Tumgik
#into the ‘yeah it’s so over-‘ stages of its survivability
tariah23 · 8 months
Text
I really do wonder just how many more years tumblr has in it
2 notes · View notes
dilatorywriting · 1 year
Text
Valentine's Day Special: Let Them Fight
GN!Reader x Malleus Draconia vs. Azul Ashengrotto vs. Vil Schoenheit Word Count: 5.3k
Summary: Who knew that in a world of magic, and mayhem, and outright villainy, that it'd be something as stupid as Valentine's Day that would push these idiots over the edge. Or, Malleus, Azul, and Vil go to war over some chocolates
A/N: This MC/Plot takes place in the Heroes vs Villains universe -- specifically Post-Staff's route, rather than any of our other lovely idiot husbands.
Tumblr media
There was always some sort of strange overlap of customs from your world to this one. Halloween seemed to have survived more or less intact (even if it was a bit more, uh, extreme than the subtle evening of giving out treats and dressing as ghosts that you remembered). Winter Holidays were still very much a Thing, even if all other connotations had been stripped from them. Moreover, it was like someone had taken your familiar Earthen calendar and just sort of… mirrored it. Distorted it a bit. Just a lil’ bit more chaos than would have been socially acceptable back home.
So when you made a sly little joke about stocking up on discount chocolates after the Valentine’s Day rush and no one laughed—not even a little chortle, or an irritable eyeroll—you initially thought it was maybe to do with the irrationality of Sam’s Shop ever having a sale to begin with. You had not assumed that, you know, there was no Valentine’s Day at all.
“It’s an important holiday, then? Where you’re from?” Azul mused, busy scribbling endless, chicken scratch, notes in the margins of some form that was probably very important.
“I mean, not really,” you frowned, tossing your Mostro-Branded apron onto its hook. “Maybe. Yes? I don’t really know, actually.”
He hummed and moved to push his glasses back up the bridge of his nose. “Well, whatever it is, I’m always looking for new events to host at the Lounge. What exactly is it?”
“It’s a sort of special day for couples. Romance. Lovey-dovey nonsense,” you shrugged, and watched Azul’s finger slip off the slick metal frame of his glasses and nearly take his eye out. You waved off his obvious disgust with a dramatic sigh (I mean, why else would he be so stiff and red?). “Yeah, yeah. I know. It’s ridiculous.”
“I—I never said that!” he spluttered, and then paused to cough into his fist and clear his throat. “It just—I just wasn’t expecting something like that to…”
“Exist?”
He grinned, wry. His cheeks were still a bit too pink. “Precisely.”
“You would have loved my world,” you said. “Very capitalistic. Lots of cash-grab holidays like that.”
Azul laughed.
“I’m sure I would be fond of any place you came from.” He paused, and his expression puckered up a bit miserably—like he really hadn’t intended to express such a sentiment aloud. But he managed to smooth the sharp line of his frown back into that usual, smarmy, smirk of his easily enough. “But either way! Tell me more!” he grinned, reaching forward to grab a stack of blank paper and a fresh pen. “I’d love to hear all about it.”
.
.
The next day you were supposed to help the Drama Club start building some stage scenery for their newest play. It was proper grunt work, which was perhaps the only sort of work you were actually qualified for. And Vil always made sure that there were plenty of disgustingly healthy but still quite tasty snacks available for the help to munch on. The food spread alone would have been worth the trip, but on top of that, Vil had made you promise. Practically a blood oath, binding you and your meager free time to the shitty supply closet in the corner of the Auditorium. And as sour as he could be sometimes, you really could never say no to him when he always looked so heart meltingly fond whenever you did agree to while away the hours at his side. That lovely face and even lovelier smile of his were fucking lethal. A war crime, surely, to use it against someone as plain and susceptible to bribery as you were.
But today you were now an idiot on a mission—an idiot determined to spread the joy of a trashy holiday that really probably shouldn’t exist in the first place, let alone in a world where people worshipped storybook villains as veritable deities. And you’d already bought all the molds, and the trays, and you really didn’t have a lot of spare pocket money to begin with, so letting this investment go to waste would not only be a shame, but a terrible business investment.
“What do you mean you’re not coming,” Vil sneered, glaring down his perfectly straight nose at you.
“I really am sorry,” you said, mostly genuine. “But I have something I need to do this afternoon.”
“You’ve made other plans?” he frowned, something a little too unsettled to fit with his usual regality twisting across his expression.
“I have to get ready for Valentine’s Day,” you explained, and his brow tugged down further. Though that earlier twinge of panic seemed to have vanished at least. You pointedly shook your grocery bag full of goodies. “I’m going to make chocolates for everyone.”
“Chocolates?” Vil echoed, confused.
You nodded. “It’s a tradition back home. You give stuff like candy and flowers to the people you care about. Normally it’s a holiday for couples, or whatever. But. Well…”
The ‘I Am Fully Aware That I’m Single as a Pringle, Please Just Let Me Have This One Thing’ was left unsaid, but it hung in the air around your head like a very persistent storm cloud nonetheless. Vil, magnanimously, seemed perfectly happy to ignore the Woe Is Me implications spewing from your mouth. Instead, he leaned forward until he was dipping precariously close into your personal space. His amethyst eyes had lit with blatant interest at your ramblings, and he hummed low in his throat.
“Is that so?” he mused, gaze lidded and warm. “That sounds… intriguing.”
You nodded past the heady scent of his cologne fogging your head. What was it with attractive people, huh? It was so unfair. You don’t get to look and smell good. Pick a lane. Save some dignity for the rest of us.
“So, I promise I’ll help another day. I just have a feeling making chocolates is going to wind up being a lot harder than I think it will.”
Because that’s how it always went in your stupid slice-of-life shows. The poor, harried, protagonist thinking they’re doing a good deed—painstakingly constructing their own, special, homemade goodies for all their important people. Making them with love. And then having it all blow up in their face like a goddamn, cocoa flavored, nuke. Nope. Not you, motherfucker. Your chocolates were going to be divine. You were going to take every, tropey, precaution in the book. And that of course included allotting yourself ample time to make mistakes your masterpiece.
“Of course,” Vil grinned. “How could I possibly begrudge you for wanting to spend your time on something so heartfelt?”
“Thank you,” you blurted, relived. Because at least he got it. Azul had been so ridiculously insistent that you should prepare all your Valentine’s Day wishes as a team. Which was not the point. He’d spent hours last night trying to wheedle his way into your plans—with endless platitudes about ‘business partners always being there for each other,’ and ‘how would he know if he was celebrating to your standards if he wasn’t given a model to work off of first?’ Utter bullshit. He’d probably just wanted free labor.
“Tomorrow, then?” Vil beamed and you nodded.
“Tomorrow,” you confirmed.
“Well, then,” he hummed. “I better get to work as well. I suppose the scenery can wait.”
You nodded in farewell and began the trek back to Ramshackle and its marginally functional kitchens. You hadn’t realized Vil was taking on any new projects, but if it was enough to have him putting off the Club’s activities as well then it must have been pretty important. Maybe he’d get you tickets to it whenever he finished—whatever it was. If there were tickets? How did any of the things he did actually work? Hell if you knew.
.
.
Making chocolates was, in fact, a laughably easy endeavor. And you found yourself cursing every goddamn Shoujo Bullshit Manga under the sun for leading you to think otherwise. The hardest part of the entire thing was fighting off Grim and his wandering paws.
You made up some basic truffles which were, again, stupidly simple. Just some messily chopped chocolate, cream, and a little splash of vanilla to make it Special. Once those were shaped into messy blobs, you dipped them into some more melted chocolate and bam. That was it. That was literally it. You felt like a genius—sitting there mushing up balls of cocoa like high-end playdough.
By 6PM, you had all your little darlings tucked into the refrigerator to harden, all the gauzy, red, boxes lined up on your counter and ready to be filled, and Grim had been placated with an offering of all your dirty mixing bowls. The tiny, demonic, beast was passed out at the dingy kitchen table—one of said bowls wedged onto his head like an astronaut’s helmet. Hopefully it was just a food coma and not, like, an actual coma-coma. Real cats couldn’t eat chocolate, but Grim never really seemed real at all. So hopefully he’d be fine.
You wiped down your cooking space once, twice. Paced up and down the narrow hallway until you were wearing away the already threadbare rugs, and spent way too long just standing in front of the fridge—staring in on your chocolates like a psychotic kidnapper scoping out their next victims.
Eventually you realized that you maybe needed to do something with your evening that wasn’t just creeping on your confections, and set out into the frosty, night, air for a stroll.
Which is, of course, where you ran into your familiar, horned, friend—staring up into the starry sky in a wistful manner that darkened his pale complexion into something nearly ominous. He always looked a bit like that, like something unearthly and detached from the rest of the world.
“Tsunotarou!” you chirped happily, and that adrift-at-sea expression of his melted right off his face.
“Child of Man,” he greeted, inclining his head politely. “I wasn’t expecting to see you this evening.” His brow furrowed, almost confused. “Is it not too cold for you?”
Your breath was, in fact, fogging in front of your face. And you couldn’t really feel your toes anymore. But the electric anticipation of tomorrow was keeping you warm enough. Even if only in spirit.
“I’m fine, I’m fine,” you waved him off. And then, because you couldn’t help yourself, you leaned forward on your tippytoes and blurted out, “Happy Almost Valentine’s Day!”
“Valentine’s Day?” Malleus repeated back at you, looking like you’d just handed him an unsolvable differential equation.
“It’s a holiday from back home,” you explained for the umpteenth time that day. “And normally I’m not too fussed about it, but this year I’m really excited to give everyone their chocolates!” You grinned. “And you too, of course. I have to make sure I give them to all my important people.”
The furrow between his brows vanished, but the blatant, gaping, confusion remained. He looked like you’d nearly startled him into an early grave.
“I am one of your most important people?” he asked, slow as a tortoise making its way up an incline.
You nodded cheerfully, still bellied by your earlier culinary successes and excellent mood. “Of course you are! We’re friends, aren’t we? And besides. Valentine’s Day is for showing people how much you care about them.”
“What an interesting concept,” he mused, bringing a finger up to tap at his chin. “To think your world had such a heartfelt tradition—it’s quite a lovely surprise.”
You laughed. “If you think the chocolates are special, you should see what some couples do for each other. Rooms full of flowers, fancy date nights—I’m just managing the bare minimum.”
“Couples?” he echoed, and you felt the first teeny, hot, thread of chagrin work its way past your enthusiasm.
“Well, normally Valentine’s Day focuses on, like, romantic things,” you said, averting your gaze just in time to miss the tension lance through his shoulders. “But it can be for all sorts of affection!” you hastily added.
“Is that so…” the Prince hummed. He lifted his pensive gaze once more and stared you down with that weighted intensity that you’d only just recently learned how not to buckle beneath. “And you wish to celebrate this day. With me?”
“…you don’t mind, do you?” you asked, hesitant.
“Of course not, Child of Man,” he beamed, his lips curling up into a smile that put all his too-sharp teeth on display. “But you’ll have to excuse me now, I’m afraid. It seems I have some preparations to undertake this evening.”
“Oh,” you blinked. “Alright. I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”
“Yes,” Malleus said. “You will.”
.
.
It was officially Valentine’s Day, and you were ready to begin your mission of forcing your sweets onto every, single, one of your reluctant friends. Let them be pissy and tsundere. You weren’t afraid to weep and proclaim your undying, shounen-talk-no-jutsu, levels of friendship. Okay. Maybe you were a little. But these grouchy bastards had very easily become your grouchy bastards, and so help you God, they would suffer under your affection and they would like it.
