#in high contrast with the rest of the characters

[ichorai]

button ; coriolanus snow. (m)

pairing ; young!coriolanus snow x capitol!reader (gender-neutral)

synopsis ; what did make him pause, however, was the very top button of your shirt. misshaped. odd. not matching the rest of your buttons. his gift to you. “you’re wearing it,” coriolanus whispered. his voice sounded strained.

words ; 3.4k

themes ; fluff, mild angst, smut

warnings / includes ; unprotected sex (not very explicit), possessiveness, themes of classism, we meet reader's rich parents !! and grandma'am and tigris appear, coryo's paranoia, he's not exactly toxic yet but the seeds are very much planted, i tried to keep him in character as best i could </3

a/n ; there will be a third part loosely following the events of the movie (obv tweaked for the fic!)

series masterlist. main masterlist.

Your home was the very definition of old money—wealth and grace and high status carved into the marble floors, hung up in the large oil paintings, found within the fibers of the expensive carpets leading into grand halls. Snow had to consciously remind himself to appear unphased. He had this sort of life, too, as far as you were concerned.

It was only expected, especially considering your parents’ high positions: with your father being the top admiral of the navy, and your mother a renowned physicist with several awards under her belt. Dozens of rows of medals and framed certifications from both your parents were more than enough for Snow to gauge the mass of their importance.

He shifted the weight of his feet in his too-tight shoes. Anxious. He wore his dress shirt again, though not before asking Tigris to try and rework the buttons. The buttons hewn from his bathroom tiles. Make them look the same, he had told her. They’re uneven. Snow turned away before he could see her mildly crestfallen expression.

It was a special occasion, hence his dressed-up attire. There was a rose pinned to his waistcoat, a deep shade of red, from his Grandma’am’s rooftop garden. Your father had come home today, after months of military work in the districts. And to celebrate such a momentous evening, you invited him to dinner. 

To meet your parents. How utterly fraught.

Though, now that the two of you were officially together (albeit only recently—Sejanus asked if the two of you were a thing and Coryo replied with an instinctive, possessive yes, much to both of your surprise), Coriolanus supposed there was no use in delaying the inevitable.

“Don’t be nervous,” you told him, arm looped around his. The white rose he’d given you upon his arrival was tucked neatly behind your ear, a lovely contrast to your all-black garb. In a light-hearted tone, you added, “Father would be able to smell it on you. The fear.”

Coriolanus shot you an exasperated glance, to which you only smiled. You landed a soft, reassuring kiss onto his cheek, hand sliding down from his elbow to lace with his. 

“You look… breathtaking,” he said, lifting your conjoined palms to brush his lips over your knuckles. Of the many lies that he told you, this certainly wasn’t one of them. 

Your eyes gleamed with the light from the chandelier hanging above you.

“And you look handsome as ever.” A pause. You seemed bashful all of a sudden, averting your gaze to the gold patterns on the marble floors. “I know this is all very new, so I apologize in advance, if my father asks about our, uhm… our future… He’s a very forward man.”

A smile twitched at the corner of his lips and he slotted his free hand beneath your chin, the pad of his thumb pressing lightly over the side of your throat, forcing you to look back at him. “I have no intention of letting you go, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

You smiled again, all sunlight and warmth, and Coriolanus couldn’t help but steal it away with one last kiss. 

“Ready?” you asked, jerking your head in the direction of the dining room. 

Snow swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded.

Dinner was quite a pleasant affair. The food was better than anything the academy ever served—Coriolanus wondered how you could willingly go from eating such delicacies at home to basic, run-of-the-mill meals the cafeteria provided. There were courses, tender peppered steaks (his very favorite), rich mushroom soups, iced lemon cakes, and several sorts of breads and butters were offered all throughout.

Your mother was a delight, enchanting him with stories of laboratory mishaps and her dangerous adventures with radioactive material. You looked a lot like her, he realized.

Your father, on the other hand, was pressing at first, grilling Coriolanus with dozens of personal questions. If you hadn’t warned him beforehand that he was a military leader, he most definitely would’ve worked it out for himself then. There were times where you politely but forcefully snapped at him, telling him to lay off the invasive interrogation and to let the poor man eat. But Coriolanus really didn’t mind—he’d spent hours upon hours preparing himself for this. He answered all of the questions with effortless ease.

By the third course, your father was satisfied. Reluctant, but satisfied. By the fourth, he was already asking about marriage, much to your mortification. Coriolanus smiled down at his plate, and quietly listened to you lecture your father about privacy and civility.

Yes, dinner was quite enjoyable. Several containers of food from unseen servants were wrapped up for him to take home, at your request, despite his polite protests. It wasn’t a common thing to do in the capitol, but your parents hadn’t batted an eye. 

He was safe. They didn’t know. It was an ongoing mantra the entire night.

He was shown out the door by your father, who clapped a large hand on his shoulder and told him to take care of you, especially while he was gone. Your mother kissed him once on each cheek as farewell, and you did the same, though your kisses strayed far closer to his lips. He caught the mischievous gleam in your eyes. 

The door shut behind him once he strode into the expansive courtyard in front of your mansion of a home. He glanced down at the rose pinned to his coat, wondering if you were still wearing yours behind your ear. A minute later, he jumped out of his reverie when the entrance creaked open once more. You peeked your head back out, eyes alight, pleased to see that he was still there. 

You slid out from the entryway and made your way to him with quick strides, wasting no time to rest your hands upon his chest. To his delight, you were still wearing the rose. “Father and mother left to watch television in the estate’s Northern wing. Didn’t want to kiss you in front of them.”

There were wings to your house? Coriolanus blinked at you, accidentally letting his indifferent mask slip for a few seconds. If you noticed, you didn’t say anything about it, leaning forward to kiss him sweetly. It took him another moment to gather his wits, before winding his arms about your waist and deepening the kiss, nearly bending you backwards with his vigor.

He could never tire of this, he thought, fingers curling so his nails dug into the expensive black fabric of your top. Kissing you, touching you, entertaining the notion that you were his, and only his. 

When you pulled away, your lips were wonderfully kiss-swollen and your pupils were blown wide, to his amusement. Were his eyes just the same?

“Thank you for being here today,” you mumbled, that smile-frown he was so fond of gracing your features once more. “I’m sorry if my parents were too—”

“They were wonderful. You’re wonderful,” he interrupted, tone soft. His hand lifted from your waist to cup your face. Cold fingers against flushed skin. “I’ll see you at the academy?”

A nod, a grin, and a relieved sigh. “Sleep well, Coryo.”

“You, too.” He pulled away, reluctant, allowing his hands to fall back to his sides. “You look good with it, you know. The rose.” With a final nod, he turned on his heel and walked away from your estate, back to his own cold penthouse, where he had to burn newspaper scraps to keep warm.

The months drew by like a lazy stream of water, gliding over a bed of stones, languid and pleasant. Your time with Coriolanus was nothing short of utter bliss. He was a sweet lover, despite his possessive streaks, always making sure you were alright with what he was doing. The two of you went slow and steady, always asking, always gentle. He kissed you as if you were made of sugar glass, and you held onto him as if he was a fragile ceramic vase.

Exams were drawing nearer with each passing day, and the two of you found yourself studying and cramming more than anything. He would often tell you that there was no need for you to study so hard, especially when you were already at the very top, likely to claim the Plinth prize for yourself, but you always waved him away with a modest laugh. If the two of you weren’t at the library pouring over dozens upon dozens of books, you were finding ways to sneak him into your home: kissing behind stone statues in the gardens, hiding behind velvet curtains, pulling him onto your massive, four-poster bed.

It was only a matter of time until you asked.

His arm was draped over your bare midriff, drawing mindless shapes into your hip. Your head rested back against his chest, mildly sweaty from the lovemaking session the two of you were still dwindling down from. You stared out your window, watching the sun slowly bleed the sky a hazy clementine hue, teeth sinking down into the flesh of your bottom lip in thought.

“Why haven’t we ever studied at your home, Coryo?” you asked. “I’ve yet to meet your cousin. You talk about her a lot… she seems wonderful.”

You felt a cold breath billow over the back of your neck. It sent pleasant chills spider down your spinal column. And you could’ve imagined it, but his fingers seemed to flex over your bare flesh. Twitch. Almost antsy. Did your question make him uncomfortable?

Shifting in his grasp, you turned within his arms so you could face him. “I’m sorry. I don’t want to pressure you, or anything. I just… just know that I’d never judge you.”

His expression was near unreadable, the blue of his eyes even paler than usual with the sunset’s light casting a honey-glow over both of your sprawled-out forms. He kissed you again, hungrily, almost as if to distract you. You let him.

Kiss you, touch you, bruise you. Any of it, all of it.

A low groan barreled within his chest when you fisted a handful of his soft blonde waves at the base of his neck, gently tugging. 

“Nothing you could show me would make me love you any less,” you muttered against his lips, nose nudging against his. “Nothing, Coryo.”

And he, in a moment of love-addled weakness, let himself believe you.

Come the next afternoon, you were at the door of the Snows’ penthouse, a basketed batch of warm cookies held in one hand, the other holding a heavy bag full of all your textbooks to study. If the two of you were going to study at all today. Your mother was aghast that you were about to visit his home without some sort of gift, and abruptly shoved the basket of goodies into your arms out of seemingly nowhere, as if materialized out of thin air.

“Coriolanus loves the chocolate chip ones,” she harrumphed whilst ushering you out the door. “Honestly, showing up to someone else’s home empty-handed? Who raised you?”

The irony was not lost on either of you, and you barked out a laugh before kissing her farewell and setting off to visit him. 

You rang the rusted doorbell once—curiously regarding the little button once you realized that it was broken. Then, you knocked the door twice, then another two times for good measure. There was a muffled scuffling behind the door, a woman’s voice echoing from behind.

And when it swung open, you were met with an elderly woman, shrouded in a too-large, black tunic with embroidered flowers on the sleeves, the threads loose and pulled, the once-vibrant colors faded. She wore a turban, covering most of her white hair save for the few thin tendrils framing the sides of her face. 

“Hello, I’m Coriolanus’ classmate,” you greeted, in an ever-so-capitol-esque manner. “You must be his… Grandma’am?”

She appeared confused for a moment, before slow sparks of recognition fired across her blue eyes. Coriolanus had the same eyes, you noted.

“Oh!” she crooned. “Oh, dear me! Coriolanus! It’s your lovely friend!” 

There was a bit of commotion down the hall. The brief moment of pause allowed you to finally take in why Coriolanus hadn’t wanted you to come to his home all this time. The penthouse was still quite lavish, as the Snow estate was one of the most expensive properties in the capitol, but it was clear that the space was diminishing with the weight of its upkeep—flickering lights, dusty floors, tears in the wallpapers, mold on the countertops…

Your attention was drawn away from the view when Tigris and Coryo emerged from the same room, and you couldn’t help the smile that threatened to break across your features. His cousin was fretting over his lopsided curls, and he discreetly tried to duck out of her way to get to you.

“My, you are just as gorgeous as he said you were!” Grandma’am said in a pitching tone, wrangling your attention back to her. She lifted her hands to lightly pinch at your cheeks. “Yes, you’ll do just fine.” Her fingers fell away and she scuttled off, murmuring something about the Capitol’s First Partner—

Coriolanus breathed out your name and his hand was on your shoulder, apologizing once, twice, three times (what was he even apologizing for?), before Tigris popped up by his side, bumping him out of the way so she could shake your hand vigorously.

“Hi! I’m Tigris—it’s so nice to finally meet you!”

You shook the blonde woman’s hand, smile seeming to grow impossibly wider. “It’s nice to meet you, too! I love your dress.”

Her mouth dropped open in a flustered manner and a lovely rose shade dusted over her cheekbones. “Oh, this old thing?” She absentmindedly smoothed a hand down the frills of her pink dress. “Yeah, I… oh, it’s nothing, really, I just made it myself.”

“That’s incredibly impressive! You must be a really talented seamstress.”

A sharp clear of his throat made your eyes snap back to Coriolanus. 

“Coryo,” you greeted warmly. “I brought you cookies. Chocolate chip. Mother sends her regards.”

The two Snows in front of you eyed the basket with large eyes. 

“Thank you,” he croaked, accepting the basket from your extended hands and handing it over to his cousin. “Tigris, if you’d excuse us—we’ve got some studying to do.”

Coriolanus began to tug you down the hall, and you waved back to Tigris, telling her that you’d love to see any of her other dresses later. She’d already reached into the basket and had a cookie halfway to her mouth as she nodded at you with a toothy grin.

His room was in around the same state as the rest of the home. Furniture was old, torn, frayed, or simply broken. There were several boarded-up holes in his dresser. There was a box of rat poison below his desk, which was full with all sorts of papers and stacks of yellowing books. You skittered in and dropped your heavy bag down by his bed, allowing him to close the door behind you. You just barely registered the click of a lock.

“So?” he asked, voice sounding much louder in such a confined space. He seemed tense, as if bracing himself for the worst. “Are you disgusted yet?”

“What do you take me for?” you replied easily, having already gathered why he was so afraid of bringing you here in the first place. “I’m not a leech, nor am I vain, Coriolanus. I don’t want more money, and I’m not here to offer you charity to flaunt my wealth. I thought you’d know that by now.”

He stalked closer, observing you like a wolf would its prey. “What is it you want, then?”

When you took a step back closer to his small, rather wiry bed, he would take two longer strides, crowding you back against it. He dipped forward so that his lips were only a hair’s breadth from yours, but just barely not touching.

“You know, I’m sure.”

“I do.” Coriolanus knew that you wanted him just for him, and nothing gave him more pleasure than that simple fact. His nose brushed yours. 

“Would it make me a fool to stay?” you asked, the question fanning over his mouth. Inviting, ever so tantalizing. “You’re not planning on chopping me up and selling my organs for some cash, are you?”

He didn’t laugh at your little joke. Instead, he dove forward, one hand yanking your hips to his, the other winding over to the back of your head. He kissed you desperately, all teeth and tongue, hardened lips and his knee slotting between your thighs. 

“No,” he susurrated thickly, as if he’d swallowed honey and soil, pressing you down until you were fully laid down over his rickety bed, back arched. “You’d be mine. All of you, just mine.”

He swallowed any sort of gasp and moan that fell from your mouth. Greedy, lustful, determined to make you pliable. His kisses didn’t slow down whatsoever when he tore himself away from your lips, freckling them down your cheeks, your jaw, your neck, your collarbones. 

What did make him pause, however, was the very top button of your shirt. 

Misshaped. Odd. Not matching the rest of your buttons. His gift to you.

“You’re wearing it,” Coriolanus whispered. His voice sounded strained.

“Mmh?” You glanced down at the button. “Oh. Of course, I am. I like how it looks.”

His face hovered above yours once more. His stare was so intense you began to shy away, staring at a moldy patch on the ceiling. The silence felt suffocating as you waited for him to do something. Anything.

