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thosewickedlovelies · 1 month

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Conversation Pit | Dieter Bravo x afab!Reader

Rating: E for Explicit

Summary: You’re viewing a mansion with Dieter, and it has a conversation pit. Does he have the discipline to keep his hands to himself?

Tags: friends with benefits, SMUT: Dieter’s favorite dom appears 👀 could it be someone we know?; mmf threesome, piv sex, semipublic sex but don’t worry, edging (m receiving), references to sex work

Word count: 4,112

Note: Listen. This fic was supposed to be conversation pit fucking and then it evolved into something else. I did not do her justice. I’ll come back to you baby.

This is the same universe as Coping Mechanisms. There's no plot connecting the two fics, but I recommend reading it if you want more sexy Dieter smut 😏😌

Masterlist

“It feels like a little much,” you say. Your neck aches from craning to look up at the many elevated features of this house. Or rather, this mansion. The sprawling, avant-garde chandelier in the foyer. The ocean-themed mosaics undulating across the domed ceiling of a bathroom. An enormous space lined with hanging walkways and tunnels and little nesting spots, for who knows how many cats.

This latest hallway is nice, though. Rustic wood beams pass overhead at a more average height, providing a sort of cozy, normal feeling for the first time since you entered. Here’s hoping they lead to a similar design style in the next room.

“I dunno, I kinda like it.” Dieter slings an arm around your shoulders. “Lots of walls to paint, you know? I could make it my own.”

“True,” you concede. “There are way more rooms than I was expecting, though. Like maybe more than even you could paint on your own.”

“You’re right about the rooms, actually.” The realtor gives you an sheepish smile over his shoulder. “The owner’s kind of a character- it took some real convincing to get them to send us any pictures at all, so they missed a few things. But they left the house in great shape, right?” He beams winningly.

This realtor has shown you and Dieter a few houses by now. He’s pretty okay for a chummy salesman type. His methods at least included giving you space to think and discuss, which you appreciate.

Not that discussion between you and Dieter was really necessary. He was the one buying a mansion, not you. He just wanted you here for impulse control, and a second opinion. “I trust your judgment,” he’d insisted.

A lopsided smirk overtook his face. “Even with your choice of fuckbuddy.”

You’d rolled your eyes. “Is that what we’re calling it now?”

Dieter had shrugged. “Fuckbuddies, friends with benefits, booty calls. We know what we are.”

“Coping mechanisms?” you added drily.

He’d given you a wounded look- always so effective with those big brown eyes of his. “We can be friends and coping mechanisms.”

You’d laughed at that, and now here you were, touring the quirkiest LA mansion you’d yet seen together this week. Or maybe offbeat was a better word. You didn’t really have any idea how to describe these places. Homes, but also playgrounds of the rich and famous. They’d do the place up how they wanted (or how some expensive designer wanted) and then left the next person to clean up the mess- to paper over whatever was now deemed- *shudder*- out of fashion.

Or to paint over, you muse, thinking of Dieter’s impromptu artistic urges.

“Now, you may think you’ve seen the showstoppers of this house, but this next room might just make you reconsider.” Standing before a door at the end of the hall, the realtor pushes it open and stands aside with a flourish.

Your mouth drops open.

It didn’t just open up, as the rest of the house seemed to. This room also opens down. The beautiful wood beams do continue overhead, and the entire back wall is windowed, making the space feel both grand and homey at once. Bright sunshine streams in. The glass wall looks out over the backyard, which is less of a backyard than an entire valley, wild and forested, without a trace of the other mansions you’ve been informed are tucked into the hill. On the left wall of the room rises a stone brick fireplace; on the right wall, tall bookshelves. The sandy carpet underfoot looks thick and cozy.

And in the dead center of the room: a conversation pit.

Your mouth falls open again.

Is that even what it’s called? The word has a strange texture in your mind. Yes, a conversation pit; that architectural relic of the 70s. A great round depression, a huge circular couch set right into the floor.

It’s hideous.

Dieter hurtles through the door, down the short staircase, and bounds right into the pit. “Hey, check this out! A conversation pit, sweets! Have you ever been in a house with one of these?”

The realtor is prattling on about the other features of the room, something about adjustable lighting and special outlets.

“I haven’t.” You approach more slowly. The staircase below the door hugs the wall, presumably so that anyone who falls down it doesn’t carom straight into the pit. The carpeting is so luxurious that you almost feel bad about walking on it with shoes.

You carefully descend the two additional steps down to Dieter’s level. “This feels like a safety hazard.”

“Whaat? No way, it’s so cool! Like we’re in some classy old 70s porno.” In an instant Dieter has whirled to face you, grinning, a wily gleam in his eye.

Your eyes widen with what you hope is a forbidding look. “No, Dieter. Absolutely not.”

The realtor’s cell phone trills, cutting him off mid-sentence. “Excuse me, let me just check this.” He fishes it out and answers, and his eyes light up.

“You guys think about the house, okay? I’ll just be a minute.” The realtor heads back up the stairs. “Heya, Brad. No, no, I’m not busy…” He shuts the door behind him.

Dieter pounces.

“Dieter Bravo, you stay right there-”

The pupil in the eye of the pit is a cushy ottoman, which Dieter leaps over with unexpected grace. Your brain and your feet have different ideas on where to go; instead of fleeing, you stumble backward and fall to your ass on the sofa.

“Tell me you’re thinking what I’m thinking.”

“Dieter-”

“This room would be perfect for sex parties.” He’s practically glowing with excitement. He leers down at you, his shapely mouth turning up suggestively.

“D, that happened one time! And it wasn’t even planned, it was only because everyone drank too much of that Romanian liquor that Alexandra’s mom made her.”

The taste of cherries had haunted you for a month afterward. It was nothing like the syrupy-sweet maraschino flavor that smacked of childhood sundaes and red dye 40. This stuff was as black as the fruit itself and tasted of summer at its height, thick and ripe and heady.

Normally you’re not so keen to head off Dieter’s sex-related whims, but something about this moment, this room, feels different. Like your body can sense how little convincing it would take for you to give in.

Like Dieter can sense it.

“But it could happen again.”

Dieter crouches and pulls on something near the floor, and suddenly your feet are propped several inches higher off the ground. You blink, and in a fluid movement Dieter is kneeling between your legs, at the perfect height to put his mouth to your ear.

“Just imagine. You’re sitting here, just like this. I’m sitting here. Just like this.” His hand trails up your thigh. You swallow.

“The lights are low, low enough to see the stars in the sky outside. Maybe we have some music playing. Lying right there are John and Diana.” Dieter nods to the plush carpet inches from your face. “I know you liked watching them last time.”

As if in a dream, your head turns to look where he indicated. Your face heats furiously at the memory of your two attractive friends, and the heavy glances all four of you had shared that night.

“He’s fucking her, slow and easy. She’s watching us while he does. Maybe she’s telling you to join in- to let me make you feel good, like she’s feeling.”

Dieter’s low, husky voice is a potent aphrodisiac, and so is the picture it paints. The taste of cherries seems to coat your tongue. You fight down a little noise of want in the base of your throat, your body tightening and squirming. Your fingers dig into the couch cushions.

“We can invite Samya and Vish again. And maybe Dani and Riley. They’re so hot.” Dieter sighs, briefly indulging in his own fantasy.

Dieter’s hand has settled into a familiar shape- his thumb resting on your clit, but his fingers curled so the knuckles rest where they would normally slip inside you. Where they’d definitely be able to slide in right now. You can’t decide if you should thank or curse your past self for not wearing a skirt this morning.

“Remember how we could hear everyone? No one was hiding or acting shy, just enjoying themselves. Laughing and moaning…” Dieter’s voice drops to a whisper. “Diana was so wet you could hear it every time John thrust into her.”

His lips brush your ear. “And so were you.”

His teeth graze your neck and you can’t stop your moan. He sucks on the sensitive skin just the way you like, his thumb bearing down, and your head drops back.

The bright blue sky brings you back to your senses.

“Dieter!” You squirm away, gasping for air.

He immediately retreats. He remains kneeling on the foot rest as you pull your legs up and together, attempting to regain some composure.

“I think that courtesan part you played went to your head,” you say shakily.

Dieter’s last role had been a four-episode appearance in a new fantasy period show. He’d played a queen’s favorite courtesan in her harem; but upon hearing inklings of a coup, she’d sent him away, leaving the audience with tantalizing hints that he wasn’t just a mere prostitute. The show’s first season had been a huge success, and though it had been renewed for more, the reappearance of Dieter’s character was still only rumor.

Clearly he had picked up a few things from his character. You send him a half admonishing, half grudgingly impressed look.

Seeing that you’re not truly upset, he relaxes. “You like? There’s more where that came from.” Dieter walks his fingers up your calf. He smiles temptingly, his eyes still blown dark and beguiling.

Huffing incredulously, but unable to resist smiling in turn, you shake your head.

“Ookay. I’m just saying, it sounded like our guy was gonna be a while. Especially if Brad is whose PA I think he is.” Dieter shrugs, the picture of nonchalance. “Wouldn’t hurt to do a little test run.”

“Dieter Bravo, I am not having sex with you in a house we’re viewing.” You laugh, a bit high despite yourself off the endorphins from Dieter’s fantasy.

You turn and rise, making to clamber right over the back of the couch.

Dieter gasps. “Wait!” All trace of seduction is gone from his voice. You only make it halfway out of the pit, your knees where you’d just been sitting and your hands on the floor beyond the back of the couch.

“Babe, this is the position we’ve been trying to find! Look-” He’s hushed but excited. Dieter scrambles up behind you, his hands appearing on either side of your own, his chest flush with your back. One of his knees further compresses the cushion beneath you. When you twist your head to look, you see that his other foot is leveraged on the footrest.

Dieter groans your name, low and pleading. “Tell me you wore these pants for a reason.”

You gasp as his fingers dip beneath the waistband of your pants. LA weather means loose fitting bottoms, and high waistlines mean cinched elastic instead of button clasps. Dieter has no trouble sliding his hand into your pants and cupping your sex in a way that makes your elbows buckle.

“Dieter, we can’t.”

“Please, sweets, I’ll make you feel good- I won’t even come, this one will just be for you,” he promises. “You know I can be quick.” His voice goes velvety and dark with promise- with reminder.

Damn, but you did know. Dieter was a dedicated study; it didn’t take long before he could make you come faster and in more ways than any partner you ever had. The speed came in handy more often than you’d think. The man was insatiable, and his appetite could flare at any random moment- no matter how inopportune.

His persuasions are working. Your cunt throbs to have his hand so close and yet so far away through the barrier of your panties. You’re already wet from his earlier efforts, and the heavy drape of his body over yours brings your desire howling to life again.

“Hmmm?” Dieter traces a light circle around your clit.

You grit your teeth. The realtor could be back at any second.

Dieter flattens his hand over your cunt, rubbing just so.

Your resolves breaks. “Fuck, fine- but quick,” you implore.

“Oh, this is going to take so long,” you assure him. Dieter moans, helpless to your designs, the binds on his wrists holding fast. “What’s wrong, D? You didn’t seem to care about coming earlier.”

“Please, please let me come. I’ve been so good, your pussy feels so fucking good…” Dieter rambles, sobbing, his eyes rolling back in his head as you sink down on him again, achingly slowly, taking him as deep as you can. Dieter tries to help, his hips surging upward like he can’t get far enough inside you. That could well be the case, given that his ankles are tied together as well.

He moans again.

“Mmn, you’re so pretty like this,” you sigh. Dieter’s chestnut locks are tufted from your grasp and dark with sweat at his temples. Red blooms in his cheeks. His lips are kiss-swollen, teeth-bitten from trying and failing to hold back his cries. His body is thick and strong beneath you, and you attempt to spread your thigh still wider, take that little bit more of him inside you.

Dieter makes a choked sound. He turns his head to the side, desperation all over his face.

It’s been hours since Dieter seduced you into coming around his cock in the conversation pit of the house you were viewing. As promised, he’d been quick- you hardly had time to break a sweat before he brought you that familiar hot rush of release. You needn’t have bothered worrying, though. The realtor took so long on his phone call that your panties had nearly dried out again by the time he returned.

But true to his word, Dieter didn’t come, and you’re pretty sure his hard-on hasn’t flagged once since then. Some part of him had been touching you through the entire rest of the house tour that neither of you had realized was still ahead. He was so worked up he’d canceled lunch at his favorite diner, and then looked agonized when he remembered that you hadn’t taken the car with the privacy screen.

You follow his gaze. “What do you say, Ezra? Should we let him come?”

Dieter’s favorite dom is sitting in an armchair off to the side, observing, loosely guiding, your activities and stroking himself with leisurely enjoyment.

Abandoning his own biology temporarily, Ezra approaches the bed. “A hard decision indeed, gem. But in my professional opinion, I believe that you should come once more before we allow dear Dieter the privilege.” Dieter’s eyes are glazed, bleary with desperation. You’d had one orgasm since the start of this session, but another sounded fine to you.

“Should it be on his cock this time?”

“Hmmm. How would you feel about takin’ your pleasure on my cock first? Darlin’ Dieter got to experience it earlier; this time he can only watch, as a consequence of rushing his partner to the end so crudely.”

Surely that’s a little harsh. “Aww, I wouldn’t say it was crude. I did enjoy it,” you coo at Dieter, stroking his face reassuringly. Relief shines in his face, your words like a sunbeam breaking through the gathering clouds of his sudden anxiety.

“Oh, of course. My apologies; it was not my intention to imply otherwise. Nevertheless…” Ezra reaches over your thighs to give Dieter an apologetic stroke; then he runs his broad palms slowly up your body, Dieter’s eyes following like a starving man before a feast. Maybe like one of those ancient myths he's always drawing inspiration from- who was that one guy? Tantalus. Ezra tweaks your nipples and you shiver atop Dieter’s cock.

It had been your idea to text Ezra. On the car ride home, you’d suggesting upping the stakes, since Dieter had been so naughty in the house. He’d essentially already been edging himself since the conversation pit- why not make it a real challenge? (And maybe a little bit of a punishment, for being so cheeky.) Dieter had looked so torn, you might have asked him to choose between microwave chicken nuggets and taquitos for the rest of his life. But in the end Ezra was free, so you invited him over at three o’clock sharp.

Dieter sounds so anguished as you lift yourself off his cock that you think he might actually cry. You click your tongue. “You heard him, D. Consequences.” You lean down to kiss him, giving Ezra space to climb onto Dieter’s legs behind you.

