilbert’s attention when he visited to participate in a social event,
And now he’s telling me that I’m his fiancée or something….
(This…has to be a lie.)
Gilbert: Let me tell you, I don't lie.
Emma: ….
Gilbert: Huh, you froze. Is it that hard to accept?
Emma: ….I don't think I'll ever be able to accept it.
(It's as if I've been told a grand story, and…it doesn't seem like it's my own.) // (It's as if I've been told a grand story, and…it doesn't feel like it's about me.)
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Gilbert: I see. Then it can’t be helped if your mind rejects it.
Gilbert: But it’s possible that your body might remember.
Emma: What?
The corners of Gilbert’s mouth raised into a smile as he pushed my shoulders and laid me down on the sheets. 
I could easily imagine what would happen next, and my blood ran cold.
Emma: Please stop!
Gilbert: Why? Didn't I just tell you that I'm your fiancé?
Gilbert: We used to do things like this quite often.
I feel his cold lips touch my ears and he bites down forcefully. 
I winced in pain, and he lapped my skin with his tongue.
(This man...seriously…)
(But I don't know...it just feels weird.)
Even though I was being assaulted by a man who I barely know, I don’t feel any disgust at all.
It seems to be true that my body remembers.
Still, my heart couldn't keep up, so I pushed back against his chest, Gilbert bit my skin once more then pulled away.
Gilbert: Did you believe that? // Did you fall for that? 
Emma: Was this a joke? 
Gilbert: You’re injured.
Gilbert: If it weren't for that, I would have forced you to remember.
Emma: ….
Gilbert: Didn't I tell you? That I’m the kind and sweet villain to you.
Gilbert: I'll just have to remind you slowly. // I’ll make sure you remember slowly. 
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Gilbert: Even if you lost your memories, you can never escape from me…okay?
Gilbert combs my hair with his fingers and kisses me.
It was a gentle touch that conveyed love and affection.
(He's supposed to be scary, but...he really seems to love me.)
Why he fell in love with me was never mentioned in the conversation.
(I wonder if one day I'll be able to remember.)
(…I want to remember.)
━━
The next day, the confusion and agitation caused by the memory loss still lingered—-
Gilbert invited me to visit a quiet place full of plants.
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Gilbert: ….
Emma: …..
(…There’s nothing to do.)
It felt like a laboratory, with equipment here I've never seen before and tags attached to plants. // The equipment I had never seen before and the tags attached to the plants looked like a laboratory.
(It doesn't seem like it...or maybe it really is.)
Gilbert is silently writing difficult formulas on a document.
It was somehow refreshing to me.
(I wonder if there's anything to do….)
As I looked around, carefully examining each item one by one, something caught my eye.
Emma: A rose…?
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sakuraryomen01 · 1 year
Text
Sex Exercise /Trainer Sukuna Ryomen x Reader/ [NNN Drabble]
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warnings: based on a comic called "Sexersize" . reader is a little chubby . Sukuna takes place of your partner . sex gym . working out with Sukuna as the trainer . some slight gojo x reader . Sukuna trying to stay professional about being in Gojo's place . praise . counting . orgasm denial . multiple positions . some spanking . massaging Sukuna's back and chest (same going for reader) . foreplay . doggy, missionary, cowgirl . Sukuna also asks you out on a date >< . Gojo and Getou in the end are watching .
reader: female reader; slightly chubby
plot: smut + story . reader goes to a sex gym, having no knowledge of the actually training regimen
words: 5.860k
a/n:: first off, I'm so dang srry this it so long!! I didn't intend for it to make it passed the 2k mark but it did and I still and reeling over it @_@;;; anyways, I hope you enjoy the delayed by a whole month and a half drabble and I hope to soon post the whole NNN drabble Masterlist soon! Expect more drabbles and other drafts too ^^
. . .
Thank you for reading this bit! Enjoy!
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Wow, so this is the gym?
Your eyes looked up at the tall building, a sign that read the name of the gymnasium. It had a modern-esque style to it that made you think it was for VIPs only, though it looked as if normal people were also allowed entry by the looks of it.
Your friend told you about it, even though she also said it was against her contract with the place.
A gym that has confidentiality contracts? This definitely must be for high-end members then..
You had decided that you'd head on over to the gym three weeks ago, when your friend had let the place's name slip, to try it out. Even though you weren't a total foodie or ate more junk than you should, you had gained some unfavory weight and had been looking for a place to work out at for the last month.
This was just your last resort though.
You weren't big on working out around others so you had tried at-home workouts. Though, during the time, it didn't really feel right and you had gained a pound in the process. And when your friend went on and on about this amazing program she had been working at, it sparked something in you.
You wanted to check the place out and see about these contracts and training regimens that your friend loved oh so dearly.
OK, here we go...
Stepping into the gym was odd.
There was a totally different aura there than you had imagined, and there was an odd odor that lingered in the air. You heard some showers running in the back, you assumed was for the clients, and low grunts and other noises you had chose to buzz into the background.
A few more steps inside and you saw a very sexy looking receptionist with his hair pulled into a tight bun and black gauge earrings.
He was dressed like a classing trainer and the sly smile on his face told you he was probably hiding something. He was kicked back in his chair with his eyes glued to his phone, texting and chatting away with someone you probably didn't know.
Anyways, his obsidian eyes trailed up from his phone and landed on you. It sent a chill that was probably visible by the man's gleeful smirk. "Oh, hello."
"H-Hello.." You mumbled, walking over towards his desk. He quickly put his feet back on the ground and placed his phone face first on the desk beside him.
"Are you a new member? A client?" He asked, his smile never fading as he took in your chubby figure. "Or, are you looking for a membership?"
"Yes, I was hoping to apply today.." Your nerves were on end, fingers fiddling with your bag straps as the receptionist stood and made his way around the counter.
"Oh? Hoping to drop a few pounds?" He teased, holding his hand out as his smile widened. "I'm Getou Suguru.. I'm a trainer here but I'm filing in as the receptionist for a co-worker today."
You took his hand and shook it, your eyes looking up at his as a blush filled your cheeks. He's so charming..
"Anyhow," Getou said, removing his hand from yours and motioning to a set of stairs a little ways away. "I'll take you upstairs, go over the contract, and then show you around before you sign. The showcasing of the gym is so you know what you're getting into before you can make a final judgment."
"O-OK, sounds good." You nod, following the sexy trainer towards the stairs as he stuffed his hands into his pockets.
"How did you hear about us?"
"Oh, uh.. I saw it scrolling through gym names and took interest."
"Hmm.."
Climbing up the stairs and heading towards an office, Getou questioned you on and on about how you found their gym and filled you in on how it's not really your average work-out. You didn't understand what he meant after he had shown you the contract, and told you the rules, until you were walking around the gym.
"Oh, my!" You exclaimed, seeing the inside of one of the dark tinted rooms.
Watching a couple going at it as a trainer stood off towards the side and clapped her hands. "One! Two! Three! Give me five more in this position and we'll move onto the next!"
"This is a sex gym, if it wasn't obvious enough," Getou muttered from behind you, turning your attention towards him.
"We do a routine that's pleasurable for the client rather than make it a hard and tiresome workout they don't even enjoy. This is far better in our opinion and we don't like to have most of the public to know about it, hence the contract.."
Lifting the clipboard he had in hand, he gave that dashing smile and chuckled. "So, do you want to apply?"
. . .
"One! Two! Three! I want to see five more in this set!"
You let out a sob as you bounced in your fitness partners lap. Your clit hitting his pelvis in such a way it made you shiver, a tingle running up your spine as your trainer asked for you to switch positions. And although you were all in on this sexual program, your eyes couldn't help but wander to the trainer you were assigned.
His name was Sukuna Ryomen, and he was drop dead gorgeous.