“I love you,” he breathed out, finally. Upfront and abrupt. It wasn’t often that he said it. Maybe once or twice before, since you said it more than enough for the both of you. 

You laughed then—your wonderful, wind-chime laughter. It was more out of shock than anything. He kissed you soft and sweet, momentarily quelling your chuckling. But as the afternoon of so-called ‘studying’ drew on, the laughter melded into sighs of pleasure when clothes were shed, shifting towards wanton moans of desperation when heated flesh slid against one another. 

You nearly choked when his length breached your entrance, scratching faint red lines down the expanse of his back as he pushed in, pulled out. Rhythmic. Again and again and again—you couldn’t seem to get enough of him on top of you, inside of you, all around you. Your chest was pressed up against his; could he hear your heart beating through your ribs, yearning to feel his? The coil within your lower abdomen tightened. He read your every microexpression just perfectly.

He’d unbuttoned your entire shirt save for the oddly-shaped one, hands groping all over your bare skin, teeth biting down onto the patch of skin just above the button as he rocked himself into a climax, roping you down into the abyss with him. Ragged groans and broken sighs. 

Coriolanus dragged his tongue up your chest and your neck, leaving a cold trail in his wake, and he sucked in a deep breath. When he pulled back to stare at you—flushed, hair mussed, sweat beaded along your hairline, his pearlescent spend between your thighs, your eyes half-lidded… chest only barely covered by his one button…

“Thank you,” he croaked, kissing the space beside your left eye. “For not running.”

“Don’t make me a fool for it,” you replied, looping your arms over Coriolanus’ neck so he could kiss you properly.

#coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow fanfiction #coriolanus snow fluff #coriolanus snow smut #coriolanus snow x you #hunger games fanfiction #coriolanus snow drabbles #tbosas fanfiction #tbosas x reader #young!coriolanus snow x reader #young!coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow angst

[motimatcha]

the Forbidden fruit

NSFW: headcanons about your sex life. hazbin hotel Adam x fem!reader That feeling when my drafts are almost halfway through the smut with Adam that I wanted to write, but at the last minute I stopped liking that text, so I switched to something else. Everything is (not) good. I wrote this text while listening to Landon Tewers - She Thinks of Me. the meaning of the song is not at all important and has nothing to do with the lyrics, I just liked the melody.

Adam has beautiful hands. Aesthetic. When he takes off his clothes and folds his arms across his chest, rests them on a surface, or carries heavy objects, his veins appear.

His fingers are thin and well-groomed, long, like those of a pianist, which Adam never was.

Just imagine the contrast it has on you during sex. His rough, sometimes wild, character and gentle movements of his hands that slide over your entire body while he whispers all sorts of dirty things in your ear. Imagine those hands touching your hips, squeezing your skin gently but noticeably to make you feel excited and excited, and then with a knee-baring grin, he leaves you unsatisfied.

Adam can and loves to tease. His hands pass dangerously close to your sensitive places, and his words are full of subtext and hints, which are sometimes not covered at all. And because many are accustomed to the character of Adam, who speaks complete nonsense, no one pays attention to the fact that Adam literally said that he would fuck you against that wall before entering heaven.

Adam sure has a sexy morning voice. He can lie on his back, finally finding a comfortable position without his wings getting in the way, one of his arms wedged under your body and resting on your side. He brushes the hair that is falling into his face back before turning his head in your direction. A smirk graces Adam’s face as he rolls onto his side and pulls you closer to him, allowing your two hot bodies to grind against each other. Adam wakes you up with a kiss behind your ear, slowly lowers himself to your neck and whispers some nonsense to you, but you don’t wake up or pretend to be asleep, he takes it as a challenge and the hand from your hip slowly slides down, straight into yours underpants.

Adam likes the cowgirl position when he's too tired but still wants you. This gives you both an imaginary sense of control: you control the speed of the process, Adam controls the movement of your hips.

He likes to look at your hips and butt, whether in tight pants/high-waisted shorts or skirts/dresses that contour your figure. Adam basically likes to look at you in tight clothes, style doesn't matter as long as you like it. Besides that, he likes to see his dick penetrate your body slowly or quickly (well, I mean, he likes to watch your pussy swallow his dick, let's be honest). He loves watching your breasts bounce rhythmically as you move. He loves the feeling of your fingers on his chest as you lean against him, finding a comfortable position.

If you don't mind having Adam's dick in you without having sex, then please allow him. He is overwhelmed by a feeling of unity that has not visited him since the time of Lilith and Eve.

Not against quick sex (or blowjob).

Speaking of fetishes, Adam loves creampies and he doesn’t hide the fact that he’s flattered by the idea of ​​impregnating you. And the latter is not so much a fetish as his sacred duty, because he seemed to be created for this? First man, first man and all that. However, if you can't get pregnant (or it's your mutual desire not to have children due to your lifestyle), he still loves creampies.

Adam loves to leave his marks on you: hickeys and bites, especially on your neck, arms, collarbones, chest, hips... In general, wherever he can reach with his mouth and lips. Adam likes to do this not only because he finds it sexy, but because of his insecurity. He had two wives who went to a dwarf duck! Somewhere in the subcortex of consciousness, Adam wants every living and dead soul to see that you are already busy with him and minding your own business.

Adam will probably let you do anything (within reason and as long as he feels like he's in a dominant position) if you praise him during sex or tell him you wouldn't choose anyone else over him. This will upset him.

I'm not sure exactly what word is supposed to mean what I'm about to say next (at least I've seen it called "happy way", but I can't be sure), but Adam has a faint trail of hair from his belly button to the groin. And although he takes care of himself (if you ask, he doesn’t care until it starts to get in the way), but he will never remove this particular hair.

His cock is worth forgetting about toys. So are his fingers.

Adam doesn't have a favorite place to have sex, but he prefers you to be alone. Teasing in public is a whole different story!

If you want to quickly excite Adam, then touch his wings. But this should not be a light touch to the tips of his feathers, but a targeted stroking of the growth area of ​​​​the wings and between the shoulder blades.

#hazbin hotel adam x reader #adam x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel

[hotvintagepoll]

Propaganda

James Stewart (It's a Wonderful Life, The Philadelphia Story, Mr. Smith Goes to Washington)—the thing about Jimmy Stewart is that for a weird-enough looking guy, he is yet somehow SO hot and SO believable, ALWAYS. He always plays the same person—he's always, well, Jimmy Stewart—yet that person can be a murderer, a dark cynic, a naive idealist, the boy next door or an old man who knows better, and every one of those is hot. I would jump his bones in a heartbeat

Toshiro Mifune (Rashumon, Seven Samurai, Grand Prix, Stray Dog)—i love and respect my boi tab hunter (rest in peace you beautiful, beautiful man ❤️), but after i watched like 12 of his movies in a row on tcm last year, i ALSO love and respect toshiro mifune, son of a literal actual hatamoto’s (a high-ranking samurai) daughter, also very possibly related to the best judokan EVER, AND, he’s the guy who SHOULD have been obi-wan kenobi. the fact that he’s ALSO hot as hell just adds to his appeal.

This is round 4 of the bracket. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage man.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

James Stewart propaganda:

"Ough I saw him first in It's A Wonderful Life, where he is very charming as a suicidal family man being absolutely crushed by capitalism. But then. The Philadelphia Story, in my opinion, should get the same kind of press The Mummy does for being a bisexual dream. Now I'm not really bi (not into women) and it's honestly up for debate whether i'm attracted to men or not, but COME ON!! The movie stars James Stewart as well as Cary Grant and Katharine Hepburn (and Ruth Hussey). Stewart plays a common working man, a journalist, to contrast with Grant's character, who is mega-rich. He is scrappy and hates rich people. Hot! They have a whole scene together where he's super drunk and being really physical with his acting, which I love because he is kinda wet noodle shaped. Hot! He carries Hepburn in his arms while singing Somewhere Over The Rainbow. Hot! He gets punched in the face by Cary Grant. Hot!!! In The Man Who Shot Liberty Valence, we get to see him portray an alternative type of masculinity, opposite John Wayne doing John Wayne. He is even more wet noodle-y, to put emphasis on his incompatibility with the rugged masculinity of the cow-boy, he wears an apron for a lot of the film, again, to blur his masculinity, and he gets shot. Hot! Also he's older here, if that's your thing. Long story short: He's giving librarian chic and The Philadelphia Story made me want to be poly."

“Here he is next to Grant, in what I believe to be a promotional shot for The Philadelphia Story. Please don’t get distracted by Grant (or do, i’m submitting him next).”

“He’s a nice guy and a good guy and deserves all the happiness and joy ever! Classic boy next door/class president kid that everyone loves for real. Stand-up for the Little Guy vibes. With a charming fun side!!”

Toshiro Mifune propaganda:

"In addition, he spoke fluent mandarin and every time he was casted in foreign films, he said his lines in the language of the movie (although they ended up dubbing him. He wasn’t happy about it though).”

Submitted: this gifset

Also submitted: this video (yes, that one)

"Crucial Toshiro Mifune propaganda: THOSE LEGS."

"That is hella muscle. Go watch The Hidden Fortress, aka Star Wars A New Hope. His thighs deserve an award."

#toshiro mifune #james stewart #jimmy stewart #hotvintagepoll #round 4 #fuck ! that ! old ! man ! ! ! #Youtube

[space-mango-company]

Stranger | Chapter 1

Chapter Links: [1], [2], [3], [4], [5]

Summary: The Atreides daughter is sent off to Giedi Prime to marry the Harkonnen heir in an attempt to quell the feuding Great Houses. The bride, however, must prove her grit and earn the respect of her new family if she is to survive her new life. Perhaps she will find that she had more Harkonnen in her than she thought.

TW: none (for now)

Tags: Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x Atreides!Reader, Arranged Marriage, Eventual Smut (just not in this chapter lmao), No use of y/n, Original Characters, cannon what cannon

Word Count: 1.2k

A/N: Please bear with me, it has been ages since I've written anything and this is my first ever work of fanfiction. I've never written in the second person before so if you catch any mistakes, especially in verb tenses, please let me know. English is not my first language. Also, this might start out a bit slow but I promise things will pick up soon.

The smell of grass and the crashing waves of Caladan brought you comfort as you stood before the starship that had been rented from the Spacing Guild.

Your brother had insisted on accompanying you to Giedi Prime, but a round trip would have been unnecessarily expensive, even with the vast wealth of your Great House. Besides, it would be foolish to deliver the heir of House Atreides to the home world of their sworn enemies. It was bad enough they had to send you there.

"Give them hell," Paul teased as he hugged you goodbye.

You laughed, but you knew his smile didn't quite reach his eyes. He had faith in your strength and ferocity, but he had much less faith in the hospitality of the Harkonnens.

"I'll miss you," you pull away and try to give him a reassuring smile but you, yourself, are not so certain of your fate.

You made your way to your mother, next in line to bid you farewell.

"Remember your training." Lady Jessica held your face and planted a tender kiss on your forehead. She had already given you all the advice she could.

You take her hands in yours and kiss them. "I will," you tell her solemnly.

You finally make it to your father, whose eyes are already welling with tears.

"My darling princess," his voice cracks as he lays a hand on your cheek. The Duke may seem a stoic man to most, but those who truly knew him knew he had a big heart.

Perhaps it is because you are one of those people that you finally feel that weight in your chest that you've been dreading since the signing of your marriage pact. It will be a truly long time before you would see your family again. If you could ever see them at all.

The Duke waves at an attendant who approaches with a silver tray. Leto takes the dagger resting on it and places it in your hands. "To remind you that you will always be an Atreides, that you will always be my daughter."

You let your tears fall as you hold the gift close to your chest.

"Don't cry now," your father pulls you into a hug, hoping to hide his own tears, "or I might never let you go."

You let a laugh slip through the sobs. You knew it was already decided and it is your duty to fulfill. The Sisterhood and the Emperor himself endorsed the match. Nothing could change it now.

The harsh light of Giedi Prime's black sun assaulted your eyes as you made your way down the starship's gangplank. The stark, high-contrast black and white made everything a pain to look at. You were thankful for the veils of your travelling gowns for providing you at least some shade.

You were greeted by House Harkonnen's steward, Jaromir Naggul, and swiftly led into the imposing, Brutalist fortress of their stronghold. You were almost happy to escape the infrared outside.

"Your belongings are being sent to your new quarters as we speak," Jaromir, a lanky but stately man, informs you. "You may change out of your traveling clothes and rest there. The Baron will receive you in the throne room in the afternoon."

You note his accent and the mild contempt in his voice, as if you were an inconvenience.

"This is Iassa," he gestures to one of the servants that had been following you through the halls. "She is your assigned slave. Should you need anything, you may tell her."

The word almost knocks the breath out of you.

You eyes turn to Iassa in her pale gray robes and you give her a polite nod. She hastily curtsies in return.

You knew the Harkonnens and even the Emperor kept slaves, but you suppose it never occurred to you that you would be charged with one yourself.

"Of course," Jaromir continues, "any of the servants in the fortress will be at your command, but Iassa will be in waiting for you in particular."

"Of course," you reply coldly.

"You will be staying in the guest wing for now," Jaromir says as he shows you the door to your quarters. "Of course, until your wedding. When you will then be moved to the na-Baron's apartments."

"...of course," you repeat, grateful again for your veils that they hide your dread.

You are silent as Iassa helps you into a black gown for your audience with the baron. It is the fashionable color in the Harkonnen home world. Although there were many other 'fashionable' traits on Giedi Prime, this was the only one you felt comfortable adopting right now. The complete lack of hair in every individual you had seen was certainly unsettling, but you sensed it would be rude to speak about it.

"What is the na-Baron like?" you ask.

Iassa pauses her fastening of your dress, she swallows. "He is a fearsome warrior, my lady," she keeps her gaze averted, "handsome and popular with the people."

Her voice was shaky but she seemed genuine. You only wonder if those words hold the same implications here as they do back home.

You look over to Iassa as she fetches your shoes. It's not difficult to see that she fears you. You cannot help but feel that that is all there is. You are still an off-worlder. An Atreides no less. She harbors no respect for you.

You take care to style your hair in the fashions of Caladan, fastening a falcon-like pin at the back of your head. The symbol of your house. Perhaps it is a risky choice, to be seen as defiant by the baron should he notice, but you could already feel the black sun beginning to drain the life out of you. The thrill of quiet defiance would have to sustain you for now.

Jaromir returns in time to fetch you and you are led to the throne room.

The baron's grotesque floating body looms over you and his subjects. You had never met any of the Harkonnens before but you were sure that was him.

"Welcome to your new home, Lady Atreides," the Baron utters your last name with thinly veiled loathing. "Let me present my nephew, Feyd-Rautha."

A tall muscular young man steps forward. Stately and regal as a Harkonnen could be, he looks over you with condescending eyes.

He certainly looked like a warrior, and you could see how the people of Giedi Prime could find him handsome, but you find yourself wanting to spit in his face.