“Stay there a moment, sweet,” Ezra requests.

Your breasts brush Dieter’s chest, and he automatically tries to lift his torso to meet you, forgetting that your hands are holding down his shoulders. He whines.

“Naughty Dieter, always pushing the rules. Trying to fuck me where other people might see.” You nibble at his neck and ear between murmurs. “Now you’re the one who has to watch.”

Your breath hitches as you feel Ezra’s cock notch at your entrance. “There we are, sweets. Sit back for me now, nice and easy.” His hands guide your hips, and you ease backward onto Ezra’s cock. A breathless moan falls free as you sit up, his length thick and full inside you. So joined, you shuffle forward just a bit- until Dieter’s cock rests against your sex. Dieter’s mouth falls open, mesmerized by the sight. He twitches, the movement brushing your clit, and you whimper.

“Mm, I thought you might like this, gem. If it sounds amenable to you, we’re goin’ to use darlin’ Dieter’s cock to make you come like this, slow enough for you to enjoy every second of it, and then, and only then, are we going to let Dieter come.”

It’s delightfully jarring to feel a cock inside you as well as outside against your clit; despite the pleasure winding heavy along your limbs, you manage to answer. “Perfectly amenable.”

Ezra cups his hand over Dieter’s cock and nestles it between your labia, coating it in your arousal and Dieter’s. The velvety ridges of him rub snugly against your clit- especially as Ezra begins to move. He starts gradually, thrusting into you with just enough force that you rock against Dieter’s dick at the same time.

Oh, fuck. This is more stimulation than you usually get via both methods at once- it won’t take long for you to come like this. You moan in approval.

“Does that feel good, gem?” Ezra asks.

His thrusts aren’t forceful. Rather, they’re constant, unceasing strokes along something inside you that makes your vision blur; and all the while he holds Dieter’s cock against your clit like the perfect toy.

“F-f-ffucking incredible,” you stutter. “Keep going, like that.”

Ezra rumbles in approval. Dieter’s eyes are as round as saucers as he watches his dom pleasure you with both their cocks, and he spills out a steady babble of praise. “Oh fuck, you’re so hot, sweets. Look so good like this. Can use my dick whenever you want…” Every muscle in his body jerks and strains, but whether trying to come or in effort to stop himself coming you can’t tell, and you stop trying as Ezra’s movements pour brain-numbing pleasure directly into your skull and down your spine.

You squirm and sob at the onslaught of stimulation. There’s no escape- not that you really want it. You can feel your peak approaching, a tingling creeping up every limb like vines about to fruit.

“Dieter- Ezra-”

“Ah, the end is nigh, is it, sweet? Go on then, let it come- give us everything you got.”

Ezra’s poetry is obliterated by the roaring in your ears. Something breaks open inside you, spilling bliss through every crack and crevice of your body. You quake and keen in Ezra’s arms. For long, long minutes, it feels like it physically rocks you, pleasure pulsing in an endless flood. Distantly you recognize that it’s Ezra’s movement creating the rocking sensation, prolonging your pleasure for as long as he knows you can last. You finally go still only when he does, the rushing pleasure slowing to a trickle.

Sagging into Ezra’s arms, you shudder as the bliss tapers off. As your breathing slows, other sensations come back to you, including that of something clinging to- or maybe dripping from- your thighs. Dieter.

Your paramour is gazing at you, awestruck, a familiar dopey, dazed grin pulling at one corner of his mouth. You make a questioning sound.

“You comin’ set him off, sweet. That was some mighty, powerful pleasure, if I do say so myself.” Ezra’s rasp in your ear sounds thoroughly satisfied. “It seemed unduly cruel to deny dear Dieter any longer after such good behavior, so I took the liberty of takin’ care of him.”

Indeed, Ezra’s hand is wrapped more fully around Dieter’s cock, though both are now somewhat obscenely mashed against your sex and covered in his spend. “Oh, good,” you sigh.

Ezra chuckles. “I’ll give us a wipedown, gem. Then you can untie his hands, if you wouldn’t mind, and I’ll get his feet.”

You blink yourself slightly more alert. Dieter didn’t like being tied up for very long after the fun stuff was over. “Mhm. Okay.”

You help Ezra wipe the various fluids from all three of you. Your brow knits at the sensation of him pulling out of you, but Ezra appears unperturbed, humming an idle tune as he rotates to unbind Dieter’s feet. You turn your focus to doing the same to his hands.

A serene, almost cherubic, expression lay over Dieter’s face; with his eyes closed and his breathing deep and steady, he looks halfway to sleep. When you lean back from untying him, his eyes are open. You start.

Then you chuckle. “Hey, D. Feeling okay?”

Dieter lengthens his already long limbs and then contracts them in a wiggly stretch. He rolls over toward you, resting his head on your thigh. “Mmhmmm.”

He looks for all the world like he intends to fall asleep right there. Honestly, the man resembles a giant cat sometimes. Or maybe some other, more exotic animal. Actorus libidinous.

A ferocious rumbles issues from what you can only assume is Dieter's stomach. His eyes fly open. "I'm so fucking hungry."

He appears astounded by this fact. Or maybe by the fact that he forgot his hunger in the first place- it’s truly a testament to how worked up he was that all other needs fled his mind so completely. (You made him eat a granola bar before Ezra arrived, but still.)

Ezra returns from the ensuite, and your eyes widen. Your hunch earlier was right- he didn’t come. Ezra’s still-hard cock bobs as moves around, flushed a deep red and still smudged with your arousal in places.

Dieter spots it as Ezra begins getting dressed, and his eyes go round. “Whoa, Ez, did you not come? Why didn’t you tell us?”

Ezra’s mouth quirks. Sifting through the scattered clothes on the floor, he extracts a pair of pants and begins turning them rightside-out. He gives an arch shrug. “What can I say, starlet? Your perseverance inspired me. I enjoy a good edging session myself; I thought I might wait until I arrived home to take care of it.” Ezra pulls his jeans on without anything beneath and fastens them snugly over his erection.

Ezra was an old hat at this profession. He didn’t entertain feelings of awkwardness or shame. If he wanted something, he asked for it.

“In that case, send us pictures,” Dieter says. His eyes wander Ezra’s sturdy, shirtless body with wanton admiration.

“That costs extra.” Ezra sends them a saucy wink. He reaches for his shirt without a hint of discomfort.

“Worth it.” Dieter rolls onto his back with a great sigh. His mostly-softened cock flops over with the movement, dribbling a bit more fluid as it does.

Now dressed, Ezra comes over to say his goodbyes. First he hands Dieter a tissue, nodding toward his dick. Then he gives you both a kiss on the forehead.

“Perhaps this time I might allow the debt to be paid with some of the takeout you’re about to order.”

Thanks for reading! 💕💕💕

You grin. "We'll schedule your delivery for an hour from now."

The Romanian liquor is real and exactly as delicious as it sounds- it's called 'visinata', which means '[thing] made from cherries'. I highly recommend making a Romanian friend and having them bring you a bottle of their mom's homemade stuff, although I cannot promise that it will lead to sex parties. That was just wishful thinking on my part 😬🤷🏻‍♀️

Dividers by strangergraphics

#dieter bravo x reader #dieter bravo x you #the bubble fic #the bubble #dieter bravo/reader #dieter bravo/you #dieter bravo fic

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there-was-a-hole-here-itsgonenow · 2 years

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El’s soap opera spelling out Midleven’s end

I made an analysis of a scene with El back in 2019, under a different username (@proud-losers: Original post here - https://proud-losers.tumblr.com/post/188477016057/mileven-and-byler-outcome-depictions-in-episode-of), and, after being gone and off social media for a few years, I wanted to come back and have this blog for Byler and Byler only. Now that season 4′s come and renewed just how strongly I feel for Byler and believe in them, I wanted to refresh this old post and add to it. Season 4 really accentuated and solidified it as the piece of evidence it is.

Here it is as follows, old info combined with new:

In season 2′s “Trick or Treat, Freak,” when El is watching television, one of the channels shows an episode of All My Children (an episode that would’ve been aired in the Fall of 1984). I [even more than I did when I first posted this] think it’s meant to show where Midleven is inevitably headed + shows yet another clear example of Mike’s withheld sexuality/eventual getting together with Will:

The Duffers confirmed a long while back that El watching Frankenstein (in this same episode) was to represent how she feels like a monster, so why wouldn’t this episode of All My Children contain a deeper significance? This one clip both describes and foreshadows what happened in season 3 between Mike and El and what will happen later between Mike and Will (season 5, guys!).

I did some research on the background of this particular All My Children episode’s context and realized the episode El is watching comes after Erica Kane, the woman in-scene, loses her husband in a tragic accident (in which he did not actually die, but this is irrelevant to the main points I’ve drawn), and rather quickly gets involved with a man whose name happens to be Mike (same man in-scene). Erica and Mike get together quickly after Erica’s husband’s “death,” and Mike wants her to marry him very shortly after they meet—too quickly after and even during a tragic circumstance. It’s reminiscent of the way El gets together with Mike: quickly and born out of tragic circumstances. The word “impetuous,” is specifically highlighted in the scene. It means to be impulsive, rash, hasty: all perfect descriptors of how fast El and Mike supposedly ‘fell in love.’

It’s important to note that, with Mike’s proposal, the scene cuts off before Erica agrees. The audience isn’t allowed to hear it, which seems intentional. Perhaps because El will/is moving away from her relationship with Mike. Midleven won’t be together in the end, just as Erica and her Mike ultimately aren’t together in the end either. ADDITIONALLY, now that we’re past season 4, this is also perfectly set up with Mike’s monologue. We HEAR Mike prattle his ‘love,’ a proposal he tosses El’s way. And yet… We DON’T get El’s response. It’s what she wanted so dearly before, to hear and have those words from Mike, but now she seems to be metaphorically walking away from Mike’s pitched ‘proposal.’ It’s kind of like—and I hope I’m making sense in this—how she walks away from the television in “Trick or Treat, Freak,” preventing us from hearing an answer from Erica.

When it comes to paralleling the two Mikes, it’s incredibly interesting that Erica not only says her Mike’s proposal is sudden but is also ‘not like him.’ Fans of All My Children say Mike professes his ‘undying love’ for Erica very shortly after their meeting; again, it’s too quick of a confession, and how can he already be so sure his love is so undying and true? Mike says he is this way—“wild and impetuous”—because Erica ‘made him that way.’ We know Mike loves El, genuinely, but not romantically. We can see this even more clearly with the emphasized pieces of Mike’s character in season 4. It’s ‘not like him’ to be in this sort of [heterosexual] relationship in which he is only in it—impetuously so—because of El (highlighted gesture El makes to herself while saying “Me?”). Simply put, he is ‘this way’ because of the idea of her (NOTE: Whether you subscribe to gay or bi Mike, both of which I lovingly welcome, the argument still stands whether it’s not like him to be with El because it’s a heterosexual relationship or because El is just not the one he truly loves. Either way, it’s far more indicative that Mike is actually in love with Will, who we see Mike be more ‘like himself’ with).

Segway to another highlighted line: “People are going to be aghast.” This line gave me two interpretations. First: Mike and El being together in season 3 do cause a number of “aghast” reactions: Dustin calling it out as “bullshit,” Hopper not finding their relationship normal, Max not approving of the way El is treated, Will calling it “gross” (we know he’s jealous, but, still, point’s been made) etc. People should be ‘loving it,’ the perceived normalcy of it from Mike’s perspective perhaps, but this relationship is ill-fitting (and we continue to see how even more ill-fitting it is in season 4). We saw Mike’s discomfited and obviously confused reaction to the kiss El initiates in the finale of season 3. For Mike, aside from thinking ‘What the hell just happened?’ in-script, he likely thought afterward that he should have loved it, that it should be like him to love it, and yet there he was, sporting parallels to when he thought he lost Will in season 1. Second: There’s also the thought of the aghast reactions toward Byler when it happens, because it will ‘stun the whole town [Hawkins]/the whole world [viewers].’ What of the “they’re gonna love it” line then? The people who matter are going to love them.

#that's us #we're gonna love them #cheesy but true #byler #byler endgame #byler analysis #byler theory #will byers #mike wheeler

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bishie-haven · 1 year

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Asmo Appreciation Week, Day 2: Best Cards, Part 1!

Welcome back, everyone!

So...Obey Me's cards, eh? Some are good, some are not-so-good, some send people into screaming frenzies, some send others into...other types of screaming frenzies.

When it comes to Asmo and his cards, I take it seriously. Since 2021, I've had a goal of collecting every card the game has released of him, and it's actually going pretty well. The same applies with Nightbringer; last night I put many stockpiled D-Energy cans to good use and grinded enough to get his UR+ achievable from the Hard Ruri Tunes missions!

Which leads me to today's topic: which of the lusty boy's cards do I think is the best?

It took so much strength to pick. And in the end, I couldn't choose just 5, just 7, or even just 10. Nope, I'm going all out and showing my TOP 20 cards! Because Tumblr has a limit on how many images can be used in a single post, today I'm going to be revealing the first half of the cards, from #20-#11, with the top 10 coming very soon.

A couple of things before I start. I did not include any of the NB-exclusive cards in this list, as those three I want to save for another day. And two, I am not basing my ranking on any of the Devilgrams attached to the cards, as some of them I have yet to obtain. I may mention them for some that I do own, but the basis of these ranking is on the art of the cards, the theming included, and meaningful context around its release. Lastly, all of the images here were found on the fandom's unofficial card-logging site, Karasu-OS.

Anyway, let's begin!

To start with, I have a couple of honorable mentions that just barely missed the cutoff:

HM 1: HLD, the New Dream Team! (Toys event SSR)

That event with the onesies was definitely one of the more chaotic ones, that's for sure. And while it's not one of my favorite sets, I always liked Asmo's pink bunny outfit. It's so floppy and derp that I can't help but smile.

HM 2: Memories and Pale Shades (Cursed Seed SSR)

This event...oh boy. Remember when I said that release context played a part in my ranking? This is one where it's a bit clear. The art and composition is beautiful, being fed a dango and admiring the blossoming trees, but the circumstances that this card came out in spoiled a bit of the joy it would normally have. Still, the positives still weighed out enough for it to land here with a good word.

Now then, on to the list!