His pink hair normally slicked back from his pretty and handsome face. Deep brown, almost red eyes that shined when he saw your form start to lack. His body was well toned and taken the utmost care for, looking amazing in his rather loose clothing that you thought was odd for a trainer.
Still though, your eyes couldn't help but glance over to him during sessions.
He was always staring down at your breasts and body, never your face. Sukuna always said there was a rule where all the trainers should not have relations with their clients past the sessions or outside the gym. Which made sense, but there was one day that made your doubt Sukuna's words.
It was about two days after you had started the program and you and Sukuna were well acquainted with.
It was a normal missionary position with a man you never met before, but he was really pretty. Remembering being at awe with this mole he had on his cheek and his hazel eyes. He looked adorable.
After Sukuna showed your partner for the day what to do with your breasts, you were both moved onto the actual sex of the session. After putting a condom on, the man slipped inside your walls and started the set.
Wet squelching noises rang throughout the room as Sukuna counted.
"One.. two.. three.. four... five... Good, good! Keep your hands on her hips, sir! Losing your pace now is also going to cost you another set in this position!"
"R-Right! Oh, God.." Your partner moaned, his eyes shutting tight as his hips picked their pace up. The steady rhythm of his hips jutting forward making your toes curl as Sukuna watched.
The embarrassed flutter of your chest only compelled you to look over like any other day, your eyes locking with Sukuna's. Once the realization of catching him looking at your face hit, your cheeks burned and you hide it from view as Sukuna seemed to be unbothered by the small moment shared.
Though, Sukuna was indeed bothered. Hot and bothered as some would put it.
He had been staring at your face for the last few minutes and being caught in the act was a whole new level of embarrassment on his end. Sure, you were the one that was blushing and probably tearing up at the idea that your trainer was looking at you during such an intimate moment, but Sukuna was dealing with a monsterous problem.
And the rest of that session was hell to witness.
Not that the sight of you bouncing on someone's cock was the hell to witness, it was the problem he had to deal with. Sukuna's eyes always traced back up to your face and watched you orgasmed and the way your body twitched and tensed once it hit you.
It was really sexy to watch, even for Sukuna.
But after that day, he became more stern with himself and set clear rules for himself. He couldn't let a boner happen during a session again.
As the weeks passed, Sukuna's mind began focusing on the sessions like always. Walking in and seeing the receptionist back at it with a coffee mug in her hand that was probably spiked with vodka and a glossy smile on her face.
"Morning, Shoko," Sukuna said, a bow to his head as he wrote his name down on the clipboard for trainers that day. "How's the throat doing?"
"Doing good, Ryomen," She said, a tease to her tone as she spun around in her swivel chair and played with a pen.
"Y'know, Gojo's been telling me about your sessions with that cute girl, Y/n. Says he's been dying to be partnered with her and kept bothering me so I booked him a session for today, if that's fine?"
"I don't care, just make sure he brings a condom," The rather grumpy man said, lifting his duffel bag once again and heading towards the man's shower room.
There was already a few clients and trainers there that said hello, but the one that was assigned with you today was just making his way in as Sukuna got undressed.
Gojo Satoru was the owner of this sex gym and a close friend of Sukuna, sadly. Gojo was a constant bother and often loved having sex with the clients booked here, if they were hot enough and in his range.
Girls with big tits and fat asses didn't really get to him these days, and it was odd to see him go for more.. voluptuous women at the gym. And you, Sukuna's number one client, was the target.
"Oh, hello, Ryomen~" Gojo cooed, his large smile giving Sukuna a headache as he walked over. "How's my best trainer, hm? Not out fucking with some rando, right?"
"That's none of your business, thank you," Sukuna huffed, grabbing a spare towel and wrapping it around his hips. "I heard you bothered Shoko into booking you with my client.. that's rather shitty of you. Y'know I don't like looking at your cum face."
"C'mon, Ryomen don't be like that!" The white haired spawn of satan whined, his already naked form making its way behind Sukuna as he headed to the showers.
"I'm handsome and pretty, so I don't know why you don't get hard to seeing me cum!"
Sukuna gave a groan as he tossed his towel onto a nearby rack and started his shower. Grabbing some shampoo, he lathered it into his hair and started to wash his body. He closed his eyes and just pictured the session that's probably going to be happening shortly.
Gojo's cock teasing your small slit, the pink tip oozing pre into the condom as it pushed inside and stretched your pussy lips. His big hands grabbing at your tits, rubbing his finger around your nipple and teasing your clit with his other hand.
The thoughts that filled Sukuna's mind made him embarrassingly horny.
Seeing you for the last few days with other men, it had become torture. Why couldn't he get a chance to feel your insides around him? You looked like a fucking snack and he wasn't able to touch you other than for preparation during a session.
His mind wandered to the feeling of your breasts in his hands. The soft mounds that hung from your chest, squeezing and finding all the kinks and knots that needed kneading out before a session. A sigh left your fitness trainer at the idea of your plump mounds against his face, his tongue darting out to lick at the coconut oil he'd lather over your breasts.
Sukuna's cock twitched, a coo coming from beside him as Gojo pulled him back to reality.
"Ooo~ Someone's got a hard-on!" He teased, a finger wagging and pointing down at Sukuna's member.
The twitching length oozed with pre, dripping onto the tiled floor and washing down the drain. Sukuna's cheeks flushed pink as he reached over and bonked his boss, who gave a cry and whined about his complexion being ruined.
Damn, I really need to get laid huh?
Sukuna calmed himself for the next few minutes, took care of business and left the locker rooms with a fresh pair of gym clothes and let his shoes hang his fingers. He had watched Gojo hurriedly get dressed and run towards the training room where you'd meet him.
Sukuna begrudgingly followed him and slipped on his shoes before spotting you a little ways down the hall from the women's locker room.
"Hello," He said, a slight nod to his head as he walked over and greeted you.
You gave that same cute smile and followed him towards the training room. Sharing some small chat, Sukuna found out a little bit more about you. Apparently you were told that you needed to lose some weight in order to test this new drug that's going to be sold sometime soon. Regardless of his status in your life, Sukuna thought it was rather odd you needed to lose weight to test a drug. Whatever the reason, it wasn't his business.
You and Sukuna both got to the fitness session room, but Gojo wasn't anywhere to be found.
The fuck? Sukuna looked around for the white haired asshole, thinking he probably left for another gym-goer in a room nearby.
He always does this type of shit.
"Uhm, wh-where's my partner?" You asked from behind your trainer, a worried smile on your face as you sat on a tatami mat that you'd gotten used to seeing each day.
Sukuna gave a shrug and leaned against a wall, his clipboard being tapped by a pen in his hand. "He must've found another interest to train with today.."
Excuse me, what?
For the next thirty or so minutes, there was a silence building in the room as you both waited for Gojo to come into the room. Though he never came, and it was up to Sukuna to figure out today's session since there was no one else entering the gym at this time.
Sukuna glanced over at you and shook his head, turning to face the other way and pulled out his phone to dial the front desk.
"Yo," A cool voice drowned from the other line. It wasn't Shoko, it was Getou. "If you want me to change Gojo's spot there's no way I can. No one's available for your little client."
"..That was what I was going to ask for, actually," Sukuna grumbled, rubbing the bridge of his nose with a huff. "He didn't show up to the session and it's almost been half an hour."
"Sorry to hear that," Getou responded, without a hint of actually caring. Getou didn't run the place but he was pretty high up there on the position level. He's a trainer like Sukuna, but more asked for one. "Just fill in for him! Sooner or later, Gojo's dick is going to point him in the right direction and get him there. I got to go, some fatty is wanting to join up."
"B-But.. policy. I can't do that." Glancing over his shoulder at you, Sukuna pressed his lips together and looked away. "There has to-"
"I won't tell if you don't."
And with that, Getou hung up.
With an embarrassed and strained sigh, Sukuna lifted his shirt over his head and joined you on the mat, a blush burning in your cheeks at the sudden change.