"Forgive me for not greeting you when you landed, my lady," the na-Baron bows to you. His gravelly voice sends a chill down your spine, "I was preoccupied at the time. I trust you have settled well?"

You curtsy in turn, "I'm sure my lord had important duties to attend to. I am grateful for your hospitality. My rooms are very comfortable."

"Do not find them too comfortable young lady," the Baron calls from afloat his chair, "your wedding celebrations are to begin and you will be sharing rooms with my nephew before long."

Feyd-Rautha smirks at this and you are almost willing to cast decorum aside to slap it off his face.

"Tomorrow, your groom will take part in the arena to demonstrate his prowess as a worthy husband and leader, as per the traditions of our house," the Baron announces. "I'm sure you will make a point to attend."

"I would not miss it, dear Baron."

Chapter Links: [1], [2], [3], [4], [5]

#feyd rautha #feyd rautha harkonnen #feyd rautha x reader #feyd rautha x you #feyd rautha smut #dune #dune part two #house harkonnen #house atreides #leto atreides #lady jessica #paul atreides #baron vladimir harkonnen #duke leto atreides #austin butler #jessica atreides #space-mango-company #fic: stranger

[spacingstars]

Sometimes, I find myself breaking down Kix’s character, turning over his traits, his patterns and behaviors… and more and more I find the personality construed by fandom for Kix to be so wildly jarring from what we do have of Kix.

Kix has, roughly, 17 minutes of screen time across the entirety of TCW, which, when compared to the likes of Fives and Rex, who clock much more screen time than most other clones, this doesn’t seem like a lot—but when you factor in most clones' screen time, we get a lot of Kix, and there’s a lot you can learn about him if you pay attention to the moments he does have on screen.

And to illustrate my point, and because I genuinely love Kix, I’m taking it upon myself to examine what we do have of Kix—both for my own purposes, creatively, and because I also happen to enjoy being neurotically intense about my favorite characters.

From “The Deserter” (S02:10) which is also Kix’s debut episode:

1. Kix speaks with a softer and gentler affliction in his voice compared to other clones (as seen with Jesse, who debuts alongside Kix and contrasts him in being more assertive.) I generally extrapolate this to be reflective of a softness that underscores Kix’s mannerisms. 2. When confronted by Suu, Kix doesn’t react with aggression of defensiveness (even if he’s also escorting an injured Rex and has a rifle pointed at him,) instead he opts to gently, and slowly, explain the situation, (in fact, Suu cuts him off and it is Jesse who has to explain, Jesse, who speaks quickly and in a more assertive manner than Kix did.) Kix’s tone is also likely influenced by caution. 3. The most notable scene in this episode that Kix appears in is when he’s tending to an injured Rex—I say notable because I think it informs much of how Kix treats his patients, even when they’re being uncooperative. Because in this scene, Kix is nothing but gentle an caring towards Rex, even when Rex tries to order Kix into letting him back into the fight despite the nerve damage he’s taken from the shot to his chest. When he pulls rank on Rex it is done so firmly, but kindly, and his face is one of sheepishness. If this scene shows anything, it’s that Kix is patient.

From Kix’s debut episode, what can be described about his character is that he’s much more reserved and gentle in comparison to the much more assertive personality of Jesse—from his mannerisms to the tone of his voice. He will be firm, but he is not unkind. He also shows patience towards his patient, even when said patient is, initially, being uncooperative.

From Umbara (S04:07 - S04:10) which is when Kix gets the most screen time:

1. The first moment of note Kix appears in is when he raises concerns to Rex about the pace Krell has had them marching at, that this pace is taking its toll on the men and they need to rest. Kix raises these concerns respectfully, secondly, Kix is doing his duty as a medic, which, is fundamental to his character, finally, Kix cares about those around him and he does what he can to ensure the welfare of these men. (And also, I think it’s quite telling that Kix doesn’t press the issue after Krell scolds them for it, as noted before, Kix does not have an assertive personality.) 2. When Kix is taking care of an injured clone he’s dragged into cover Kix retains his professionalism and keeps himself together even under stress. Kix comforts his patient instead, and I think it speaks of that gentleness I keep mentioning that Kix says, “You’re gonna be okay, buddy, this’ll ease the pain.” Kix is comforting, and he holds himself together under stress because he has his brothers to take care of. 3. I think it’s also notable that when Torrent is starting to express their distrust in Krell, though you can tell Kix is beginning to get frustrated with the treatment of the men (expressing that with Krell’s plan, casualties will be high,) his comments are not nearly has harsh as those of Tup or Jesse. Once again, Kix is shown to be more reserved, and I see it as him maintaining his professionalism in raising these concerns, even as he is beginning to grow frustrated with this poor treatment. 4. The note of Kix beginning to grow frustrated with the treatment of his brothers will be expanded upon throughout the Umbara arc; especially in light of Kix taking his frustration and horror out on the wildlife of Umbara for feeding on the corpses of his brothers. If I am to extrapolate, those dead clones serve as a reminder to Kix; a remainder that he, more and more, has been unable to properly care for all his injured brothers. These clones are a reminder to Kix of the brothers he could not save. This is the first crack within Kix, due to the stress of Umbara, and I have to emphasis, this is not Kix’s normal pattern of behavior. 5. Continuing the thread of Kix beginning to crack under the pressures of Umbara, there is a moment in Umbara where Kix is tending to an injured clone—one that’s in his arms, and this clone gets shot to death in Kix’s arms. This is directly Kix being unable to save a clone’s life despite being right there, because Umbara is that overwhelming—to such a degree that he’s forced to leave behind the injured in this moment, even if he can save them. And this is another crack in Kix’s composure, because he snaps at Rex, he drops his professionalism and his respect, and even resorts to barbed comments against Rex for ordering him from tending to the injured because Torrent needs Kix alive. This is not Kix’s normal behavior, this is Kix, stressed and crumbling under the weight of Umbara. 6. The last notable scene Kix appears in, and this is the moment where Kix finally breaks under Umbara’s pressure—it’s the moment where he starts haphazardly firing his blaster at the enemy. This is intended to be shocking—because this is not how Kix nominally acts, he’s in immense distress, and it takes Tup pulling him into cover to get him to calm down. Kix holds his composure for so long, and when he does break, he breaks hard. 7. To cap off the Umbara thoughts, though Kix does have more scenes, he is relegated to a background character for the most part—but, I can only imagine what was going through Kix’s head when he had, under the orders of Krell, fired upon other clones, it is completely counter to who he is, both as a person and as a medic, and I imagine it cuts deep—as it did for all clones involved in that moment, but for Kix… some of that hurt I imagine would be coming from how he’s meant to save his brothers lives, he’s the medic… and yet, in that moment, all he did was take theirs.

Umbara shows that Kix—who has been shown to be a respectful, kind, and helpful clone who just earnestly wants to do his duty in providing his brothers with the care he needs—is broken by an inability to help.

From the Chip arc (S06:01 - S06:04):

1. Not much to be said about some of Kix’s first appearances in this arc, as Kix is doing what he does as a medic (and expressing concern for Tup.) But the scene where Tup is in the infirmary, and Kix is confused about what’s wrong with Tup, I do think that Kix being willing to say that he can’t figure out what’s wrong, and that if they want answers, he’ll need to be sent back to Kamino, is indicative of Kix is aware of the limitations in his knowledge and is willing to humble himself. 2. This is more light-hearted scene (at first, anyway,) and is mostly conjecture on my part but I find it too amusing to leave out. That is the scene in which Kix is checking himself out in the mirror at 79’s. I do not think this is indicative of Kix being conceited about his looks—rather, I think it’s indicative of something else entirely in light of how he also talks in this scene. When he realizes someone else walks in, he talks with a deeper tone that I can only describe as Kix trying to present himself as being cool and mysterious. All the while he’s nonchalantly brushing his shoulders off. It’s so funny to me, especially when he realizes it’s Fives who just walked in, and immediately he tone switches to his typical inflection—and his mannerisms return to the typical ones we’ve seen of him. (Yes, I also think Kix had the haircut he does because he tries to present himself as cooler than he actually is, I imagine he grew embarrassed by this insistence given he grows it out later on—Kix is a dork, I said what I said.) 3. And yes, Kix immediately jumping to concern, before offering his help to Fives—even if his duty would insist that he turn Fives in because of the attempted assassination—I think, this is because Kix fixates on Fives’ distress, and he focuses on how to alleviate that stress, so even as it’s clear he’s confused by what Fives has gotten himself into, Kix still offers his help, and gives it freely in getting Fives in direct contact with Anakin and Rex at his behest. It’s a strong moment for his character, and his face when he asks what he can do to help… it’s so earnest. He’s loyal to his brothers.

And finally, there is the Echo arc of season 7, (S07:01 - S07:04):

1. When their gunship gets shot down, Kix is the first to notice that Cody was injured in the wreck and is trapped; I put this down to Kix being attentive and keeping track of the head count of the party he’s with, something done because he is the team medic and he is responsible for the well being of those around him first and foremost. 2. Then there is the scene at the campfire, which, firstly shows the bond Jesse and Kix have given the ease of banter between them and the comfort between them in their interactions. Secondly, I find it interesting how when Wrecker strangles Jesse, while Rex resorts to more direct action (trying to pull Wrecker by his collar,) Kix kind of just hovers, it’s a pretty… non-violent action when Rex and Jesse both jump to the defensive with the batch (Rex, even more directly, later on, when he actually punches Crosshair.) Similarly, even when Crosshair shoves Kix away, Kix shoves back before getting stuck in a headlock, and even after getting out of the headlock, at most he puts his hands on Crosshair to keep shoving him away. Generally, Kix is a lot less confrontational compared to either Jesse and Rex are in regards to the batch—which, circles around to my point of Kix not being as assertive, neither will he be overly aggressive towards allies. (This may be extrapolated as Kix refusing to take more direction action against another clone, given Umbara. But, that’s just extrapolation; a theory, a musing on motives.) 3. (Also yes I am aware that Kix makes jabs about the batch and I mostly construe this to be that Kix can be judgmental about others when he’s skeptical of them, I have my reasons as to why I’m not putting a lot of weight on this but it’s tied to a critique of the arc’s writing, which is not what this is about.)

In summation, Kix is shown, repeatedly, to be someone whose kind and helpful—what matters most to him is the care and well being of his brothers. He’s earnest in that care, and he’s got a softness that underscores a lot of his mannerisms and speech. He does his best to hold himself together for the sake of his brothers. He gets frustrated and breaks down in the face of mounting casualties and an inability to help his brothers. He’s respectful and professional in how he conducts himself as a medic, and even if he pulls rank, he’s firm but kind about it—he expresses patience in how he handles those under his care. Additionally, and in my own conjecture of his character, Kix tries to present himself as cooler than he actually is, suggesting a level of dorky insecurity to him. He’s also shown to lash out and make barbed comments when he’s incredibly stressed, and Kix carries judgment towards others when he’s skeptical of them.

What Kix is not is a hard ass medic whose sick of everyone’s shit, who berates and scolds his patients relentlessly—complaining about how they make his job harder. He is not quick to anger nor does he easily take his frustrations out on those around him—especially those under his care. He does not constantly throw his rank around to get those under his care to do what he wants.

It is a far cry from Kix’s character, and I think it’s a damn shame Kix’s actual character gets ignored in favor in fanon, because honestly, Kix as he is in canon is incredibly interesting—carrying a host of traits that can be explored and examined in their own right.

(Also, in quick references, I’ve narrowed down two videos that compiled Kix’s screen time across TCW, this one which clocks at ~14 minutes, and the second one with clocks in at ~17 minutes.)

#help I'm star wars posting #Clone Medic Kix #Star Wars #Fandom Stuff #Long Post #Space's Fandom Stuff #do I need a meta tag now #technically? #Fandom Salt #Fandom Nonsense

[mistle10]

Character: Scaramouche x fem afab reader

Rating: 🔞🔞🔞

Summary: "Scaramouche is a surprisingly gentle lover."

A/N: Everyone on tumblr is like "oh he fucks so hard you'll end up bruised and battered" and I'm like NO.

Word count: 1.3k

Fic under the cut!

Simply put it, Scaramouche is a surprisingly gentle lover. If you're his, truly his, then that stubborn demeanor would dissolve in your presence. Of course, he could fuck you rougher on occasion, but he could never hurt you, not even if you begged and pleaded. Gentle touches during the day turn into more intimate caresses as the false sky fades into starlight, and another intimate encounter begins.

His eyes, normally sharp, are soft when he looks at you, and he takes his time undressing the both of you. His lips against yours sends a jolt of electricity down your spine, eliciting a soft whine from you. The lights are dim, nothing but a few candles illuminating your shared space. The soft glow of the light against his pale skin makes him seem even more ethereal than he already is, and your heart skips a beat.

Scara runs his hands down your sides, the spider cracks on his palms just barely tactile on your skin. His kisses are firm but gentle, a stark contrast to his usual demeanor, and you let out a shaky breath as his hands begin to trace the curves of your body. With a practiced ease, his hands slide down to the curve of your ass, pulling your body more firmly against his own. He holds you firmly in his grasp, making your body tingle with desire as he holds your body against his own.

Scara dips you down onto the bed, leaving hot kisses down your body, over your chest, pausing only to lightly press more up and down your breasts, then your hips, and even further.

When he finally reaches your legs, delicate hands push your thighs apart, lingering for a few moments to knead the soft flesh there with his thumbs. Next, a thumb brushes down your lower lips, feeling the moisture that he caused.

Then, he looks up at you.

"Eager now, are we?" He teases, an expression more akin to a dorky grin than any malicious smirk he's shown in the past.

You bite your lip, chest rising and falling as his tongue darts out of his mouth, licking at your folds with almost a teasing slowness at first. He makes a more direct pass at your clit with his tongue, bringing a soft moan from your lips. Despite his lack of bodily moisture as a doll, the wetness from your arousal is always more than enough for him to pleasure you without issue. He would breath through his nose, his breath fluttering over you and causing little shivers with each exhale.

As his tongue licks and sucks your clit, he inserts two of his slender fingers into your core. Your legs quiver, and you let out a strangled groan, nails digging into the sheets beneath you.

A weak, yet nubile "Scaraー" passes your lips, halfway between a moan and a whine, and he groans lowly, the vibrations of his voice sending a jolt of pleasure through you. The pleasure begins to mount, and you let out a weak sound, almost a whimper, as his ministrations continue. He sucks your clit harder, pushing you over the edge. Your back arches, toes curl, and a high, breathy whine leaves your mouth, muffled by your hand. He always knows exactly how to get you breathless and desperate for him. This happens to be one of his favorite ways. Your walls clench around his fingers, and he pulls them from your core, giving your clit one last suck before pulling away, a string of your own arousal connecting to his lip for a moment.

He wipes the back of his hand across his mouth, letting out a pleased hum as you begin to calm down. He crawls up the length of your body, settling on top of you and pushing your legs apart once again. You can feel his cock, warm and hard, resting against your inner thigh. You whimper, eyes fluttering closed, as you feel his tip at your entrance. Oh, how you missed this. His cock, the sensation of it inside you...you missed it. You craved it, and the slow, firm press of him inside you is a sweet ache.