There were plenty of small boxes—all nice, neat, corners with little bows perched on top. But you had also prepared a singular, larger, tray. It was cleaner cut than the rest, with bold, contrasting, colors and a simple elegance. You stared it down with a strange sort of disquiet brewing in your gut. Maybe you were being presumptuous. Goodness knows you’d more than dealt with the searing, emotionally destructive, consequences of that before. But all the same…
You squared your shoulders and spent a moment convincing yourself that your spine was quite sturdy—a proper, titanium, support system—and then popped the Big Box into the bag with the others.
Your first stop was Heartslabyul, and you burst through the ornate, crimson, doors like a manic home invader.
“I come bearing gifts,” you proclaimed, merrily doling out the boxes to your favorite idiot duo. You set three more aside, with little labels for Riddle, Trey, and Cater respectively. Normally you wouldn’t trust a dorm full of teenage boys not to devour any scrap of unattended food in sight, but Riddle had long since struck the fear of God into these poor lads. So you figured it’d be safe.
Deuce’s face lit up and he accepted the chocolate with near starry-eyed enthusiasm.
“Are these your holiday presents? Like the Santa Claus?” he asked, looking very much like a bouncy golden retriever preparing itself for congratulatory head pats.
You leaned forward with an indulgent huff to give him his pats. “No. But close enough.”
You pawned off three boxes on Ruggie when he tried to duck past you in the hallway—one for him, one for Leona, and one extra as payment for making him do your dirty work of playing delivery boy to Mister Grump in the first place. You slipped Jack his on the way into Trein’s morning lecture, and managed to press a box into Jamil’s hands before he slunk off to the library. Kalim cheered so loudly when you handed him one that your ears started to ring.
And then trouble arrived in the form of two, slippery, eels draping themselves across your shoulders. Normally the destructive duo seemed to act on their own prerogative, but on this fortuitous morning their Lord and Master was surprisingly not too far behind.
“Shrimpy!~” Floyd trilled, dragging you into a one-armed hug that was really more of a slightly-less-aggressive headlock than anything else. “Azul says you came up with this stupid holiday! And he made us work all day yesterdayto put together stuff for the Lounge! It’s not fair!”
Your legs shook under the weight of the new tumor that had made its home on your back.
“Now, Floyd,” Jade chirped. All finely manicured cruelty. “If you’re to blame anyone for going overboard with this entire situation, you ought to lay the fault on our fearless leader.” His bi-colored eyes flashed, amused. “Isn’t that right, Azul?”
Said ‘fearless leader’ looked like he was sucking on a lemon. He glared bitterly at his subordinate, seeming to share an entire, silent, argument with him, before turning back on you with a heavy sigh and the barest hint of angry flush in his cheeks.
“Prefect,” he grinned past his obvious discomfort, all sparkling, white, teeth. “I have to thank you for sharing so much information about this ‘Valentine’s Day’ of yours. It’s such a unique event, and it seems like our preparations at the Lounge are already being received incredibly well.”
“That’s good,” you nodded, trying and failing to shrug the Leech off your shoulders. “I’m glad I could help.”
Azul hummed under his breath, his eyes darting away for a moment. His glasses reflected the muted light of the hall in an odd way—making it difficult to read his expression. He cleared his throat and when he looked back up at you, the tips of his ears had gone pink.
“You’re more than welcome to come by, of course,” he beamed, suave as could be.
“I mean,” you blinked. “I would hope so. I work there.”
Floyd let out a bark of laughter and Jade snickered into his glove. The pleasant pink tinting Azul’s skin was heating to a near sunburned red. He looked down and coughed into his fist.
“Yes…” he mumbled. “I—I’m aware. But what I meant is… What I meant—” He frowned. It was a tight, pouty, little thing that scrunched up his entire face. That mottled red had spread to the bridge of his nose.
“I do believe what Azul is trying to say,” Jade stepped in, clearly taking some sort of pity on his tongue-tied friend. Or perhaps pity was the wrong word for it, seeing how smug he looked, “is that he would like to invite you to the event personally. As an honored guest, not an employee.”
“Oh,” you blinked, startled. Then hesitated, cautious on instinct. There was always some sort of catch to the Octomer’s kindness. “I don’t know if I could afford whatever fancy thing you’ve thrown together.”
“You wouldn’t be paying for it,” Azul assured you, some of that sickly flush having finally started to recede from his cheeks. You hoped he was feeling alright. “You’ve contributed more than enough for the day. It would be on the house.”
Jade loudly cleared his throat and Azul huffed, eyes sliding away yet again.
“I would be paying,” he finally mumbled. And then, even quieter, “As I believe is the custom.”
Just as you were about to thank him for his startling bought of generosity (and also ask after his health, because between the weird, pink, tinge to his skin and the aforementioned generosity, clearly somethingwas out of sorts with him), you noticed a sneaky hand working its way into your bag of goodies, and you immediately were on the defensive.
“Hey!” you snapped, spinning out of Floyd’s stranglehold. “You only get one!”
“Then I want the really big one!” he demanded, making grabby motions at it.
“No!” you squeaked, and clutched it protectively to your chest. The trio looked at you with varying degrees of surprise and you cleared your throat awkwardly. “This one—This one is special.”
“Oh?” Jade cooed, eyes flickering back towards Azul, who seemed determined to look absolutely anywhere else. “Is it now?”
“Awww,” Floyd whined. “That’s no fair! Who’s it for, anyways?!”
You gripped the box tighter and now it was your turn to stiffly avert your eyes down to the ugly carpet. “It’s not—I’m not—” you cleared your throat and forced the jitter from your voice. “I’m not ready to give it to him yet.”
The silence that followed was absolutely the worst thing you’d experienced in a long, long, time. Overblots and all. You could practically hear your blood pounding in your ears. You were just about to turn and beat a hasty retreat when a familiar, snappish, voice called your name from the other side of the corridor.
“There you are, potato,” Vil huffed, coming to stand at your side and bodily inserting himself between you and your tormentors. He met Azul’s petulant sneer with a frankly terrifying one of his own. “What are you doing here? I thought we agreed you’d be eating lunch with me today.”
You remembered no such thing, but if it got you out of this verbal minefield of a conversation, you were more than willing to take the claim at face value.
“Apologies,” Azul cut in with all his usual, mafioso, flair. “But the Prefect will be taking their afternoon meal at the Mostro Lounge today.”
“Is that so?” Vil hummed, sounding positively venomous.
“Unless you think you can make an offer good enough to sway them otherwise,” Azul chirped, equally as unpleasant.
Vil laughed—cold and sharp as crystal. It was the most elegant display of blatant irritation you’d ever seen.
“Of course you’d only consider this entire situation on a transactional basis,” he drawled, entirely unimpressed. Azul flinched and his expression screwed up into something near petulant. “I would expect no less. Are you planning to lock them into a contact too, hmm? Sign away everything in formal, sterile, terms?” Vil crossed his arms, and you were reminded sharply once more how very, very lucky you were to not be on his bad side (even if you hadn’t realized before all this that Azul apparently was on said bad side. You had no idea they disliked each other so terribly). “I really hadn’t expected you to have a single, romantic, bone in your body, and yet somehow I’m still disappointed to be proved so entirely correct.”
Azul looked ready to explode, and even though Jade and Floyd and melted back into the shadows at the start of this entire encounter, the pair of them were starting to look a bit murderous too—like sharks lazily circling the dark, ocean, depths.  
“Don’t you think you deserve better?” Vil asserted, turning back to face you with a soft cant of the head. You blinked back in shock.
“Uh,” you gaped, absolutely fucking lost.
And then, like a beacon of unrivaled, black-drenched, hope, you spotted Malleus making his way down the hallway. He was flanked by his trio of housemates-cum-pseudo-bodyguards. Normally you tried to leave him alone when his rabid, green-haired, guard dog was yipping at his heels, and on top of that, the idea of using your classmates’ ingrained fear of the Fae Prince to your own advantage upset your rather staunch sensibilities. But this was an emergency.
“Tsunotarou!” you called, and it absolutely sounded like the cry for help it was.
He perked up immediately and you watched him nearly crash to a standstill. And then his sharp, neon, gaze locked on the dueling Housewardens circling you like a pair of snapping wolves, and his merry expression shuttered into something positively glacial. Which was—Fuck. I mean. Come on. What the fuck was going on today—
“Child of Man,” he droned, crossing the short distance with all the grace of the near-mythical, arcane, master that he was. His posture was more collected and regal than you’d ever seen it, and he loomed all the taller for it.
Azul and Vil had gone tense at your side, one certainly more so than other. The Octomer looked incredibly unsettled at Malleus’s sudden arrival, but Vil just looked angrier. It was the sort of unpleasantness that bloomed whenever someone challenged him or his competencies over and over—inevitably pushing the normally composed beauty into an indignant rage.
“Happy Day of Valentine’s,” Malleus continued, slotting himself firmly into the veritable territory dispute going down. “Are you quite alright?”
No, you wanted to wail. No! I’m so confused! I have no idea what’s going on! I just wanted to give my friends chocolates!
But you never managed to get those words or any others past your lips, because Sebek Zigvolt shot to his master’s side with all the speed of the lightning for which he was so named, and immediately began to scream.
“HOW DARE YOU INTERRUPT THE YOUNG MASTER’S AFTERNOON ROUTINE!” he shrieked at the top of his very impressive lungs.
You weren’t sure if he was howling at you (very likely) or just anyone who wasn’t Malleus, but Jade took the opportunity to slink forward from the shadows with a sharp tut-tut.
“Perhaps none of you deserve the Prefect’s special attentions,” he piped in, sounding very much like someone intentionally throwing a cannister of gasoline onto an already roaring fire. “Or any chocolates at all—let alone the ones set aside for someone special.”
At this, silence once more rang through the corridor and you wanted to throttle that stupid eel.
“There is a special box?” Malleus asked first, brow shooting up as his expression tugged with… something.
“I—I mean, I made all of yours special!” you defended, holding the wrapped treasure tightly to your chest. “But… I guess. Yes. There’s one that’s a little bigger than the others.”
At this, all three Housewardens exchanged pointed looks.
Jade smiled serenely once more, and then continued his absolute massacre upon your person.
“Yes, indeed,” he nodded. “And our dearest Prefect only just mentioned that—hmm. How did you word it? Ah. That’s right. ‘I’m not ready to give it to him yet.’”
The trio tensed. All looking absolutely ready to pounce. At—at what, you had no idea.
“Perhaps,” the wretch mused, “it would be best for you all to temper your rage until the victor is decided, hmm?” He paused to tap at his chin for a moment, and then his lips split into a mean, jagged, grin. “Afterwards? Well, I suppose that whole cheery sentiment about ‘love and war’ still holds true.”
You gulped, feeling startlingly like Jade had just tried to serve you up on a silver platter.
But when neither Azul, Vil, or Malleus made any further moves to murder each other… well. As sacrificial as it all felt, at least it must have worked.
The rest of the day passed in a tense sort of fugue. You certainly hadn’t expected your attempts at bringing some holiday cheer to Night Raven to go so… Uh…
But either way, you managed to survive through the rest of the afternoon, and before you knew it, all that remained of all your tireless efforts and good will was the Special Box. The big one. The one that you’d put together with extra care and hopes for better things. You glared down at it for a moment, feeling sweat starting to bead over your palms. But you couldn’t chicken out now. Not after you’d come so far! Everyone was acting so strange, and it was all so weird. And as much as that unfamiliarity had your teeth on edge and your hackles raised, you didn’t want to regret not giving out the last of your well-made sweets.