#20: Party Hopping

It's cards like this that get the wheels in my brain turning. A funny thing about cards is that their image sometimes doesn't match the Devilgram attached or even the event or Nightmare entirely. Even without having the card in my possession (yet), cards like this let my imagination run wild in terms of what is happening in the image. Why is Asmo dressed like Little Red Riding Hood? Why is he crying? Did he come from a party? Did something happen before or after it? The card itself is simple, but allows for lots of mental creativity.

#19: Asmo Gives Back <3

This one unfortunately got held back by the initial design of the card. For some reason, that blue suit of his just irks me... But the unlocked DF version makes up for it in spades. For as much of a party animal Asmo is described to be, we don't see him much in any kind of club or bar setting with the works attached in art. This card remedied that, showing him flushed and happily drinking away, clothes rustled around and overall giving proof of a good time for his special day.

#18: Illuminating My Love

This is an example of simplicity reigning supreme. Both of the card versions don't have anything special with outfits, just casual and demon forms, but it's the actions that hit it in the feels for me. Small lights, whether it be from fairy lights or tiny candles, bring a sense of warmth to both of the card arts. And considering these were released for Devil Day '22, warmth and love are the perfect things to feel when it comes to these.

#17: Asmos and the Fox Mask?

Much like #19, this is one where one design makes up for another, but this time for a different reason. I'll admit I wasn't the biggest fan of the yokai-style theming the DF unlock was attached to, but that is mainly just personal preference. The initial art given though? AMAZING. This is the start of where theming starts to be a basis for why I like a card, and to start it off, I LOVE masquerade balls. And this be one of many cards you see where Asmo is wearing a dress, get used to it.

#16: The Annoying Influencer

Another type of simplistic card, but this one gets bonus points for bringing ALL the color, enough that some may find it a bit annoying (eh? get it? I'll stop). Another birthday card, it warms my heart whenever I see images of Asmo enjoying a treat or any food in general. One of the tropes thrown around a lot involves him going on diets often to keep his figure, so to see him openly enjoying snacks he likes (especially here, with his favorite Surprise Guest item!) will always make me just a bit happier.

#15: A Gorgeous Phantom Thief

There was a time when I adored the Phantom Thief and Detective trope in stories, a sort of cat-and-mouse game, if you will. Also usually having a Tuxedo Mask-esque aesthetic about them, it always felt like you were on the edge of your seat, waiting for what would happen next. And while this is another card that I don't own as of now, I can still imagine the picture in my head of this lovely man wanting to steal every rare diamond and gem in existence, but the one thing he can't seem to take so easily is your heart.

#14: Looking at Someone

WHY DID THIS CARD NIGHTMARE HAVE TO BE SO SHORT?! Outside of the screaming, this is one of the cards I would be ecstatic to own, if only the circumstances on its release weren't so daunting with no re-release in sight. But even so, it's another example of simplicity being all you need. Asmo surrounded one of his most iconic motifs, makeup as far as the eye can see with a relaxed look on his face is really all I need when it comes to this card.

#13: Asmo and a Treasure Chest

Both of these images, the themes, expressions..."shoot through my heart" indeed... While pirates aren't my favorite universe to dabble into (similar to yokai in terms of preference), the two art features given to this card of the same thing go beyond my choices and SLAY me. Double revolvers on the initial, and...THIS...on the DF unlock? Oh anyone in the three realms take me now!

#12: That Special Someone

Oh the nostalgia! Even if it's only 4 years ago, the initial set of cards will always be special to me, and this particular initial UR is no exception. It was definitely a tricky sucker to get, taking me almost THREE YEARS to get lucky in Chapter A, and it still remains part of some of my best teams to this day. And the theming gives another combination of fitting the character (you can't expect someone with their own private bathroom to NOT have a shot of themselves in the tub), and my own secret tastes (self-care and beauty elements are addictive to me).

#11: Catch the Lost Bunnies!

Rounding out the first half is the inverse of the following card. Instead of taking nearly three years, this sucker came home on a FREE single pull! I have never had better luck on that gacha since then, and I'm glad it came from this lovely card. Bunnies and rabbits are Asmo's secondary animal motif (the primary being scorpions), and combining this with the bunny boy event happening at the same time, it's just a celebration of two different kinds of cuties! I wanna cuddle them both!

And with that, I have to hold the breaks. But don't worry, soon we'll go through the second half, the top 10 of the bunch. Which cards can top these? Have any guesses?

#obey me shall we date #obey me!#obey me #obey me asmodeus #obey me asmo #AsmoAppreciation

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whiskeysmulti · 3 months

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Let’s see… how to start with Fiore. When she first saw him, she did feel a bit intimidated and scared—but that can also be attributed to the fact that their first meeting, she was already being hassled by some goons so she was like ‘oh dear, just my luck. Another one.’ He did quickly prove her wrong though. He also was very quick to shoot lol, but given her father/brother, she’s not all that scared by guns as a concept? She was more impressed. Then knowing he has a bit of a gentleman-esque attitude to him, there is a feeling of being impressed and feeling secure when she looks at him.

Admittedly, she does feel a bit confused when he treats her nicely or is polite/gentlemanly towards her as she’s not all that used to it. (Lore context time hohoh) Fiore had a bit of a tomboyish streak when she was younger? A bit more wild and energetic. You may think that’s okay but for the time period, that certainly doesn’t bode well. So at some point, after some ladies had spoken ill about her, that’s when Fiore’s mother started becoming very strict with her. She can’t have a daughter be the reason she gets looked down upon by other ladies in the social circle. Still, some old impressions are hard to forget, so many people still associate Fiore with how she was when she was younger.

It doesn’t help that her temper does tend to leak when she’s around her brother or around people who have known her since forever. So, a lot of the guys who grew up around her, a lot of them don’t really treat her like they would your average lady. They kinda bring up her past as a way to upset her because it’s funny to them to see what they can do to make her façade crack. They make it into a game of sorts. Also talked about the whole thing with the military, and so some of the guys there treat her like thirsty wolves if her father isn’t around. In other words, she’s not used to being treated decently. Sadge.

All this to say, when she sees him, she does feel a bit of confusion as well as gratitude. He treats her like a regular person ought to be treated and so she feels comfortable around him. So this brings about a thought that he’s just a really nice person, despite how he looks. So, she has the image of him being a kind person who isn’t afraid to just assert a strong foot if needed. She hasn’t yet clued into the fact that he likes her. Due to the fact that she feels that she herself is lacking, she doesn’t think he’d like her romantically. She often is in trouble when they meet, so it’s more likely (in her mind) that he lowkey feels annoyed by her.

So, there is a bit of insecurity and anxiety she feels when she sees him because she thinks lowly about herself. That said, why does she continue to meet with him anyways? It’s probably due to the fact that he’s nice to her and has been patient with her up until now, so she also feels hope that maybe he would find her okay to be with. I hurt myself with this. ((OOC: I uh… failed to keep it UNDER 12, but I managed to STOP at 12? That sound count for something))

Describe how your Muse feels when they look at my Muse.- no longer accepting!

.Whiskey. 'Just my luck, another one.' lmfao! But you did bring up some valid points. Looking at the time frame, there were societal norms to adhere to and neither of them fit the bill. Fiore being deemed unladylike and a bad choice for a wife, G was probably considered your standard hoodlum at the time as well. But they both have that layer underneath that they see in each other, G seeing a potential wife in Fiore and Fiore realizing in spite of his looks and roughness he's still a gentleman with her and nothing like actual hoodlums she's put up with.

Lol I recall us talking about that though that Fiore might not get the hint that he likes her and is thinking something akin to "oh G's a really nice guy." just for Asari or Giotto or someone else in the family to be like "Him? Nice? Are we talking about the same guy?" Which is a wonderful way to find out all the potential shit your new bf has possibly done and not told you, but also plays up the fact that no matter how much you think you know a guy, you don't know him like his boys do.

And yes, they both have their own insecurity I think and I feel like that's something they can help each other heal from. Just constant reassurance that this is their own choice, to hell with what their families wanted for them, because considering my headcanons for G I feel like he's estranged from his family possibly for his own reasons, or another route I thought of taking with it to bounce off the fact that Fiore at first feared they might be hostile to military forces as well as the cops, what if G had a military background in his family too. Like what if he came from an Army family and his dad had all this ambition of turning him into a soldier and it failed? How do you think that would work with her?

#asks #whiskey speaks; ooc #queenharumiura #meta; g

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queercapwriting · 2 years

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If Not Forever, Then Tonight (Ch. 3)

I wasn’t planning to write a multi-chapter smut. I really wasn’t. But these two just have a lot of feelings, and I just have a lot of feelings, so here we are.

Ch. 1 | Ch. 2

When the Doctor flips their positions and shoves Yaz against the wall, every rational thought leaves her – which is saying something, because Yaz was already struggling to hold on to every language she’d ever known. Since the moment the Doctor’s lips crashed into hers, the moment the Doctor framed her face with her hands and kissed her like she’d never been kissed before, anything resembling reason has been off the table.

But with the Doctor pressing her back against the wall, it’s all Yaz can do to keep herself from tearing off both of their clothes on the spot.

Which is saying something, because Yaz is very much not a tearing-off-clothes kind of person. She’s more of an if-I’m-really-really-into-you-I-might-possibly-want-to-kiss-you-and-if-I-love-you-I-could-definitely-see-us-doing-many-other-things kind of person, but she’s never been in love before the Doctor. So she’s never really had a tearing-off-clothes occasion.

But this? This definitely qualifies.

The Doctor only makes it worse – better, worse, they’re all the same thing right now – by cushioning the back of Yaz’s head with her hand. Shoving Yaz against the TARDIS wall – which Yaz has most certainly not fantasized about, never once, not at all, absolutely not – while growling, growling, in what is absolutely the most sexy sound Yaz has ever heard despite never imagining she could ever find a sexual growl anything but comical… in all that heat, all that fire, all that storm, the Doctor cushions the back of Yaz’s head with her hand, forming a pillow out of her own body for her so nothing would hurt.

Not that she would mind, just now.

The Doctor could do anything she could think of to Yaz right now, and Yaz would take it in and love it and it would become part of her DNA and it would be perfect.

But the Doctor’s hand is cushioning her head, and something about the tenderness of that gesture, the protectiveness, makes all of this even more… just, more. More real, more perfect, more sexy, more… more.

When the Doctor’s lips leave hers, she almost cries out in protest. But the Doctor isn’t pulling back – she’s shifting focus. And when her lips trace down Yaz’s jawline, travel down her throat, she clutches the Doctor closer to her and focuses her every energy on somehow remaining standing. Because this is nothing like anything she ever could have imagined.

The Doctor’s mouth is evidently not just good at talking, and Yaz is grateful for the strong hand cushioning the back of her head and the other keeping her steady at the waist because yes, she definitely would be falling without the steadiness of the Doctor’s arms.

So when the Doctor whispers the word “bed” into her neck, it isn’t just the sexiest word Yaz has ever heard – it’s also exactly what she had in mind.

“Yes, please.”

The Doctor’s eyes are wild when she smiles, and for a moment, they’re best mates off on another absurd adventure. And, in a way, that’s exactly what they are. The sensation threatens to both burst Yaz’s heart with joy and also to shatter it beyond repair. So, as the Doctor has been teaching her by example, she files it away for later. For when… well, for later.

Instead, she focuses on the way the Doctor’s smile has shifted from giddy to something Yaz can only describe as feral. Yaz bites her lip and then pulls the Doctor down for another kiss. She lets the Doctor guide her body first to the side, then backwards toward the control room’s stairs. If she had expected to bump into anything along the way, she isn’t actually surprised when it doesn’t happen. The Doctor isn’t letting her bump into anything, isn’t letting anything hurt her. She’s guiding her body with precision. And that precision, that sureness, might just be the sexiest thing Yaz has ever felt.

Oh, yes, the Doctor could do literally anything to her, with her, right now.

And any time she wants.

When Yaz imagines she’s near the stairs, the Doctor stops. That wild smile is back as she steps slightly away from Yaz. Immediately, Yaz gets dizzy with the distance. Maybe it’s the look on her face, or maybe the Doctor feels it, too, because she immediately halves the distance she took and reaches both her hands out to take Yaz’s.

The Doctor steps onto the stairs backwards and, still holding both of Yaz’s hands, encourages her up and up and up the stairs. They giggle and they laugh and at one point, Yaz yelps indignantly when the Doctor dances away from a kiss on the lips so she can press her lips to Yaz’s nose. They spend the next few minutes wrapped on the last two stairs, breathless with the giddiness and the intimacy and the ridiculousness of… everything.

Yaz frames the Doctor’s face with her hands and rises up on her tip toes to press a kiss to the Doctor’s nose, too. But this kiss is slow and soft and tender. She stands even taller and presses a similar kiss to her forehead, her eyes.

There are tears in the Doctor’s eyes – not to mention the ones stinging Yaz’s own – when the Doctor pulls back to look at her.

“Alright, big head?”

The smile returns, but the tears don’t disappear. Yaz doesn’t want them to.

She takes the Doctor’s hand and starts to lead them down the bedroom corridor. But the Doctor shakes her head.

“I have something else in mind.” Her voice is quiet, just this side of serious. Earnest. Low.

Yaz pouts to hide her panic. Maybe she hadn’t heard correctly, or maybe the Doctor’s changed her mind. Or maybe –

“I’m still taking you to bed, Yaz. Just… well, come with me.” Nervous. The Doctor’s voice. Is nervous. But confident. But nervous.

Yaz squeezes her hand, and the Doctor squeezes back.

The TARDIS must approve of their goings-on, because the Doctor doesn’t have to lead Yaz for long until she finds the right door. And when she opens it… oh, it’s no wonder she didn’t want to go to the regular bedrooms.

This room – if she can even call it a room – it has a bed, yes. A very large bed, bigger than king-sized, and Yaz dares to think about the time they’d landed on a random TARDIS bed in handcuffs.

But even that thought can’t take her attention away from everything else in this room.

She knows it’s a room because they haven’t left the TARDIS. But other than having a floor and a door and a massive bed, it doesn’t resemble a room at all.

Because instead of a ceiling and walls, there is endless, endless sky. All around them, the world of the TARDIS seems to fade into the rest of the universe. There, a patch of shooting stars sparkle across the night. There, a nebula glows in colors Yaz has never seen before, birthing new stars and who knows what future life, loves, dreams. And there, a piece of home – the Milky Way, spilling softly across the sky amidst constellations that Yaz recognizes from Earth.

“Doctor,” she whispers. “It’s stunning.”