He bottoms out in you with ease. He's not too big, just big enough to avoid your cervix and brush against all of your sensitive spots inside. It feels good, feeling full again. He holds himself there for a moment, a soft sound leaving him as he does so. He rests his head on your shoulder, taking in the feeling of you as he waits for you to adjust.

It suddenly occurrs to you how little you'd said to each other. But the two of you don't exactly need to talk to each other, not really. You could express everything you needed without words.

Caressing your hips, he gazes over your body for a few moments before bringing those blue eyes back up to meet yours.

"My dear, won't you say it for me?" He smirks a bit, "please."

A weak, yet loving, "I love you" passes your lips, and his lips meet yours with a gentle passion. He grabs your wrists, wrapping your arms around him, and settles more closely on top of you, lavishing your neck with sweet kisses.

Your warm body makes him feel safe, in fact, he's never felt safer than in your arms. As someone so proud, he could never admit that he was fragile, too, but the show of vulnerability he often gave to you was admission enough.

As moans spill from your lips, he drinks them all up, wanting more. His hips move more eagerly inside of you, and he just wants you to feel good.

"Ohーmy dear," he groans, voice strained, "it's...you're...nng." He falters, losing his words momentarily as his pace increases. He lifts himself up slightly to watch himself thrust inside you, his cock covered in your arousal. He's entranced by the sight of it. The way your core squeezes around him as he moves inside of you, the way the light from the candles shines off his pale skin. He never wanted to leave your arms again, his body and mind needed this. This feeling of belonging in the arms of someone who loved him unconditionally.

You feel his thrusts begin to become more uneven, and you can feel him throbbing inside you, his hands' gentle grip on your hips becoming a bit tighter.

"Cum for me, my dear," he murmurs, leaning back down and capturing your lips in another passionate kiss. He wants nothing more than for the two of you to finish together.

You nod your head, biting your lip, as you wrap your arms around him tightly.

He releases inside you with a quiet, trembling gasp, and you shudder, your walls clenching around him, milking him of every last drop he has to offer. He presses himself into your shoulder, and his warm body tenses against yours, holding you tightly. It takes him a few moments to calm down, but as he pulls back, he smiles, a warm, dorky expression.

He's a bit more reserved in this form, a softer, kinder side of him that was reserved for you and you only. Of course, you saw this expression much more frequently than his usual cocky attitude. You wouldn't have minded either way, because both versions of Scaramouche were yours.

After sex, the two of you always went back to your usual routine. He brings you close to his body, holding you tightly, and there's nowhere you've ever felt safer.

#genshin smut #scara x y/n #scaramouche x reader #genshin impact smut #not proofread

[suguruisms]

𝗿𝗮𝗶𝗻𝘆 𝗱𝗮𝘆

pairing: bf!getou suguru x fem!reader

warnings: smut, explicit content no minors allowed. no real plot, pussy eating & sex.

a/n: this is my first piece for tumblr dot com so i hope u guys enjoy it, let me know what you think by sending an ask! i can't wait to write my other ideas for other characters!

summary: suguru loves spending his rainy days in bed with you, buried between your legs.

Suguru’s favorite thing to do on a rainy day is to lie down in bed. The stormy, gloomy sky makes the room dark and cold, the patter of the rain against the glass windows brings comfort to his mind, soothing and relaxing. He likes feeling his legs tangled in the sheets, the soft comforter drapes over his body, and his hair splayed against the bed. But his favorite thing is seeing you beside him. 

He loves the way your sleep shirt rises a little high on your back and exposes your hip bone, and the fabric of your underwear rests against the curve of your ass. Your eyes, and how they gaze at him with a tired yet loving gaze that you always cast at your boyfriend. Your hair against the soft white pillowcase, the way the blankets hug your figure. He can hardly resist you as it is, but seeing you so utterly content to just be in his company? His mouth goes dry, and his brain can’t focus on a single other thought. 

“Suguru,” you mumble, making him refocus, your voice soft against the sound of the storm outside.

“Yeah baby,” he says, lazily bringing a hand to your waist to pull you in close. 

He hears your muffled giggles as he drags you in and his arms drape over you as he adjusts to be over top of you. His head drops to your neck, and he kisses your warm skin slowly. 

“I was going to ask you if you’re alright but you answered that,” you reply with a sigh of contentment, tilting your head to let Suguru have access.

Suguru loves that you always give him access to what he wants. He always makes sure that you’re okay with what he wants to do, but he likes that you always want him. He always wants you. It works out perfectly. He hums in acknowledgment and his teeth gently nip on your skin before sucking over it, just to leave a little mark. He enjoys how you sigh, and how your fingers thread through his messy black hair. He can feel your cold fingertips delicately brush against the warm skin of his broad shoulders. 

His brown eyes gaze into yours, his eyes half-lidded, and he offers a lazy smile. He leans down to kiss you. His kiss is soft, his lips are always soft. He always kisses slowly, as if trying to memorize the exact feel of your lips against his, even if you’ve both been kissing for a while. He likes the way your lips move against one another, the way your hands cup his cheeks to keep him in place there. His hand holds your jaw as his tongue swipes against your bottom lip and you part them, allowing him to have entrance into your mouth. 

His tongue isn’t shy, it never is, even if his kisses are deep and slow, Suguru knows how to get to business and kiss you breathlessly. His hand moves from your jaw down towards your chest where he mumbles, “Can I?” and only when you nod does he move his hand down to squeeze your breast. He enjoys your soft whimper against his mouth as he leans in to kiss you again, with a bit more passion and force behind this one in contrast to the one before. 

His thumb and index fingers are quick to find your nipple, pinching it playfully until you whimper and arch a little underneath him. Suguru smiles into the kiss, both his hands holding your breasts as he pinches and rubs your nipples over your shirt. Your whimpers muffle in his mouth, and when Suguru decides he wants to hear them, he breaks the kiss. His smile is smug as he gazes down at you, always the one to rile you up so quickly just by simple touches. 

“What do you need?” he asks, his tone gruff as he looks into your eyes. 

He loves seeing your lips part, cheeks flushed pink as you lie beneath him. He loves how his touch alone can work you up like this. Something as simple as playing with your nipples can do it for you. 

“You, please,” you whisper to him and your hands gently tug on his hair, something that always gets him going without fail. Today is no different. His eyes flutter shut for a moment as he holds back a grunt, but he keeps composure and opens his eyes. 

Suguru doesn’t make you beg, he only ever makes you beg when you piss him off or if he’s taking out his bad day on you. He moves down your body and grips your thighs. His hands squeeze them gently before he slides them on top of his shoulders. He feels your feet move to hook together by the ankles, your soft thighs rest against his cheeks and he swears he’s in paradise. He can smell your scent, his nose pressed right against your clothed pussy as he drags his tongue slowly against the fabric. He hears your moan, feels your fingers in his hair, he smiles to himself. 

His fingers move in between your legs and drag your panties to the side. He moans a little under his breath. It never fails to get him excited to see your wet cunt. He dips his tongue into the wetness, lapping it up on his tongue where he hears a faint whimper. 

“So sweet baby,” he says in a hoarse tone. He hears your soft plea for more, and when you sound so sweet, how can he not oblige?

He doesn’t waste time sucking on your clit, his fingers swipe up through your wetness to spread your pussy so he has more room. Your moans sound so pretty above him as he takes his time, swirling his tongue in slow circles to drag it out. His tongue flicks against it a few times, dragging his teeth against it as he does. He loves the way your fingers tug on his hair as you moan and whine for him. His tongue gradually picks up in speed with his tongue as his fingers rub against your folds, teasing your entrance with his finger. His eyes stuck on your squirming body as he continued. He can feel your thighs squeeze around his head as he sucks harder on your clit, dragging out so many sweet pleas, whines, and moans. 

He knows you’re close to an orgasm, he can feel it, and more than anything, he wants it all over his tongue and face. Suguru slides a finger inside your tight hole and slowly pumps it in and out. His tongue licks over your clit at a fast pace as he sucks against it as well. He pulls away for a breath, but even then he gives your clit small kisses before he dives back in. He curls and twists his finger inside you, making you cry out a moan of his name. 

“Close!” you cry out in the room and Suguru hums in acknowledgment. He doesn’t let up, though. His finger moves faster inside you to match the pace of how he swirled his tongue around your throbbing, puffy clit. 

“Ah! Suguru!” You cry out in a high-pitched moan and he feels your cum against his finger. He removes his finger, sucking it clean of your cream before he dives between your folds. His tongue prods your needy cunt, tasting your release as his nose nudges your clit, making you whimper in overstimulation. 

Suguru leans up though, his chin wet and his lips glistening from your pussy, and he grins. “You didn’t think I was done with you, right baby?” Suguru asks and he chuckles when you shake your head in response. 

Your eyes fall immediately to his cock, pressing against his boxers, begging to be freed. Your fingers make way to pull them down and watch as it springs out, and Suguru moans a little at the feeling. His cock is pretty. Long and girthy, curved in the middle and the head of it is in perfect proportion to the rest of his length. You sit up a little and your tongue licks a flat stripe against the head of his cock, cleaning the bead of pre-cum that glistens against the tip.

“Good girl,” Suguru praises, his hand moving to your hair and tugging your head back, “you can suck me off later baby, I need your pussy right now.” 

You lie down and your eyes meet his, his heated gaze meets your needy one. Suguru gently guides you down to your back, but he grabs you by the ankles and pulls you with him to the edge of the bed, making you squeak in surprise. 

Suguru stands now, pulling your legs to be flush against his chest as your ankles hook on his shoulders. His hands roam down your calves, down to your thighs, before settling on your mound. His thumb rubs your clit, and he watches as your body jolts with pleasure and your lips part in a moan. His lips part as well as he watches with a contented grunt emitting from him. His other hand settles against your pussy as he pushes a finger into your needy hole. 

He thrusts his finger in and out quickly before pushing in his middle finger, making them bend and scissor inside your walls. He can’t look away from your squirming body as moans pour from your mouth, and pleas to feel his cock inside you emit over and over from your lips. 

“Needy,” is all he says as he fucks you with his fingers diligently to prepare you for his cock. When he rubs your dripping hole with his ring finger, you whine out loudly.

“I-I can take it,” you plead, your voice needy and eager. Suguru feels a swell of pride. 

“Can you baby?” He asks as his fingers fuck into your cunt faster and he watches as your legs shake, his thumb still rubbing your clit in small circles.

“Ah- y-yes,” you manage out and nod confidently. He can see the way you look at him with so much confidence. He knows you’re an expert at taking his cock. He loves watching it bury in your needy cunt as he plows into you. 

Suguru takes his fingers out and moves his thumb away, letting you catch your breath as your legs tremble against his chest. He grips the base of his cock and drags the head of it against your pussy, rubbing it against your folds, letting your juices coat it as he moans softly. He teases your entrance by pushing just the tip in and moving it away, watching you whine out desperately just to feel his cock. 

“Suguru!” you exclaim when he does it a third time, making him laugh beneath his breath. 

“Sorry, sorry,” he says under his breath. 

His hands grab your thighs and use it as leverage to slowly push into your warm pussy. The moan he emits is guttural. He loves the way your pussy sucks him in, your warm walls clench around his cock as he reaches his hilt. The way your eyes flutter, lips part as you whine out for him, how your chest arches toward him, he’s obsessed with you and how you feel around him. He’d fuck you every day if he could just to see you take his cock. His hands move to your shirt to push it up to see your breasts and hard nipples as you adjust to him.

“M-move,” you say breathily, and Suguru doesn’t need much more encouragement.

Just like he kisses, he starts slowly, letting you get used to the feeling of his cock sliding in and out of you even though you both fuck regularly. He grits his teeth though as he does, fingers digging into your thigh as he drags his hips in languid thrusts. 

“So fucking tight, you’re always so tight,” he grits out.

His eyes flicker from your face as your moans fall from your lips, down to your breasts that move every time his hips thrust against your ass and the back of your thighs. Every sound you make spurs him on. He can feel your fingers curl around his wrists and squeeze as you moan his name softly. He loses his patience when he sees how good you look, and his hips build to a faster pace. 

Your breasts bounce in front of him as he looks down at them and his low moans are in harmony with your high-pitched ones. His balls slap against your ass with how fast and deep his thrusts are; the bed frame hits the wall with every thrust. He watches as you unfold beneath him, your legs shake as he holds your thighs tightly in place to make sure you don’t move from this position. Your eyes roll to the back of your head as you babble out moans of his name and ‘please!’ over and over. He isn’t even sure what you’re begging for, but he’s more than happy to give it to you.

He grunts as he fucks your wet cunt, moving his hands to your calves to spread your legs apart as his thrusts get a little harder. Your louder moans mask his moans and quick breaths. Your back arches as he fucks you, fast, deep, and hard. It feels like you can’t breathe at how good it feels. 

“Suguru,” you cry out as he continues his unrelenting pace. 

“Rub your clit,” he instructs in between harsh breaths and low groans. His dick was rubbing against it with each thrust, but he knows it’s not enough. He wants to see you squirt. He needs it.

Your fingers shakily make your way to your pussy and you rub your clit quickly, it makes you whine, and if it weren’t for Suguru holding you in place so tightly you would’ve squirmed away from his cock that pounds into your cunt. Your body is hot, your pussy is gushing with each thrust Suguru gives you, and you cry out desperately as you feel a white-hot bundle of pleasure builds within you.

“S-Suguru!” You cry out loudly before you cum, you squirt against your legs and a little on Suguru’s torso. 

Seeing your back arch, eyes roll in the back of your head, your legs shake, and seeing you squirt is Suguru’s undoing. He pulls out quickly and groans as he spills his cum against your stomach. The white cream settles on your skin as it comes out in ropes that spill out in jerk-like motions.

He takes a moment, rubbing your thighs soothingly as he kisses your calf. Suguru catches his breath, and it’s like the world comes back to him. The rain outside pours against the window, and the ceiling fan above you both whirs softly. 

“I’ll get a damp towel and clean you off,” Suguru says hoarsely and offers you a loving smile. Before he leaves, he adjusts you to lie flat on the bed so your legs don’t dangle off the edge of it. 

He’s only gone a moment before he comes back with a warm, damp hand towel and sits beside you. He wipes your stomach clean, then your legs, before his torso. He leans down to kiss your stomach, then up between the valley of your breasts before landing on your lips. 

“Love you,” he whispers to you. 

You smile sweetly, looking at him with tired, sweet eyes. 

“Love you too,” you whisper. 

He nestles back in bed beside you, holding you in his arms. Your favorite place to be curled up against your boyfriend, and you both take a nap with the rain to lull you to sleep.