Well, here goes nothing, you frowned. You took a deep breath, willed yourself to be brave, and smiled your biggest smile.
“Here,” you beamed, more than a little shy and still a bit horrified by whatever pissing match had been going down earlier in the day, and finally offered the grandest of your chocolate boxes to the man standing opposite you.
Divus Crewel accepted your offering daintily, plucking at the crisp, sharp, wrapping with his crimson gloves. He arched one of his thin brows at you and you fought the nervous heat rising in your cheeks.
“Happy Valentine’s Day,” you blurted. “I know it’s not a thing here, but I thought it’d be nice.”
The second eyebrow joined the first—practically jumping all the way up into his fringe.
“I appreciate the gesture. Though from what I understand of all the garish advertising I’ve seen for Mostro Lounge’s new event, I assumed this was a holiday for romantic overtures,” he intoned, wry.
You spluttered and waved your hands furiously. “I mean! Normally! Yes! But also…” You trailed off, fighting the urge to fidget. “If you don’t have a—a, well, someone, then Valentine’s is just a nice excuse to give something to people you care about.” You averted your gaze and lost the battle to twist your fingers into your jacket sleeves. “My family used to give me chocolates every year. So. I thought I could… Well…” you trailed off on a grumble, embarrassed.
Crewel sighed and popped the lid off the box. He plucked two truffles from their casing—keeping one for himself and handing you the other.
“Well, then. A very happy Valentine’s to you, Prefect,” he droned and popped the chocolate into his mouth with a thoughtful hum.
You lit up like a Christmas tree and happily gobbled up your own treat. So distracted were you by the one-two-punch combo of the delicious sugar and even sweeter taste of your Professor’s approval that you almost entirely missed the pointed glare he shot over your shoulder.
“I appreciate your regard,” he said, loud. Sharp. And like he wasn’t talking to you at all. “And while I’m certain that if you do pick a ‘someone’ for yourself to celebrate with in the following years, they’ll have to work very hard to be worthy of such a gift, hmm?” His lip curled unpleasantly, in direct contrast to the indulgent warmth that had been tugging at his expression only a moment before. “I could hardly allow you to waste such a thoughtful gesture on someone unworthy.”
The Octavinelle Housewarden had the decency to look at least a little panicked—his face going pale and gaunt from where he was shrinking into his high collar. There was a frantic look about him, like he was trying to weigh the cost-benefit ratio of going up against his professor in his head, and realizing that he was stupidly, willfully, walking right into a lose-lose situation. And that, sadly—miserably—he was going to keep doing just that. The other two, however, looked entirely undeterred. Schoenheit curled his lip right back at him, more than ready to duke it out here and now, and Crewel fought the urge to remind the blonde that he was the adult in this situation, thank you very much. The adult who could very well revoke the Warden’s access to his Alchemy Labs as it suited him. The very alchemy labs that he knew Vil had been using to concoct all kinds of new, personalized, gifts for you. Draconia simply looked on with that unnervingly ancient, green, leer of his. Like he was staring down a particularly fascinating game. The Fae Prince was the most unsettling of the trio, if only because that while Crewel was more than confident enough in his abilities to subdue his other wayward students, fighting off an Immortal, All Powerful, Dragon was going to require at least a little bit of prep work.
Divus Crewel sighed, and it rattled all the way out from the marrow of his bones.
“Come, then,” he rumbled, directing you to follow him back into his office. “It’s not chocolates, but I probably have some of those ridiculous cookies of yours lying around somewhere.” Which he did. Boxes upon boxes of them. Tucked away special for whenever you came to visit. Not that he’d ever willingly admit that, even under the pain of death.
Your eyes went wide and warm as you positively beamed.
It was rotten work, certainly. He shot one, last, warning glare down the hall at the trio of infatuated interlopers as he firmly shut his office door behind you and your absolute oblivious idiocy. He’d do it. Of course he would. But, Christ alive. He was going to need a stronger drink.
3K notes · View notes
authorhjk1 · 5 months
Text
Surviving NNN
Part Three: A star
Tumblr media
You sit on the balcony of your apartment, letting the cold breeze brush your face. The cold shower you just took helped. Or at least it eased the pain. Yena's gorgeous body still wanders through your mind. The way the towel slowly slid up, revealing her legs. How it created a small cleavage over her small breasts.
You are saved by the sound of the door being opened. Hearing small footsteps, you do your best to concentrate on the task at hand.
"Oppa?"
You recognize Chaewon's voice.
"Yeah."
"Minju made breakfast. You coming?"
"Of course. Give me a second."
You feel a little guilty letting your guests cook, but the three girls can cook way better than you. Apart from some basic dishes you can't do very much.
"What are you doing?"
Chaewon steps closer, now standing right behind you, while looking over your shoulder as you sit in one of the comfortable chairs.
"I'm working on some lyrics." "Really?"
You hear the excitement in Chaewons's voice.
"I'm a huge star, you know?"
She grabs another chair and sits down next to you, looking at the ipad in your lap.
She referred to herself as a star, which is the name for your fandom. Your stage name is Jin-wol. It translates to moon or jewel in English. That's why the fandom name stars somewhat fit.
You are happy to hear that Chaewon is a star, she is a well known idol after all.
"Really?"
The young woman nods in excitement.
"I watched your recent MV like a million times."
You chuckle as Chaewon tries to glance at your ipad. Unfortunately, there is nothing much to look at so far.
"What's the new song about?"
"Read for yourself."
You offer her the ipad and Chaewon starts to read. It isn't much yet, but you can see her blushing harder and harder with every word.
"Th-This is gonna be your song?"
"Yeah. I can write and produce my own music, but usually the company decides on what theme we do for every album.
"Ah, I see."
Chaewon's cheeks are still a little red as she gives you the ipad back. It is hard work to write this stuff right now, beacuse of NNN. It's supposed to be a sexy concept. A combination of obvious hints about sex and some a little less obvious. It wouldn't have been a problem without NNN at all. You could just take more than enough "inspiration" from Karina. And even if someone would catch up on that, it's no big deal, since the two of you are together anyway.
You eat breqakfast in silence, while you listen to three girls chatting. With your mind still on the song and your mind capable of more than just vivid imagination, you keep your head down.
"Oppa."
You slowly raise your head, barely able to look at Minju. The things that went through your brain during your run make you feel bad. How could you think about her like that?
"Since its Saturday, the three of us wanted to go shopping. You wanna come with?"
You rather not. You need to keep writing. And you need some space to breath. Having these three girls constantly around you makes you anxious.
"I actually still have some work to do."
"Oh come on."
Yena looks at you.
"We will reward you afterwards."
She gives you a wink and your mind starts spinning again. What kind of reward?
"What kind of reward?"
Yena chuckles. Your voice may have sounded a little too desperate.
"I'm tot gonna tell you. But it has something to do with cream."
She smirks at you.
New pictures flood your mind.
Yena on her knees, holding a can of wipped cream. She pours some of it into her mouth, before looking up at you. Her hands work to take of your pants. You groan as you feel her warm lips part around your cock. The cold wipped cream is a great contrast to them. It slowly starts to melt in Yena's mouth. She pushes it around with her tongue, while looking up at you.
"Oppa?"
You slightly shake your head, trying to get rid of these thoughts.
"No."
"Why not?"
Yena pouts. You can't stop looking at her lips. Just a moment ago they were wrapped around your cock....
"Please, Jin-wol oppa."
Minju pouts as well.
"Karina unnie told us to take you. She said you hate shopping."
That's somewhat true. You never liked it. Which means Karina usually does it for you. She knows evry size, from shoes to shirt. She also has a better sense of style than you.
The person who breaks your last resistance is Chaewon.
"Like you wrote in your lyrics: 'I see donuts left and right, but I just want to glaze yours all night' you know?"
No. No way in hell she doesn't know what you meant by that. She must. Chaewon must know exactly what you meant. The other lines are even more explicit. She must have picked up on this.
And yet, she looks at you with an innocent face.
"We could get you some donuts."
Yena chips in.
"I like my donut glazed as well."
You almost have to take another shower as you hear her say that. You stuff your mouth with food, trying to avoid the pictures coming back.
"Chaewon? Are you coming?"
Yena shouts through the apartment, while the three of you wait for Chaewon. She is the last on to get dressed.
"Oppa, why don't you go and get her?"
"Me?"
"Yeah. She is a big fan of yours. I'm sure she will hurry up when she sees you.
"Fine."
You walk towards Yena's and Chaewon's shared room.
"Chaewon."
"Come in."
You hesitate for obvious reasons, but you eventually open the door. Bad decision. Not just because of the way Chaewon is dressed, but because the two of you are alone.
Tumblr media
"What do you think?"
You think a lot. Way too much actually. The number of days you survived without cuming is increasing steadily. And Chaewons outfit makes you dizzy.
You just want to take her right there.
Push her against the wall, throwing that large bag aside. Open the zipper of her jeans, while she does the same with yours. Your lips dance along her skin on her shoulders, enjoying the smoothness. Without much forplay, you would just enter Chaewon. Her eyes shut tight as her petite body tries to accustom itself to your cock. A moan escapes her mouth while you push inside. Your hands resting on her tight midriff. Your thumb playfully grazes over her mole as you make Chaewon sigh with pleasure.
You start to fuck her hard into the wall. More and more. Faster and faster. Your body releasing all the build up tension.
"Oh god! Your cock!"
Chaewon moans loudly as you pound her hard. Your dick is deep inside her pussy. Your girlfriend's friend's pussy. Your fellow idol's pussy. Your fan's pussy.
Chaewon is all of that. And more. Your lips find hers, trying to muffle her moans as you take her body. The young woman gives herself to you, relishing in the pleasure you give her.
"Harder, please! Fuck me good!"
Her high pitched yelps make you pound her harder. You feel Chaewon's walls contract around you. Her body shakes even more.
"Oh my god! I'm gonna cum on your cock!"
And so she does. Chaewon orgasms in your arms as you keep fucking her. You chase your own orgasm which is building up as well. After almost three weeks of no cuming, you feel your cock almost bursting as you are about to climax.
"Give it to me. Give me your cum."
Chaewon asks for it. She looks into your eyes, her head slightly swaying back and forth as you pound her against the wall. You are surprised when she manages to undo the button of her jeans in a frenzy. She pulls down her jeans just enough for you to get a good look at her pussy.
The sight makes you orgasm right there. You manage to pull out. You start cuming all over her. Your cum lands mostly on her freshly fucked pussy. Some of it on her midriff. The two of you breath heavily after your short fuck.
Looking down, you realize that you mad your lyrics come true. You did glaze Chaewon's donut.
________
Hi everyone!
I hope you enjoyed this. The lyrics might come of as a little cringe but I'm a writer not a composer , so please don't judge me to harshly.
Tomorrow will be the last day of round one for the Decmber speical, if i'm correct. You will be able to vote for the actual chapters as soon as this round ends
Have a great day!
580 notes · View notes
alpaca-clouds · 10 months
Text
What "Communism never works" misses
Tumblr media
Okay, let me keep up the topic for the week and let me talk about one thing that will undoubtedly be thrown at anyone, who says something along the lines of: "Welp, the system is failing us. Maybe we should try communism." And that is: "Communism never works. It has never worked before!"
As someone, who had that argument thrown at them so many times before, I already know that for the most part it is useless to talk to someone who comes up with that argument. Because, well... here is the thing. The argument basically is a result of what amounts to brainwashing. The person will usually not know what communism is or how and why it has failed before. They will not know anything about communist parties or countries. And they usually do not want to know.