"M-Mr. Ryomen?" You squeaked, your hand coming up to cover your lips and chin. This was beyond embarrassing, and against policy, wasn't it? "What are you doing?"
"I'm going to fill in for your partner today," Sukuna muttered as he tossed his shirt to the side and grabbed some oil that was meant for preparing the woman during each session.
"I just called the front desk and I've been told there's no members within your training range that are available. There's also, some new members I'm assuming, that'll be walking around with Getou. So, if you'd please remove your clothing, I'd like to get started."
With your heart racing, head spinning, and body aching, you took off your clothes quickly; well, what you had left anyways. All you were really wearing was a low cut and loose T-shirt with a sports bra, and some biker shorts with (some rather lacy) pink panties. The cold air of the room that was being blown from one of the ACs in the hallways wasn't enough to make your temperature go down.
It was almost like a dream had begun for you, seeing Sukuna's body start to be revealed with every second that passed by.
Taut abs and chest, no doubt worked on every week with his own workouts. Your thoughts started to swirl around what Sukuna actually looked like while hitting the gym, obviously one that wasn't a weird sexy gym of course.
"Your clothing, miss," Sukuna said, gesturing towards your shirt and shorts with a sigh. "You still haven't undressed."
"S-Sorry, sir!" You squeaked once your thoughts had cleared. Quickly stripping your shirt and bra, before you sat back down in front of Sukuna.
"Good."
Your ears began to burn as your blush made its way towards them, practically engulfing your entire face in a hot flush. Knowing it was noticeable, you tried to pat your cheeks down so that they weren't as warm. Sukuna though, felt like he was the one that should be truly ashamed.
I mean, he did think about his boss entering you and then wishing it was himself while in a shower earlier.
"Please, lay back so we can start with the massage." Sukuna instructed, opening the small bottle of oil and dripping some into his hand.
It was a golden liquid that almost appeared with honey, the smell being of coconut the only real hint that it was oily lotion and not a small snack for toast in the morning. Sukuna lathered the concoction all over his rough fingers before looking over at you and gesturing for you to lay once again.
With a nod, you laid on the mat, Sukuna soon climbing up and resting himself in your lap. Not really pressing his weight onto you and just hovering. He knew he was rather heavy and didn't want to get written up for crushing his client. After giving his fingers and palms another once-over, he reached down to cup your breasts in his his hands.
"O-Ohh.." He mumbled to himself, eyebrows raising slightly as it to twitch in surprise. Softer than expected...
Sukuna wasn't some fridged virgin, of course. He had his way around with a rather large group of women, but he hasn't ever felt tits as soft as yours. While squeezing out the knots and kinks in them, Sukuna's shaft had begun to harden. He knew you could see it pressing against the inside of his shorts, he saw your eyes flicker down to stare for a moment before he twisted your nipple and made you shudder.
"A-Aahh.." You cooed softly, your body shaking as Sukuna's warm hands squeezed and kneaded your breasts. It felt so good, almost too good; making you wonder how many times Sukuna's done this for a woman. "Mmmff.. Haa.."
"Finished with the breast massage," Sukuna announced, letting go of your chest and reaching to dry his hands on a towel nearby. He was lucky he brought one with him, there's usually one that's set inside the room prior to a session, but today was a rather strange day.
"Now, get on your stomach like always."
You nodded with a small whimper, you were quite enjoying the attention your chest was getting. In all honesty, Sukuna's palms felt better than your previous training partners. After you had turned onto your belly, and Sukuna was repositioned above you, you felt his hands returned to your skin and began massaging your shoulders and sides.
"Aahh.." You cooed with satisfaction, rolling your shoulders slightly into the cupped palms of Sukuna's hands.
"Feeling good?" He asked, chuckling at your movements.
Nodding, Sukuna moved down towards the center of your back, angling his hands outwards towards your sides and pressing down every few moments. Starting from the underside of your shoulder blades and down to your hips, Sukuna's hands expertly worked out the extra aches or strains you felt, asking every so often if it hurt once or twice.
As a few minutes passed by, you were instructed to do the same for Sukuna's back and shoulders. Making sure to take extra care of his shoulders and hips as he asked you to do. Eventually, Sukuna and you were both seated like you were before and Sukuna was looking over his clipboard for your session that day.
"Alright, today we're going to start off with a missionary position," He nodded, tapping his finger against it for a second. "After about 20 sets, we'll move to cowgirl and then doggy."
Face flushed after hearing the last few words, you gave a nod and glanced upwards towards your fitness trainer. Unable to tell if your heart was ready for it, you rested back against a small pillow that had been placed for your head. Sukuna placed his clipboard down onto the ground next to him, looking down at you for a moment.
"Let me get your underwear off," He muttered softly, reaching towards you and hooking his fingers under the waistband of your biker shorts. "I'll begin afterwards and use my mouth on your pussy, just like every other session."
"D-Don't say it like that," You blushed, looking to the side and feeling your pussy twitch at his words. "It's embarrassing."
Sukuna chuckled at this, discarding your lower garments and placing his hands on your knees. Looking back up at you and smiling slightly, an intense flush in your cheeks and ears making you warmer as Sukuna pushed your legs in opposite directions and moved his face closer to your privates.
"Thank you for the meal, miss."
Your thighs twitched under Sukuna's fingertips, tracing small circles and rubbing until his eyes met your clit and your slick folds. The urge to tease you was beyond comprehension for him, making him chuckle to himself at his own wants.
Seriously, been way too long..
Dipping his head between your thighs, Sukuna flicked his tongue out against your clit. Watching you twitch and whine underneath him as he kissed and began to suck on the trembling button. He wasn't going to lie, you tasted amazing.
You were sweet, so sweet you almost tasted like some kind of fruity dessert. Even though he couldn't think of the treat, he was very much enjoying it. Your lower lips were warm and felt good against his tongue, pushing it into your slick hole and cooing as your insides sucked his pink muscle in.
"O-Ohh.."
Sukuna flinched, hearing your mewls and moans catching his attention and making his shaft twitch again. A moan slipped from his throat and vibrated against your shaky opening, forcing another yelp from you. Moving his tongue in and out of your opening, Sukuna continued to rub and attend to your clit. Glancing once or twice up towards you, even though he wanted to abosultely wreck you at the same time.
Your pants and moans were getting him frustratingly hard, to the point that even his shorts and underwear were becoming stained with precum.
"Y/n, I'll be undressing completely as well," Sukuna warned, swallowing a shameful gulp down his throat as he sat up to free himself. "I'll be putting on the condom once you're fully stretched for me."
"S-Sukuna.." Your voice echoed, mewling as your eyes lifted up to look into his, making him stop short. "More, please.."
No, stop.. I'll want more than just this from you.
With a shaky sigh, Sukuna nodded and got his remaining clothes off, reaching over to his clipboard and grabbing the condom. Lifting one of your legs to his waist and your other following suit one your own accord. Ripping the small package open, Sukuna quickly put on his protection and looked up towards your face.
"I'm putting it in," He said, his body temperature rising at the sight of your flushed face. "Tell me if it hurts, Y/n."
"Alright, sir," You mumbled, your eyes locked with his once again. They seem to do that a lot..
"Ah, not 'sir' right now. Sukuna."
Leaning forward, Sukuna pressed his tip against your opening. Pushing it inside and groaning quietly as your walls began to envelope his cock. He was quite big, and he could tell it was having a little effect on you.
Your face was flushed, and your back was arching. Your hands were turning into fists on your chest, pressing your tits together as one lifted to your mouth, a whimper escaping. Watching your pussy stretching around his cock, Sukuna bit his lower lip as he began to make it past the halfway point.
He let out a breath once he was all the way inside, rubbing your hips and squeezing gently as he rolled his hips and began moving his cock in and out. "Ha.. 20 sets, Y/n. Fuu.."