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #suguru #getou #getou suguru #geto suguru #suguru getou #suguru geto #geto suguru smut #getou suguru smut #jjk smut #suguru smut #getou smut #getou suguru x reader #getou suguru x you #geto suguru x reader #geto suguru x you #suguru x reader #suguru x you #suguru getou smut #suguru geto smut #suguru geto x reader #suguru getou x reader #suguru geto x you #suguru getou x you #kai: suguru #jujutsu kaisen smut

[imababblekat]

A Rare Sight

Prompt: A silence has befallen the ninja turtle lair, and three brothers catch an unthinkable sight of their rugged sibling, Raphael!

~xXx~

Not a voice or sound of clanging weapons resounded within the lair, just the soft hum of technology echoing from an unoccupied lab and the whir of the sewers. In such strange quietness, the youngest of the ninja turtles who had just recently returned with a new box of pizza looked around inquisitively. Seeing two of his three brothers, Leo and Donnie, standing over the other behind one of the lair walls, he quickly walked over. “Hey! What are-mumph!” Mikey was quickly silence by two hands slapping over his mouth followed by aggressive shushing. Both brothers slowly lowered their hands, Mikey doing his best to talk in a quieted tone. “I know I’m the life of the party, but why are y’all being so quiet?!” Leo pointed toward his eyes and then out around the corner to where Donnie had returned his own intense gaze. Setting down the box of triple meat and cheese pizza on a nearby rail, Mikey crept forward and shoved himself under Leo who grunted slightly annoyed. It took all of the orange clad ninja turtle to keep himself from squealing at the sight that had his brothers so intrigued. In the common area of the lair, beneath the glow of warm fairy lights, sat Raphael and you huddled close together on the couch. Both were fast asleep, a stark contrast to how Mikey had seen you two before leaving to get pizza, each one in a loud banter about who was the best DC hero and why. The way you two were so close was absolutely adorable, your head rested on Raph’s shoulder, and the fierce turtles head rested atop yours. The boys were used to the serenity of your sleeping state, but to see their brother whose color matched his typical rage of character in such similarity was absolutely baffling. Not to mention the fact that he had even fallen asleep so close to another person! Raphael was not exactly known for outwardly expressing his closeness to others, that including his own brothers. “How long have they been like that?!”, Mikey all but excitedly shrieked, both his brothers shushing him once more. Turning his attention back to the two most likely unintentional snuggle bugs on the sofa, Donnie’s nose scrunched in thought. “Could not be for long. I stepped into the lab only a few minutes after you left, and I could still hear them arguing over the recent DC movies.”, he whispered out, much quieter than his ecstatic brother. Mikey sighed, resting his chin on a propped elbow and seemingly kicking back his feet like a high schooler in the mist of day dreaming. “Dudes, I bet they’re item. Yeah, they’re totally an item~.” Above the swooning turtle, Leo shook his head, the tails of his mask swaying ever so lightly. “I doubt it. Just last week I saw (y,n) adjust his bench seat to get back at him for mocking her height again. Raph couldn’t even squeeze his big head into the space between the seat and bar.” Before any of the trio could make another comment, a noise from the center of the room had them freeze in place. As soon as they realized it was just you yawning in your sleep, they had relaxed. Curious gazes watched as you shuffled in place, snuggling in closer to the outwardly brutish ninja turtle, who turn had adjusted as well for closer proximity. Seeing Raph be so soft with your smaller form as it cuddled closer into his side, was not a sight any of the brothers thought they’d witness. Even in his sleep, Raphael seemed know to be gentle with you beside him, and despite the foreign feeling of having someone so physically close, his subconscious had clearly wanted it. Regardless, the scene of seeing their typically short fused brother so at peace in the arms of someone they all held dear brought a warmth to their hearts. Knowing that someone as strong headed as Raph, someone who often threw up a tough guy front to hide the softness deep within, found and got to experience such a wonderous moment, was all that they could wish for. With a content smile for his the brother he often butted heads with, Leo stepped back from spot against the wall. “Come on. Let’s give them some-“ CLICK! The eyes of Leo and Donnie shot open in pure surprise and horror when they snapped their sharp gaze towards the loud noise, only to find Mikey holding a camera he seemingly pulled out of thin air. Cheeks heating up in embarrassment at not realizing how loud the device would be, Mikey awkwardly chuckled. “What, they’re sleeping! There’s no way they heard right? Right?!” As if to answer the mischievous youngsters question, a groggy and familiarly angry tone reverberated off the lairs wall. “MIKEY!!!” Said turtle yelped and turned to find his two other brothers having fled with haste, leaving him to deal with the furious approaching sounds of a now awakened Raphael, all the while you sat in the background still half asleep and very confused about all the kerfuffle.

~xXx~

#this was short but hope y'all enjoyed! #i love soft raph moments <3 #bayverse raphael x reader #raphael x reader #bayverse raphael #bayverse tmnt x reader #aged up tmnt #fluff #human reader #imababblekat’s writing

[buggysangel17]

The Bride of A Warlord

Summary: You have arrived to what you now call your new home, it was scary and confusing, but at least you have someone else to keep you company. Characters: Dracule Mihawk x Wife!Female Reader (Amihan). Perona Word Count: 1,198 Chapter Warnings:  Alternate Universe-Canon Divergence (I am still in episode 20 of OP Anime so please bear with me on the fucked up timeline of events here)

Masterlist | Series Masterlist || Send Me An Ask?

You were consumed by a cocktail of fear and excitement.

But that was only natural to feel in your current predicament. Taken from your home due to circumstance that was no longer in your control. You turned to what you now call your husband. Dracule Mihawk was a man not to be trifled with, one of the Seven Warlords and dubbed the Greatest Swordsman in the world.

“I will have your room prepared as soon as possible.” Mihawk spoke, interrupting you from your train of thoughts.

All you could do was nod. You were taken from your own home, miles away from what you had once been so familiar with, a place that you had deemed had become your own prison. Any form of freedom you would take, even if it means being under the circumstantial marriage with one Warlord such as Mihawk.

“Yes, Sir.” You nodded, having no right to complain or react negatively for a short wait.

Even without looking at him, you’ve noticed his sharp yellow eyes glued fall to you. Turning to looking up at him, you noticed his narrowed eyes, a frown that was something you had gotten so used to rest on his lips.

“You will call me by my name, I do not agree to have you calling me of anything else while under you are under my care.”

You gulped, but nodded your head in agreement. This man, as handsome as he was, still scared you. Having caught firsthand the destruction his sword could make to your entire island should his will make it.

“You are not here as my prisoner, you can freely explore the castle should you wish to do so. All I ask is you not to leave unless you tell me or have me to accompany you, is that understood?”

“Yes—Mihawk.” You responded quickly.

As you step off the grandiose boat onto the rocky shore of Kuraigana Island, your heard races with anticipation and uncertainty. The sea breeze carries the scent of salt and new adventure, but it’s the sight before you that leaves you breathless. Your new husband’s castle, looms high above, perched on a ragged cliff that seems to defy gravity.

The castle is a dark, imposing fortress, its jagged spires reaching towards the heavens like the fingers of a giant’s skeletal hands. The stone walls are as grey and foreboding as the thunderclouds that hover over the island. You can’t help but shudder at the stark contrast between the castle and the vibrant, tropical island that surrounds it.

Your arrival has not gone unnoticed. From the castle's towering parapets, you catch glimpses of shadowy figures watching your every move. As you start to climb the narrow, winding path that leads to the castle gates, your footsteps echo in the eerie silence.

The closer you get, the more details you can make out. The castle is adorned with intricate, Gothic architecture, with gargoyles leering down from the eaves. The windows are narrow and slit-like, like the eyes of a predator, and they seem to be keeping a watchful gaze on you. The walls are covered in ivy and moss, as if nature itself is trying to reclaim this imposing structure.

You can't help but feel a sense of unease as you approach the massive, iron-bound gates. The air feels heavy with centuries of history, and you can't shake the feeling that the castle holds secrets, both wondrous and sinister, within its ancient walls.

As the gates slowly creak open, revealing the cavernous darkness beyond, your heart pounds in your chest. You have entered a world unlike any you have ever known, a world of mystery and danger. And as you step across the threshold, you can't help but wonder what awaits you in this forbidding castle on Kuraigana Island.

As you step through the imposing gates of Mihawk's castle, your heart is still pounding with trepidation. The exterior of the castle had filled you with a sense of foreboding, but as you cross the threshold and enter the grand foyer, you are struck by a stark contrast.

The interior of the castle is a complete surprise. The space is bathed in warm, inviting light that spills from ornate chandeliers hanging from the high ceilings. Elaborate tapestries hang on the walls, depicting scenes of epic battles and exotic landscapes. The polished marble floors beneath your feet reflect the glow of the many candles that line the corridor leading deeper into the castle.

Your husband, Mihawk, takes your hand and leads you forward, his expression unreadable. His grip is reassuring, grounding you in this unexpected change of atmosphere. You exchange a glance with him, and for a moment, you both share a silent understanding of the paradoxical nature of the castle.

The air inside is fragrant with the scent of fresh flowers, and the walls are adorned with vibrant paintings and delicate porcelain vases filled with blossoms.

As you explore the interior of the castle, you discover cozy sitting rooms with plush sofas and grand dining halls set with opulent feasts. The contrast between the grim exterior and the opulent interior is almost surreal, and you can't help but marvel at the transformation.

Mihawk guides you to a balcony overlooking a breathtaking garden bathed in moonlight. The sight of it takes your breath away, and you realize that the castle holds a world of beauty and wonder that you could not have imagined.

As you stand together on the balcony, surrounded by the enchanting sights and sounds of the castle, you can't help but feel a glimmer of hope and excitement for the future that awaits you here, in this magical, enigmatic place.

It wasn’t your home, no, far from it, but with this new found freedom, all you could think of right now is what the world could possibly be able to give you now.

“You have a guest along? That’s surprising from you.”

You tensed, immediately finding yourself stepping closer to the man you now call your husband. Turning to the owner of the voice, the sight of a pink-haired girl over a decade younger than you had floated towards your direction with what you think were ghost accompanying her.

“Not a guest.” Mihawk explained his gaze was on you, you tensed as his hand had rested on the small of your back. “My wife.” He introduce without much of a hesitation in his tone.

“Wife?!” The girl gaped and was immediately all over you, questioning you and your life decisions and how much of a sour sport Mihawk was to her especially as he had left her all alone in the castle.

“You have a daughter?” You inquired.

“No, just an unwelcomed guest.” He explained earning the offense of the girl that you now learned was named Perona. “But she will keep you company for the instance that I will be out for a while.”

You nodded turning your attention to the package that came with now living in the same home, in the same castle, and in the same Island as your new husband. It was a chaos that you were slowly but surely coming to enjoy as time goes by.

#dracule mihawk smut #one piece #opla #mihawk x reader #dracule mihawk x reader #dracule mihawk x reader smut #one piece live action #one piece live action smut #opla mihawk #mihawk opla #opla mihawk smut #mihawk angst #mihawk fluff #mihawk #mihawk smut #dracule mihawk #one piece smut #opla smut #mihawk x reader smut #mihawk opla smut

[picaroroboto]

For the past couple days, I've been unfortunately cursed with thinking about Zenos yae Galvus. I don't even particularly like him - not that I dislike him either, Zenosfuckers you can put your scythes down - but it seems to me like a lot of the fandom either greatly misunderstands him, or doesn't even care to try to understand him, which from an objective standpoint as someone who cares deeply about writing in video games kind of pisses me off. But I'm more pissed about the fact that I'm apparently going to keep thinking about this issue until I actually write a character analysis of him.

Q: "But, what even is there to analyze with him? Isn't he all about wanting to fight the WoL and nothing else?"

Well, you wouldn't be wrong with saying that. That motivation is at the forefront of his character, and even if you look closer, everything about him comes back to either "violence" or "lack of understanding of others". But there are more meaningful sides to his deceptively simple character. That question of meaning is what I really want to look into - what does his character mean, what symbolic or thematic role does he play in this story?

Q: "Better question: why are you posting this on your art blog/Fate meta sideblog?"

Good question, with a stupid answer: I have all of 6 followers on my FF14 sideblog, and around 150 here. Let's go under the cut so they don't have to read a wall of text, unless they want to.

When you look at and compare FF14's villains, you can see a very clear change, no doubts thanks to the change in main writers. ARR Gaius and Thordan are more or less two-bit villains - Gaius's memeable iconic Praetorium speech gives us insight into how fascists try to justify themselves but little into Gaius's actual personality, while all Thordan gets as far as depth of character is an NPC in a sidequest remarking that he wasn't always a bad person and was probably doing what he thought best for his nation. Nidhogg is a little more understandable, since revenge is a relatable motivation to anyone who's been hurt by others. In Stormblood, Zenos and Yotsuyu are both presented as deserving of pity even as they do terrible things. Come Shadowbringers and Endwalker though, the story takes a greater interest on why villains like Emet-Selch and Elidibus do the things they do, and the player is allowed more options to try to understand them and see how similar they are to the WoL. Hell, Hermes and the Endsinger are barely "villains" at all, with the level of sympathy the story shows them.

What I'm getting to here is that Zenos, with half his arc in Stormblood and the rest in Endwalker, is sort of caught in the middle of this shift. He played the role of the rival character in Stormblood really well, but come Endwalker, he's standing on a stage full of heroes and villains with grand causes and deep motivations, as the guy whose sole motivation is fighting for pleasure.

It seems he's not unaware of this contrast himself - when Jullus confronts him for ruining Garlemald for no good reason, he retorts with "Would you be happier had I a good reason?" Zenos makes no attempt to justify his own actions and doesn't care that his reason seems incomprehensible and unforgivable to others. Yet in that same cutscene Alisaie hits him with the fact that if he keeps living solely for pleasure, he'll die alone. When next we see Zenos, he's alone at the Royal Menagerie waxing philosophical about what he really sought in the battle with the WoL.

See, what really motivates Zenos isn't just the thrill of battle - this guy has gotten Battle High and the joy of human connection confused. Really.

Even before he gets so perturbed by the idea of dying alone, there's other suggestions, like his proposal of friendship to the WoL when they fought in Stormblood, and then later his dying words in which he explains that he never understood others - at his core, he's just lonely. I know there's an official side story that tells it, but you don't need to know the exact details to glean that he had some sort of tragic backstory. Sad, but not a surprise, considering he's the prince of the Garlean Empire, raised to take the throne and continue the Empire's legacy of violence.

At his core, he's a very lonely person, but also a thing of violence, raised using violent methods for the purpose of causing more violence. Violence is how he lives and breathes - the only way he gets any sort of connection with others in a world of hurting and being hurt is the brief connection warriors dueling as equals can sometimes find. Don't deny that this sort of connection exists - FF14 is great at making fights that are both fun and tell a story. Hence, why he goes crazy for the WoL, but also refers to them as "friend". In their fights, he senses (or thinks he senses) similarity between him and them. Beneath all the madness is a pure, genuine joy in seeing the self reflected in the other...but he also instantly gets on the train to projection-town, population Zenos, and assumes the WoL is exactly like him, ignoring or failing to notice that they also fight for deeper meanings. The worst part is, he doesn't even notice that what he's actually seeking in fighting them is connection until Alisaie's aforementioned callout.