Usually they do not know, that communism was never tried before. Yes, several countries have tried to establish communism, but never got further than socialism. Nor do they know exactly, what the difference between all those different communist ideas are. And of course they do not know anything about the history of the USA (and other western countries) doing their best to suppress communism by any means necessary.
Which is the first thing that everyone, who uses the argument, misses. Basically...
If communism can never work, why does the USA try everything to stop anyone trying to establish it?
If it cannot work and will never work, they would not need to worry about it. It will just develop and then fail. Easy. No need to stage a coup d'etat against a democratically elected government. No need to snuggle up to fascist dictators. Just let the thing run its course and then maybe send some help, once communism has self-destroyed. Something that they say is inevitable.
But obviously they don't. So: Why?
It cannot be about saving some sort of democracy, because otherwise they would not help undemocratic forces to take over the country and allow them to hold it.
But there is another thing that the argument misses. And even bigger thing. Another question:
But does capitalism work?
Which is the thing that kinda gets left out of the discussion. Because even if we assume that communism could not work (doubtable)... There is the fact that capitalism does not work. Otherwise fascism would not again and again be established from capitalism. Otherwise capitalism would not have destroyed the planet. Otherwise capitalism would not kill millions of people per year.
See, people will always go big about the entire "Black book of communism" thing and eat it up, even though the book has so many issues in what it counts as "death from communism" - and that is even without going in the entire "communism was never established" thing. But even if we took the numbers at face-value... According to the book, communism has killed 100 million people.
Well, guess what. That is about the same number of people that capitalism kills in a decade. And while the black book of communism counts all those people killed by politics not necessarily linked to communism... Those 10 million dying of capitalism each year die of capitalism. They die because they have not money for medicine, they need to survive. They die, because they starve, while so much food is thrown away. They die of exposure to the elements, because they cannot afford a home. They die from the fallout of climate change.
So, yeah. First of all: Let's try out communism, before we argue that it cannot work.
But also: Realize, that capitalism does not work. Because it doesn't.
Tumblr media
571 notes · View notes
fluffylino · 1 year
Text
Pillow Prince
Member: sub!chan x reader
Genre: very very very soft smut
Word count: +2k
Includes: insecurities, pillow rutting and just overall fuzziness (subspace? yes), mommy kink
Summary: chan is tired and misses you so much it hurts. he thought he could wait another few weeks till the world tour ends before he could finally meet you again. but things happen and he finds himself needing you stronger than ever.
Inspiration: skz talker go [season 3 episode 6]. Chan just looks so soft with his curly hair and pretty pink lips.
Enjoy~
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Chan being so busy with his schedules that he can't possibly even spare a second for you. He knows that you support him and give him the space he needs to work. But it doesn't stop him from feeling guilty.
Even your countless attempts to prove that you're fine and will always confront him if you feel even an ounce of loneliness.
He misses you so much nowadays yet before he can even call you, the stylists are calling him. To either do up his makeup or change into his stage outfit or check the members in ears.
🌸
Chan's bearly holding on.
No matter how much he tries to focus on the screen of his laptop, his brain just won't work.
His fingers dig into the keyboard set up in front of him as he blinks harshly forcing himself to come back to his senses.
Today was just like any ordinary post concert day. He's finished eating dinner. Done his exercise. Even did a little boxing with the group's temporary personal trainer. The food isn't as fulfilling as a nice bowl of kimchi jiggae but he's eaten enough of steak and subway for today because his stomach is content.
Then why was he feeling so pathetic?
He gives up finally, ignoring the tears of frustration blurring his vision. Crawling under the thick covers, he stares at his reflection in the mirror facing the bed.
All sorts of thoughts flow through his mind. How exhausted he looked. His hair was all over the place. His almost non existent eyebrows.
How stupid he was to think he could survive without you. As dramatic as it sounds, he really needed you here beside him.
The pillow he held between his legs seemed so comforting in his fuzzy mind. Unconciously he rolled his hips against the plush object, a gasp leaving him.
How pathetic was he?
'Pull yourself together you idiot' or 'what would the members think if they saw their leader teary eyed and so vulnerable' or how you would laugh at him. Not in a mean way. Never in a mean way.
More to ease him and let him slip into that headspace only the two of you knew about. A headspace where he can be himself and cry out your name as you take care of him.
Then it hits him like a truck. You always take such good care of him. Praise him. Help him with his insomnia by giving up your hours of sleep.
Is he using you? His heart says no but his brain says yes.
Just as he begins to cry harder, his phone rings.
Its an instinct of his.
He jumps up, wiping his tears with the back of his hand and clears his throat before picking it up to see who it is.
Its you. You're calling him.
His heart beats so fast and he feels so spacey.
"Hello....channie?" his eyes widen a little when he realises that you can see his puffy eyes and swollen lips.
"M-Miss you" is all he can say before he's crying again.
There's nothing you can do physically. You want to hold him. But you can't. He's so far away it hurts. Only a couple of weeks more and then he's all yours.
"Lay down for me, love" you urge, watching how he complies without a second thought.
"pillow" he mumbles, turning the camera to show you your pillow. The same pillow you forced him to take because you knew how much he loved your scent.
"Yeah baby? Want to rut against it for me" its almost a command and you chuckle at the redness of his cheeks.
"Keep your phone down, darling. Let me see you properly"
Chan keeps it on the bedside table, giving you a full view of him on the bed through the full length mirror.
"M-Mommy can I?" he mumbles, words muffled as he hides his face in his arm.
"Not until you look at me, pup" he whines loudly yet complies nevertheless.
"Thats my good boy. Now go ahead" you say, ignoring the heat pooling at the pit of your stomach.
His mouth dropped open, as he panted heavily, hips never slowing down. Tears rolled down his cheeks, falling onto the sheets. Utterly debauched.
"Want you m-mommy" is what he cries out, so much pain in his voice.
"Puppy look at me. Doing so good my darling"
Within minutes, he lands face down on the bed, a pathetic high pitched groan filling up the silence.
Your heart aches because you want to hold him close.
No.
You need to shower your baby with love and tell him just how much he matters to you.
"Im sorry for-" he whispers, eyes still cloudy as he picks up the phone.
"Nonsense. No apologizing." You say and its a firm statement.
"Did you eat, love?" He nods tiredly, eyes fluttering.
"Baby do something for me, yeah? Go get some tissues and clean yourself up"
"I will...just want to look at you right now" chan mumbles. He looks peaceful.
"Go ahead, darling. Look at me as much as you want"
2K notes · View notes
vitaminseetarot · 8 months
Text
PAC Pick a Palette: One Small Thing That Will Help You Grow ☕🌞💴
Welcome back to my pick a card readings! This time we're looking at the time between our New Moon sowing and our Full Moon flowering. At this stage of the magic making process, work has gone underway to build upon the seed that was germinated and growth happens. Soon it will reveal the peak of its work through the flower, but before then the stem and leaves also deserve attention. They're the ones helping to power the whole thing!
It's important, then, to look at what you're using and where you are in the process. Not everything is meant to grow at the same rate, but sometimes the right ingredients like plant food or pruning clippers can do an incredible job at providing a needed boost.
Pick one of these three color palette swatches to find out what you can add or remedy to assist the growth of your own magic!
(Forgive me if the spread out looks a bit funky this time, it's all about finding the part of the house with the best natural lighting!)
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Pile 1: Coffee Beans
Draw: Four of Wands; Queen of Pentacles, Page of Wands, Death 18 - Communication, Aries Rising - Act, Heartsease - Compassion "Tread a little more tenderly."
Tumblr media
You need more space to grow whatever it is you're creating. A bird can try to lay an egg without a nest, but it's never going to be easy. Building a sturdy nest increases the young's chance of survival. You should try considering the space in which you're using to create your project or desire: are you writing a novel in a cluttered room, or cooking a meal when you can't find half of your measuring cups and saucepans? Are you meditating in a place where it's difficult to tune out the background noise?
Four of Wands talks about creating the space for you to thrive like the corn in Queen of Pentacles. The Queen is able to cultivate her garden in peace and certainty that abundance is hers. You are meant to take what it is you're doing and allow it to grow, so the Queen is being quite literal here. But she wants you to do it from a place of joy and enthusiasm instead of dread.
The Page is fired up from drinking coffee and is ready to go. But you must be in a place of ease with yourself to do this. Your message is to act upon your growth, but do it from a gentle place and at a gentle pace. Do not try to over exert yourself when you do have the space to practice or create. Do not try, for example, to squeeze 45 minutes of exercise into 5 minutes, thinking that it's all the time you're allowed, so why not go overboard, amiright? This is the fast lane to killing what you're growing and your joy for it, pile 1, and what you're growing is still in a very delicate stage. You have time to work out the details, so don't rush this. Heartease was the first card to pop out and the only card to jump, so it's really emphasizing the need to be careful with how you spend your time and energy.
The Communication card is the only one that really stands out to me. Perhaps what you're developing has to do with communications. Writing a book, preparing a speech, blogging, interview, etc. but it could also have to do with growing your connections with other people through how you communicate. You could be rekindling an old friendship from school or meeting someone for coffee? In any case, Compassion is the keyword here. Be gentle and ready to listen more to feedback, while creating a safe space for your friend or colleague to communicate clearly with you. This is a meetup you'll want to act upon, but do so from a place of kindness.
Also for some reason, maybe it's because I heard the song recently while out, but Tom Petty's "Free Fallin" is in my head while typing your reading and only your reading. Argh, such an earworm! If this person you're meeting up with hurt your heart in some way way back in the past… yeah it's cool to be on the defensive, assert your boundaries. Heartease, however, still asks that you treat this situation with diplomacy.
Tumblr media
Pile 2: Radiance
Draw: Eight of Wands; Queen of Pentacles, King of Swords, Knight of Pentacles 19 - Healing Grief, Pisces Rising - Dream, Wisteria - Longevity "Plan for and take the dedicated path."
Tumblr media
You have some similarities to pile 1, so if you were interested in that pile I recommend checking it out for messages. For starters, you have Queen of Pentacles in the exact same space on your spread, so that tells me there's a lot of collective push for undertaking rapid growth at this time. The Queen does it from an appearance of near effortlessness, but it's not without considerable effort on her part. She's able to handle a lot with grace and consistency.
It seems like in your cards, pile 2, you're pretty solid when it comes to growing towards your goals. You've become used to trucking along without must reprieve, as if it's from one thing to another as smoothly as the train cars pass the railroad crossing. You're being asked to remember about the power of momentum, and about the little things that add up. Think of how a bird takes off. When it starts flapping, it flaps hard. Once it's high in the sky, it spreads out and soars with ease. It requires a lot of steady pushing, one flap at a time, but eventually when it takes off it gains more speed than ever.
Again like with pile 1, you have all the time you need to make your dreams grow and flourish. Just don't be surprised if this takes a rather long time to accomplish. The Queen of Pentacles is less interested in quantity or time efficiency as she is in quality. It's not that she isn't punctual, far from it, but she and the Knight know that the best fruits are ones that ripen when they're ready to. You're being encouraged to plan for the long term, with wise judgement as the King of Swords suggests, and to open yourself up to envisioning more brilliant avenues to fly through. Imagine what would make your heart soar, and grow that instead of something that you merely feel "obligated" to do. Great things can take time, but it'll be completely worth the wait.
Also, my sun catcher reflected a rainbow perfectly on the osprey in this Eight of Wands card, it's nice. There is a radiance that comes from taking time to grow something to how you want it to be, like the bird with its fish catching talents (it can pluck them right out of the water and fly around boasting its catch). Your skills will shine here, just be sure to care for yourself in the meantime.