Sukuna held onto your waist with a firm grip, licking his lips and starting to rock his hips into you at a faster pace. Your moans started to grow louder and louder, more frequently too. And Sukuna couldn't help but let a few low grunts and sighs out, you felt amazing.
Better than what he shamefully wondered about each session; feeling your plush and soft walls squeezing around him and practically begging to milk his balls dry.
Oh fuck, did he want to cum already.
"O-One.. two.. fuckk.. th-three.." Sukuna counted, peeking down at your fluttering pussy lips. "Shit, your pussy looks so good all wet like this."
"A-Aahh.. Sukuna.. mmfff.." Mewling underneath him as he began to pick up his pace. Feeling his cock bury itself deeper inside of you and knock at your cervix.
You weren't even able to hear Sukuna's counting as your tummy began to tighten and your pussy began to squeeze down on his length. It was so thick but felt so good, oh my god did you want to stay like this forever. Sukuna's dick was almost too good to be true, and with pretty and red it looked earlier, you felt that it couldn't get better.
"I-I'm gonna.." You whimpered, Sukuna's hand tracing up your hips and sides to your chest. Fondling the bouncing bubbles on your chest with a gentle touch, rubbing at your swollen nipples and sighing in content.
He'll have to do more than just fantasize about this now..
"Hold it, or we're doing another set," Sukuna warned, biting his lip as his eyes stared at your tits in his hands. They were so soft and warm, he wanted to lick and suck at your nipples, roll his tongue over the perky little buttons. "F-Fuck.."
Moments hesitation was all you saw before Sukuna's face plunged between your boobs. His hands firm on both sides cupped them gently against his face as he continued to squeeze and fondle them. He had begun to moan quietly into them, feeling that it was almost like heaven between your tits.
Feeling their soft flesh against his hands and warmth making his cheeks hot. Sending him over the edge was your pulsating walls inside, squeezing him for his worth and rubbing that special little spot inside that made your toes curl.
"A-Alright, haa.. Time to switch positions," Sukuna said, lifting from his little haven between your breasts and sitting up, pulling himself with much annoyance from your soft opening and resting back on the mat. "Cowgirl."
You nodded and climbed into the tattooed male's lap, your fingers grazing over where the patterns decorated his arms and chest while his hands placed themselves on your hips and rocked you against his front for a few moments before pushing you back down onto his cock.
He let out a sigh, happy to feel your warm walls back around him. Even if this was against company policy, Sukuna was happy that he was able to break the rules, for even a day. Laying down on the mat, your trainer began to bounce you in his lap before thrusting his hips up and sheathing himself completely inside.
"You're gonna have to move on your own, love," Sukuna said, his touch constantly moving around until it landed firmly on your ass. With a groan, Sukuna was pleased that the next position would be doggy. He'd be able to watch it bounce against his pelvis as he fucked a load into you.
"Come on, start using your legs."
Sukuna gave your thigh a slap, making you yelp and nod quickly as a blush filled your cheeks again. He smirked underneath you as you began to move your hips like instructed, watching your face morph from one after the other. Though, as you continued to roll and rock your hips against Sukuna's, his eyes began to roll back and he rested his head onto the mat.
Was it his lack of action or how tight you were squeezing him that gave him such an amazing high? He didn't know, but he really wanted more of it.
"One.. two.. th-three.." Sukuna counted, groping at your tits whenever he could, feeling his own orgasm near the second. It felt almost like torture not getting to come already, but he knew that he'd just cause another set for you. "Almost there, Y/n.. mmnn! Good f-form.. Fuck!"
There soon was mumbling outside, though your mind was fogging and you couldn't quite make out what the people outside were saying. Sukuna though soon pressed down on your tummy, pressing his cockhead against your g-spot and making your toes curl while you let out another string of long moans and whines.
Your pussy constricted like a vice grip around Sukuna's shaft, making him bulge inside of you until he couldn't take it anymore. Grabbing your hips, making you whimper and look down at him, Sukuna thrusted himself into you quickly.
Rapid and faulty thrusts, guttural groans leaving your fitness trainer as he sat up and nuzzled his nose between your breasts once again and his tongue darted out to lick up your sweat. Finding a nipple soon and sucking harshly as his eyes looking up and locked with yours.
"You can cum, Y/n," Sukuna groaned against your perky tit, lips suckling it sweetly and making a shiver run down your spine. "Cum. Do it; cum from my fucking dick inside you."
You mewled at his wors, hugging his head to your chest as your cunt milked him for all his worth. Creaming and gushing around his shaft until his own orgasm got the best of him. The shared climax filling the room with groans and whimpers from the both of you, no doubt surprising whomever was watching and talking outside.
Even you and Sukuna were taken aback by the sudden need to cum, but the afterglow was short lived as Sukuna flipped you around onto your stomach again for the final position.
Doggy.
"Shit," Sukuna muttered, pulling the condom from off his dick and tying it closed. He realized he didn't have an extra rubber on him and rolled his eyes.
Fuck Gojo and his 'one condom' rule..
"I don't have another condom, it's usually supposed to last longer than this. I'm sorry, but I'll have to go in raw."
Though a little part of him didn't mind having to go inside without protection, and thankfully he knew you were clean. He was too, which he told you before entering, and Sukuna watched as your opening twitched with pure animalistic need for it.
He was a little proud of himself for this, but slipped back inside all the same and grabbed your hips once again. It felt almost natural for Sukuna's hand to be here now, pulling you back and making you bounce against his pelvis until he started to thrust and press into you. Watching your ass jiggle and slap against his pubic bone, his hand coming down to pat it a few times before slapping and making your cunt squeeze oh so deliciously around him once again.
God bless Gojo's whorish nature!
"Another set, Y/n," Sukuna announced after a few minutes, checking his watch and seeing that the session's time was also almost up. His cock was twitching as his balls slapped your clit, forcing choked up moans and cries from your lungs.
You were open to admitting that Sukuna was probably the best lay you've ever gotten and ever will. "I-I'm gonna cum again.. Mmnn!!"
"Goddamn, me too."
With a couple more hard thrusts and snaps of his hips, Sukuna's cock gave a final pulse before he was force to pull out and finish on your back while your own climax hit you hard and made you spasm around nothing. Once the only sounds that filled the room were panting and sharp breaths or mumbles of incoherent words, Sukuna rested his head on your nape and peppered kisses all across your neck and shoulders.
The sudden affection makes you blush and squirm underneath him, turning to look back up at him. "S-Sukuna..? Ha.."
Sukuna's eyes looked up at your tinted cheeks before a smirk made its way across his features, a coo echoing from his hoarse throat as a shudder went down your spine.
"Good session today, Y/n," He said with a nod, his shaft beginning to soften against your ass before he removed it and began to wipe off his semen from your skin. "Now, let's go get some grub together yeah? Got anything planned after now, or no?"
"Wh-What do you mean?" Your heart flipped, eyes sparkling up at him. Sukuna soon finished cleaning up your body and flipped you back onto the mat, his nose inches away from yours.
"I want to make your sessions a little more personal, you can say."
As your face flushed and your trainer laughed, sitting up and offering to help you with your clothing and pay for lunch, Gojo and Getou were outside and had witnessed the whole ordeal.
"So," Getou said, glancing over at Gojo and raising a coy brow at him, watching his boss fume. "Should I write him up?"
"No..." Gojo muttered, his arms crossed over his chest while his own eyes turned into slits, staring daggers at Sukuna through the tinted glass pane. "He's just doing his job, I don't see the point in writing him up over my ass."
"Ah, you're too soft, Gojo."
And that started another spat that Shoko talked about to this day.
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a/n:: srry this was so damn long omg.. i've been working on it for a while since i wanted it to be good, but jesus this is loooonggg!!! i apologise for making it have sm @_@;;; it's practically a chapter for a story or something. anyways, i have more drafts i want to get posted soon, and also the next chapter for Valentino!