So he goes and angsts for a while, then turns into a dragon again and flies across the universe to help us kick the Endsinger's tail feathers, then issues his challenge for that duel he'd been longing for. But what's changed is that he starts with a question - "Such pleasures you sought for their own sake, and for no other reason, is that not so?". Dying after the duel, he's full of questions too: "Was your life a gift or a burden? Did you find fulfillment?" Alisaie's suggestion that he'd die alone actually spurred him to realize what he actually sought in the WoL, and now he's asking all these questions in an attempt to, for the first time in his life, genuinely connect with another human being.

The questions aren't important just because they're a sign of how Zenos has changed in Endwalker - they're actually the thematic heart of Endwalker! ARR may have had "Answers" as it's theme, but EW is the expac of questions. Namely the biggest question of all: What is the meaning of life? Different characters have different answers to that, leading to the grand-scale symbolic conflict being the Endsinger's despair - her belief that there is no meaning in life - versus whatever reasons the WoL chooses to live for, left, as always, up to player interpretation.

When you look deeper, Zenos isn't actually as out-of-place in the symbolic conflict as he first seems. His depressed worldview - that metaphor about drowning in a swamp again - seems to align with the Endsinger's view about life being meaningless. But he aids the WoL in defeating her. In that way he serves as part of the answer to her question about the meaning of life. He may have resented life at times, but he still found meaning in chasing pleasure. Not the strongest or most beautiful reason to deny oblivion, perhaps, but it did enable him to help the WoL triumph. I think of Zenos's philosophy as being connected to the concept of "Amor Fati"...largely because this quote explaining it sounds like something he'd say, or at least agree with on some level:

"and if our soul has trembled with happiness and sounded like a harp string just once, all eternity was needed to produce this one event—and in this single moment of affirmation all eternity was called good, redeemed, justified, and affirmed."

So he does have a meaningful role in Endwalker, as the "Amor Fati" against the Endsinger's "Memento Mori". I think that in this the story shows that his reason for living, while somewhat shallow, is not necessarily a morally wrong thing in and of itself (setting aside for a second all the people he hurt in his pursuit of that). It's just that, since it is a lonely pursuit that denies everything except for his target, it still feels empty. The core of the counterargument against the Endsinger's despair is that both pleasure and fulfillment are necessary to live a meaningful life in a meaningless universe, and that's why Zenos is here in Endwalker. Why he even exists in the story in the first place.

Even if you're one of the people who deeply hates Zenos...well, you probably wouldn't have read this whole thing if you did, but I still think it's important to read into characters you dislike, because every character in a story is written for a reason. Plus, trying to understand even their worst enemies is one of the WoL's key traits as of ShB and EW. With his last breaths, Zenos was trying to understand the WoL too - carrying this understanding of him with you as we move into our next adventures is the least you can do for your "friend".

#ff14 #ffxiv #zenos yae galvus #zenos viator galvus #endwalker #ffxiv meta #endwalker spoilers #meta posting on my art blog #god why did i spend my afternoon on this all this proves is that I need to be put in an English class again purely for enrichment purposes

[sanctus-ingenium]

WIPs of some of my drawings where i made a full little painting for the sketch to nail colours or values first. i thought it would be fun to do a Behind The Scenes and also show u how some drawings changed, what i kept and what i discarded and at what point i just started adding unplanned details

all these were done using a mixture of sai and procreate

more comments on The Process under the cut

eye of the otherworld is inspired by a real photo i took two weeks ago!

i soooo wanted to draw water that looked like this, weeds and all, so the original colours of that sketch were picked direct from the photo. but i wasn’t satisfied with it so i changed it using a gradient map (you can see it’s crunchy on the borders between colours). for the final, i re-painted everything again using the sketch colours as a guide so that i would not end up with the crunchy edges a gradient map will give u, and so that i could add in extra contrast over the top. the black swirl pattern in the final was an ad lib lol but i’m really happy with how it gives the impression of water or liquid even if it’s not realistic... i will try again to recreate something like this photo tho because i am obsessed. the birds were originally swans but the necks were driving me crazy i needed a bird with a shorter neck and grebes are associated with this location in canon so it was perfect. they have very funny feet. the last detail i added to this was the white flashes in their primary flight feathers (which do not occur in nature btw)

hanged man was an interesting one because it’s based on a sketch i made in 2020 when i first wrote this fun impalement scene

here is félix being impaled for the first time in 2020 by a rusted harpoon that essentially rips his human disguise off to reveal the black carapace underneath

for the coloured sketch in the photoset i re-lined this exact sketch in sai to update it to match my current lineart style, but as you can see i realised the pose itself needed work and not just a re-line so i completely redid it in procreate to exaggerate the pose and gestures. i went into this one already knowing exactly what bg colours i wanted so that was no issue but the hardest part was weirdly figuring out what he was going to be standing on. in canon he is standing on top of a very high wall and leaning back over a fatal drop. the black pencil lines in the clouds and the bird were ad libbed but i liked the idea of throwing the bird in as some extra symbol of freedom the likes of which you will not experience if you have been shot with a harpoon. the green was not working at all so the swap out to more purpley pink tones was last minute. i unified the different colours by using a colour-shifting brush (you’ll see that his gaiters are different colours - i didn’t hand pick those, the colour jitter did)

for Big Pascal... originally it was going to be a confrontation between the guy on the ground and pascal but i wasn’t feeling the standing pose and it ended up being... if not restful then at least maybe a little more benevolent than the shadow of colossus shit it was before. the white cracks in the sky were originally going to be black but it just didn’t work. a lot of people tag this one as some form of cowboy aesthetic which is funny to me. there’s no cowboys here

i do like the lens flare effect in the b&w thumbnail tbh and i think i kind of lost the low camera angle effect in the final

i drew a bonus comic of the two characters interacting during this scene (mostly the lil guy just trying to ignore what’s happening in the sky)

[burr-ell]

Putting Terms on the High Shelf: Main Character Syndrome

As I'm watching C2, one thing I've noticed about Caleb's various sidebars to talk to different people is that he's still very much involving them—the conversations reveal various different priorities not just for Caleb, but for the people he's talking with. Liam's RP is often geared toward encouraging character work out of the other players at the table; it's something you see with Vax early on, and it's very present with Caleb.

So I find the accusations and warnings of Liam having Main Character Syndrome, which started during C1 but really ramped up in C2, to be rather shallow. Look at the contrast between the tables during this:

and this:

In C1x27, Orion adds pressure to the cast's already-frayed nerves with him, compounded from previous incidents of bad behavior, by taking up several minutes of time purely to himself—his only interaction with anyone else at the table is to ask Keyleth for help with alchemy mechanics (fun fact, early Keyleth was into alchemy!). This included:

An attempt to buy 1500 mirrors to build a light array;

A request to his father to send in his home country's army to Whitestone; and

An attempt to combine a fog spell and a sleep spell after being told point blank that it was mechanically impossible

This was all very obviously an attempt to make himself the hero in what is clearly set up to be a Percy-centric arc. (Worth noting, for the record, is that up to this point Percy had actually had very little focus and largely kept himself in the background, while Tiberius had been in focus for most of the show's run up to that point.) Laura snarks that he's like the giant eagles in Lord of the Rings and can just do everything, and if you actually watch the clip that I've giffed above, Travis's tone is genuinely aggravated. This, by the way, is all after Tiberius was notably not present for Percy revealing his backstory to the rest of the party in episode 24; while everyone else voiced concerns for him and went down to his workshop to check on him, Tiberius largely ignored this and went off to do his own business.

That is a selfish player. That is selfish behavior and a clear example of someone who thinks the story should revolve around them. There are several reasons Orion was asked to leave, not just because he fudged his dice rolls.

C2x62 is a completely different story. None of the conversations Caleb has within that episode are just a way for Caleb to gain information; he's engaging with what the other people are doing. When he asks Nott and Jester about the letter they wrote to Astrid, he reveals a little about himself—something he is particularly reluctant to do with Jester—and they are given an opportunity to respond. His conversation with Beau gives time for both of them to check in on each other and where they're at and lets Beau give her own perspective on the politics of the Empire, the Cobalt Soul, and Xhorhas. The discussion with Fjord lets them both level with each other a little and does more work for Fjord's character, letting him open up about his insecurities and issues, than it does for Caleb's. Caleb is still initiating these conversations and he still gets something out of them, but both the players and the audience still get the benefit of the other characters pushing and pulling against that in response.

Like many terms that get thrown around in this circle ("player agency", "manipulating", "metagaming", "going dark", to name a few), Main Character Syndrome has been so misconstrued and warped to fit a heavily biased perspective as to be almost meaningless. Main Character Syndrome is not when a character initiates a lot of conversations, even if you personally don't like the conversations for whatever reason. Main Character Syndrome is not when a character chooses to take a risk or push a big red button, even if you personally don't like the choice for whatever reason. Main Character Syndrome is not when a character has an arc or aspect of lore heavily focused on them, even if you personally don't like the character for whatever reason. (Particularly considering that arc focus is entirely out of the player's control; Taliesin, Liam, and Laura did not in fact force Matt to focus a significant portion of each campaign's lore on Percy, Caleb, or Imogen's backstories respectively.)

Main Character Syndrome is specifically about player selfishness—it's a player inserting their character into scenes or roles where they do not logically belong in order to make them the center of the story, as we see with the example of Tiberius. The camaraderie at the current table versus what was going on back in 2015 does not suggest that anyone currently sees anyone else like that; everyone is laughing at the jokes made at someone's expense, and everyone is getting something to do. Your favorite character may not always be flashy or in focus all the time, but then again, you wouldn't want them to have Main Character Syndrome, would you?

#also some of yall don't get background vs foreground character arcs and it shows #critical role #cr meta #long post

[forgedsplendor]

Gojo Satoru: or, how the eyes are the windows into the soul.

everyone and their mothers have talked about the kfc breakup scene to hell and back, we've gotten a dozen and more think pieces about the episode on twitter and tumblr and wherever else, but I really needed to add my two cents because it's been on my mind ever since I watched the episode.

something fun I've noticed about mappa's adaption of jjk is the way they animate gojo's technique—specifically in relation to his eyes.

in season one, gojo's eyes were always animated very... otherworldly.

they're always glowing and sparkling in this weird, uncanny way, which is kind of the point: gojo is the six eyes, after all, and considering the anime's animated and colored medium compared to the original manga's black and white, paneled format, it's a good way to adapt and demonstrate gojo's powers in the way the manga cannot. it also serves to visually separate gojo from the rest of the characters; as the strongest, he is different from the rest.

however, when season two's teasers were first released, there's a particularly interesting detail...

... his actually normal looking eyes.

and, yeah! that makes sense. as much as gojo and geto's high school selves love to tout around the title of "the strongest", it's undeniable that compared to his twenty-eight year old self, this gojo is much weaker, incapable of holding up his technique indefinitely, and incapable of using red, hollow purple, his domain expansion, and reverse curse technique: all of which his adult self are using passively.

so, i had personally figured that these were the eyes of an unawakened gojo. that once he mastered reverse curse technique, his eyes would start to glow like his adult self. however... that was not the case! as we can see...

... they still glow! but only when he was using his technique. once he puts it down...

... the glowing fades as well.

especially in these last few screenshots, mappa establishes the difference between "invulnerable" ( untouchable, literally, with his infinity technique up ) gojo and "vulnerable" ( infinity down, so things can now touch him ) gojo, both literally and mentally. ( let's put a pin in that. ) after geto's reassurance gojo physically lets down his defences of his technique, and thinks that that they're safe... leading to toji taking advantage of that naïveté, and the rest is history.

it's important to note both, as it puts his adult self into a new context: we know that after coming back from the dead, gojo's mastery of reverse curse technique allows him to use his infinity indefinitely without frying his brain.

it's funny, because this parallels his way of coping, as we see here:

curse technique reversal: red. the opposite to blue's attract, it instead repels.

after going through the traumatic events of hidden inventory, gojo... feels nothing. he pushes away these feelings, numbing himself to them instead.

he activates his infinity...

... and becomes untouchable. or, in other words...

... invulnerable. ( physically and emotionally. )

at the beginning of episode five, we don't get very many close shots of gojo's eyes, but he is in the middle of demonstrating his new grasp of infinity; in contrast to geto's spiral, the main focus of the episode and premature death as a whole, we get shots of gojo's back, his gaze obstructed by his spectacles, his face obscured entirely...

... or simply just far away.

to be fair, this all is in geto's point of view, and is used specifically to higlight the canyon that's opened up between the two, but the visual language is the same. gojo is untouchable.

well. up until...

though it's hard to see the state of his eyes with his spectacles in the way. but this is very quickly remedied just a few minutes later.

... his eyes are not glowing.

infinity is not activiated. his technique is down. gojo satoru is vulnerable. literally, in the sense that his technique is not in use, because he is dealing with a friend and not an enemy user, and mentally, because he is angry and upset and horrified and in shock in a way he was not with amanai's death.

as we know, gojo is not one to react emotionally. when kuroi was kidnapped, he did not worry: simply thought of another solution. when toji ambushed them, he did not panic: simply asked geto to complete the mission as he stayed behind to fight him off.

however, with geto's defection...

he yells, makes himself bleed.

when amanai died, he'd said he felt nothing. he'd floated in the air, weightless, marveling at the beauty of the world above and around him.

with geto's defection...

while nakamura's voice acting and the incredible animated character acting was more than enough to get his anguish across, using the tells of gojo's technique as well was the icing on the cake.

the eyes are the windows to the soul, after all, and in this moment, intentionally or not, his were blown wide open as his world crumpled apart.

#jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru #gojou satoru #satoru gojo #satoru gojou #meta #satosugu #stsg #erm. first time im doing this. LOL #jjk meta #jjk #arte rambles

[word-wytch]

Don't Stand So Close To Me

Eddie x Teacher!Reader

Chapter 1/? 3.5k Series Masterlist

✏︎ Summary: Forced to move back home to Hawkins after your fiancé cheats on you, you begin to fall in love again with an audacious 20 year old metalhead, only there’s one problem — he’s still in high school and you’re his English teacher.

While you struggle starting over in a place you never thought you would return, Eddie struggles feeling stuck in a place he can’t manage to leave — until you offer to help him.

Of all the lessons learned, the most important are the ones you teach each other.

✏︎ Series CW: forbidden romance, slow burn, perv!eddie, smut (18+ mdni), true love, internal conflict, student-teacher relationship, 10 year age gap, mutual pining, sexual tension, emotions, drama, angst, character development, happy ending :)

A/N: I've poured my heart and soul into this one.

Fourth period English was the only class that Eddie Munson could seem to pay attention in, though not exactly to the lessons. 

He propped his cheek against his knuckles as he watched you from the back of the classroom.