“Yes, it is.” The press of the Doctor’s lips to her knuckles makes Yaz look away from this room’s expanse and back at her. The Doctor’s eyes, her cheeks, her hair, are glowing in the soft light of the universe around them. Her eyes, looking at Yaz with her lips still pressed to her knuckles, are already fixed on her face.

Suddenly, stunning doesn’t even begin to describe it.

“Not a bad date, am I?” the Doctor asks her for the second time in as many days.

This time, Yaz doesn’t hesitate. Because this time, Yaz is going to take her to bed.

“No,” she says. “No, you’re not. And neither am I.”

She pulls the Doctor gently through the starlight, walking backward until the backs of her knees touch the mattress.

“Be sure,” she tells the Doctor, calling back the other woman’s words from all those years ago. Because unless the Doctor wants to, Yaz has absolutely no intention of stopping.

“Sure,” the Doctor says, the fireworks of starlight gleaming in her eyes as she goes to kiss her again.

The Doctor kisses her like she won’t be able to breathe if she stops, and while Yaz feels the same, she can’t shake the feeling of awe she has that the Doctor seems to feel that raw need, too. For her. Not that she wants to shake it. She wants to bottle the heady sensation of being, just for now, the center of the Doctor’s universe. She wants to bottle it so she can drink it later, whenever she wants. Pin its wings to her chest so she can take it flying whenever she needs.

As it is, she can only memorize. And experience.

So when the Doctor presses back on her shoulders, a command and a question all at once, Yaz lets herself fall back on the bed. She lets herself giggle as the Doctor once more cushions her head with her hand, even though the bed is the softest, most comfortable thing Yaz has ever laid down on. She lets herself marvel at the way the Doctor scrambles – somehow still being sexy – to grab a pillow from the top of the bed to bring beneath Yaz’s head.

Yaz forgets to breathe as the Doctor’s body whispers above her own, her breasts and stomach angling just above her face as she reaches for a pillow. It takes all Yaz’s self-control not to tug the Doctor’s body down onto hers and just… well. There will be time.

And when the Doctor settles back from her pillow-seeking journey and lifts Yaz’s head tenderly to place the pillow beneath it and still also keeps her hand there, Yaz nearly cries.

Because nothing could have prepared her for feeling this centered, this cared for, this surrounded.

She pulls the Doctor down on top of her and kisses her soundly. Kisses her until neither of them can breathe.

And in Yaz’s breathless state, it occurs to her that the Doctor’s body is technically on top of hers, but she’s propped up completely so that their bodies are touching without any of the Doctor’s weight lying on her. If she takes a clue from the way the Doctor’s hand is still cushioning her head, despite her voyage to the top of this massive bed to retrieve a pillow for Yaz, it’s obvious that the Doctor is terrified of hurting her. Which is kind. And precious. And beautiful. And makes Yaz feel… everything.

It's also utterly unnecessary. And she’ll have to shake the Doctor out of it by the end of the night, without breaking this spell of being the Doctor’s… center. She never wants to break that particular spell.

It also occurs to her that she hasn’t yet had the chance to taste the Doctor’s skin. How long she’s wanted to taste the Doctor’s skin. She moves her lips from the Doctor’s and – before her body can get the chance to mourn the loss of contact – presses them to the Doctor’s jaw. Both women freeze, and the Doctor’s arms start to shake. A lot.

Is she making the Doctor… tremble? The Doctor, who stitches the fabric of multiverses back together with nothing but her cleverness and her courage and her breakable body, trembling because Yaz’s lips are on her jaw, kissing her way down lower, to her throat?

Evidently.

Yaz sighs into the Doctor’s neck, the stars of the multiverse, entire galaxies, floating above the Doctor’s head. No matter what’s to come, she’s never going to regret this.

She won’t. She can’t.

Ever.

Because the Doctor’s skin tastes like space and time itself. She doesn’t know how to think of it other than that. It’s like kissing the Doctor’s neck – flitting her tongue out and making the Doctor tremble harder, making that sound, sinking just a little bit more weight onto Yaz’s body, the Doctor’s leg now propped between Yaz’s, allowing them both to shift so that Yaz is getting pressure from the Doctor’s thigh…

Yaz moans – she can’t help it, it’s like her body is more her own than it’s ever been and also completely unrecognizable in the sounds the Doctor is eliciting from her – as she licks softly at the curve of the Doctor’s neck.

Her skin tastes like heaven. She tastes like home.

Yaz wants to pull her body up, up, so that her tongue can be between the Doctor’s legs, so she can… her hips grind up into the Doctor’s thigh of their own accord, and there’s that growl from the Doctor again.

The Doctor’s arms are shaking in earnest now, her entire body.

“Doctor,” Yaz whispers, like she’s calling to her from across space and time. “I feel safe,” she says when the galaxies in the Doctor’s eyes blaze down at her. “You can let go.”

“I can’t,” the Doctor says, her voice pitched low and desperate and so beautifully wrecked.

“Should we slow down?” Yaz asks, stroking the Doctor’s cheek and tucking her hair behind her ear. “We can slow down. I don’t want you to hold back.”

“I need to, Yaz.”

Yaz leans up to kiss her lips, soft and sweet and suggestive.

“Not tonight, you don’t. I trust you, Doctor. I trust you.”

She watches the war raging in the Doctor’s eyes as shooting stars flit across the TARDIS’s sky above them both. All Yaz wants to do is soothe those wars. She knows she can’t stop them – will spend her lifetime fighting them alongside the Doctor, as long as she possibly can, so that the Doctor won’t be doing it alone – but she wants, more than anything, to soothe them for right now.

And it seems like the best way to soothe the wars behind the Doctor’s eyes just now is to help her feel safe inside her own wants. To feel safe inside who she is, what she’s capable of.

Yaz has seen the violence this woman, this miracle, is capable of.

And she’s also seen the love.

All that love.

“I trust you,” she whispers again, kissing her again.

“I trust you, too,” the Doctor murmurs into her lips. Yaz smiles and hums happily into the Doctor’s mouth.

“Good.”

“Yaz?”

“Yes, Doctor?”

“Can I take my coat off? It’s abominably warm in here all of a sudden.”

Yaz bites her lip with a smile that only deepens when the Doctor’s gaze fixates on the movement.

“You cannot,” Yaz says. She smiles all the harder at the way the Doctor’s brain seems to go on the fritz. “Because then I wouldn’t be able to take it off you.”

Chapter 4

#thasmin #thasmin smut #thasmin fic #thasmin fanfic #it's just also really soft okay #okay

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joanna-lannister · 2 years

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this is a bit late but for the writer ask game: 61, 66-68, 78, 79?

Okay so, I'm actually very, VERY late to reply to this ask game, I'm so sorry! Wish my brain wasn't lost in that perpetual fog... Anyway, never worry about sending an ask [game or not] a bit late 😊

61. When was the word “blue” last used in your WIP?

I'm working on like 3 different WIPs at the same time right now tbh, switching between all of them, and I used the word "blue" in 2 of them but I can't remember which one I updated last with it lmao... "Blue" is definitely not a color I use that often to be honest so, I'm a bit clueless here. Not sure if the question requires to share the excerpt(s) containing the word but here we are, I guess.

WIP #1 — "Sansa's eyes darted over his daughter, the blue sky of her irises glowing with a spark of genuine kindness. "Oh, don't worry about it, sweetling," she assured.""

WIP #2 — "When they both faced their hosts that saturday night, standing next to each other here, in the hallway of the Starks' house, his arm wrapped around Cersei's waist after introducing her to the young couple and exchanging a few niceties, Catelyn had watched them with a sharp, crystal blue eye and commented in a whispering tone, "You two look so much alike, you could pass as siblings.""

66. What is your most self-indulgent story idea?

Oh God, I feel like they are all self-indulgent in some way.

I have a certain idea running in my mind I would love to write one day, have it for like 5-6 years now, and that would surely be the most self-indulgent one because I'm obsessed with that vision of Jaime and Cersei ruling together wearing matching golden outfits with their little cubs running everywhere but, I want that AU to be perfect and I need to outline the full plot first ahahah RIP. Plus I feel like this AU deserves a better writer than me, or at least I don't have enough confidence in my writing skills to eventually turns this idea into something concrete.

And, if we are talking about a story idea that has been already posted, I'd probably say the Winterfell fic, "give you my wild, give you a child". I have a huge soft spot for that idea, if I can say. From the first draft to the final version, writing it had been such a delight [okay, I struggled a bit for the end but whatever]. Changing the outcome of Jaime and Cersei's fight in 7x07 [and lowkey the timeline since Cersei was ready to give birth here 😂]? Damn, that was so self-indulgent of me because that scene is so heartbreaking but that moment also has a major impact on them, both as characters and on their relationship, and I feel like this scene is overlooked by the fandom when there is so many little parallels and details to analyze. ANYWAY, I loved writing that passage between Jaime and Tyrion, working on their sibling bond, the tiny moment between Cersei and Sansa but mostly, I loved writing Cersei giving birth in Winterfell with Jaime by her side. Winterfell, that very same place where the truth about their relationship was revealed. As someone who is a big fan of parallels and callbacks, I'm just very fond of the idea as a whole and it felt like a full circle coming to an end to have them welcoming their last child here, in this place. At least for me. Not sure if I fufilled that goal in the eyes of other but yeap, that's how I felt.

67. How self-indulgent are your other stories?

As I said above, pretty sure they are all self-indulgent in some way because I kinda write what I would want to read, if that makes sense? Like if I have an idea, I tend to tell myself "I want to read that" but like... no else is gonna do it for me, I think 😂 And I'm very picky and I always have pretty accurate ideas of what I want so I either end up writing it, or putting the idea down in my never-ending list of of fanfics ideas.

68. What was the last thing you described a character tasting in your WIP/most recent story?

Hmmm, not sure if it counts since it's more a childhood memory and more an allegory on how Jaime's kisses tasted as honey cake.

This is the original excerpt. Technically I updated a better version it in one of my notebooks but I'm too lazy to type it on my phone yet 😅

— "And Jaime… All Jaime replied was simply, "Father always says the lion doesn't concern himself with the opinion of the sheep," while standing there, in all his glory, immune to her concerns, with his lips carved into the familiar, arrogant smirk she had witnessed even when they were nothing but innocent children playing together; Cersei as the Queen of the vast garden of Casterly Rock and Jaime as her knight. Back then, the arrogant smirk tasted so sweet on her lips; a honey kiss, his reward for saving her from the terrific dragon trying to steal her throne and to seal their whimsical marriage, but right now, she wanted to wipe out the insolence of his face to knock some sense in his brain and remind him they weren't playing games anymore."

78. Do any characters have good handwriting and is it mentioned?

I've always headcanoned Cersei having a very elegant and neat handwriting but I don't think I've ever mentioned it. I def mentioned Jaime's handwriting in "grieving for the living" tho, and pictured his letters as messy lmao. I might have mentioned Tyrion's handwriting as well once but I don't remember when 😅

79. Do you track your writing stats, such as word count, chapter count, etc?

Yes and no?

When I start a fic, I don't really care about word count. I just go with the flow but, when I start to reach a certain point, I have to check it and then I'm like "WTF I wrote that much?". And after, I keep checking from time to time, maybe too much, my word count until the fic is done. I try to never set a goal on how much words I have to write so I don't feel pressured by that. It comes as it comes.

As for chapters, I don't track them at all. First, because I don't have a lot of multi-chapters fics but because as the same way as I start a fic, I go with the flow. The only universe right now I want expand is the Odysseus AU and I have already outlined a few chapters but I don't try to focus on that point by telling myself "I need [x] chapters for this fic." I have the full plot in my mind and I'll see where it goes.

And if we are talking about stats like kudos or readers, while I always get that boost of serotonin when I see someone liked my work, I don't try to look at how much kudos people leave or how many people read my fics. For some reason, that would stress me the fuck out. But for the comments, I always try to thanks everyone leaving one and for reading the fic.

Thank you for ask, have a nice day! 💖 And sorry again for the late reply.

#anon #answered #ask game #VERY VERY SORRY FOR THE LATE REPLY

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montyterrible · 6 months

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One fun thing about Gareth Evans’ Apostle (2018) is how the stylized title both undersells but also perfectly encapsulates the content and themes of the movie. The “T” transformed into an upside-down cross is probably the most obvious of design choices for a horror movie that deals with religion in some capacity, to the point that it kind of makes this film seem more low-rent or trite than it actually is, but, then, the obvious lurid appeal of that upside-down cross also perfectly captures a lot of the nasty, gnarly charm here. There are bursts of (typically also gross or upsetting) excitement where Evans’ action film pedigree shines through, like a man getting well and truly Impaled by the armed guards of a cultist prophet, in an easy to enjoy sort of way. Or take the flashback where damaged former missionary protagonist Thomas reveals the story of how he lost his faith in the midst a violent conflagration in China, where he was branded on his back with a massive cross as we simultaneously watch a full-sized model of the same icon collapse in flames in front of him. Whatever could it possibly mean?!

Dan Stevens’ portrayal of Thomas is that of a man well and truly deranged, with such a cartoonishly wild and haunted look on his face at all times that it sometimes threatens to derail the sincerity of some moments. The fact that the prophet Malcolm and his inner circle are desperately seeking a malicious intruder in their midst but somehow don’t suspect the guy who’s walking around looking like he might start stabbing at any moment is pretty funny. And I think some of the chuckles that I had are genuine—like a scene of cultist children poking at a restrained woman with big sticks as a form of “play,” or how a guard’s response to a command to “sound the alarm” late in the film means ringing this pretty tiny bell. Like the stylized “T” in the title, Apostle as a whole is simultaneously goofy and cool.

What I liked most about this movie when I first watched it and that immediately got me invested on rewatch is how it opens with such force and focus—Thomas’ sister taken by the cult for ransom, his physical and mental state clearly in some sort of disarray from the very beginning, and then this great sequence where we see him intuit and evade a trap set for him by surreptitiously exchanging his own (marked) ticket to paradise with another man’s. The espionage or cat-and-mouse elements are what really make Apostle so charismatic to me. For a missionary (and drug addict), Thomas is weirdly capable, and it’s great fun to watch him fight and sleuth. I kind of wish there was more sleuthing, to be honest.