Request Warnings: You may send in asks and requests for fluffy and smut episodes for NNN! Anyone and anything! (If I do not know the character/anime I will let you know and I hope to not disappoint.)
[ As of now, NNN Requests are CLOSED ]
Have a wonderful day/night and I hope to see you next time!
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bellshazes · 5 months
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i seriously assumed etho being nice to bdubs was an act of psychological warfare but it seems he's genuinely guilty. like bdubs i still think this is psychological warfare because:
being mean to people by being "nice" is extremely classic etho behavior: see guude's record, obsidian coffin prank, killing bdubs "with kindness" to get out of the hit on him from doc
he is actually still using bdubs as cover from yellows guessing his task, so bdubs is correct to be suspicious of ulterior motives
bdubs initially reacts like this is the tee up for an ego joke, but becomes increasingly unsettled when etho won't stop being effusively nice (while also being weird bc of his actual task)
etho has to know bdubs well enough by now to know he'd react uncomfortably with the constant praise.
etho is extremely aware bdubs is eagerly watching his SL episodes based on the comment on last week's vid & their discussion of it this week
they never ever ever told each other when they were boogeymen in Last Life and laughed chasing each other around pretending to be one mutually but etho still shouted i'm the boogey when killing scar just like bdubs did when killing giran
their favorite thing to do is to menace each other second only to not finishing projects together
ultimately he can be forgiven being really fucking weird to bdubs bc bdubs is Like That and will probably think it's even funnier from etho's pov
to sum up the intricate rituals: oh you feel bad bc bdubs went on a suicide mission after asking you for help and you realized only afterward when it was too late that you broke your promise to him and now you feel guilty so you're going to make up for it by telling him you love him but it's tied to a joke which you ultimately reveal via knowing he will be in your audience when the video is released rather than talking like human beings because when everyone doubted that you loved him before it was because you knew he knew you loved him bc he actually can't handle being outright praised and bickering fondly between admiration is the foundation of your 10 year long friendship? where have i heard this before
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mintmatcha · 6 months
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I loved part two so much😭😭
Gib more Obi pls
Draconic works more like a melody than it does a language. It's tonal, drifting high and low as the two dragonborns speak, each word rolling into the next. It lingers in the air, unrushed and growled, pushed from the back of the throat in ways you're not sure your body could ever recreate. Sometimes, the conversation seems to have an edge of anger and it sets your body on guard, but then Obsidian dissolves into laughter and you relax.
You shouldn't be on edge anyway; the dark scaled stranger isn't //actually// a stranger. Jasper Vyke towers over his brother even when seated, but the strong angled spikes and ridges to his face are almost identical. His eyes keep flickering to yours as he talks, no hint of humor present on his stony features.
"You stare." Jasper jerks a chin to you.
"I'm sorry," you say, turning your attention to the campfire. "I didn't expect you two to look so similar."
"Well-" Obi covers his mouth with the back of his hand, but it doesn't hide his smile, "We are twins, my lady."
Meeting Jasper was completely a coincidence. Crossed paths led to a surprise family reunion and now the man sits at your fire, gnawing on the leg of some poor animal he hunted earlier. From stories and your brief interactions, you knew the two would be vastly different people--
You didn't expect that to almost share a face.
"We are, uh-- How do you say in Common?" He can speak Common fairly well, Obi told you once, he just prefers his Mothertongue. It's a point of pride.
"Identical."
"Indentical," Jasper repeats, "Obsidian is the smart one. I am the pretty one."
He flexes a bicep and the muscle coils under the skin. You hate to admit that you do find it attractive-- not as attractive as you find your partner, of course, but it does make you sit a little straighter. If Obi notices, he doesn't seem it mind; he's too busy watching his brother with narrowed eyes.
"I don't think you are identical at all," you say, "Obi's so much--"
"Smaller!" Jasper laughs, leaning in close to nudge you with his elbow. "So much smaller. He is the runt."
"I guess so," You agree with him, but you sense that may hurt your partner's ego, so you keep quiet, "But you are also different colors."
You touch Jasper's arm, running a thumb across a patch of scales. It's no wear near as soft as Obsidian's; there's a dry grit to the texture, closer to shark skin than anything else.
"Obsidian is iridescent-- your scales are matte," you say, "They don't shine in the light at all."
"You like my scales?" Jasper asks, chest puffed and a purr on his voice. He scooches in closer to you, leg pressed against yours, "I will give you one to keep."
Obi snaps his jaws together so forcefully that you jump at the sound. Both of you swivel to face the man. His muzzle is furrowed so deep that his fangs show to the gums and you can almost see the way magic crackles about him. "She has plenty of scales, brother."
An anxiety builds in your chest. You aren't sure where this conflict came from, but you sense you did something wrong.
"Obi, it's fine, I like--"
Obi's attention snaps to you. "If you wish to have a scale to carry I will give you as many as you desire. You do not need anyone else's."
They switch to Draconic again, sharing a low toned conversation. Obsidian may be the smaller brother, but he carries himself with a force that has Jasper quickly backing off.
"Forgive me," The larger brother says to you suddenly.
The apology doesn't make you feel better. The seasick feeling in your chest grows more unsteady and you choose to remain quiet for the rest of the night. It's not until later than night, when Jasper is deep in sleep and snoring with thunder, that Obi approaches you again. He moves his sleeping mat closer to yours, testing your reaction, then moves again.
"Are you cross with me?" he whispers.
"You frightened me a bit," you admit just as softly, "I get unsettled easy after Adam."
Elaboration isn't needed. There's a twitch of a sneer on Obi's face when you mention him, but he mellows out again after.
"I'm truly sorry, my fawn. My anger was not focused at you," he says, "I will take care not to react like that again."
He extends a hand and you take it with a squeeze. The unsteadiness inside you quells just a bit.
"Jasper was trying to court you," Obsidian says after a bit, "And it scared me."
You forget Obi - silver tongued, charismatic Obi- is self conscious about so many things. Did he really think his brother would swoop in so easily and win your heart?
"I didn't realize. I thought he was just being nice."
"Exchanging scales is a dragonborn custom. It's my fault for not explaining it to you," he sighs, "I just..."
He doesn't finish his sentence. You don't need him too. You just squeeze his hand again, stronger this time.
"Why have you never given me a scale?"
"I did not think you would like one, my fawn."
"I want two," you say, quickly, "I shall turn them into earrings so they are always with me."
"They are not jewels," he chuckles, "They will not make very pretty jewelry."
"I disagree."
Obi doesn't respond, but you can hear the soft clicks of his purr, building in his throat.
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mushroomnoodles · 6 months
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Oh my goodness! I ADORE your blog! I love all your storylines!!! 🌸🌸😭😭😭🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸 I almost thought I was only person in this world who enjoyed Petrikov mpreg, I’m so blown away right now!!! T o T
Oh, and can I ask? What was Marceline and Simon’s bond like during Simon’s pregnancy up until the birth? And also, what was Morrigan and Marceline’s sibling bond like before Simon eventually passed and they become distant?
I see a very anxiety-ridden Marcy through those 4 months but also a super happy big sis by the end of it.
Maybe she was the type to sing songs to them…? Maybe when she’s tasked with babysitting them and they are all fussy, she calms them down by singing… “Everything Stays”?
thank you so much, it's really touching to hear that since.. i always kinda feel like i'm flailing with storytelling! i felt the same way before i started posting my stuff but now i see there's a little group of us chillin'.
despite marceline's worries she was very much present for simon during the pregnancy. she visited a lot and simon knew if he ever needed to talk she was a phone call away. plus, she had the honor of being the only person morrigan actually got excited to hear.
tw/cw for sfw and nonfetish mpreg
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simon is. sooooo sentimental w marceline when he's pregnant.
marcy also would fly simon to the candy kingdom at night a lot so pb could try and get a reading on the baby. they did it at night so nobody would be awake + marceline didn't have to hide under all her sun gear.