“See, everything is filtered through Holden’s limited first person narration, so we get really pure insight into how he sees the world, but we also have to take it with a grain of salt,” you said, delicate heels clicking against the tile floor as you paced back and forth. “We see what he pays attention to, and therefore what we ought to pay attention to as readers.”

Eddie’s eyes traced the curve of your waist, over the back of your tweed pencil skirt as you turned to place the chalk back on the ledge at the bottom of the board. It was hugging you in all the right places, as it did every time you wore it. His favorite.

“Alright let’s break out the quotes and notes assignment from chapter ten. Who would like to share their thoughts on a quote with the class?” 

Your eyes scanned the room. Students shifted in their chairs in an awkward silence before a hand shot up in the front row. 

“Nancy,” you smiled and gestured to her, “Take the floor.” 

“Ok so one of the quotes I picked out was where he says ‘I damn near gave my kid sister Phoebe a buzz, though. I certainly felt like talking to her on the phone. Someone with sense and all.’ I think it’s really interesting that he says that she has sense,” said Nancy.

Eddie barely registered a word of what Nancy said. He was too transfixed on your shirt, the way the fabric parted at the buttons when you leaned in just the right way. Sometimes if he was lucky he could catch a flash of skin, a glimpse of delicate lace from your bra. It almost made him wish he would have picked a seat closer to the front of the class. 

Nancy continued. “Right now he’s surrounded by very mature things at the hotel that he’s trying to make sense of and has really negative opinions about. He keeps thinking of his little sister though, and that’s always positive, so that’s in contrast to the rest of what’s going on.”

“Thank you, Nancy, that’s exactly right. A juxtaposition, very perceptive of you.”

Eddie shifted in his seat, feeling his pants start to tighten. 

“Does anyone else have a quote they’d like to share their thoughts on with the class?”

Chairs creaked, a few legs scooted loudly against the floor in the restless silence. A sniffle.

“Come on, Nancy can’t carry this entire class.” You tapped your fingers on the desk behind you. “Well, I know she could but I’m not going to let her,” you said, giving her a little wink.

Still silence. 

“Alright, fine.” You glanced around at the rows of averted eyes until yours settled on the young man in the leather jacket seated at the very back far right corner of the classroom. “Eddie,” you said with a gentle smile. 

His dark eyes shot up, face flushing. 

“Do you have any thoughts on what you read in chapter ten last night?”

Eddie licked his lips, casting his eyes downward in thought. “I uh,” his mouth was like cotton, “No I don’t really think I… understood the chapter,” he said, giving a sheepish grin. The soft pout of disappointment on your pretty lips made his stomach drop.

“I don’t think he can even read the chapter,” muttered the blonde athlete in the seat next to him.  

“Jason,” you began, but Eddie didn’t miss a beat.

“I don’t think you can even read your girlfriend,” he said, to which the class awakened audibly.

Jason shot daggers at Eddie. “Why don’t you quit talking to her and find a girlfriend closer to your  age, huh? There’s plenty at the senior home across the street.”

The class erupted in laughter.

“Stop it, both of you!” you shouted over the din. “The next person to make another sound has detention,” you said sternly. The class grew quiet again, allowing space for your voice to soften. “Eddie, please see me after class.”

“Oooh,” mocked Jason as he sat back and laughed.

“Jason, detention.”

“What? No!”

“I told you, the next person to speak has detention. I don’t make idle threats.”

Eddie’s lips curled into a satisfied grin as he watched you command the room.

“Please,” Jason begged,  “It’s the last practice before the game tomorrow.”

“No. You can use your time in detention to work on practicing some self control.”

Jason huffed and shot Eddie another glare but Eddie’s eyes were fixed on his desk, teeth sinking into his bottom lip as his face contorted. It took all of his strength to bite back a laugh.

You sighed and leaned back on your desk at the front of the classroom. “Now then,” you started, composing yourself, “I’ll be very curious to read all of your assigned journal entries from this chapter, since clearly so many of you have something to say.”

Chairs shifted. A cough.

“Alright, pass them forward,” you said, gesturing to the class. 

The room was filled with the sound of sheets being torn from notebooks, binders opening, paper shuffling. The students passed the pages forward up the four rows and you walked by to collect them.

“Why don’t we spend the last fifteen minutes of class silently reading the book, hm? Then maybe tomorrow we might have something to talk about.”

You returned to sit at your desk with the papers as the students opened up their books. 

Eddie dug his beat up copy of The Catcher in the Rye out of the mess of his backpack. The red, soft cover spine was beginning to peel away from abuse.

He opened it up to a random page and began to gloss over the words but none of them registered. His mind was too full of other images — the arch of your back, the way you toyed at your lips with your finger in thought, of what you would look like bent over that desk of yours with him on top of you.

Fifteen minutes passed like this. The bell rang. 

Eddie waited in his seat as the other students filed out of the classroom, turning to bury the book in his backpack in an effort to avoid Jason, but it didn’t matter.

“Watch it, freak. I mean it, I’ve got my eyes on you,” said Jason, to which Eddie simply raised his eyebrows in mock fear.

After the last student left, Eddie slowly approached you, dragging his feet a little as he walked. 

You swiped the last of the chalk from the board with the eraser, leaving a small cloud of dust as you turned to face him. 

“Sorry for the outburst today.” The chain on his wrist rattled as he brought a hand to his chest, “I meant no disrespect,” he said earnestly. “Well, I did to Jason, but never to you.”

You returned a soft smile, “Thanks, I appreciate the apology even though I can see that you weren’t exactly the instigator.” 

“Yeah, well, Jason, like any basic primate, seems to think that any male who comes within three feet of his mate is a threat.”

A snort escaped you. Basic primate.  

Eddie’s eyes crinkled, his smile contagious. “Besides, Chrissy’s the one who came over to talk to me anyway.”  

You sighed and shook your head, not really knowing what to say.

“Sorry, I know, I’ll stop.”

You gave him a gracious look and took a deep breath to compose yourself, “Eddie,” you started.

His mouth curved ever so slightly as he relished in the way his name rolled off your tongue.

“We’ve been in class for about a month now,” you began, “You haven’t turned in an assignment in the last two weeks.”

Eddie scratched the back of his head, “Yeah, uh, sorry about that.”

“Now I might be new to teaching here, but I know this isn’t your first time in this class, nor your second. Clearly there must be some part of you that wants to graduate, or else you would have just dropped out two years ago, right?” you asked, searching his eyes. “You don’t strike me as the sort of person who does anything they don’t want to do.”

Eddie smirked, “It’s only been a month and you already know me so well, miss.”

There was something about the way that he said it that brought a heat to your cheeks. You tucked your hair behind your ear in an attempt to hide it. “Well, what do you think we can do about this little conundrum then? I don’t want to see you fail.” 

“I dunno, maybe I just… need a little help?” he said sheepishly.  

You hummed, bringing a curved finger to your lips in thought. “I want to help you, but you have to be willing to put in some effort.”

“I know, I’ve been totally slacking. That’s on me. I can change that,” he said assuredly, “I promise.”

You smiled softly at his earnestness. “If you’re willing to put in the effort, I would be open to tutoring you. I have some time after school today if you want to stop by my classroom, we can come up with a game plan then.”

Eddie’s dark eyes widened at the suggestion, “I’d appreciate that very much, miss.”

You gave a nod, “Sure thing. I’ll see you after school then. I’ll be here.”

 “See ya later,” he said, grabbing his well worn backpack and slinging it over his shoulder. “Oh, and,” he turned back toward you, closing the distance between you even further. His eyes lingered over your lips for a moment before meeting your gaze again, “Thank you.”

“Of course,” you half whispered.

You turned toward your desk to gather the papers in as neat a pile as you could manage with the frayed edges left by spiral notebooks and placed them in your fourth period grading folder. The bell rang out again through the halls signaling lunch period. You grabbed your purse from under your desk and closed the classroom door behind you. 

Walking through the halls of Hawkins High was like a strange recurring dream. Same drop ceiling, same tile floor. Same weird smell when you walked past the science room. The same cliques too — the jocks, the burnouts, the party animals. This time with less bell bottoms and fringe, more leg warmers and hairspray. Surprisingly little had changed. 

You opened the door to the teacher’s lounge adjacent to the cafeteria. The wood paneled walls and old carpet were much less familiar to you than the hallways and classrooms you had spent countless hours in. It was strange to be on this side of things now.

“How’s your day going so far, sweetie?” chimed Ms. Click, putting the glass coffee pot back on the warmer. 

“Oh, you know, just another day of pulling teeth from my class. I swear Nancy Wheeler was the only one who read the chapter last night.”

A swoon swept across the room. “Oh Nancy, she really is such a bright star isn’t she?” Ms. Click remarked, her voice sweet like table sugar.  “You know she kind of reminds me of you when you were her age, doesn’t she, Doris?” 

Doris O’Donnell hummed and pursed her lips with a little nod.

“Well, smarts-wise anyway. Boy I try not to pick favorites but you certainly were a pleasure to have in class. If I’m remembering right you were valedictorian, weren’t you?” 

You offered a weak smile, “Yep, class of ’74.”

“’74? Goodness it hasn’t been that long has it? Gosh we sure are getting old aren’t we?” she called over to Ms. O’Donnell, the beads on her glasses chain rattling as she laughed, “Oh goodness I don’t mean you sweetie,” she said, putting her hand on yours reassuringly, “Heck if I didn’t know you I would have mistaken you for a student!”

“Thank you Ms. — I mean Peggy.” You grabbed a mug from the stack and turned it over in your hands. #1 Teacher. The matte apple and text printed on the front of it was fading with age. You filled it with coffee and and grabbed a small open milk carton sitting nearby, watching the cream swirl in the mug before taking a seat at one of the three round tables with plastic veneer to look like wood. 

“Gosh, you know I don’t mean to pry, but with such a pretty face to match the good head on your shoulders I would have thought you’d have a different last name by now.”

You stared into your coffee, feeling the ghost of the ring on your finger. “Ah, yeah. Almost, but… it didn’t work out.” 

“Oh — I’m sorry sweetie, I didn’t realize.”

“It’s um — it’s fine.”

“You know there’s plenty of lovely young bachelors at St. Michael’s, we’re having a potluck tonight if you want to come.” 

It took all of your strength to hide a visible grimace. Sounds delightful. “No thanks, I can’t. I’ve offered to tutor a student after school today.”

“Who might that be?” asked Ms. Click.

“Eddie Munson.” 

The whole room groaned. 

Ms. O’Donnell cackled from her corner, her toad-like face contorting. “Good luck. I’ve been stuck with him for the last three years. Honestly I don’t know why he’s still in school. He’s too old to be here anymore if you ask me.”

Your eyes shot up from your coffee. “Well, he must have some desire to be here or otherwise he wouldn’t be. Isn’t it our duty as teachers to help students achieve milestones?” 

Ms. O’Donnell huffed, “Oh yeah, he needs help alright. None that I can give him though.” 

“I can imagine that help would be a difficult thing to offer while putting him down.”

She snorted, “Sure sweetie. Say some magic words of encouragement, that’ll do the trick. Hey, pick me up a little fairy dust too while you’re at it.” 

Laughter rang out across the teachers lounge.

Your lips formed a hard line as you popped open the tupperware container which held your salad.  

“Keep us posted, will you? We’re all dying to know how it goes.”

______

You could hear the lockers slamming shut as the din in the hallway began to die down, students filtering out with the last bell of the day. You flipped through the pile of notebook papers on your desk, making small notes on each one with a green pen before setting them onto the neat pile in front of you. You never liked to use red, too harsh. 

There was a strange feeling in your stomach that you couldn’t seem to shake. You wondered if perhaps the chicken on your salad had sat in the fridge for a few days too many. 

Your eyes shot up from your papers as you heard footsteps at the door. “Hey, Eddie.”

Eddie flashed you a smile and a little wave as he dragged a chair from the far corner of the room to the empty spot across from you and plunked himself down in it.

“How are you?” you asked.

“Oh, you know, just another day in suburban paradise.”

You chuckled dryly, “Yeah, you could say that again.”

Eddie fiddled with his rings, twisting them as he looked at you with those big dark eyes.

“So first off, let’s talk about the book we’re reading in class. Have you read any of it?”

“I did read the first few chapters, kind of lost interest though, sorry,” he admitted.

You nodded curtly. “The Catcher in the Rye seems to be a fairly polarizing book from my experience. Some students love it, others hate it. I myself am in the former camp, of course. I tend to find that most of the people who don’t like it just don’t quite understand it.”

Eddie gave a short puff of air through his nose. “I could say the same thing about most of the shit I’m interested in.”  

You smiled sympathetically. “Is reading not really your thing?”

“Actually, contrary to the opinion of a certain primate, I do like to read.”

You raised your eyebrows, “Really? Like what?”

“Fantasy mostly, The Lord of the Rings, really anything Tolkien writes. I’ve read those books a few times through actually,” he said, “Probably kind of stupid to read the same thing over and over when you could be reading other things, but — ”

“No, that’s not stupid at all! I’ve read them more than once too, actually.” Your eyes were sparkling. “They’re some of my favorites.”

Eddie sat back in his chair, a smile playing on his lips. “You? A geek? Never would have guessed.”

You smirked at him. You couldn’t quite tell if he was being sarcastic or serious. “Actually incorporating world building with storytelling the way that Tolkien does is something I’ve always tried to emulate in my own writing.”

“Your own writing?” Eddie shifted in his chair, leaning in.

“Oh, yeah,” you said, glancing downward, wishing you could suck the words back into your mouth.  

“You write books?”

“I… don’t know if you could quite call them books if they aren’t published, or totally finished but — I do like to write stories.”

Eddie’s eyes were enormous. “Can I read them? Oh please let me read them.”

The heat was back in your cheeks again. “Oh jeez, I don’t know, it’s been ages since I’ve even looked at them myself.”

Eddie leaned in even more, his elbows on the desk. “Come on,” his smile was so disarming, “What,  you think I’m gonna like, judge you or something?”

You looked down at the papers you were grading and clicked the pen in your hand. “I don’t know, writing is such an oddly… personal thing.” 

“Please? You know I’m like the last person to be passing judgement on something like that, right?”

You sighed. His eyes were big, and wet, and pleading and you cursed yourself for being stirred by them. “Ok, how about this, if you can get your grades up, get at least a B in one of your classes, I’ll let you read one of my stories.”

Eddie sat back in his chair, grinning from ear to ear. “Challenge accepted.”

You tucked your hair behind your ear as you met his smile, “Whatever motivates you,” you said trying not to think too hard about the implications of the deal you just made. “You know, what I really want to talk about is the creative writing assignment you turned in the first week of class.”

He raised his eyebrows. “That bad, huh?”  

“No! Actually not bad at all. Actually quite good. You’re very creative, Eddie.”

“Oh is that what they’re calling it these days?” he deflected.

“No, I’m serious. You’ve written stories before, haven’t you?”

“Well, I am the dungeon master for my DnD club.”

You squinted your eyes curiously at him.