Tumblr media
Pile 3: Perfect Penny
Draw: Nine of Wands; II High Priestess, XIV Temperance, Seven of Wands 25 - Truth, Taurus Moon - Relax, Belladonna - Silence "Listen more and quiet be."
Tumblr media
So this was an interesting spread because at first I couldn't tell if the message was to hold on or let go. Maybe that's your current dilemma when it comes to growth. And it's a valid one, cause it's a lot like the pruning stage. You have to decide which leaves are valuable to your health, and which leaves are dead and must be clipped away.
The penny is like… saving a wishing penny for a rainy day. You're on the defense with Nine of Wands. Do I use this penny now to accomplish this, you ask, or I should I save it for later when I might use it for something else? Nine of Wands is a lot of energy being deliberately held back for a reason, like an arrow ready to fire. It could be that you're maybe putting a little too much perfectionism into the idea. What you're growing has not yet been grounded into the material world, it's still a passion idea or a fire in your heart but you're holding it back. But Nine of Wands is also a Sagittarius card, doubly so since Sagittarius is the 9th sign. The requirement here for growth is pushing forward with optimism that your wish will not go to waste. There's an energy of perfectionism here especially as it took me exactly nine photos before I settled for this one. I finally decided it didn't have to be perfect, it just had to feel ok enough!
My first reaction was to say "trust your gut and you'll learn to balance the give and take," then High Priestess and Temperance came out together! Somewhere inside you already know what it is you would like to do with "the penny" of an idea you're casting into the wishing well. You don't have to overthink this. It's a matter of coming from a heart-centered place of Truth. Belladonna is showing you how to tap into your intuition: "listen more, silent be." Listen closely to what your heart is wishing to do. Balance this out with how others may perceive your goals or growth. There may be people who say something like, "you're going to use what you got on 'that'?" or "are you really sure that's what you want to do?"
It takes practice to choose from a place of intuitive open mindedness, but it will reward you in this case. You're being reminded to stay relaxed and steady about this. Making the next move doesn't have to come from a place of high pressure or unneeded stress, even if it's time sensitive. But by learning to listen to your intuition more, the part that tells you how to proceed from a place of optimism within reason, you'll be able to more quickly expand and grow upon what it is you're creating. With penny's copper corresponding to Venus as well as Taurus moon, it's suggested here that you could receive monetary or financial growth through this, as well.
Tumblr media
This reading has not been evaluated by the FDA to diagnose, prevent, treat, or cure any disease or infection. Please ask your physician before going online.
2023, @VitaminseeTarot ™
165 notes · View notes
goodday-goodmorn · 4 months
Text
Little blurb that’s been sitting in my Docs for while based on @auspicioustidings idea from a while ago now i think— But yeah! I’be got like zero motivation to continue this- butttttt i liked the scene a lot so it shall be seen now! (Plus it’s Mhari’s Birthday!!! Happy Birthday Mhari! :> Even though i’m a few hours late into the day Hope you’re having a wonderful birth celebration!)
Based on a a scene i cooked up where reader finally gets caught by none other than the Ghost himself:
The weight of a gun in your hand is familiar.
So is the quiet sounds of a break in. You point at the door, watching, waiting. Like clockwork it creaks open, and there he is.
“Don’t move.”
You say sharply. Making the gun in your hand well known to the intruder.
Silence. He stares at you, you stare back. How many times have you done this dance? Tense words and a dashing messy escape. (The poorly wrapped bandages around your abdomen throb answering you question for you. Too many then.)
You sigh, and lower the gun.
He doesn’t even look suprised.
With a soft, Thump! ,you plop backwards onto the bed, arms outstretched. The gun is still in your hand but it’s dead weight. (Just like you.)
“…You’re not gonna ever stop are you?”
It’s said up at the shitty hotel ceiling. Hushed in the darkness of the room.
“No.”
He says it so simply.
You hum, pulling your knees and legs up onto the bed and rolling over. Back facing him, on your side. You snag a plushie on the way, hugging it close to your chest and settling your chin atop its head.
“Well shit. Turn all my red flags to white then, i give up.”
Defeated. Hushed. Tired. It sounds so unlike your normal voice. “But you already knew that didn’t you?”
There’s a dip in the bed, true to his namesake- he was silent as he walked to sit. You haven’t even heard him.
“…Who did your bandages?” Gruff bastard with his gruff voice. Sounding way too passive for talking with you, an enemy, his target actually. He should be barking orders and threats to you, you’ve heard the way he speaks on a mission before, all bite and harsh. But he shows none of that tension now. Not a lick of hostility.
“Who do you think?” You snort out, tucking your face into the head of the plushie and vehemently ignoring him.
“Kid, you need help. You can’t survive on your own.” Straight to business it seems.
Without even turning to look at him, you halfheartedly raise your middle finger.
He sighs.
Silence. Blissful, damning, silence. You’ve no more fight left to give and he knows it. Months on the run, months of constant near death escapes, months of being hunted like a dog. You’re tired. So tired.
“Ya know, Torture isn’t an effective way of getting info outta someone: statistically speaking.”
“We’re not gonna torture you.”
“But you do want that info don’t you?”
More silence.
You hum knowingly.
“And what happens after you get your precious information? You’ll kill me? Maim me like all the other fuckers who end up in your shit list?”
“No. Never.”
He says it with such ferocity it almost takes you by surprise for a second. If you were to be facing him, you would see the hardness of his eyes. The pure conviction swarming in his gaze.
“Not you. Never you.”
Finally you turn to him, feeling far too much like a young little kid on the playground who just can’t understand-
“Why?”
Something in his gaze softness. He wants to tell you this because he cares. The team cares. All of them- that they saw you, a prickly, panicked little bird in over their head and flying blind- but he knows it an answer you won’t accept. One you won’t understand. Not at this stage. Not yet. You don’t believe in words, you’ve been lied too far too many times for that.
So he says something you will believe. A watered down version of the truth that feels like such a disservice to everything that makes up your very being.
“You’re interesting.”
You seem to digest his words. Turning them over and thinking in that little head of yours.
‘How long is that interest gonna last?’
That's what you want to say. You want to scream at the top of your lungs that he doesn’t want you. No one does. He’ll get sick of your brashness eventually- he’ll learn and grow used to your tricks. And when your spontaneity grows old, you know what’ll happen.
But you don’t.
You say nothing except—
“…Can I at least pack my bags? …please?”
He knows you don’t have much to pack. He also knows you’re one tricky, flighty little bird. However, he heard your small plea, sees the defeated look in your eyes, the way your hand is so lax around the gun.
Gently, oh so gently, he takes the gun from your hand. You don’t even try and fight him.
“Sorry little bird. Can’t trust you to pack.”
The sad look on your face nearly makes him reconsider. But he can’t risk you getting away again. Not when you’re so easy to catch right now. So vulnerable.
“Can’t you restrain me and then i’ll tell you what to pack?”
That, he can do.
“Up.”
Commands come so naturally to him. You’re almost jealous at how easily they fall from his lips.
Like the old defeated dog you are, you listen, sitting up and presenting your hands to him to restrain. You don’t meet his eyes.
He takes no chances, you are securely bound with a pair of handcuffs. He tugs on them, standing you up and nudging you to the common area of your hotel room. It’s a sizable room, a nice hotel, though truthfully you hadn't really been thinking when you booked it. Brain to frazzled and exhausted to think about anything beyond a clean bed and a hot shower.
The lights are flicked on by his gloved hands, flooding your vision. You hiss blinking and adjusting while he nudges you to the center of the room, down into your knees.
“What am I looking for here, bird?”
Your gaze flicks to him, then to the corner of the room, a vent right by a little corner desk with a lamp.
He follows your gaze and then, (with one last hard look towards you that screams ‘stay’), he walks over. Inside the vent is a crumpled up backpack, old and raggedy. It looks out of place amongst the clean cream colors of the hotel amenities.
He prods at the thing, trained caution. (You don’t blame him after your last stunt with explosives.)
Unceremoniously he opens up the bag and dumps all its contents on the floor. You wince, watching your whole life be scattered on the ground.
A journal, a thermal blanket, a lighter, cash, USB sticks, Your laptop in its thick padded casing (thank god), stolen hotel amenities, nicotine patches, several pill bottles, a half empty water bottle, a pocket knife, bullets…
Your own personal little horde of trinkets.
“Was that necessary…?” You mutter, as he stuffs some stuff back into the bag.
“Can’t blame me for bein’ cautious.”
“Well- i could.”
He turns to look at you. Just… stares at you, all you can see is his eyes at that dreadful mask, boring into yours. He doesn’t need to say anything. You both know you could but you never. Been through too much to really blame him.
You’ve saved his life before, even though he was hunting you. You both know you would never blame him for doing his job. Not at this point.
(Just as he would never blame you for running.)
76 notes · View notes
yokowan · 5 months
Text
The bus is late. You tug uncomfortably at the mask of your pressure suit. This isn't your first time wearing one by any means, but it certainly doesn't help make the walls of the city leaning in around you feel any less stifling. An old man lowers himself onto the bench next to you. "Y'on't look like yer from here. Mariner Valley?" You reflexively jump in your seat a little, alarmed by the unprompted attempt at conversation. "Y-yeah. How could you tell?" "Ah, all you communists look the feckin same." You open your mouth as if to speak, before electing not to respond.
Tumblr media
WELCOME TO MARS MOTHERFUCKERS
It is two hundred and fifty-odd years in the future. Mars, once a cold dead husk, is now a developed world with bustling industry and a contested legal status that hasn't become a problem yet because everyone chooses to ignore it. The planet has slowly been gaining a breathable atmosphere, not through any concerted terraforming effort, but instead because oxygen is produced as a byproduct of many metal refining processes. After over a century of heavy industry, the parts of the planet's surface at low elevation have a high enough atmospheric pressure that crops can be grown in the open air, and humans can survive without needing a pressure suit.
Which parts of the planet become breathable first has a huge impact on Martian socioeconomics, leading me to perhaps my strangest science fiction writing project yet:
THE REGIONAL STEREOTYPES OF MARS
EAT MY TAINT YOU GODDAMN MARINER HIPPIES
Hellas
Tumblr media
Hellas is a large impact basin surrounded by the southern highlands. Its very low elevation means it was one of the first parts of the Martian surface to have arable land, and provided the majority of the planet's food before most agriculture moved north. The height of the surrounding terrain traps in moisture, resulting in it being the most lush part of Mars, containing its only wild grasslands. Hellas is the most populous region of Mars, and is home to the planets colonial administrative capital of Badwater.
Hellas' habitability and developed infrastructure means it is the region of Mars most frequently visited by outsiders. Its culture and general appearance have become Earth's main conception of the planet.
Hellas is positioned on the opposite side of the planet to Mars' other major population centers, so overland travel is inconvenient and uncomfortable. This has made it quite culturally isolated, with much of the planet seeing the region's citizens as stuck up, backwards, and blind to the plight of the average Martian. Having the planet's oldest settlements, Hellas' residents view themselves as being the "real" Martians, and hold some resentment towards the rest of the planet for being so weak-willed and forgetting their roots.
Chryse
Tumblr media
Chryse is a large, flat plain in the northern hemisphere. Its elevation is mostly not low enough to be habitable to humans without pressure suits, but genetically modified plants thrive in the nutrient-rich alluvial soil. Though Chryse's population is quite small, only having a couple of dense towns located in deep craters, it provides a majority of the planet's food.
Chryse's inhabitants are commonly perceived as easygoing, hospitable and a bit simple-minded. That is, if they are perceived at all. Despite its importance, the region is often forgotten in discussions of Mars.