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simon had those moments where he just felt... like a freak, almost? and while pb tended to exasperate the problem by how she treated the baby as a threat (sorry simon) marceline helped him feel more normal and tried to adapt to his needs. and yeah, she was still pretty stressed- pb and marcy both were, and they also held onto each other a lot through this uncertain time- but she tried to bottle it up around simon, and in the end it was all worth it and marcy got a really cool little sibling to flaunt.
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plus, she got to deliver them. she got to be the first thing they saw! how gnarly is that?
morrigan was actually a pretty amicable baby. very aware. very intelligent. and if they did fuss, the mere sight of marceline was enough to cheer them right up. marcy still taught them how to sing everything stays, though! i like to think simon and marcy are both pretty musical folks, and morrigan was no different.
morrigan really looked up to marceline and wanted to be like her. they loved hearing her stories (especially about the events in obsidian) and marcy loved having someone she could be a mentor figure to. she taught them EVERYTHING she could think of and knew, and absolutely relished in how much morrigan loved her. plus, they got to sass each other as all siblings do. morrigan was a pretty smart kid off the bat and they could bounce off each other for HOURS.
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sandyrimbo · 13 days
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You Don't Understand Fallout
WARNING WARNING WARNING WARNING WARNING
I'M GOING TO SPOIL THE SHOW AND SOME PARTS OF THE GAMES FOR YOU IF YOU READ PAST THIS POINT.
SERIOUSLY. STOP. IF YOU READ PAST THIS POINT, IT'S ENTIRELY YOUR FAULT.
OK?!
"Bethesda just doesn't understand Fallout." I can't tell you how many MOTHERFUCKING times I've had to read that idiotic statement. Seriously. Just so I can properly set the hostility with which this is written- If you've ever said that phrase, I think you should take a long look in the mirror and then GO FUCK YOURSELF. Fuck you. You idiot. You moron. You fucking rube. You are not intelligent enough to even roleplay a character with an INT above 2.
Bethesda has owned this IP for 17+ years at this point. Fallout 3 is almost able to vote. Interplay/Black Isle made three Fallout games and one of those was fucking Fallout: Brotherhood of Steel. Look that game up if you want to see someone who "doesn't understand Fallout". But you know what's funny? I'm not actually knocking them. They made Fallout 2, which is my favorite game in the series. But in 1998 when Fallout 2 came out, fans of the "series" (which at that time consisted of one damn game) were quite divided on the game. Fallout 1 was much more serious, much more horror and survival oriented. A lot of "die hards" HATED that Fallout 2 opted for so many references and goofiness and silliness. They felt that the Post-Apocalyptic world and themes from the first game had been discarded for goofy retro futurism. Sound familiar? They complained about the amount of bugs and cut content that didn't make it into the game. Sound familiar?
Fallout 2 is quite different from Fallout 1. I love it for those reasons actually. Becoming a Porn Star in the apocalypse is phenomenal. Sergeant Doran is one of the most memorable characters of the entire franchise to this day. The Enclave are super great villains. Frank Horrigan is a terrifying boss to fight. The Shi are an amazing faction. There's so much cool shit. But it was hated by some "die hard fans" then too.
Let's get on with it then.
Fallout: New Vegas is an amazing game in general. It's wonderful. It's a very, very repayable game. It's as beloved a trans icon as that Ikea shark. It has created some of the best fan art and is probably a super great jumping on point for the series. You play essentially a blank slate protagonist who can be anybody. It allows you so many options of who you want to be. This is proof Obsidian doesn't get Fallout.
"WHAT?!" I hear you shriek. Hold on. That's bait. Buuuuut... In Fallout 1, you were the Vault Dweller. Think whatever you want about motivations, history and all that. But you are from THAT Vault, and you DO care about that Vault. This is part of the narrative. In Fallout 2, you were the Chosen One. Once again, believe what you want as to motivation and stuff. But you ARE a tribal, and you ARE descended from the Vault Dweller. You WILL save your tribe. Because you're the Chosen One. In Fallout 3, you are the Lone Wanderer. You will be kicked out of your Vault. Your dad WILL try to start up Project Purity, and you WILL take up the mantle to finish his work. In Fallout 4, you are a new parent in Pre-war Massachusetts. You will be the Sole Survivor of Vault 111. You will find Shaun. Are these roles restrictions? Yes. Why? They are roles you take on. You are playing a role. They are a vehicle for the story and provide motivation to keep going.
In New Vegas, you are the Courier. You get shot. You are who you want to be. Well, this is cool. It allows you to be who you want to be in a roleplaying game. But it's different from the other Fallout games. You don't see people complaining about this though? Why? Because it's a difference they like. That's why. That's basically how most of the bullshit I've seen surrounding the Fallout series as a whole in recent years has been. I play New Vegas all the time. I love the game. It's one of my favorite all time games. But it is NOT without its problems. For one thing, it does rely on the player to engage with its story with no real motivation. Why should I go after the dude who shot me? Fuck that. Can't I just leave Nevada? I'm contractually obligated to deliver the chip even if I get killed? Well. Ok. Here you go Mr. House. Help you take over Nevada? No thanks. Obviously you wouldn't play it like that. But you really do make your own motivations for the most part. Which I DO like. But it's not as tight narratively. It does suffer a bit from the "Why would my character do this?" problem that TTRPGs can run into as well. And there are people though who act like a NON-MAINLINE title made by an outsourced studio will be the word of god himself for the rest of that game series' history. This is a bit ridiculous at best.
But let's engage with that anyway! Ok. Let's say New Vegas is the most important game in the whole series and judge some things in the Fallout Show based on that. "The NCR is beat down and a ragtag group in the show! Shady Sands is destroyed!" Ok. Did you and I play the same Fallout: New Vegas? You think that the same NCR who in 75% of the endings lose Hoover Dam and get kicked out of Nevada are just going to lose nothing from that? You think that the same faction who can't even supply one of their most important territories, who only beat a faction of femboys in hockey pads and skirts at great cost and through trickery, who is choking with corruption and mired in bureaucracy... they are going to just be doing great? You think a government who spreads itself super thin, allows oligarchs and caravanners to run the show, who can't even control a single prison, who hires an absolute idiot to run a power station... those guys should be doing super amazing? This is the same group who fought a near 20 year war ending in a pyrrhic victory against the BOS, then immediately jumped balls first into another war against the Legion. Their troopers in New Vegas for the most part are poorly supplied and have terrible morale. Even their veterans like Hanlon don't see a way to victory. If not for the gameplay of the Courier helping them, it is all but inevitable that the NCR is on its way to collapse and fragmentation.
The show also does not say that EVERYONE in Shady Sands was killed (we even have a main character who survived as a child). Nor was it the only town in the NCR. Not by a long shot. The Hub is actually bigger than Shady Sands and Junktown combined. Plus the NCR has tons of Northern Territory and whole other states besides California. We might even see a shattered version of the NCR emerge. Plus with the Brotherhood mobilizing (they are mobilizing against SOMETHING and it's not just to find one runaway defector), and hints of the Enclave still operating, I don't think we've seen the last of any faction. It's just plain silly to think that the entire NCR was wiped out. That's just looney tunes. But it's just as silly to think that they would be just running the whole show and have progressed to the point of like Pre-War USA by the point of the show. They were spreading themselves too thin. The writing is on the walls in the games, my dudes. It's a beautiful symmetry too if it WAS the end of the NCR. We saw the very beginnings in Fallout 1. We saw where they progressed to in 40 years. We saw where they progressed in another few decades in FNV. Seeing them come full circle and end would be ok too. But we didn't.