What is perhaps surprising is how readily the film shows us Malcolm’s perspective. Played by Michael Sheen, he comes across as both your typical cult leader but also as vulnerable in ways that ultimately pay off as he and his two brothers end up at odds with one another when the situation starts to deteriorate. Seeing both sides of the conflict like this might defang some of the horror or mystery of the situation, but it increases the tension. What I previously described as “espionage” is part of what makes Apostle better than its title’s design might suggest. It’s not exactly reinventing the wheel in terms of the broad strokes of cult/folk torture horror, but it’s Thomas’ somewhat empowered position within the familiar frame and the way that the leadership of the cult fractures (and, yes, also grody stuff like The Drill Scene) that make it feel kind of noteworthy to me.

The theming here is obvious in some ways: By chaining and force-feeding the goddess of the island (by treating her like a “machine,” which is a word that is actually used in this context quite late in the plot), Malcolm and company have perverted their faith. Malcolm’s dreams of a utopian, communal society without taxes or want had me kind of rolling my eyes given how common it is to put aspirations of equality into the heads and mouths of madmen in stories like this (as part of their obvious insanity!), but the dynamic that ends up developing between him and his one brother Quinn (played by Mark Lewis Jones) makes Malcolm ultimately come across much better and makes the ideas associated with him feel less… predictably trampled upon. Quinn not only describes the goddess as a machine but also makes further blasphemous and violent statements, ranting at one point about how religion can maybe serve in combat. In keeping with the upside-down “T” of it all, Quinn is characterized throughout the movie in the most brutal and blunt and obvious ways—fast with a blade or gun and slow to think, without temperance, and ultimately quick to seize complete control when he gets a chance. Malcolm, we’re essentially told by Quinn, is a true believer (and a fool because of it).

This is ultimately one of the more interesting elements of Apostle: It does feel (and act like) a pretty conventional take-down of organized religion—what with the unnatural treatment of a deity beyond what she had ever intended for her accidental worshippers, and with the increased reliance on bloody rituals and punishments and on witch-hunting outsiders—but it also doesn’t completely write off either Christianity or the faith of Malcolm, exactly. If anything, the late-game story of Apostle is about reaffirmations of faith. Thomas finds something like the headiness and satisfied delirium of religion when he burns the corrupted goddess and finally saves his sister and Malcolm’s daughter, and he even asks the latter to pray for him as he shoos them on to the escape boats while he bleeds out on a scenic vista. Meanwhile, that daughter, Andrea (Lucy Boynton), had also started praying in a pretty Christian sort of way prior to the climactic final showdown with Quinn. And if Wikipedia is to be believed and Thomas is actually experiencing “rebirth as the new guardian of the island” at the end, then Malcolm’s own faith is also somewhat affirmed when he witnesses this happening.

The land is becoming fruitful again. Yes, it did require blood, but just not in the brutal, organized way they had been going about it. If Malcolm survives to worship this new god of the island(?), then the implication is that maybe his faith is actually still ok—albeit on a smaller scale and probably sans the adherents, and the kidnapping, and the drilling big holes in people’s heads…

I watched Apostle with my religious father, and I’m pretty sure I saw a little head-nodding in there somewhere. Like, I’m not saying this is a Christian Movie, but when Thomas’ faith in his Lord allows him to twice bring his restrained arms together, in that aforementioned flashback, to pray, and effectively overpowers two men to do so, it says something. He just also happens to use that maybe-God-given strength to execute some kind of Resident Evil-style butcher-attendant of the goddess in a pretty cool and gruesome and over-the-top fashion.

#movies #horror movies #movie review #rewatching #gareth evans

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vampirezogar · 8 months

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Those moments when your favourite story is ignored of the title of The Best Of Its Genre makes me sad

Like everybody don't talk about it anymore, I've been hearing about ppl saying it's getting bad even though we're on the good stuff right now? Why though? Is it because of the sex stuff?

Seriously the author just show us some implications of adult intimacy, it's not even outright graphic about it. Which is funny bcuz I know some stories which has the heavy 18+ adult scenes as it's main selling point and it ain't that even good don't get me started on the disgusting age gap, it's a fucking trend right now

The author is just fabulous she made both the writing and the illustrations,both are good in quality,hence why we get less updates but I'm willing to sacrifice, there were so many cases of creators like her getting tortured almost to death by the unreasonable workload the manager was a bitch apparently so I'm not hurrying anyone,if it took years, I'm willing to wait

She's similar to Miyazaki,they took a well-known generic genre and grind it and turned it into a new high quality masterpiece,it feels familiar but very new!

Like trying your favourite dish with different ingredients

Another author even made a story with a seemingly generic plotline of this genre at first then proceeded to turn it into a dark psychological horror:

The entire story is the character's dark emotional growth process. The narrative mentions several time of her emotional crisis and troubling mental state. It's nice they decided to put a realistic view on a popular fantasy setting

Not to mention the implied criticism on the tropes of this very story, it's like the author's way of saying "yes I decided to take a hammer and hit this thing till it's nothing like its original self" the funny thing is this story makes me wonder what kind of person would write it,shows how good they are at giving me brainrot and creative crisis

Tropes Subversion is my favourite genre as well

We love the molds breakers!!!!!

I kinda take issue with how you're using certain terms here like genre and generic or tropes and subversion; and maybe I'm just missing what your point is, but, ehh... I'm kind of a pedantic weirdo.

For starters, "subversion" is a trope. I get that people tend to use it to mean 'making a cliché not cliché anymore' (usually by force, i.e. with a hammer), but that's usually actually an author using the tropes of their genre effectively, sometimes including subversion.

Then we have the connotation of "genre" coming across as if it is meant to be taken for granted. Meanwhile, "generic" is just bad. These two words describe the same function. If a work of fiction is of a genre, it is necessarily generic. It is wild to me how "generic" held onto its nasty connotation from the days when "genre fiction" was a term that mean childish and repetitive.

We gotta remember that cliché is the norm for us. And not for no reason, cliché is comfort food. It's unchallenging. It gets put down for being nonintellectual, which is true, but cliché is familiar.

It may be the case that your peers do not share your appreciation for your favorite author because they do not find the comfort and familiarity of the genre's typical trappings. It may also be the case that your appreciation of your favorite author is, in part, due to a generic cliché.

Sorry if this came across kinda grouchy. Thank you for the message!🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇

#asks #bernkastel11 #tropes #genre #subversion #me being a pedantic jerk

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valentina-writes · 3 years

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Craving

A/N: Sorry, that I haven't posted in quite a while! I was lacking motivation a little bit and had a ton of other stuff to do. This one here was not requested, but the idea for it was stuck in my head for a couple days now and I couldn't concentrate on writing anything else. I will probably write some of the open requests soon.

Word Count: 1.8k

Warnings: light smut (only a few paragraphs)

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„Come on, Y/N, we‘re waiting for you!”. Cassian’s voice is calling out to you from the dance floor. Behind him, you spot Mor, looking seriously offended you’re leaving her alone and instead sitting in a corner of Rita’s with a not even half-finished drink in your hand. Rhys and Feyre must be here somewhere too.

Even Azriel is on the dance floor, a rare sight. You can’t help but stare at him, the way his wings glow faintly in the glimmering lights of the club. His body that moves so flawlessly to the rhythm, so unlike the movements you are used to see him perform when training.

Fingers entangled in your hair, the hot feeling of his lips on yours. His voice in your ear, telling you he would take you slowly.

You shake your head as if to get rid of the memory, but still blush as Azriel’s gaze meets yours for a second.

“I’m sorry guys, but I don’t feel like dancing today”, you excuse yourself. That being said, you set down your glass and quickly escape out into the night.

Inhaling the cold air slowly, you try to calm down. It’s not his fault, you remind yourself, that you can’t seem to get over him. That you start thinking in an inappropriate way as soon as your eyes meet.

His lips met your neck, kissing and sucking on it. You couldn’t help but lean into his touch, your body begging for him to come closer. As his kisses travel downward you cannot help but moan out his name.

“Y/N is everything okay?”, Mor calls out to you. The fantasy in your head is gone, leaving you restless, yearning for him.

“Yes, I’m fine”, you say, not looking up.

“No, you’re not and you know that”. She’s close enough to see your face now. “What’s wrong?”, she asks. Her eyes soften as she hugs you. Mor must have seen your despair.

“I- it’s nothing, really”. At her strict look, you wince a little bit. You want to tell her. But it’s just so embarrassing.

“I had sex. With Azriel”, you start over, taking a deep breath. But before you can continue, she exclaims: “By the Mother, that’s awesome! When? Why didn’t you tell me?”.

A tear builds up in your eye and before you know it, you’re crying into her shoulder.

“It- it… it was a couple years ago”, you finally manage to say. By now all you can really feel is embarrassment. “And it’s not awesome. Well, it was. But-“. You start sobbing again.

“It was a one-night stand. He… acts as if nothing ever happened, but I can’t stop thinking about it and whenever he looks at me, I-“. You stop talking. It sounds absolutely idiotic, even to you.

But Mor doesn’t look bewildered. Instead, she hugs you even tighter, rubbing your back slightly.

“What happens then, sweetie?”, she asks.

Sighing, you gulp down your embarrassment: “I miss him. A lot. He’s still there, of course. But afterwards he stopped talking to me the way he did before. We’re not as close anymore. And above all I not only miss our friendship …”, your cheeks heat up again, “Since him I’ve never had sex THAT good again, so I stopped having any altogether. And now I’m not only missing him and kind of into him, I’m also sexually frustrated and lonely”.

You did have sex with other males in the succeeding weeks. But none of them had been able to give you the same feeling he did. That indescribable feeling of closure and … being loved. Even though he most likely didn’t love you, because it took him a month to even look at you again.

Mor’s face is a mix of amusement and empathy: “Like… no sex in years? For a guy who fucked you so good but then what? Ignored you? Even though there was this feeling that nobody else could give you?”. You nod, and she actually starts laughing. “Honey, if you weren’t that sad it would be hilarious, because it sure as hell sounds like he’s your mate”.

Your entire world shifts in that moment.

Your sweaty bodies are tangled in his sheets, gasping for air. Azriel’s shadows swirling around you, purring in your ears. With his final thrust, the world around you seems to fade away. There’s just him and you, for a second you don’t even know where his body ends and yours begins anymore.

Shocked, you look at her. “I… that kind of makes sense? But he would’ve talked to me then, wouldn’t he? I … I’m so confused right now”.

Your thoughts are running wild. Was this the reason he ignored you? Because he was overwhelmed? Was he waiting for you to make the first step? Or… Or was he not interested in the bond and wanted to reject it?

“Y/N? Mor? Is everything alright? Rhys told me to look after you, you’ve been gone for quite a while now”. You quickly wipe away your tears at Azriel’s voice. What should you tell him?

Mor winks at you, already making her way back towards the entrance: “Everything alright, shadowsinger. You might want to stay and talk to Y/N for a second though”.

And just like that, Mor vanishes, leaving me alone with Azriel. His wings are slightly shuffling behind his back and his gaze on me looks worried.

“So, uhm what did Mor mean?”. His shadows are coiling closely around his arms, showing how uncomfortable he is.

You inhale slowly, making sense of your thoughts. You find no good solution, so you just decide to start at the beginning.

“A couple of years ago we… after a celebration for you when you came home from a mission we had sex. Do you remember?”. It was almost painful to say this while watching him. Not only was the atmosphere incredibly tense, but also the possibility of him actually having forgotten about it made you sad.

He frowned a little, “I do remember, Y/N. Quite well, actually. But I don’t get what you’re trying to tell me”. For a second, you believe to see a certain hunger in his eyes. An expression you had only seen once on him before.

Nodding, you continue, “There was this… this feeling back then. Something I’ve never felt before. And nobody else has been able to make me feel the same way. I told Mor about it…”

You can’t finish your sentence, he cuts in sharply, “Why are you telling Mor this after years?”. And to himself, almost inaudible, he murmurs, “Don’t think about the other males”. The anger on his face is devastating.

You are absolutely terrified, but know you have to tell him. So, you muster up all of your courage and speek the words aloud that had been on your mind ever since, “Because I am in love with you. Because I don’t know what I should do about this, as you’re so distant all the time. And I cannot take this anymore, I miss you. I hate seeing you with other females. When I can’t fall asleep I think about this connection I felt that night”.

The pure shock on his face quickly gives way to a broad smile. “And what Mor meant is that… when I talked to her and described that feeling to her, she said we are most probably mates”. The last word is purely a whisper hanging in the air between you two. Mates.

And then, without hesitation, he begins to talk. “The first time I felt the bond was about two weeks before that night, when I said goodbye to you before that mission. It was so painful to leave you behind…”

“Hold up, you knew of the bond?”, you question him. Guilt creeps upon his face. “Why didn’t you tell me? Why did you ignore me for weeks after we had sex? Do you know what this did to me? All these years and you didn’t bother to just talk to me?”. Hot tears again spill over your cheeks.

He comes closer, as to wipe your tears away, but you back away.

“Y/N, I thought you didn’t want the bond. That you rejected it. Or worse, that it was only one-sided, because I couldn’t feel you across it. Rhys told me that the safest way to know was to just sleep with you, because then the bond normally clears up, but it didn’t work. At least I thought so”. The look on his face is pleading, but still, all you feel is anger and loneliness.

“So you only slept with me because Rhys told you so?”.

“No! I did it, because I love you and wanted you, truly. I still wished that the mating bond would reveal itself. And when I thought that it hadn’t worked, I couldn’t bear to be around you. I was so angry at the Cauldron, because I felt unworthy. Again. Imagine being in my situation. Having a mate, but the bond not working completely, the other person unaware of what’s going on! I did what I had to do to protect myself”.

The vulnerability in his statement catches you absolutely off guard. A small smile formed on your face, as you walk a few steps towards him.

“Maybe we weren’t ready back then. Maybe it kept us waiting, because it knew we would need the time to work things out”, you suggest, closing the distance between you and him.

His eyes twinkle in the starlight, as he lowers his head, “Well, there’s only one way of finding out”, he says as he cradles your head in his hands. Slowly, he comes closer and closer, until you can’t endure the tension anymore and slam your lips on his.

His lips are velvet on yours, only intensifying the kiss after a few seconds. He holds himself back, almost painfully so. But you are yearning for him, for his touch. And as you licked his lower lip and he grants you access to his mouth, you felt it again. The euphoria racing through your veins. And as you kept kissing, it was as if a fog lifts itself and all of a sudden you can feel him, not only against your body, but also against your soul, interlocking with it.

He must have felt the same thing, as we both gasp for air almost at the same time. Azriel’s mouth twists into a smile as he kisses me again. His wings are now wrapped around you, obscuring you from any passers-by.