As its exports are mostly local to Mars and occasionally to the outer solar system, the region finds itself largely isolated from Earth politics. This is a point of pride for its inhabitants, who consider themselves for this reason to be truest Martians, embodying a spirit of independence and self-reliance.
Mariner Valley
Tumblr media
Mariner Valley is a system of rift valleys near Mars' equator. Its higher elevation means that it became habitable slightly later than Hellas, but the moderate climate and abundant water make it highly desirable as a place of habitation. Originally it served as a staging point for people and cargo moving to and from mining settlements on Tharsis, but it slowly evolved into a highly developed center for manufacturing and industry.
The region's value as a manufacturing hub which is easily accessible to the outer solar system makes it highly desirable to Earth corporations, who have long been vying for political influence in the area. This is met with resistance from many of the locals, upset that the fruits of their labor are largely spent on the interests of Earth instead of bettering their own planet. Mariner Valley is the nucleus of a socialist independence movement, and is currently under partial administration by the Martial Coalition. This is allowed to exist as it serves to take some administrative burden off of the colonial government and doesn't inconvenience them, though any acknowledgment of its existence is completely informal and under very vaguely defined terms.
Depending on who you ask, Mariner Valley is either a place for well-meaning but starry-eyed and unrealistic idealists, or a rotting trench full of communists. Its anyone's guess, really. Broadly, Mariner Valley sees itself as the future of Mars: real, red-blooded Martians who truly believe in their people.
Tharsis
Tumblr media
Tharsis Rise, often simply "the rise", is a massive plateau around the Martian equator. Its high altitude and harsh winds render it uninhabitable. Its valuable deposits of highly accessible ore minerals mean that people live there anyways. A pressure suit is needed to be outside here. At moderate altitudes, a partial counterpressure suit to assist with breathing is sufficient. In the mountains, full body pressures suits are necessary to prevent bodily fluids from flash boiling.
Settlements in this region are largely run by Earth corporations and structured entirely around resource extraction. Despite the huge value of the area's resources, it remains among the planet's poorest. Escaping poverty proves particularly difficult when your boss sets the price of oxygen. Public perception is largely divided, with some people seeing the struggles of Tharsis as a symbol of Mars' oppression, and others seeing it as their just comeuppance for being lazy and reliant on handouts from Earth.
The population of Tharsis is spread out, and apart from a few large settlements with good transportation, isolated from the rest of the planet. They are not linked by kinship nor ideology, but are together in their misery. They're born in the dirt, they work in the dirt, and they die in the dirt. In the dirt, they're one people, and what's more truly Martian than that?
All elevation maps were made with MOLA data using JMARS
116 notes · View notes
dutchwinter · 9 months
Note
can we get an anthony kissing boys compilation.. either images or audio clips or videos or like anything……
you have asked one of the right people for this. check out wilde's #agbkcu tag as well. okay now onto A History. this is not going to be in order in any way hope you enjoy it though. happy bisexuality
boykissing in 2005. nic newsham from gatsbys american dream. and i think he probably let me kiss him. another show around this time anthony said on stage that "nic from gatsbys is my new boyfriend" just interesting.
another patreon clip. i dont think this one was posted anywhere. before circas first show steve said "right before we started anthony was like... kiss me" which anthony immediately denies. edit: astro has posted it!
now sxsw in 2008. anthony green and craig owens. there are three different angles of this i have seen. gif from here
Tumblr media
jon simmons from balance and composure. real passionate one.
Tumblr media
david marion from fear before the march of flames. they kiss about 45 seconds in though the entire video is extremely gay. yeah. gif from wilde
Tumblr media
sigh. brendan ekstrom from circa survive. about 14 minutes. completely out of nowhere. its so interesting to me.
Tumblr media
jacob lang. merch guy for a few tours anthonys done and a friend of his. they kissed. yeah.
Tumblr media
frank iero [and tucker rule] from ls dunes. as you might know.
Tumblr media
chris carrabba. need i say more.
Tumblr media
again. wilde my beloved.
Tumblr media
and with that. alleged geoffthony kiss. there are livejournal users that mention this kiss and the fact that it did or did not happen. idr when this happened. and i think there might have been different moments? there are people that know more than me about this specific one i think wes knows about it. i dont have the lj stuff right now but i do have this tweet. [IIRC. THIS ONE IS VERY IIRC bc i cant verify any of this rn]
Tumblr media
this guy. and probably other people!!
Tumblr media
okay honorable mention is this peer pleasure clip where he doesnt talk about boy kissing but he does talk about loving all over a guy who im pretty sure is john gourley from portugal. the man. 🫡
edit: astro has mentioned another one here!
edit two: wes talks abt geoffthony here!
edit THREE: kiss on the cheek here!
198 notes · View notes
lyss-butterscotch · 1 year
Note
I was looking at the image of Pebbles when he is in late stage rot, and I'm not sure if I'm looking at it right but does he have tentacle leg things?
Good question anon.
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Time to dump all my brainrot on this character design I will probably never use again!
The rot has seeped into the puppet's inner workings and replaced a good chunk of its processing. Making the puppet dependant on the rot instead of its umbilical. So when the real umbilical snapped, Pebbles doesn't even notice his lifeline had been replaced.
This is also the turning point where Pebbles' desperate attempt to remove the rot violently blurs with the rot's simple drive to CONSUME and SURVIVE. Not even remembering why he was hacking in the first place.
Pebbles' puppet is NOT a specialized travel puppet. The rot simply morphed his puppet to witstand function outside the superstructure.
Anyways yeah i'm never gonna draw rot pebbles again I will physically die if i have to draw the tendrils over and over again 💀
289 notes · View notes
ddejavvu · 1 year
Note
rockstar!Remus claims shy!reader as his girl on stage when he sees some prick flirting with her and then has to make up for it with kisses b/c that was not something they discussed (even though she's lowkey happy about it)
Love ya Mei!!
today is multiverse monday! send me an au you can think of :)
love you too <333
--
He knows by the stiffness of your hands and your wide-open eyes that he's fucked up. He hadn't quite meant to expose your relationship to the whole world, but the words, ''Ey! Hands off my girl!" Had tumbled from his mouth before he could stop them, shocking the crowd into an uncharacteristic few seconds of dead silence. The cameras had been quick to catch you, mortified and leaning into Mary's embrace as she tried distancing you from the man that had been feeling you up. Remus is sure half of the adrenaline pumping through you right now is from being touched, and the other half is from being outed.
"Dove," He breathes, sympathy sweetening his voice, "Are you okay? I'm sorry, I just- fuck, I hope he didn't freak you out."
"I'm okay," Your voice is less stable, more feeble as it shakes like your hands do, "I- It's just... Remus, why would you do that?"
"I'm sorry," He repeats, a thousand emotions swirling in his head like a cyclone that he's afraid you'll get lost in, "Really, sweetheart, I didn't mean to say it, I just panicked when I saw him, and, well, it came out."
"Yeah," You nod, and when he brings you in by the waist you stumble against him, no control over your body or its movements.
"I'm sorry," Remus feels like a broken record, murmuring the apologies into your hairline as he tucks your face against his chest, "I'm sorry, dove, I'm sorry. It'll be okay, it's just a bit sooner than we'd planned, yeah?"
"Mhm," You nod, voice muffled against his shirt. You lean in gratefully to the grounding that he offers, and he tries rubbing the heebie-jeebies out of your skin as he smooths his hand over your back.
"I'll survive," You decide, spewing it like a mantra though it doesn't sound very convincing.
"You'll survive," Remus praises, tilting your chin up and against his chest so that he can kiss your forehead, "And.. I mean, think about it. Now we can go out together on real dates."
"I like movie nights." You wrinkle your nose in worry, and he kisses the lines.
"We can still have movie nights." He promises, "But let's stop for ice cream first? We can get a milkshake, one straw."
You blush at the stereotypical image, but your stomach swarms with butterflies, "Strawberry?"
"Strawberry." Remus confirms, pressing a kiss that's just as sweet as one to your lips, "Let's go show you off then, dove."
700 notes · View notes
lonelywhalien22 · 1 year
Text
trust me
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
pairing: bang chan x reader
rating/genre: comfort, fluff, sprinkle of angst
summary: you're having a bad day and your boyfriend chan is there to try and make you feel better.
warnings: reader is low key hella sad in this (take care of yourselves yall <3) + a steamy kiss (very self indulgent ik i'm sorry)
word count: 2.7k
song(s) to listen to while reading: steamroller by phoebe bridgers (reader is hella sad so are we surprised lol), renee's song by bazzi, fall by chloe x halle
note: while i try to tame some bigger fic ideas into submission i'll occasionally polish up + share some of my more decent smaller pieces from years past. pretty sure i wrote this one in the throws of the p*ndemic while struggling with college and feeling hella touch starved...so yeah...enjoy lol <3
————
It was one of those days - one where that funny feeling had bubbled up inside of you, seemingly out of nowhere. You knew it all too well by now, knew its signs and its symptoms. One moment you’d be fine, and then it would happen - a dreaded phone call for an appointment that you could no longer put off, a tedious task at work, a much needed item that you’d misplaced and couldn’t find - sometimes it was all of these things in one day and more, and suddenly you weren’t ok. And as much as you’d try to not let all the frustrations of life get to you, as much as you’d try to hold on to the good, to the light, sometimes bit by bit it would still slip from your grasp until you were tired of trying and there was nothing left inside of you but a dull gray.
You hated when you got in these sorts of moods - used to think there'd be some stage in life, some milestone you could reach, thing you could achieve that would make them go away forever, but you’d survived enough of them by now to know that it was a lifelong battle. There were highs and lows, and today just happened to be one of the lows.
Today also just happened to be one where your boyfriend Bang Chan was supposed to be coming over. His presence was one that so often brought light into your life - fun and laughter and a smile to every situation, but despite having accepted that you were in a sour mood, the thought of him seeing you this way made you feel worse instead of better - like a recluse undeserving of such sweet affection. As if he could hear your thoughts from afar, your cellphone began ringing on the kitchen table, temporarily snapping you right out of your self pity.
“Am I still good to stop by in an hour?" You could practically hear the excitement in his voice, imagining his charming smile immediately, but the warmth in your chest only lasted for a second before you just felt even more upset with yourself. You didn’t wanna burden him with your feelings - tramp all over his joy with your frustration.
"Hey Chan. I'm sorry, but I'm kind of feeling like trash right now." You thought maybe that would be the end of it, hoped that he would read between the lines, but he was completely oblivious, a caring tone seeping into his words as he tried to help you instead.
"Are you sick? I can pick up something for you and bring it by if you want.”
"No, that's not exactly it," you began, struggling to find the words. There was a long pause on the line, and you could hear Chan shifting, as if he was sitting up. You cursed in your head. There was no way he was gonna let this go now - not when you were being so distant. 
“Babe, you know you can tell me anything right?” His use of the nickname made your heart flutter again, gently coaxing you to open up to him - to be honest.
“I know.” 
“Then talk to me.”
“I just…I don’t know, it’s stupid.”
“Nothing you say is stupid,” Chan said immediately. “Tell me what’s going on.”
You let out a sigh before nervously continuing. “It’s just…sometimes I’ll get in this really weird headspace and it makes me feel like crap and...I'm just annoyed with myself. I'm sorry if that doesn't make any sense...I think maybe I just need to be alone right now," you tried to get the last words out but began to break down a little as you really thought about what you’d said. Something about hearing it out loud made it feel all the more real, your eyes beginning to water and throat beginning to dry up.
“It sounds like you're upset. You sure you don't want me to come over?” 