I get that a lot of New Vegas fans love having a blank slate to insert themselves onto their character, and probably like to think of themselves as some sort of Lisaan Al-Ghaib type messiah of Nevada. But that's lore versus gameplay right there. You should read Dune Messiah if you want to know how well things work out for prophesied heroes. But it's also one of those things where just because YOUR Courier was a total NCR simp and did all of the side missions and helped them take Hoover Dam, doesn't mean everyone did. Some people threw Lee Oliver over the Dam.
Fallout is about people. It's about humans and how we are after the world ends. It's about finding a beginning after the end. It's about relationships, and finding humanity when most of the survivors lack any. At the end of the day, factions are only as important and beloved as the people in them. I get that this is long, but if I have to see one more braindead post from some idiot who's only played New Vegas and gets his opinions from a youtuber who doesn't know shit about fuck, I'm going to lose my fucking mind. Also, no. Shady Sands isn't wiped out before the events of New Vegas. It happens after the Second Battle of Hoover Dam. But wait a minute... if the NCR capital was under attack and threat from a big threat around that time, that would have meant that they might not have been able to send as many supplies and troops to a secondary territory. Huh. Maybe Bethesda does understand Fallout?
PS. I have an NCR flag hanging on my wall in front of me as I type this, they are my favorite faction in Fallout. I side with them almost every playthrough I do nowadays. Ok.
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(Translation) Gilbert's Beast Manual Case 3: The Correct Way to Love Gilbert
Part 3 of Gilbert's current party event, wherein Emma learns something new about Gilbert.
Spoilers. Yeah this one's just a straight-up translation. Also I read using a translator so expect le errors. Case 1 | Case 2 | His POV
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Gilbert was a fiendishly jealous man—something both he and others attested to.
Not only the men I spoke to, but women and animals as well; they all become the target of his jealousy. The same jealousy across the board.
But lately that hasn't been all.
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Gilbert: This tie keeping your hair up, it gets to be with you 24/7, doesn't it?
Gilbert: ...You're so mean for setting me aside. Actually, wouldn't it be better to just wear your hair down?
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Gilbert: Your chair here, doesn't it basically get to feel your warmth the entire time you're on it?
Gilbert: I'm going to hold you on my lap because it's kind of pissing me off. Sharing your body heat with a chair is more than it deserves.
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Gilbert: This hallway you tread on every day—
Emma: Okay, can you please not be jealous of the literal hallway!?
The more time we spent together, the more the potential targets for his jealousy went up.
I didn't get how he could be so jealous of every little thing.
Because even though I loved Gilbert, jealousy was something I didn't really feel much of.
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(Oh...)
Gilbert: —I see. So they've already completed their draft. Excellent, excellent.
Roderic: It seems experiencing your wrath this morning made them respond accordingly.
(...Roderic's here)
Having just finished my bath, I quickly hid myself in the shadows.
If I stepped out in the open wearing only my bathrobe over the black negligee Gilbert had made for me, not only would Roderic's life be in danger but mine as well.
(Still... I've never really had a chance to see Gilbert when he speaks to Roderich when I'm not around)
(...I wonder what that vibe is like)
As my curiosity got the better of me and I covertly took a peek...
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Gilbert: I'd like for them to submit the draft before it ever gets to that point next time.
Roderic: It's only because nobody can come up with out-of-the-box ideas like you.
Gilbert: They're all conclusions one can arrive at rationally. It's not like I'm making unreasonable demands of anyone.
Gilbert sat at his desk, a serious expression on his face as he moved his quill.
He definitely wasn't smiling like he usually did, but at the same time he didn't seem angry either.
It was an expression I didn't recognize.
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Gilbert: ...Also, the draft was poorly-constructed. With this there's too gaps for us to drive that old man into a corner.
Roderic: Then I'll have it returned to you in such a way that we can.
Gilbert: I only appreciate haste. You help them too, Roderic. I'd like to have the contents finalized before our next regular meeting.
Gilbert: If we leave that old man unchecked, he may soon start a losing battle against neighboring countries.
Roderic: ...Understood, sir.
Gilbert: What's the next document?
Roderic: It's here, sir.
Gilbert: ...I know I keep asking, but is there more still?
Roderic: There's a mountain of things I'd like you to look over.
Gilbert: I thought I'd delegated my authority out.
Roderic: This just means that Obsidian needs you.
Gilbert: That's certainly a problem.
Roderic: No, sir, it's not.
Gilbert: ...*sigh* Unless we can get everyone past the idea that failure is some sort of capital crime, won't it be difficult for you and I to manage all this work on our own?
Gilbert: Seems like my presence is a hindrance after all.
Roderic: Please don't say that!
Gilbert: Fine, fine. If you don't like it, then go give out this PSA.
Gilbert: "As long as there's no fraud or corruption at work, I won't kill you over a simple failure. So please rely on your own judgement more."
Roderic: ...Very well, sir.
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(So that's the kind of vibe Gilbert has doing official duties when I'm absent)
The atmosphere about him was so serious and earnest that it naturally made me want to stand at attention, and I found myself captivated.
(If he's not smiling, then maybe that's his real expression)
(Gilbert's known Roderic for a long time, so he's able to drop his guard around him)
(...Okay, what's this gloomy feeling I'm having...)
Roderic: ...Sir, let's deal with the rest of this tomorrow.
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Gilbert: Hey. You definitely didn't see anything, right?
Roderic: I saw nothing and I noticed nothing.
Gilbert: Is that so? That's fine, then. Thank you for your hard work.
Roderic quickly gathered up his documents and took his leave.
An air of nervousness seemed to cling to him as he made a beeline for the exit, not once looking astray.
The door closed behind him and Gilbert stretched out his arms as if trying to relax.
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Gilbert: Now, then, little rabbit.
Emma: ...So you'd noticed me after all.
Gilbert: Well that's a given.
(I'm sorry about the position I put you in, Roderic)
Once he'd beckoned me closer, he prompted me to climb onto his lap.
Emma: Pardon me.
Knowing that my only two choices were to either sit on his lap or be made to sit, I obediently sat down of my own accord.
And Gilbert wrapped his arms around my waist to support me.
Gilbert: You were throwing Roderic such a passionate look.
Emma: I was looking at you!?
Gilbert: He was positioned in the same line of sight.
Gilbert: As you know, you have a very troublesome man on your hands. So you're aware of what you should do at a time like this, right...?
Emma: ......
I placed my hands against Gilbert's cheeks and started kissing him.
I kissed him so much that I began to feel a faint warmth from his cold lips. But when I tried to pull away, Gilbert bit my lip, leaving behind a faint stinging.
(You're still jealous, aren't you?)
Emma: ...Did I interfere with your official duties?
Gilbert: *pouts* Roderic's the one who interfered. Showing up at this hour with documents for review.
Emma: That's probably because you were busy during the day.
Gilbert: *grins* Hehe... I showed you a lot of things I don't like about Obsidian today.
Emma: ...And I want to know about even more of them from now on.
Emma: Because I also want to be able to assist you.
Gilbert: Ahaha, that's reassuring.
(...There are still so many things I don't know about Gilbert and Obsidian...)
(I'm sure some of those things are intentionally being kept hidden from me)
(Things you can talk to Roderic about, but not to me...)
Once again I felt something in my heart falter.
But before I could convince myself that I was just imagining things, Gilbert's cold fingers caressed my cheek.
Gilbert: You're pulling such a long face even though your words are so reassuring,
Emma: ...I wasn't lying.
Gilbert: I know that. So what's eating at you?
(...What's eating at me?)
Emma: ...I can't really put it to words.
Emma: It's just... I'm envious of Roderic.
Emma: He's able to assist you more than me, and knows everything...
(......)
(Oh, this is...)
The moment I realized the true nature of my anxiety, Gilbert broke into a broad smile.
Gilbert: Wow... I'll have to give Roderic a bonus.