“I’ve waited 500 years to find you, my mate”, he says. The word echoing through me. Mate. Mate. Mate. You still can’t believe this is actually happening, as you send a wave of love across the bond. “But I would have waited 500 more for you. For this moment alone”.

At this, you kiss him again, unable to express your emotions any other way. “Let’s end this journey how we began it, shall we? With me in your bed”.

#azriel #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x reader #azriel x y/n #azriel fluff #azriel smut #azriel angst #azriel x reader smut #azriel x reader fluff #azriel x reader angst #azriel acotar #acotar #azriel x reader one shot #azriel x reader imagine

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adlbeay · 3 years

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I wanted to talk about the themes in the Walk in the Dust event. The story of Arknights has always had a high level of thematic consistency, but it’s especially prominent in this event. I feel like a lot of the discussion of the story in certain places comes down to “lore” and surface-level plot details, so I wanted to get this out there somewhere.

The two big ideas that are covered in Walk in the Dust are that of revenge and the homeland. Let's talk about revenge first. Long post and story spoilers under the cut.

In the beginning, we are introduced to Elliot, aka Passenger, who by the time we meet him, is an aimless husk of a man. He is utterly empty inside despite being the most powerful figure in the Reefsteep black market, with vast wealth and political influence under his thumb. Having completed his decades-long quest to slay everyone who was involved in betraying his teacher, he has no more goals for his life. After killing the Lord Ameer of Ibut, the last of his targets, he realizes that the revenge he had been pursuing was ultimately empty, that the weapons he built and the schemes he engineered to that end no longer moved him. Even the death of the Lord Ameer didn't matter one bit in the political landscape of Sargon.

As for the Sargon army... We live in different times now. The ruling Padishahs simply care not about what is happening here in this barren wasteland. My guess is that it matters not to them whether it's the father or the son that's in charge. Actually, to tell the truth, it hardly matters to me either.

Ultimately, no one cared if the Lord Ameer was murdered or simply died in an accident, not even Elliot himself. Sargon continues to be exploited by the Columbian military and the ruling Lords. Professor Thorne remains dead. His research, once entrusted to Elliot to prevent it from becoming a weapon of war, has nonetheless been used by Elliot himself to bring even more death. Now, 22 years later, Passenger sees finding Kal'tsit as his only path to salvation, so that she can once again give him a purpose like she did when she rescued him the first time.

Folinic's mom, Lillia, also shares the same kind of story. Her husband was killed in Chernobog when the count decided to purge the researchers working on the sarcophagus device. Among the children of the families broken up by this incident are Lyudmila (later Crownslayer), Alex and Misha (later Skullshatterer), and Luisa (later Folinic). Lillia finds Kal'tsit after months of searching, intending to take revenge on Grand Duke Vanya not just for her husband, but also for Luisa, who never got to know her father because of it. Kal'tsit tries to talk her out of it, even during the final phases of the plan, but Lillia's mind is set. She entrusts Kal'tsit with taking care of both Luisa and Lyudmila, as she knows she won't be able to come back to live a normal life after this. And... she succeeds. Although it is Kal'tsit who ultimately administered the poison, their plan works flawlessly and Duke Vanya is finally dead.

Except it still ended up being completely meaningless. The Grand Duke was in a glorified nursing home already near the end of his life, and if Kal'tsit didn't kill him then some other conspirator from the Ursus political backstage would have done it anyway. He was already crippled and blind, and as we find out during the confrontation with the Emperor's Blade, even Kal'tsit only agreed to Lillia's plan because it defused the conspiracies of other powerful figures who would have used the Duke's death to spark another rebellion. The only thing that Lillia ended up accomplishing was making sure that Louisa would grow up without both a mother and a father, and Lyudmila would never get the answers she really wanted about her family's death. And, although she ended up not doing it, she was even also planning to go back to Chernobog to kill Sergei, Alex and Misha's father, for his betrayal.

And this carries on through the future outside the event. Crownslayer ends up joining Reunion because she thinks it will give her the answers she wants and avenge her father. Folinic almost lets her anger at Atro's death get her into a confrontation with Wolumonde. In the end, Crownslayer is stopped by Kal'tsit and Folinic is calmed down by Suzuran, but we might be able to imagine what would have happened if they managed to carry out their vengeance.

The theme of homeland is one that's intrinsically tied to Kal'tsit and has at least a bit of relation to the broader story outside of the event. It's harder to talk about since it's not clearly split into individual stories like previously, but there's at least one character that exemplifies this theme the most: Old Isin.

Old Isin is appropriately to his name, old as rocks. He remembers being a servant to some lord of a long-lost city that very few even know once existed, and spends his time telling fortunes while trying to seek out people who, like him, also share that past. According to Kal'tsit, the city's people were scattered when it was destroyed, and now only Isin even remembers the origin of the name "Reefsteep". Even then, Isin only has vague memories, and believes it to be his unforgivable sin that he has forgotten so much about the city.

Old Isin originally helps Kal'tsit and Elliot because he hopes that she can help him remember about the lost city, and thus absolve his "unforgivable sin". And Kal'tsit indeed does help him. Isin begins to recall the conquests of armies a thousand years ago, something even with his age he should not have been a part of, much less remembered. Kal'tsit dispels the illusions clouding his memory, and reveals that what Isin remembers is only the stories that the padishah recounted to him, that the glory of his old city was only a memory of another memory. In truth, the city in Old Isin's memory was merely a stepping stone for the padishah's ambition to conquer the uncharted deserts, and was abandoned just as easily when that campaign failed. His homeland's glory was just an illusion created in his mind by the padishah's charisma.

Which brings us to the Emperor's Blade. Wherever he stands is the dominion of the Empire of Ursus. Whatever he does carries out the Ursus Emperor's will. Or at least, that's how the Royal Guards imagine themselves, single-handedly carrying out their homeland's legacy. Kal'tsit lays it out clearly:

Kal'tsit: Tell me, what does the current Ursus Emperor think of the Pine Valley affair? Or do you mean to tell me the seeds of that uprising, the origins of the crisis were all the will of the Emperor? Feel free to keep deceiving yourself, but the truth is the young emperor is unaware of the events that transpired there. You believe he has no need to know. You... all of you seek a bygone era. You are just caught up in the former emperor's grand vision!

As does Patriot in Chapter 8:

Patriot: I fought with your fathers. Your strength and tactical acumen are no less impressive than theirs. But you look at the Ursus of those times with rose-colored glasses. What you see is nothing more than your wild fantasies.

The Royal Guards are described in not too unclear words as soldiers who probably believed too much of their own grandiose affect. They are unparalleled fighters, to be sure, but it isn't hard to infer that those words about executing Ursus's will and each Royal Guard being his own nation are words intended to strike fear into their enemies rather than statements of any real truth. Indeed, if you know anything about the internal politics of Ursus, the idea of "Ursus's own will" can be seen as more of a nostalgia at a bygone era when Ursus was, or at least seemed, united in conquest under the previous Emperor. The perceived glory of their homeland is what motivates the Emperor's Blade, but like with Old Isin, the truth behind it is shaky at best.

We also have the contrast between the retired veteran at Pine Valley and Grand Duke Vanya. While talking to Witte, the veteran cuts off one of his own fingers, claiming that the scars he has suffered in Ursus's wars, once considered symbols of his glory and honor, were ultimately meaningless, and he wants this self-inflicted wound to be his only legacy to Ursus. At the same time, the Grand Duke is postulating about how the seeds he had sown in the winter would give birth to beautiful flowers. Even though his actions and the crimes he committed never bore fruition, he is convinced even in death that Ursus's soil will bloom.

The issue of a real or imagined homeland, and its loss, is also shared by the Sarkaz as a whole not only in this story but in the main story and many other events. It's even arguable that Rhodes Island's mission to help the Infected was originally inherited from Babel's goal of establishing a stable homeland for the Sarkaz. After all, as pointed out in many places, the Infected and Sarkaz share much of the same discrimination.

Sarkaz Mercenary: Home...? How could us devils... us Infected possibly have one... Kal'tsit: The Sarkaz have tried to rebuild 'Kazdel', their home for centuries, though they have never succeeded. Everyone has a different idea as to what the term 'homeland' means, but as it stands right now, Kazdel is perhaps as close as you can get to the term's original meaning.

And in Twilight of Wolumonde:

Armed Infected: We’re going home? To what home?

Mudrock: Kazdel. There may be no place for Sarkaz outside of Kazdel. But in Kazdel, there is a place for you. Not because of tolerance. But because there is... nothing there. Kazdel... is where the homeless go. A land of rootless people.

So what does all this have to do with Kal'tsit?

In the ending cutscene, Passenger asks Kal'tsit whether this "Rhodes Island" is yet another passing persona to be used to accomplish a goal and discarded when it's complete. Like the persona of the Trusted Advisor, or the Servant, or the Laterano Cleric, will she abandon Rhodes Island as well? Kal'tsit initially puts up a front saying he has no right to ask, then bluffs about having thousands of answers, but is pushed by Passenger saying he'll even accept a lie. In one of the only times we get to see Kal'tsit faltering, she actually has no answer to this.

Unlike the other characters we see throughout the story, Kal'tsit has no homeland. No matter how fake or illusory it is, Old Isin and the Royal Guard have something to believe about a place where they can belong. The nobles in Victoria, as incompetent as they appear from the outside, are dedicated to defending the peace of their home despite having no ruler. Even the ostracized Sarkaz can ultimately go back to Kazdel, as unpleasant as that might be. But while Kal'tsit wanders the earth to keep the homelands of others from falling into chaos, she has no homeland of her own to go back to.

In one of the trailers for Chapter 9, we hear a recording from Theresa, addressed to Kal'tsit: "I hope this Rhodes Island can be a place to call home, a place you can always return to."

#arknights #arknights spoilers #kal'tsit

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chainofclovers · 3 years

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Ted Lasso 2x11 thoughts

For an episode that ends with a journalist Ted trusts but has (understandably) recently lied to warning Ted that he’s publishing an article about his panic attacks, it was fitting that this episode seemed entirely about what all of these characters choose to tell each other. And after most of a season of television that Jason Sudeikis has described as the season in which the characters go into their little caves to deal with things on their own, it turns out they are finally able to tell each other quite a lot.

Which is good because, um, wow, a lot is going to happen in the season finale of this show!

Thoughts on the things people tell each other behind the cut!

Roy and Keeley. I absolutely loved the moment during their photoshoot in which they bring up a lot of complicated emotional things and are clearly gutted (“gutted”? Who am I? A GBBO contestant who forgot to turn the oven on?) by what they’ve heard. We already know that Keeley and Roy are great at the kinds of moments they have before the shoot begins, in which Roy builds Keeley up and tells her she’s fucking amazing. From nearly the beginning of their relationship, they’ve supported each other and been each other’s biggest fans. But their relationship has gone on long enough that they’ve progressed from tentative arguments about space and individual needs into really needing to figure out what they mean to each other and how big their feelings are and what that means in relation to everything else. Watching these two confess about the uncomfortable kiss with Nate, the unexpectedly long conversation with Phoebe’s teacher, and—most painfully—the revelation that Jamie still loves Keeley didn’t feel like watching two people who are about to break up. (Although I could see them potentially needing space from each other to get clarity.) It felt like watching two people realize just how much they’d lose if they lost each other, which is an understandably scary feeling even—or especially—when you’re deeply in love but not entirely sure what the future holds. Not entirely sure what you’re capable of when you’ve never felt serious about someone in quite this way, and are realizing you have to take intentional actions to choose that relationship every single day. I’m excited to learn whether Roy and Keeley decide they need to solidify their relationship more (not necessarily an engagement, but maybe moving in together or making sure they’re both comfortable referring to the other as partner and telling people they’re in a committed relationship) or if things go in a different direction for a while.

Sharon and Ted. I’ve had this feeling of “Wow, Ted is going to feel so intense about how honest he’s been with Sharon and is going to end up getting really attached and transfer a lot of emotions onto the connection they have and that is stressful no matter how beneficial it has been for him to finally get therapy!” for a while now. And Sharon’s departure really brought that out and it was indeed stressful. But the amount of growth that’s happened for both of these characters is really stunningly and beautifully conveyed in this episode. Ted is genuinely angry she left without saying goodbye, and he doesn’t bury it some place deep inside him where it will fester for the next thirty years. He expresses his anger. (I also noticed he sweared—mildly—in front of her again, which is really a big tell for how much he has let his carefully-constructed persona relax around her.) He reads her letter even though he said he wasn’t going to, and he’s moved. I don’t think Ted has the words for his connection to Sharon beyond “we had a breakthrough,” but Sharon gets it, and is able to firmly assert a professional boundary by articulating her side of that breakthrough as an experience that has made her a better therapist. And is still able to offer Ted a different kind of closure by suggesting they go out before her train leaves. No matter how you feel about a patient/football manager seeing their therapist/team psychologist colleague socially, I appreciated this story because IMO it didn’t cross big lines but instead was about one final moment in this arc in which both Ted and Sharon saw each other clearly and modeled what it is to give someone what they need and to expect honesty and communication from them. I liked that Ted ends up being the one saying goodbye. (The mustache in the exclamation points!) I like that whether or not Sharon returns in any capacity (Sarah Niles is so wonderful that I hope she does, but I’m not sure), the goodbye these characters forge for themselves here is neither abandonment nor a new, more complicated invitation. It’s the end of a meaningful era, and although the work of healing is the work of a lifetime, it’s very beautiful to have this milestone.