You took a big breath, trying to calm yourself before speaking again, but no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t find it in you to say anything else. It felt paralyzing - being stuck between the part of you that just wanted him to be with you and the part that was afraid you’d scare him away forever with your feelings. The more you thought about it the more emotional you got, and you felt a tear run down your cheek before you started to sob silently into the phone.
"Babe? Y/n?” Chan asked, voice becoming laced with concern. 
"Yeah?" It was all you could manage to sob out.
"I'm coming over right now," he said quickly, making the decision for you. You could already hear shuffling sounds in the background as he presumably scrambled to grab his things.
"Give me like twenty minutes ok? And just stay on the line with me please? Can you do that for me?" 
"Yeah. I'm sorry." 
“There's nothing to be sorry for," Chan said softly.
————
In less than twenty minutes you heard a hurried knock on your door. Hanging up on your phone, you pulled yourself off of the couch and shuffled over to the entrance of your apartment, unlocking and pulling open the door to reveal your boyfriend's slightly panicked face.
“Hey…” he whispered gently when he saw you. You moved out of the way and he quickly stepped inside, setting down a bunch of bags before he turned back around and immediately enveloped you in his arms. The warmth of his body pressed against yours easily disarmed you, walls falling down so that all you could think about was his sturdy embrace. 
"I'm sorry,” you mumbled into his chest, trying to look at him. “I didn't mean to worry y-" 
"Hmm. Shush. No apologizing. Just let me hold you for a minute, yeah?" 
You nodded your head against him, silent as you slowly relaxed all the muscles in your body and let yourself really feel his warmth, feel all of the love radiating from his body into yours. He smelled like his shower gel, a hint of spearmint seeping into your lungs as your breathing began to slow and your eyes closed, whizzing thoughts in your head beginning to dissipate one by one. Your fingers curled into the fabric of his black sweater, holding on as if you never wanted to let go, and he let you - staying wrapped around you for an entire minute, just like he said. One of his hands stayed firmly wrapped around your waist while the other went up to start rubbing all the way from your head to the middle of your back, repeating the motion leisurely. You released a sigh of content as he did this, feeling yourself start to calm down, heart rate beginning to slow. Eventually he loosened his arms just enough to pull back a little and look at your tear-stained face.
"Let's sit down and I'll get you some food to eat hmm?" he said quietly, thumb wiping across your wet cheeks. You nodded, feeling a bit like a child as he lead you to your couch and wrapped a blanket around you before getting you some food from one of the bags he brought. When he came back you noticed his hair was a bit wet, presumably still drying from a shower he must have taken right before calling you, strands curling from the dampness. And as you looked down at the container of food he’d placed in your hands you realized it was your favorite meal from your favorite place. He even remembered how you always asked for extra sauce. 
Chan stayed silent as you slowly picked up your fork and began to eat, still sniffling a little. He easily found the remote to your tv, switching it on in a practiced familiarity, and put on one of your favorite movies, letting it play softly in the background before digging in to his own food.
When you’d both finished eating, he silently patted his lap, and you knew without any explanation that he was asking you to lean yourself back into his embrace. You did so shyly, Chan grabbing the blanket and draping it around the two of you before he wrapped his arm around your shoulder and pulled you even closer. Finally you relaxed, leaning your head into the crook of his neck and turning slightly so that you could shamelessly wrap your arms around his middle, no longer even focusing on the tv at all. It felt so comforting to be in his arms that your eyes immediately began to close, his embrace luring you to sleep.
————
When you woke up it was dark outside. You blinked a couple times, shifting slightly before realizing that you were still completely wrapped up in Chan’s arms. To your embarrassment, you caught him peeking at you with the softest look on his face, your heart beating a little faster because you’d never been this close to him for so long before. 
“Better?” he asked you simply, thumb moving to rub against your elbow gently.
You opened your eyes a bit wider, immediately beginning to shift up on the couch.
“I’m sorry, I didn't realize how late it was," you said quickly instead of answering his question, feeling guilty as you shifted a little from his embrace. You’d essentially used him as your own personal pillow for who knows how many hours. “I didn’t mean to keep you here like that for so long,” you continued to ramble, but Chan only shook his head in response.
“Y/n. Hey - look at me,” Chan said with a soothing tone. You stopped your shuffling and did as he asked.
“Do you feel better?” he repeated his question from earlier, and you finally nodded a little before picking at the blanket on your lap.
“Yeah. I’m just sorry I wasted your time because of some dumb mood I was in," you responded, annoyed with yourself as you pushed your hair out of your face roughly.
“You know it’s not a crime to feel sad, right?” Chan started gently after a couple beats of silence, clearly trying to find the right words as his thumb continued to lightly rub against your skin. “Even if there isn’t a clear reason - that doesn’t make how you’re feeling any less real.”
“I guess.” You dismissed his words easily, clearly not taking them to heart.
"Why do you always do that?" he asked lightly.
"What do you mean?”
"Talk yourself down. Dismiss how you're feeling,” he elaborated, a little concern in his voice once again. “It makes me worry about you.” 
Your eyes widened in surprise before you looked off to the side. 
“I don’t know, I guess it’s just out of habit.”
Chan tapped your elbow, silently asking you to look at him again. 
"Can I tell you something?” he whispered into the quiet. You nodded curiously.
"I care about you - so much that it scares me sometimes,” he said earnestly, raking a hand through his hair. "You're so thoughtful, so kind, such an amazing listener - you make it so easy for me to be honest about how I'm feeling, and I've never felt more comfortable talking to anyone else,” he continued, looking down a little as he said that last part.
His words made you feel shy all over again, not expecting him to be so open with you. You willed yourself to keep looking at him.
"I guess what I'm trying to say is that…I wanna make you feel safe too - safe to share how you’re feeling with me, the good and the bad. Because that’s how you make me feel.” 
“Chan…” you said, lightly smacking his arm in jest as you looked away from him, tears flooding your eyes for a different reason. But he just leaned forward and kissed your temple, pulling you back into his arms gently before continuing.
“Trust me, ok?” Chan asked as you nodded into his chest. “I want you to know that you can always share how you’re feeling with me - even if it’s sad or you don’t think it makes any sense - even if I can’t fix it for you - I’ll always at least be here to listen, I promise. Just don’t hide from me, yeah?”
Tears were falling from your eyes now - not because you were sad, but because Chan’s care for you felt so unconditional, so devoid of judgement - and you’d never known care like that from a partner before. You didn’t have any words to respond in that moment - all you knew was that you wished the two of you could stay on your couch, just like this, forever. 
"I didn't mean to make you cry again," Chan said, a little worried as he saw your expression. "Let me get you some t -”
But you leaned up and kissed him gently, cutting off his words. This wasn't your first kiss, but it was definitely the first that you had initiated. Usually you would just stare at his lips longingly or give the tiniest of hints until he finally caught on to what you wanted, but this time you couldn't hold yourself back. You just felt this boost of confidence, an unrelenting need to express a feeling that words couldn't define. 
Chan was shocked at first, but he quickly fell into it, closing his eyes and immediately wrapping his hands around your waist oh so gently as his lips began to move against yours slowly, lightly, with the utmost care. You each tilted your heads instinctively to opposite sides, still not coming up for any air as you maneuvered yourself back into his lap and brought a hand up to caress the side of his face before combing your fingers through his hair instead, a tiny noise of contentment leaving you in that moment. 
“Y/n…” he groaned softly against your smiling lips. 
"Hmmm?" you responded, still in a feeling of utter bliss. Your other hand was rubbing across his upper chest and shoulder soothingly, and you leaned in and kissed him again before he could even muster enough sense to respond, unable to stop yourself. Chan’s lips began moving against yours again, and he started to lean forward until your back was against a pillow on the couch and he was hovering over you completely. It felt as if he was trying to reach your heart with just the movements his warm, pillowy lips made against yours.
His thumbs started rubbing soothing circles into your waist and you felt like you were floating on a cloud, mind becoming hazy as your head became filled with thoughts of him and only him. He left three final pecks on your lips, finally mustering enough self control to pull back before things got even more heated. His hands slid from your waist all the way up to your cheeks, caressing them softly. 
You were smiling softly but genuinely, in complete bliss as he leaned in and kissed your forehead sweetly before finally saying, “I love you, you know?"
“I love you too,” you whispered quietly, just enough for him to hear. 
He rubbed his thumb near the corner of your lips, eyes crawling all over your face before he said a little regretfully, "I hate for this to end but I don't wanna keep you up any later than it already is."
“Then just stay over for the night. Please?" you begged a little bit and put a pout on your face. He immediately kissed it off of you and you couldn’t help but laugh a little.
"Are you sure?"
Neither of you had ever spent the night at each other's place, so it was completely new territory and you could tell he didn’t want to seem like he was taking advantage of the entire situation. You shifted up a little to kiss his forehead back.
“Chan, I want you to. I promise. Please?”
You meant every word. You wanted nothing more than to hold him all night long.
"Ok," he said quietly, grin growing on his face until you saw that cheeky smile you loved so dearly.
————
That night was one of the most peaceful you’d ever had in recent memory. Buried deep under your sheets, nestled under the stars, you curled yourself into his arms - so close that you could feel his heartbeat against your cheek, slow and steady. And you fell asleep just like that - sweet dreams eventually melting away into the morning sun.
320 notes · View notes
doberbutts · 10 months
Text
As Disability Discourse 2.0 crosses my dash yet again I am left sort of wondering where the line is.
I am physically disabled. I am also neurodivergent. I do not consider myself mentally ill but I know that there are people out there with my exact diagnoses that do consider themselves mentally ill.
I have a brain injury. You can point to it on an MRI. I have the images to prove it. I had to re-teach myself how to speak. Those weird typos I have sometimes? Yeah my brain just reads letters wrong and sometimes spits out the wrong word or tense or grammatical structure sorry, that’s what happens when your brain gets shaken around in your head like a maraca following a serious car accident. I have a permanent tremor in my right hand and arm which results in me being incapable of fine motor control when having a flare. I am photosensitive and relatively intolerant of stress. I knocked an eye loose and was thankfully able to keep it but occasionally need to cover it or else it feels like someone is stabbing me directly in the brain when there is literally any light or movement whatsoever.
Did you know that over 30% of people who survive TBIs debate and even attempt to kill themselves within the first year? It’s still a bit unresearched but many neurologists believe it’s because many survivors have a hard time adjusting to their new normal when it feels like they have lost all control over themselves. I did not get that bad but I had many meltdowns where I would sob uncontrollably because it was all just Too Much, and the knowledge that it would be Too Much, Forever was curse over comfort.
Is that a mental or a physical disability? A part of my brain is damaged, like a scar. It is entirely neurological and mental in its symptoms.
I was diagnosed with a different brain condition, one that affects the autonomic nerve within my brain, causing fainting episodes, out-of-control mast cells, horrific digestive problems, and joints that bend a little too much. Average quality of life after diagnosis is roughly equivalent to someone with end stage heart failure.
A part of my brain is faulty and always has been. It is entirely physical in its symptoms. Is this a mental or physical disability?
My knee hurts. I was knocked off my bike one day on my way home from college. It was a hit-and-run driver and I didn’t have the money or the insurance to do more than slap a brace on it and limp around for several weeks while it healed. Less than a decade later it gave out. I was completely unable to walk for months. I lost my job. I ended up switching careers entirely so I could sit. I walk with a cane. I have to physically drag myself up stairs with my arms and my “good” leg. I spend nights grasping at my knee willing it to stop spasming as I try to get some sleep. I’ve had to beg for painkillers. Surgery will not help it. My knee is Completely Fucked, Forever.
This is a clear physical disability, that much is for sure.