Emma: ...I see now. So this what you've been feeling all this time.
(Well no, compared to Gilbert, my 'jealousy' is to a much lesser degree...)
Emma: Hehe... What should I do? I'm really jealous here.
(We match now.)
I wrapped my arms around Gilbert's neck and brought our foreheads together.
Even though it should have been a negative feeling, I felt laughter build up inside me, perhaps because I was one step closer in understanding Gilbert.
Gilbert: Serious jealousy is nothing like that though, you know?
Emma: Are you saying there's more to come?
Gilbert: Yeah. Your jealousy's in the early chapters.
Gilbert: The more and more you come to love me, the less you'll be able to contain that kind of adorable jealousy.
Gilbert seemed truly pleased with my jealousy.
And it was precisely because I could sense that feeling that the anxiety in my heart turned into something endearing.
Emma: I'll work diligently then.
(Because I think being jealous is the most correct way to love Gilbert)
Gilbert: Hehe... I can't believe you've cheered up this much just from turning into a jealousy fiend.
Gilbert: Taming the conquering beast is difficult, isn't it? But it might be easy for you.
Gilbert: Because I'm so madly in love with you.
------ a/n: I'm sorry for any errors! I mostly just clean up whatever the online translators spit out. Sometimes I get really lazy. Also, I haven't really done a full translation post like this in a while, so I just wanted to mention that I took the formatting and translation style from @/hotaru987 sensei!
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elasticitymudflap · 5 months
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you think your boy Simon is gonna come back for season 2 or is he all arced out?
LISTEN *GRIPS U* SORRY IM ALL CAPS IM JUST BEING VERY NORMAL RN
SEASON 1 WAS BASICALLY ABOUT GETTING HIM TO THE POINT WHERE HE WAS SIMPLY NO LONGER LOOKING FOR AN EXCUSE TO THROW HIS LIFE AWAY, AND RECOGNIZING/NOT ROMANTICIZING THE CONCEPT OF SACRIFICE IN HIS RELATIONSHIP WITH BETTY BECAUSE OF HOW DISPROPORTIONALLY SHE SACRIFICED HERSELF FOR HIM IN WAYS HE WASN'T COGNIZANT OF.
IMHO:
SEASON 1 BARELY TOUCHED UPON ADDRESSING OR WORKING THROUGH HIS ICE KING TRAUMA. THIS IS MY FIRST MAIN THING I NEED THEM TO TOUCH UPON.
IT CONCERNS ME THAT SIMON DIDN'T EVEN COMPLETELY CONNECT THE DOTS IN THAT ALL THE CRAP WORLDS THEY WENT TO WERE HINGING ON WHO HE IS AND THE IMPACT HIS LOVE AND SACRIFICE (OR THE LACK THEREOF) HAD ON THE WORLD (DID SORT OF FOR A MOMENT IN THE STAR BUT NOT NEARLY ENOUGH IMO)
HE'S OBVIOUSLY STILL PROCESSING HIS YEARS TAKING CARE OF MARCY IN THE APOCALYPSE???? THERE WAS NO FOLLOW-UP WITH HER PHONECALL EVEN IN THE FINAL MONTAGE???? WHAT HAPPENED IN OOO WHEN HE DISAPPEARED??? THESE TWO NEED TO FUCKING TALK FOR REAL
WHAT DOES SIMON'S LIFE LOOK LIKE WHEN HE'S NO LONGER AN EXHIBIT?? HOW THE HELL DID HE BECOME/CONSENT TO BECOMING AN EXHIBIT IN THE FIRST PLACE I MEAN WHAT THE FUCK?? HOW DID HIS LIFE CHANGE SO DRASTICALLY (OR DID IT NOT) FROM OBSIDIAN??
THE MORAL OF "MAYBE WE SHOULD HAVE GONE ON THAT TRIP TO AUSTRALIA INSTEAD / WHO KNOWS WHAT LIFE WOULD HAVE BEEN LIKE" IS SO BAD FOR HIM TO END CONCLUSIVELY ON AFTER EVERYTHING WE'VE SEEN BECAUSE THE WORLD STILL FUCKING ENDED??? MAYBE HE FOUND THE CROWN, MAYBE HE DIDN'T, BUT EITHER WAY FROM WHAT WE SAW IN THE ALT WORLDS IT WAS ALL GOING TO END IN TRAGEDY AND MAYBE THIS IS THE ONLY WORLD WHERE WE GET A BITTERSWEET END INSTEAD OF A HELL WORLD THANKS TO THEIR DESICIONS??? IDK!!!!!! I'D LIKE TO EXPLORE THAT CONCEPT I THINK
THE UNIVERSE IS OUT OF HIS NOODLE, BUT DOES SIMON'S HEAD-PORTAL STILL WORK?? CAN HE CONNECT TO FIONNA WORLD IF HE'S IN HIGHLY CHARGED MAGICAL ENVIRONMENTS??? ACTUALLY, WHAT THE HELL ARE THE LONG TERM EFFECTS OF A HUMAN HAVING A UNIVERSE IN HIS DANG HEAD
HE'S CONNECTING WITH ASTRID NOW AND SEEMS TO BE ON MUCH BETTER TERMS, IS SHE GOING TO INSPIRE HIM TO START WRITING FIONNA AND CAKE STORIES AGAIN TO COPE IN A HEALTHY WAY WITH HIS PAST THIS TIME??
SIMON'S RELATIONSHIP WITH ICE THING???
SIMON'S HUMAN PAST IN GENERAL: WHY IS THIS DUDE THE WAY HE IS??? WHY DID HE BELIEVE THE THINGS HE DID, STUDY THEM, MAKE THEM THE THINGS HE HINGED HIS LIFE AND CAREER ON???
ON THAT NOTE: FLASHBACKS. MOTHER FUCKING FLASHBACKS. MORE OF HIS ADVENTURES WITH BETTY. WE ACTUALLY SEE SO LITTLE OF WHAT THEY WERE LIKE TOGETHER WHEN ACTUALLY HAPPY, HUMAN, AND IN A RELATIONSHIP TOGETHER, IN THEIR ELEMENT, AND NOT STRICKEN WITH LIFE-OR-DEATH DESICION MAKING EXCEPT FOR HIS DUMB ASS GETTING BRAINED BY A CHERRY JAR
HIS YEARNING TO FIND BETTY AND APOLOGIZE TO HER WAS "TECHNICALLY" HANDLED IN THE SHOW, BUT YOU CAN NOT TELL ME THIS DUDE DOESN'T HAVE LASTING ISSUES AND TRAUMA AROUND THAT. ABOUT THE FIRST TIME HE PUT ON THE CROWN AND BETTY DISAPPEARING FOREVER. ABOUT THE GUILT AND FEAR ABOUT HER BEING DEAD DURING THE WAR. ABOUT LIVING NINE FUCKING HUMAN LIFETIMES IN A HAZE WHERE ALL HE KNEW WAS HE HURT THE PERSON HE LOVED MOST AND HE JUST NEEDED TO FIND HER. IT BECAME AN INTEGRAL PART OF ICE KING'S CHARACTER, HIS MOST DEFINING TRAIT STRIPPED TO THE STUDS. HE HELD ONTO THAT LAST PIECE OF SIMON PETRIKOV SOME HOW UNTIL SO MUCH TIME HAD PASSED HIS ONLY HOPE TO EVER FIND HER AGAIN WAS TO USE TIME TRAVEL. I'D LIKE SOME MORE OF THAT, IF YOU PLEASE.
HOW IS HE ACTUALLY COPING POST-SEASON 1? WHAT ARE HIS THOUGHTS ON ALL THE WORLDS THEY VISITED, THE THINGS THAT HAPPENED TO HIM, THE IMPLICATIONS, HIS INTERPRETATIONS? HE MAY BE IN THERAPY BUT HE'S STILL DRINKING.
ANYWAY
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