Ted and Rebecca. So, maybe it’s just me, but it kinda feels like these two have a few li’l life things to catch up on?! (HAHHHHHaSdafgsdasdf!) I really adored their interactions in this episode. I maintain that Biscuits With The Boss has been happening this whole time (even when Ted’s apartment was in shambles, there’s biscuit evidence, and I feel like we’ve been seeing the biscuit boxes in Rebecca’s office pretty regularly too), even if it might have been more of a drive-by biscuit drop-off/feelings avoidance ritual. It was really lovely to see Ted on more even footing in Rebecca’s office, joking around until she tells him to shut up, just like the old days. And GOSH—for their 1x9 interaction in Ted’s office to be paralleled in this episode and for Ted to explicitly make note of the parallel in a way Rebecca hears and sees and understands?! MY HEART. In both of Rebecca’s confessions, she is not bringing good news but it is good and meaningful that she chooses to share with Ted. In both situations, Ted takes the moment in stride and offers acceptance equivalent to the gravity of what she has to confess. And in both situations, he’s not some kind of otherworldly saint, able to accept Rebecca no matter what because he’s unaffected by what she shares. He is affected. When he tells her about Sam, you can see a variety of emotions on his face. Rebecca is upset and Ted is calm, and even if I might have liked for him to try to talk about the risk the affair poses to the power dynamics on the team or any number of factors, I also really liked that he just accepts where she is, and—most importantly—does not offer her advice beyond examining herself and taking her own advice. A massive part of being in a relationship with another person (a close relationship of any nature) is figuring out how to support that person without necessarily having to be happy about every single thing they do. It’s so important that Ted connects what she’s just told him about Sam back to what she told him last season about her plot with the club. These both feel like truth bombs to him, and he is at least safe enough to make that clear. These are both things that impact him, things that shape how he sees her and maybe even how he sees himself. He cares about her and is capable of taking in this information; he has room for it. But it’s not something he takes lightly, and neither does she. See you next year.

Tumblr user chainofclovers and the TV show Ted Lasso. My brain is going wild thinking about all the ways the next “truth bomb” conversation could go in 3x11 or whatever. Maybe they go full consistent parallel and Rebecca confesses something else, this time about her and Ted or some other big future thing that impacts him as much or more as the other confessions have. (The same but different.) Maybe the tables turn and Ted has something to confess to her. While the 1x9 conversation ended in an embrace and the 2x11 conversation ended with a bit more physical distance (understandable given the current state of their relationship and the nature of the discussion), the verbal ending of both conversations involved voices moving into a sexier lower register while zooming in to talk specifically about their connection to each other, so I have to assume there will be some consistencies in s3 even if the circumstances will be completely different. I don’t really know where I’m going with this and I obviously will go insane if I sustain this level of anticipatory energy until Fall 2022 but I have a feeling my brain and heart are going to try!

Sam and Rebecca. I know there’s been a lot of criticism about whether this show is being at all realistic about the power dynamics and inevitable professional issues this relationship would create. On some level, I agree; I like that pretty much everyone who knows about the affair has been kind so far, but you can be kind and still ask someone to contend with reality. But I also think that in nearly every plot point on this show, the narrative is driven by how people feel about their circumstances first and foremost. (It’s why the whiteboard in the coaching office and the football commentators tell us more about how the actual football season is going from a points perspective than anyone else.) This episode reminded me how few people know about Sam and Rebecca, and how much their time together so far has been time spent in bed. The private sphere. I thought this episode really expertly brought the public sphere into it, not—thank goodness—through a humiliating exposure or harsh judgment but through an opportunity for Sam that illustrates not only all his potential to do great things but how much Rebecca’s professional position and personal feelings are in conflict with that. Could stand in the way of that. I don’t have a strong gut feeling about where this will go, but I do think Sam’s face in his final scene of this episode is telling. He started the episode wanting to see Rebecca (his most recent text to her was about wanting to connect), and Edwin’s arrival from Ghana really exploded his sense of what is possible for his life. If he’d arrived home to Rebecca sitting on his stoop prior to meeting Edwin, he’d have been delighted. Now he’s conflicted, and whatever decision he makes, he has to reckon with the reality that he cannot have everything he wants. No matter what. And Rebecca—she has taken Ted’s advice and is attempting to be honest about the fact that she can’t control Sam’s decisions but hopes he doesn’t go, and even saying that much feels so inappropriate. And I’m not sure how much she realizes about the inappropriateness of the position she’s putting him in, although maybe she’s getting there considering she exits the scene very quickly. I’ve honestly loved Rebecca’s arc this season. I think it’s realistic that she got obsessed with the intimacy she thought she could find in her phone. I think it’s realistic that her professional and personal ambitions are inappropriately linked. (They certainly were for Rupert. It’s been years since she’s known anything different; even if she’s done some significant recovery work to move on from her abusive marriage and figure out her own priorities, she’s got a long way to go.) I know there are people who will read this interaction between Rebecca and Sam as a totally un-self-aware thing on the part of “the show” or “the writers” but what I saw is two people who enjoyed being in bed together and now have to deal with the reality that they’re in two different places in their lives and that one has great professional power over the other. If that wasn’t in the show, I wouldn’t be able to see it or feel so strongly about it.

Edwin and Sam. I really enjoyed all the complexities of this interaction. Edwin is promising a future for Sam that doesn’t quite exist yet, though he has the financial means to make it happen. He offers this by constructing for Sam a Nigerian—and Ghanaian—experience unlike anything he’s found in London. Sam is amazed that this experience is here, and Edwin’s response is to explain to him that the experience is not here. Not really. The experience in Africa. Sam has of course connected to the other Nigerian players on the team, but this is something else entirely. I’m really curious if Sam is going to end up feeling that what Edwin has to offer is real or not. That sense of home and connection? So real. And so right that he would want to experience that homecoming and would want to be part of building that experience for others. But at the end of the day, he went to a museum full of actors and a pop-up restaurant full of “friends,” and is that constructed authenticity as a stand-in for a real homecoming more or less real than the home he’s building in Richmond? (With other players who stand in solidarity with him, and with well-meaning white coaches who say dumb stuff sometimes, and an a probably-doomed love interest, and a feeling that he should put chicken instead of goat in the jollof, and the ability to stand out as an incredible player on a rising team.)

Nate and everyone. But also Nate and no one. Nate’s story is so painful and I’m so anxious for next week’s episode. For a long time I’ve felt that a lot of Nate’s loyalties are with Richmond, and a lot of his ambitions are around having given so much to this place without getting a lot back, and having a strong feeling that he’s the answer to Richmond’s future. But now I’m not so sure; his ambitions have transferred into asking everyone he knows (except Ted, of course), if they want to be “the boss.” But Nate is all tactics and no communication. When he wants to suggest a new play to Ted, he hasn’t yet learned to read Ted’s language to learn that Ted is eager to hear what he has to say. And while Ted has been really unfortunately distracted about Nate and dismissive of him this season, he clearly respects Nate’s approach to football and was appreciative of the play. Nate just can’t hear that. The suit is such a great metaphor of all the things Nate is in too much pain to be able to hear clearly. Everyone digs at him for wearing the suit Ted bought him (including Will, who’s got to get little cuts in where he can, because he’s got to be sick of the way Nate treats him), but when he gets fed up his solution isn’t to go out on his own and find more clothes he likes; he asks Keeley to help him. And then crosses a major line with her...and no matter how kind she was about it, she was clearly not okay. Everything is going to blow up, and I’m so curious as to whether Nate will end up aligning himself with Rupert in some way or if he’s going to end up screwed over by Rupert and in turn try to screw over his colleagues even worse than he’s already done. Or try desperately to make amends even though it could be too late for some. Either way, I’m fully prepared to feel devastated. (And there’s no way I’m giving up on this character. If he’s able to learn, I truly believe he could end up seeking forgiveness and forging a happier existence for himself. Someday. Like in season 3 or something.)

Ted and Trent. Trent deciding to reveal his source to Ted is a huge deal, and I’m torn between so many emotions about this exposé. I’m glad it’s a Trent Crimm piece and not an Ernie Loundes piece. I’m glad that Trent made the decision to warn Ted and let him know that Nate is his source. I fear—but also hope—that this exposure will set off a chain reaction of Ted learning about some of the things he’s missed while suffering through a really bad bout with his dad-grief and panic disorder. The things Ted doesn’t know would devastate him. I wonder if Ted will want to figure out a way to make Nate feel heard and reconcile with him, and I wonder how that will be complicated if/when he realizes Nate has severely bullied Will, gets more details on how he mistreated Colin, etc. I wonder if Rebecca, whom Nate called a “shrew” right before she announced his promotion, will be in the position of having to ask Ted to fire him, or overriding Ted and doing it herself. So many questions! I have a feeling it’ll go in some wild yet very human-scaled, emotionally-nuanced direction, and I’ll be like “Oh my GOD!” but also like “Oh, of course.”

This VERY SERIOUS AND EMOTIONAL REVIEW has a major flaw, which is that none of the above conversations include mention of the absolute love letter to N*SYNC. Ted passionately explains how things should go while dancing ridiculously! Will turns on the music and starts gyrating! Roy nods supportively! Beard shouts the choreography like the Broadway choreographer of teaching grown men who play football how to dance like a boy band. Everyone is so incredibly proud when they nail it. I love them.

I cannot believe next week is the end. For now. I’m kind of looking forward to letting everything settle during the hiatus, but I’ve really loved the ride.

#ted lasso #ted lasso s2 spoilers #ted lasso 2x11 #meta by me #ALL THE FEELINGS!!!!#a lesbian watches ted lasso

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storiesforallfandoms · 3 years

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delayed ~ eminem

word count: 1133

request?: yes!

“Hey, here is your new follower and lover of your writing ♥ ️, I need more imagine of Eminem I feel they do not value it, so here is a request, Reader is a young actress and is recording abroad and Marshall started his tour a much bigger one, and reader promised her that she would be there during her entire tour from the beginning, but she is delayed because she has to record one more week the movie in which she is the protagonist but she arrives by surprise at the first show of the tour and stays for the whole tour and there are many moments of soft, tender and somewhat hot you know in the dressing room.”

description: in which he thinks she’s going to miss his first show, only to be surprised when he goes on stage

pairing: eminem x female!reader

warnings: swearing

masterlist (one, two)

I could see the look of disappointment on Marshall’s face as I told him the news, although he was trying not to show his face too much on camera. “They’re making you stay an extra week?”

“Unfortunately,” I sighed. “Some last minute reshoots are supposed to happen this week apparently. I did tell them about the tour.”

“I know you did. It’s not your fault you’re a big movie star now.”

I smiled a little at his comment. “I’ll join you eventually.”

“I know. I’ll see you soon.”

“I love you.”

“Love you, too.”

Once my phone screen went black, I smiled up at my co-star who was sat across from me in my trailer. She smiled back as she placed another item in my suitcase. “Damn girl, you even had me believing you.”

“They don’t call me the next big thing for nothing,” I joked.

The truth is, there was no extra week of reshoots. We had finished the film earlier that day and now one of my co-stars was helping me to pack my things. I was supposed to fly to Michigan the following day to join Marshall on his latest tour. With filming ending so much earlier than expected, I managed to switch my flight for that night instead.

I decided not to tell Marshall this though. I wanted it to be a surprise. Very rarely did I ever get the chance to surprise him the way he often surprised me. I had it all planned out, I just needed help to work on one last detail.

I said goodbye to the cast and crew I had become so close to the past few months and climbed into my Uber. As we drove towards the airport, I called the only person that could help enact my plan.

“Hey (Y/N),” Paul said as he answered the phone. “Everything alright?”

“Everything’s great! I just need to ask you for a favor, but you can’t even mention it to Marshall, okay?”