I recently went to see Spiderverse. I warned my friend that it was entirely possible I’d need to duck out at some point because the movie would overwhelm me. I also warned her that I would probably need to immediately rest or go home and would not be able to hang out because I was anticipating it to be Sensory Hell. I went in prepared with my own snacks, tinted glasses to take the edge off the flashing, and even looked away during some of the worst of it.
I needed to duck out after an extended chase scene which featured a lot of flashing lights. I was able to come back and finish the movie. I needed nearly an hour of rest to stop shaking and be safe to drive myself home. I immediately went to bed upon getting home at about 4pm and by the time it was night had a pounding headache and shivers. I knew this would probably happen because the first one was very bad for my brain injury and I’d been pre-warned the second one was worse about it- truly I think it is really those movies’ biggest flaws is that they are very not friendly to people with problems with bright flashing lights.
My knee did not prevent me from entering the building. The theater was wheelchair accessible.
But even with sensory provisions, my brain injury and faulty nerve made it a monumental task to just finish a two and a half hour task of literally just sitting there.
I could go in. Staying was the part that was in question.
163 notes · View notes
sepublic · 19 days
Text
So I've seen some people criticize lately the deconstruction of the child hero trope, arguing that it originally existed as a way of empowering kids who feel ineffective and powerless. And yeah, kids DO have a notable lack of agency that as an adult, you really begin to understand more and appreciate, at least on my end. These are all fair arguments, the deconstruction of the deconstruction, and I don't think they're necessarily wrong. It's just...
Some stories are meant for other people? The thing about this generation is that it's got a LOT on its shoulders. This generation is the one that's tired and burnt out, it has to deal with the burden of a world that's imploding in on itself, and the expectation that they have to fix it. It feels like corporations and politicians are casually destroying the world, knowing future generations will be the ones to have to clean it up, so why should they care?
There's a lot of anxiety and angst about the sociopolitical sphere. We've got the rise of Linkin Park, we've got people becoming jaded with late-stage capitalism and wondering how they can even survive in this economy. The fantasy has shifted from large and grand stuff to simply being able to survive and make a humble yet satisfying living. Kids are becoming burnt out, and being gifted is more apparently not worth the hype.
So I imagine THAT's the appeal behind the deconstruction of the kid protagonist for modern audiences, the one that's like "Hey isn't this fucked up? Isn't this messed up? The fate of the world is on this kid's shoulders, they're just a child soldier?" Because I think it reflects a lot of people's frustration with the adults around them, that it feels like the adults have become useless and are just forcing them to do things on their own, and often for them.
For a lot of young people, it feels like they're being forced to do all of the emotional labor while parents and guardians who tend to fail them, especially for being queer, ultimately slack on their duties by guilt-tripping them; Saying they've already done so much providing shelter and food, so you should be grateful, how dare you expect emotional support and the like!!!
It's all a way to vent frustration over the ineffectivity, and even abuse, of parents and guardians. It's catharsis for angst, because it feels like there's so much wrong with the world; The internet and modern communication has led to this phenomenon of "infowhelming" where kids are constantly bombarded by news of all the world's ills. It's sensory overload, it's a Greta Thunberg situation where it's inherently ridiculous that a kid has to step up and fix things, and instead of acknowledging how much help they need, the adults have the audacity to congratulate this child and put them on a pedestal as the chosen one who will fix things for them. Instead of just taking responsibility themselves.
The "Kid Protagonist is a Child Soldier" deconstruction is an outlet for kids to explore darker emotions, to admit their angst is valid, that this is a really shitty situation and this is how they can deal with it. Growing up, I already had Lemony Snicket's A Series of Unfortunate Events, which DID play into the idea of kids cast into too much responsibility because of useless adults around them. It felt like a way for kids to cope with the fact that the world can be a very unfair place, it was cathartic in its acknowledgement of the frustration and its validity.
Plus, it's not as if all these deconstruction stories are saying that kids CAN'T have fun, that they can't do things, because kids DO want to do things!!! They want agency, they want to feel like they're making a difference! It's just that a lot of them also want the reassurance that the adults are still there for them as a support network, that they have people more experienced to fall back and rely on when it's too much; They can do their part but it's not ALL down to them, is that too much to ask for? The nuance of being able to do things, but not having to be the only one?
Sometimes kids like it both ways where they can be an adventurer but also recognize when some things messed them up, so they can have space to breathe before moving onwards. Sometimes they need a break because it IS taxing, but they’ll still go back to it. Sometimes they'll still do the work knowing how necessary it is, while wanting acknowledgement for how hard it was. People write about the traumatic effects of 'bad things' for a reason; They still want to see those bad things in media, for the catharsis of the coping and emotional fallout afterwards.
These defenses of the Kid Protagonist trope and how it resonated with kids from, say, the early 20th century is fair. It's true. But these deconstruction stories of today also apply, in that they're a power fantasy in a different way for different kids of a different generation, with different struggles. So I find it disingenuous to simply dismiss these deconstruction-type stories as just CinemaSins bathos, even if I understand that a lot of people are understandably tired of the MCU's "That just happened" attempts at self-awareness.
And I don't think kids of today are completely decrying straightforward depictions, it's just nice to have those, AND the deconstruction, to flip back and forth between as their mood needs. These types of stories where the protagonists realize they're child soldiers, like Animorphs -which itself was written for teenagers in all their angst- might simply... not be for some people. And that's okay, that's fine! Different stories resonate, different stories serve different purposes because they're by different people.
46 notes · View notes
rot-dogz · 14 days
Note
please do dump about your watcher au as much as you want!! I'd love to hear about it!!
YAYYYY THANKS FOR ASKING its autism time Basically um. You know how most the watcher!grian hcs/interpretations have him as an unwilling participant in all this ? Uh, yeah ! Not this grian:3 Well. Kinda. But. Im a TMA Fan and I love FUCKED UP guys so !!!! Watchers feed off emotions. All emotions, but they're especially known for finding fear or grief or other negative emotions the most nutritionally filling/benefital to their health. However: They can't just sit there around someone whos very happy, sad, angry, ect, and then get fed from that. They have to- uh, for lack of better word- latch onto a players "soul," and tear chunks of that from them, dig into their mind and bite into whatever makes them feel and then tear that away. Sometimes, a feeding will cause the victim to be unable to feel anything at all after the feeding, if a Watcher gorges themself solely on them. Most often, when they use restraint while feeding, the victim will loose all feelings they'd had about the previous days, weeks, or even months, and might feel like everythings "dulled down" for some time while they recover. (Younger Watchers usually have to have physical contact with the victim to feed, older or more powerful Watchers can feed without even being on the same plane of existence as their victim, only needing to be able to See them.) Now, that's all kind of similar to a lot of headcanons about Watchers already, and I pulled the "eating emotions" thing from Martyns Eyes & Ears AU (altho in that its JUST fear), but uh... Heres where it differs: The Watchers aren't sentient. Not really, anyway. They're...predators, beings that know they need to feed and will go to great lengths to do so, survival their greatest worry above all else. Think of them like... Smart animals. Corvids, for example, crows especially- they will investigate their own dead to figure out what killed the other bird so they can avoid it, and are extremely good puzzle solvers. Prairie dogs have an incredibly advanced verbal communication system- able to even denote the speed of which a predator is approaching their den (probably the closest we could get to an ""language"" in the animal kingdom). But neither of those animals, as smart as they may be, are considered sentient. Its the same with Watchers. Watchers CAN communicate, they can understand eachother, they can achieve a certain amount of planning, like how squirrels can count what nuts they have & deduce how many they need, or how whales and other marine life are especially prone to being able to plan & use logical reasoning... They can understand the concept of death and... the concept of keeping their food alive for delayed gratification and a continued food source, instead of just going out and feeding on someone until theyre a husk of themselves, unable to provide more food. How, exactly, they got all the players into the life series/how they made the games IS something im working on, but the point im getting at here is that theyre basically like ants farming aphids, except the aphids are sentient people..? yay..? Ah, and Watcher cant reproduce normally. They have incredibly long lifespans, but when a Watcher does come to its end, they... Well, theyll find an player to bite into the soul of, and instead of feeding, they basically do the reverse- shoving all their energy into that being and becoming a parasite that will eventually take over the host and make them a Watcher, similarly without much sentience. Thats what happens to Grian. :3 The exact process of turning is also in the works but basically it starts by becoming unable to eat regular food, slowly focusing all the players willpower into wanting to eat, before they develop the ability to feed from other players. At this stage they might still be able to feel themself, however after feeding from another you tend to loose your own emotions amongst the ones youre feeding off of, and at some point, any remaining emotions the "player" has, is consumed by them for extra nutrition, and in turn they officially become a Watcher.
UMMMM YEAH!!!! Thats all the worldbuilding I have :3333 Theres uh- a story in my mind, but its not as fleshed out? I also MIGHT make it a fic (heavy on the might) so idk how much i'd wanna spoil. But uh, yeah, Grian'll be a bit of a special case in that his turning takes... a lot longer than normal. ^_^ I put him in the torture world sorry
31 notes · View notes
shuttershocky · 8 months
Note
Heya! I'm a huge fan of Silence and I've been really hype about her alter, but actually I've been wondering of good she actually was? I've seen a lot of people or tierlists putting her very low, and it's worrying me that my favorite character's alter is going to be that bad (but I mean, I'll still play her anyway-)
So, how good is she, if you have any clue? What's the best way to play her? And would she be better in a Rhine Lab squad?
Silence the Paradigmatic is not very valued both because she's purely defensive, and people just hate Abjurers in general for their low numbers and lack of otherwise outstanding utility on top of their heals and shelter, such as Eyjaberry being seen as busted as fuck due to having a global range, 5x heal that also heals elemental damage.
However, when it comes to actually doing her job of keeping her allies from dying, nobody does it better than Silence. This is because of what her S3 does: give a temporary immortality buff to all allies within her attack range.
Purely from a numbers standpoint her S3 is wild. It has a humble +30% ATK buff to boost her heals and boosts her Talent 1 (10% shelter on allies in her range, scaling to 24% when they're at 30% HP) by 1.8x which is decent, but what is nuts is that it applies a buff on allies in range where, if they take lethal damage, their HP gets prevented from going below 1 for 10 seconds. The skill also lasts for a mind-boggling 60 seconds, meaning you have a whole minute where everyone gets a one-time get out of jail free card. If an ally uses it up early, they can still die later on even while the skill is ongoing, but still. You make everyone into Specter.
With an SP cost of 30 at S3M3 and a starting SP of 20, Silence can come in with the immortality buff just 10 seconds into deployment. It's so conceptually broken than HG tried to keep it in check by only making it usable up to 2x per battle (they knew this would inevitably take over the Contingency Contract meta otherwise), but due to its ridiculously long duration of 60 seconds, most stages are over by the time you use it twice anyway.
Counter AOE boss skills. Aak buff whoever you want without thinking about if they can survive it or not. This skill even works on allies she can't directly heal, meaning the immortality buff works on Juggernauts and Mushas.
Rather than break the game by ending a stage on her own, Silence instead increases the viability of other, less meta strategies, opening up way more ways to play the game than simply ungga bungga meta spam. It means that while she's never going to be high on anyone's tier lists, she actually accomplishes her intended job of being a support unit, all while being a free unit that you don't even have to roll for.
As for being in a Rhine squad, Silence's faction buff is a doubled buff on her S2, which heals allies constantly by 5% of Silence's ATK every second when they're below half health (so 10% if a Rhine Lab member). Not much on its own, but with Abjurer modules Silence ALSO gets a +10% max HP to all allies in range which means free fucking +20% Max HP for Saria. HELL yeah.
74 notes · View notes