“Oh! So basically, I come up with the plot of the story that they players are going to play. I create the world essentially, lead them through the story. Well, to some extent. The monsters are all from a guidebook but the plot is all me.”

You raised your eyebrows. “Creativity and leadership.”

Eddie chuckled and scratched the back of his head to distract from the heat creeping across his cheeks. “Yeah, well, doesn’t change the fact that I’m 20 years old and still in high school.”

“About that,” you started, “Why do you want to graduate? Maybe if you can identify the reason for reaching your goal, then you can find the motivation to work toward it. Besides wanting to read my stories anyway, like a personal reason.”

Eddie sat back in his chair for a moment, biting his lip in thought. “Uhh, maybe to prove all the assholes in this god forsaken purgatory wrong?”

You laughed, probably a bit too hard. “I think that’s an excellent reason.”

Eddie beamed. “See, I knew I liked you.”

You coyly returned his smile and fidgeted with the pen in your hand again. “Let’s figure out a day or two when we can meet weekly. Got any after school conflicts?”

“My band plays at the Hideout Tuesday nights, Fridays I’ve got Hellfire Club.”

“How about Mondays and Wednesdays then? Does that work for you?”

“Sure does.”

“Great, and I can help you with other classes too, to the best of my ability anyway. Show you how best to study, how to approach papers and essays — that sort of stuff.”

“Looking forward to it,” he said softly.

 The feeling in your stomach was back again. “Me too.”

______

Thank you so much for reading, tons more to come! Comments and reblogs keep me going! 🙏

Tag list: @ooo-protean-ooo @toxicjayhoo @mermaidsandcats29 @jadequeen88 @msgexymunson @wroteclassicaly @inknopewetrust @storiesbyrhi @kissmyacdc @cherry-vamps @willgrahamspsycheval

There are some of you are on this list who I talked to about this months ago! Sorry it took me a while to get this up but I’ve spent the last month outlining this monstrosity. That’s mostly out of the way now so updates should be pretty regular, like once a week. 💕

#eddie munson #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #eddie x reader #my writing #Eddie munson older reader

[visualtaehyun]

DFF language notes and observations

This was originally just supposed to be a quick look at Non's meds in ep. 8 but then I finished watching the episode and felt compelled to rewatch the entire show 🫠 So might as well collect everything into one post!

Disclaimer: not a native Thai speaker, still learning 🙏

Por's mumblings (ep. 2)

กูขอโทษ อย่าเอาคืนกูเลย /guu khaaw thoht. yaa ao kheuun guu loei/ = "I'm sorry. Don't take revenge on me/Don't get back at me."

Time and ages

The present takes place in 2023, the past was three years ago, in 2020. Apart from White, the boys are all the same age according to the character overview below, which makes them all 19-20 years old in the present (while White is 18 and a freshman). In the past up to ep. 8, they would have been 16-17 years old and in 11th grade (ม. 5/3 -> Matthayom 5, class 3; ม. stands for มัธยม /mat tha yohm/ = secondary school).

Potty mouth Fluke

In the present, I swear every other word out of his mouth is a swear and the subs don't always make it obvious. An example of when he's speaking calmly in ep. 3:

เพราะคนอย่างไอ้เหี้ยท็อปอ่ะ แม่งคงไม่ปล่อยให้โอกาสแบบเนี่ยะหลุดมือไปง่ายๆละเว่ย /phraw khohn yaang ai hia Top a- maaeng khohng mai blaawy hai oh gaat baaep niia loot meuu bpai ngaai ngaai la woei/ = Because someone like that dipshit Top wouldn't fucking let an opportunity like this slip his hands so easily.

It's not like the others don't curse, they sure do lol, but Fluke does so even when not in a stressful situation, and it sticks out in contrast to White especially because the baby speaks so properly and politely to his phis.

Newspaper clipping (ep. 4)

เป็นแฟนไอ้ตี๋แต่มึงไม่รู้จักอาโจ้นะ /bpen faaen ai Tee dtaae meung mei ruu jak aa Joe na/ = You're Tee's boyfriend but don't know uncle Joe?

The headline reads: ตายปริศนา'เสี่ยโจ้'นายบ่อนใหญ่ /dtaai bprit sa naa 'siia Joe' naai baawn yai/ = Mysterious death of 'bigwig* Joe' the gambling magnate** ฟอกเงินบัญชีม้ากว่า 300 ล้าน /faawk ngern ban chee maa gwaa 300 laan/ = Laundered money with over 300 million mule accounts

* เสี่ย /siia/ = a rich guy who squanders money, a big spender in illicit businesses, mostly used for middle-aged men; it's used as a pronoun, hence why he's known as เสี่ยโจ้ /siia Joe/ and we hear his subordinates call him เสี่ย /siia/, often subbed as Boss; it's a term of Teochew origin that describes an aristocrat's son, originally ** นายบ่อนใหญ่ /naai baawn yai/ = big shot gambling den boss or the boss of a huge gambling den

The snippet on the right is another easter egg btw - 'Talking to Pond Krisda, director of "Man Suang", Thai filmmaking [...]' but I can't make out the rest in that box (the snippet above that, too, though some of it I can tell says tourists, free visa, 3 months).

Greasy

What the boys call Non is (ไอ้)เมือก /(ai) meuuak/ which is more like Slimy or Mucous, actually.

More news (ep. 6, 7, 8)

Gang of senior high teens accomplices to mule accounts

Police does 180: Senior high teens escape lawsuit for shady mule accounts

High school kid goes missing at same time as teacher in leaked clip Connected to case of shady mule account teens

Past injury?

Whoever actually leaked the clip has this pelvis x-ray saved that's labeled to be from that same year, 2563 aka 2020. The two files at the top look to be invoices.

Pronouns

When Phee goes to confront Non about the leaked clip, he's so furious that he switches from their usual เรา /rao/ (= I; informal) + calling each other by name instead of using a 2nd pers. pronoun to calling both Non and Keng มึง /meung/ (= you; impolite) and himself กู /guu/ (= I; impolite). For reference, กู/มึง /guu, meung/ are the same pronouns the entire friend group use with each other, as male friends in Thai shows often do. Non, as the new addition to the group, is the only one who uses เรา /rao/ + names, and Jin is the only who reciprocally uses these pronouns with him.

Non's meds

Lorazepam -> benzodiazepine; used for treating anxiety disorders, insomnia, seizures etc.

Sertraline -> antidepressant; used for treating clinical depression, PTSD, OCD, panic disorder, social anxiety disorder

Quetiapine -> antipsychotic; used for treating schizophrenia, bipolar disorder, clinical depression etc.

THC poster, and a goof

ที่แห่งนี้...ไม่ได้มีแค่พวกเรา /thee haaeng nee...mai dai mee khaae puuak rao/ = In this place... it's not just us.

I'm sure there's more going on than just Phee and Tan infiltrating the group to get evidence and avenge Non. Like, Keng was on the phone with his contact Joy when he got hit by that white truck of doom car so I wonder if she's gonna come into play again in the present and who she really is.

And just for fun: that half-heartedly covered poster behind Tee looks suspiciously like a movie about a young chocolatier that shouldn't be out for another 3 years, according to the time line of this show lol

#dead friend forever #dff the series #dead friend forever spoilers #dff spoilers #dff meta #but is it though?? i'm mostly just translating shit #local woman harps on about linguistics #spoiler tags just to be safe ✊

[bwompbomp]

Marry me?

intro - in a moment of your pyrexia, you mutter a string of words that makes his non-existent heart thud happily in his chest, or basically, you caught a fever, and you say some words accidentally in your feverish stupor. (or was it really accidental?)

character - wanderer x reader

genre - disgustingly sweet fluff

warnings - gn! reader, (1.5k wc) wanderer will be referred to as 'Sacchi', a nickname inspired by nahida's name (or nickname?) for wanderer, "Kasacchi", but he's also referred with an endearment 'darling', mild cursing??

home

releasing a groan, you scrunched your nose while facing the ceiling. the ache from your throat is becoming more evident as time passed by, its become to the point you can no longer avoid it. you tried to sigh, but a cough escaped out of your mouth instead, making you frown. you hate this. did you have to get sick at your hell week aka exam week??

but of course you just had to. albeit you tried to ignore it yesterday morning by continuing your study session, it seemed like your cold responded with a firm 'no' as it forced you to sleep the remaining day with a fever. your head was spinning, but all that was on your mind was how unprepared you were for the exams that were coming real soon. it was already dawn, and you forced yourself to get up with what little of a strength that was remaining in your system.

"....ugh.."

always comes with a challenge though. fighting back the urge to vomit, you support yourself using the walls of your room to at least get something to eat. carefully treading to the door, your nose catches a waft of something that made your stomach instantly churn. you blink.

wait, is he home? but.. i thought he was still busy with his reports?

twisting the doorknob open, your tired eyes fixate on the kitchen where you find your roommate (and your boyfriend, you think...) wearing a cute pink apron with a text saying 'kiss the cook!'. you blink at how adorable he looks and how the frilly apron suited him. he turns to the direction of the sound of the door opening, but you couldn't quite make out what was the expression that was sitting on his cute face. once he found you in your dishevelled state, you hear him click his tongue before walking towards your direction with a spatula on one hand. what a perfect malewife.

"hm. finally up? quite the sleepyhead you are in afternoons huh." he remarks, his indigo eyes glossing you over. you replied with a hum and immediately pulled him close to you in a hug. resting your head on his shoulder, you sighed, smiling woozily. his lack of temperature contrasting yours made it a lot comfier to snuggle him. on a normal occasion, he would've called you clingy while snuggling you close too, missing the way your warmth makes up for what he lacks, but he flinches instead. "wait, you're awfully hot today.."

"why thank you, darling ♡." you smiled sweetly at the sight of him rolling his eyes at your joke. putting a hand on your forehead, his face morphs into distaste at the temperature your body is in. he was gone for one day and a night and you had the nerve to get sick? he squished your cheeks using his hands, forcing you to face him and look at his displeased eyes, and for your arms to let go of his body. you whine, the comfort of hugging him and being hugged by him now disappearing.

"shush, your temperature is high and i don't like it." he squints his eyes on you, scrutinising the expression on your face and the state your body is in. leading you to sit on the couch, he asks your patience as he's cooking both of your dinners up, and a lot more other things you couldn't focus enough to hear since your head was spinning. you only hummed in response and grabbed a nearby pillow to rest your head on.

your nose still catching the whiff of a pleasant smell, your tired eyes slowly closed itself as you hear pots and pans clunking at the kitchen. you smiled to yourself, he was so cute. if you had the strength, you were definitely showering him with love with just how lovable he is despite his denials, compliments with how endearing his actions are for you, and kisses with how grateful you are for him. archons, he's just so...

slump.. thud!

"y/n...?" hearing a soft thump in the living area, wanderer heads to the couch with concern latching in his expression. "goodness, y/n?! you..." he trailed off, watching your body shivering from the cold and your expression wincing from the pain.. of falling to the floor. he frowns immediately, lifting your body to a more comfortable position on the couch, putting pillows on your nape and under your head to cushion you. he takes a second to massage your forehead and his frown eases up once he hears your satisfied sighs.

he smiles, his expression slowly changing to fondness as he grabs his blanket and drapes it on your sick form, hoping that your cold isn't that serious.

"hold on.." he rushes to the kitchen, quickly chopping the vegetables needed for the soup he was making. seeing you in that state triggers something in him, something he doesn't want to recall. he shakes his thoughts away, focusing on making the soup. he swiftly gets his job done, occasionally glancing over to your direction and checking if you're stupid enough to fall to the floor twice.

well, you are stupid. for becoming sick. and making him worried.

no, he's not worried, that's what he tells himself, but the way he quickly stirs the pot full of the soup and the way he glances at your form sleeping on the couch to check your condition proves him wrong. he knows it's stupid. humans are fragile, way too fragile for their own good, yet annoyingly stubborn in ways he can't even begin to understand.

unfortunately, his human is also one of the many who behaves like so, which never fails to crease his eyebrows and shake his head in disappointment. such is the way of idiocy, he muses.

'and yet you gave them your heart', he can hear that annoying archon comment with interest and faux mockery, to which he'd only reply with a scoff, 'have you forgotten my origins? i don't have that annoying, beating thing that humans have in their chest.'

but if he did, he thinks about giving you of what remains of it.

putting the fire off and serving a portion in a bowl, he serves the soup on the table, his eyes squinting in annoyance at how pinkish your nose is, and how your expression screams the pains of a sick person.

he knows it's stupid. it's just a stupid fever. caught by a stupid human who's stupid enough to not take care of themself, and the end result is now a stupid human who's sick.

but his earliest memories of the past involving humans who also fell into sickness aren't pleasant, not to mention how this stupid (and adorable) human is too close to his heart for him not to take care of. he sighs in mild annoyance, brushing the hair off of your forehead. "hey." he whispers, his tone softening slightly without him realising. "the food's ready."

you only groan weakly, the lights in the ceiling flaring at your vision once you peer your eyes open, not helping your condition. archons, your head hurts and you feel too hot. "hot..." you whisper with a rasped voice, leaning onto his shoulder as he slowly helps you up to a seated position. he murmurs an "i know.", reminding himself to get a bowl of water and a piece of cloth to wipe you with later.

after an ample amount of effort, you've managed to finish half-way through the bowl of soup. helping you drink your medicine with a glass of water, you sigh in content, releasing a small burp. he smirks at that, letting you rest your head on the crook of his neck. this stupid human.. letting down their guard on a former harbringer no less.. and if he decided he had had enough with your stupidity and took advantage of you right now??

"..sacchi.." your small voice takes him out of his thoughts and he instantly focuses on what you're attempting to say, leaning his head low to get closer. "..you.."

"..i love you.." you whisper, a small smile gracing your mouth. even if your voice is weak and small, you know he's listening. you just know he is. your heart beats in content, your fingers slightly tightening on his shirt.

"..wanna marry you... you're such.. a malewife.."

then you fall to your slumber completely, your whispers instead replaced with the rhythmic sound of your breaths. but for some reason, that's not what the wanderer hears. for some reason, he hears an annoying *thump, thump, thump* ringing on his ears, with his face turning hot.. too hot for his liking..

he scoffs quietly, eyebrows scrunched in what seems to be a displeased expression, but the way his mouth tugs up to form a small smile betrays him so. archons forbid someone giving him a mirror, for he himself doesn't even realise the stupid grin slowly forming on his mouth and the way his eyes softened at your words.

'i love you too, stupid human.'

he made damn sure you didn't hear that though. (you did.)

a/n: wrote this as an idea in my drafts & then i actually get sick w a fever. its like i manifested it, lmao

likes and reblogs are appreciated! always remember to eat and drink your shit, and i hope u had a good readd <33

#genshin wanderer #wanderer x y/n #wanderer x you #wanderer x reader #genshin fluff #wanderer fluff #genshin x reader #genshin x you #genshin x y/n #gender netural #genshin impact #genshin fanfic #wanderer #wanderer fanfic