He was silent for so long that I thought he was going to say no. I nearly sighed with relief when he finally said, “I’m intrigued. Go on.”

~~~~~~

The next night, I was stood outside the side door of the arena Marshall was meant to perform in. I was trying to hide myself the best I could from passing fans, as I waited for someone to come open the door for me.

Paul finally arrived just minutes before the concert was supposed to start. “I couldn’t get away without seeming suspicious. I had to get Denaun to call me so I could pretend to have to step out.”

Security guided me to the front row without being spotted by Marshall. The other fans in the front row were ecstatic to see me, and I agreed to take pictures under the circumstances that nothing would be posted to social media until after the concert.

The lights went down and the audience went wild. The familiar beat to Marshall’s opening song started playing as the spotlight on stage lit up where Marshall would emerge. When he did, the cheers were so loud I could barley hear his voice.

I couldn’t help but smile to myself as I watched him perform. He looked so in his element, the way he did whenever he was working on music. I wondered if he’d even see me there in the front during the show. Even if he didn’t, Paul was going to get me backstage to surprise him at the end of the show.

During the first point of the show in which Marshall and Denaun had a banter with each other and the audience, the fans surrounding me started to yell together to try and get their attention.

“What are y’all yelling about down here?” Denaun asked, although he definitely knew what it was about. “They’re saying for us to look down there.”

Marshall’s eyes trailed to the group that was still yelling in my ears, finally landing on me.

“Oh shit!” he said, not realizing his mic was still raised to his mouth.

I smiled at him, longing to hug him tightly and to kiss him for the firs time in months, but I knew he wasn’t a fan of PDA. Instead, I waved and blew him a kiss and watched his face brighten with excitement.

“We’ll talk about this after the show,” he stated. “Can one of the security bring my girl backstage? I can’t focus while she’s here, she’s too distracting.”

The same security as earlier helped me to get backstage while the concert continued. I watched from the sidelines, now getting a perfect view of both Marshall and all of his fans as he performed. I loved when I was able to go on tour with him because I loved to watch the excitement of the fans as well as all the heart and soul Marshall put into his performances. It was always a rush, even though I wasn’t the one participating in the concert.

Before I knew it, the show came to an end and Marshall came rushing off stage. He had me in his arms within seconds, lifting me off of the ground and kissing me with so much force it made me dizzy. Around us, those who were in on the surprise were laughing at his reaction.

“I thought you were delayed!” he said once he finally put me down.

“The opposite, actually,” I responded. “We finished filming early, so I decided to get an earlier flight to come and visit you!”

“But how did you...” He trailed off as he looked up at Paul, who had what could only be described as a shit eating grin on his face. “You helped her with this, didn’t you?”

“I thought you deserved a good surprise,” Paul responded with a shrug. “When she called, I answered. I got Denaun in on the plan, too, so he could help.”

“So did everyone know except me?” Marshall asked.

“Basically,” Paul replied with a shrug.

I giggled as Marshall hugged me again, quickly capturing my lips with his once more.

“Does this mean you’re coming on tour with me now?” he asked.

“If you still want me to.”

“What kind of question is that? Of course I do! I can’t tour without my favorite girl.”

I smiled and kissed his cheek once again. Marshall threw an arm over my shoulder and started leading me back to his dressing room. Paul and Denaun started following at first, which caused Marshall to pause. “Could you guys give us some privacy?”

“Man, in the dressing room?” Paul groaned. “We’re gonna owe this venue so much.”

Neither of us were listening at this point. Marshall whisked me away, closing the dressing room door behind him and locking it.

#eminem #eminem x reader #eminem imagine #marshall mathers #marshall mathers imagine #marshall mathers x reader #imagine #one shot #request #fanfiction #fanfic #fandom

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mono-dot-jpeg · 3 years

Text

the antarctic idiots [pt. 2] - c!technoblade

summary; in which two anarchist piglins adopt an ender boy.

genre; child! ranboo, piglin hybrid! reader, slight canon divergence from dream smp, fluff, found family au is my shit, reader is now ranboo’s parent i don’t make the rules, techno is a grumpy father but it’s okay you love him, realistic minecraft? (idk how to describe it-)

pairing; c! technoblade x reader, platonic! ranboo x reader

word count; 1.3k

< previous - next >

a/n; yall here me out, i open my ask box to have you guys talk to the characters of the antarctic idiots,,, i just really wanna act in character, i love doing that kind of stuff kshdskjdf

i don’t completely know how it would work, but, i wanna do it someday maybe.

also, if you’re too lazy to look at my masterlist for this series or you just wanna see everything related to this story, use the #antarctic idiots tag! and if you have anything to share with me about it, tag me!

“i’ll take your word on that, y/n.”

“you should trust my words from the start, wilbur.” you commented, your voice light and teasing. “but i don’t blame you, you lost a lot after l’manburg’s citizens betrayed you.”

“they did not betray me.”

“yes, yes, my bad.” you hummed.

“are we allies or enemies, y/n?”

“ally, enemy? i say neither. i was forced into this after all. what with that favor of yours.” you pointed out, he couldn’t even be mad at your response, he knew that you never wanted to be put in a war like this. “i may be part of pogtopia but my intentions are not the same. i will be clear that i’m only here to fight and then i will be taking my leave after this revolution.”

“yes, of course, understood.”

“now, just because we’re friends doesn’t mean i’m gonna train you with the easy stuff. you used to a president, soot, show me what you can really do. you’re stronger than you let on.”

“i don’t expect anything less from you.”

“come on wilbur, you fought in a war, you should’ve been at least a bit stronger.” you muttered to the man before handing his some wraps to bandage his small wounds.

“i put up quite the fight though didn’t i?” he commented, starting to fix up his injuries.

“yeah, you did. you’ve certainly changed since the last time we fought.”

“techno has taught me quite a lot.”

“how do you know techno?” you asked curiously.

“he’s my older brother, twin. actually.” you blinked. “yeah i know, we’re not really alike.”

“yeah, you’re a boar hybrid and he’s a piglin hybrid...”

“our mom is a samsung refrigerator, we don’t understand anything of how we existed.”

“fair enough..” you don’t question wilbur’s origins anymore, soon turning the conversation, “so you and techno grew up together?”

“yeah, we trained a lot together and now he’s a total master at fighting, but that’s thanks to our father.” wilbur smiled a bit, thinking about the old times. “maybe you guys should try and train together next time.”

“i don’t think we will anytime soon. he seems rather busy with gathering resources.” you said, sitting next to wilbur as you put your pendant back on your shirt. “plus if he’s so well versed, i don’t think he’ll need any help from me. anyways, plans, what’s the plan for this whole revolution?”

“well, we plan accordingly to what info we get from tubbo. he’s shlatt’s righthand man now so he’s gonna know a lot of info which will help us out. techno and you are gonna train me and tommy of course. you guys are our wild card. our trump card. both of you are so powerful. we can take back what was ours.” wilbur looked at you, this confident glint shined in his eyes. “we will take back l’manburg.”

oh how you wished you felt the same way about l’manburg as he did.

another day passes as you live in the ravine that was pogtopia. you got accustomed to the small area rather easily. it didn’t feel too different from your own home other than maybe the cold temperatures despite how much glowstone or torches would be placed around to keep it warm.

wilbur and tommy were busy for some odd reason, so that left you and technoblade. you weren’t the best with meeting new people and techno seemed like he was the same way, so you didn’t bother making conversation. it wasn’t until techno actually decided to speak.

“how can i trust you?”

“bold question to ask. what ever happened to, hi, how are you?” you joked a bit. “how can i trust you?” you looked at the fellow piglin hybrid who seemed to already start a staring contest with you.

“i asked first.”

“i asked second.”

“do you know who i am?”

“you are technoblade, are you not?” a beat of silence. “if you aren’t, i won’t hesitate to kill you.”

“i’m technoblade, yes, but do you know what else i am?”

“a piglin hybrid?”

“i’m the blood god.”

“interesting.” another beat of silence. you didn’t seem to show any reaction to his words which makes him wonder. were you just hiding your judgement or did you just didn’t care? “is that why wilbur and tommy recruited you for help?”

“in a way, yes.”

“so if i were to say that they’re using you as a weapon, would i be wrong? i mean i’m just saying stuff right now. it seems like you’re really capable of doing a lot of things, technoblade.” you suddenly feel his hand against your neck. “ah- i hit a nerve. my bad.” you hummed as if you weren’t close to getting choked to death.

“don’t talk about my family like that. they would never use me.”

“so, tommy is your sibling too? didn’t see that one coming, although it seems like i didn’t really see any of this coming.” you shrugged. techno was silent, his piercing red eyes burned into your e/c ones, he was trying to analyze you. you could tell he wanted to know more, he was curious. he was cautious of you. “i’m here to finish a favor, so it would be very nice if you do not take any of my lives.”

“i don’t trust you.”

“well, glad we could get straight to the point. i’m not really one for trust either so it’s nice to know that you feel the same way. again, i don’t really wanna be here, but again, here for a favor, i intend to keep that favor done.”

the voices in his head were buzzing, many said blood for the blood god, some said much less helpful words, a few suggested to get to know you but all of them said to not trust you. and techno listened to the few. he moved his hand back slowly.

“who are you exactly?”

“well, as wilbur said before, i’m y/n. a piglin hybrid just like you. though, i’m pretty sure i lived in the nether much longer than you have. i live far away from the smp and l’manburg...well, manburg now. my intentions are questionable. but that’s nothing to worry about since they don’t involve you.” you explained casually. “i’m here to also train wilbur and tommy, unfortunately i have to fight in this revolution as well. who are you exactly?”

techno raised an eyebrow at your question.

“to be fair, you got to know about me, now let me know about you, piggie.” he huffs, air escaping his nose as he listens to your words. “at least we’re not killing each other. would you prefer that?”

“i’m more of a action over words person. though words can be very convincing.”

“so is that a yes or no?”

“my name is technoblade as you know from wilbur and tommy. i’m not really from the smp or manburg. i recently joined this area after ruling over antartica.” he can see your eyes sparkle a bit in amusement. “i’m just here to destroy government honestly. my intentions are very clear unlike yours.”

“that is very true, mr. blade. you seem to have your beliefs and intentions very clear. i do understand your need to end government. i can relate to that rather well surprisingly.”

“i feel like the whole hating government thing might just be a piglin thing.” he looked at you with slightly furrowed eyebrows. “though i’m rather pleased to find someone that thinks the same way as i do.”

“see if you didn’t tell me about you, then we would’ve never found out that we both hate government. anyways, i would love to know more about you ruling antartica. then maybe you wanna try and train together?”

“you’re asking for a lot.”

“come on, mr. blade.” your voice teasing as you sit next to techno. i’ll give you some fun stories about wilbur and tommy.”

“you’re not gonna give up, are you?”

“i’m a stubborn person, what can i say?”

taglist; @justahostaccount, @olyink, @aikochan4859, @classycookiebailiffstudent, @stickk-bugg, @goldensunshineshit, @sadlyitsme-boohoo, @jace-the-ace12, @2cuteforyourlies, @lvlyjuro, @kiinokochii, @anxiousnarwhale, @jaciahbabes

[taglist closed for now]

#antarctic idiots #mcyt+x+reader #mcyt x reader #mcyt fanfiction #techno mcyt #technoblade x reader #c!techno #sbi family dynamic #sbi x reader #mcyt technoblade #dream smp x reader #dream smp fanfiction #dream smp #dream smp techno #dream smp technoblade

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luimagines · 3 years

Note

Could you maybe do one where the reader is in their time and they take them on a date since everything is calm for a moment?

Masterlist

It's Reader's turn to treat their favorite hero!

Date Day! Part one will included Wild, Legend and Hyrule!

Content under the cut!

Wild

“Ok, bare with me for a minute?” You grin and put a finger to your lips to keep your boyfriend quiet. “I want to show you something.”

“And we’re sneaking out because?” Wild tilts his head but follows you regardless.

“They to the place is a little... challenging and I don’t my Grandma or Time... or Twilight for that matter getting on our case about it.” The face you wear is mischievous and Wild can feel his morph to match yours as you tip toe away from the main group.

When you get far enough away you look over your shoulder and giggle. In a flash, before Wild can figure out what’s happening, you grab his hand and sprint away into the forest growth behind your house.

Wild snorts at your excitement but follows you step for step as you lead him through the foliage.

You stop a quick breather by a rock cliff and before you point up. “That’s where we’re going.”

And then you start climbing.

Wild blinks and doesn’t hesitate to follow you. A small woop leaves his mouth as he takes a running start up the rock and catches up to you relatively quickly.

Your practiced movements and Wild innate ability to climb anything makes the trip as simple as walking up a hill.

You get to the top first, since you’ve made this trip countless time to your Grandmother’s chagrin, and wait for Wild to make it up, holding out your hand to help him with the final stretch and pull him to you. You jump a little in your spot as he gets himself situated and giggle a little at the way his jaw drops at the sight before him.

A meadow of those flowers Wild seems to like so much, the Silent Princess.

But in the middle?

A natural fountain, with water sprouting upwards to give the rocks below the chance to be rained upon even if they’ll never see the light of day beyond what the crevices would offer. It falls into a small pool just beyond the rocks where small lily pads grow ands frogs sing their songs. In the darker corners you can see fireflies take off and return and there’s multiple dragonflies to dart from flower to flower where they know the mosquitoes reside as they try to catch their own lunches.

You see Wild take it all in and stare.

“This is my favorite spot.” You admit in a whisper. “No one else knows it’s here. They can’t get up even if they tried. But I can, and I knew you could because you can do anything.”

“It’s...”

“It’s a bit small I know.” You say with gulp. “and I doubt it’s anything compared to what you’ve already seen in your own world but I wanted to share it with you.”

“It’s just like you.” Wild says and looks over to you with a large and and boyish smile on his face. “It’s perfect.”

The admission strikes you in your spot and you don’t deny the blush that follows. “That’s a bit much, don’t you think?”

“No.” Wild takes your hand and kisses your knuckles. “Not at all. I think it’s a bit lacking actually, but there’s no other word to use to properly describe what I think about you.”

“What am I going to do with you?” You snicker and take your hand away to cup his face.

“Tell me about this place.” He answers. “How did you find it?”

“Oh that’s easy! You see, Link...uh, my brother, was just born and I was left unsupervised as mom and dad had to take care of the baby so-”

Legend

“Legend!” You cry and drape yourself across his back. “Come with me! I wanna take you somewhere!”

The boy in question falters in his step from your added weight and looked over his shoulder to see you better. “Now?”

You grin and nod. You’re fairly certain that you look crazy but you’re too excited to care.

“Should I be concerned?” Legend gets a small smirk on his face.

“Of little ol’ me?” You tilt your head, your smile never leaving your face. “Maybe. But right now? No. Come on, let’s go! I got Wild and Warrior to watch over Link and Zelda and Time and Twilight are busy humoring my grandma. It’ll just be you and me!”

Legend pauses before he seems to mellow out, and he reaches for your hand behind him. “Ok.” His voice is soft, the kind he saves only for you and when you’re alone. “Lead the way.”

You barely suppress the giggle that passes your lips before you pulled him closer to your side. You take off a brisk pace in case some of the others who are unattended decided to follow you.

You drag him through the streets of your home, your footsteps a mere after thought to the idea of Link’s reaction to what you plan on showing him.

He doesn’t say anything as you travel and keeps a tight grip on your hand, less he get left behind and lose you.

You stop in front of a flower shop and tilt your head in its direction. Legend nods, at your unspoken question and beams when you brighten even more so than you already were.

You both enter and you b-line for the some of the smaller flowers they have near the back and begin to seemingly pick a few at random.

You don’t even notice you lose Legend sometime in the middle of your choosing.

You’re so focused on your selection that you go to pay and head out, already working on your project.

You weave and bend and keep the flowers in place as you begin your journey out of the store.

Legend watches you leave in the middle of the your concentration and quickly pays the needed amount before following you out. He walks next to you at you pace and keeps one hand on your shoulder at all times to guide you back through the streets and make sure you don’t crash into anyone or anything.

He smiles at you, a soft and secret look he knows he should give you more often but he can’t seem to handle the idea when you’re in public.

Within moments he can see what you’ve been making.

A flower crown, braided with such intensity that the flowers covered every inch of the band, there’s not a spec of stem green in the mass that’s been created by your fingers and Legend has to admit that he’s impressed.

You beam and glance at him, as if he’s never left your side the entire time and rip off his hat.

He jumps to take it back but you throw it over your shoulder and spin him around. It’s a dance you both do often and there’s a laugh on your breaths as you anticipate the other’s reaction. But what Legend doesn’t expect is for you to trap him in your arm as you spin and to put the crown over his head from behind.

He’s stunned and when you kiss the tip of his nose, he’s inclined to not move a muscle until you say he’s free to do so.

You spin around while he freezes and bend down to pick up his hat, placing it on your own head with a cheeky wink.

Oh, Legend thinks, he likes that.

Legend blushes crimson and take takes his hand and places the single flower he bought up to your ear and between your hair. “There.” He says. “Perfect.”

You giggle and adjust the hat to keep the stem in place and grab Legend’s hand to lace your fingers together.

“Thanks for coming with me.” You grin and swing your hands together as you begin to walk around with no destination in mind.

Legend smiles back just as bursting with joy as you are. “I’ll follow you anywhere.”

Hyrule

“If I were to say we should leave, what would you do?” You ask your boyfriend, as you watch the group meander around your house. No on is paying attention to you, too focused on the game your cousin and little brother have made up as your grandma watches from her rocking chair, knitting something that will no doubt be gifted to one of the boys before you have to leave again.

It was nice.

A bit loud.

But that your everyday anyway, whether in your home or with the group, so it wasn’t all that unfamiliar.

Hyrule looks over to you with a raised eyebrow and and grin on his lips. “I’d follow you anywhere anytime.”

You smile and place your cheek on your hand as you rest your elbow on the table. “That doesn’t answer my question.”

“Did it have to?” Hyrule snorts. “You already know my answer.”

You hum and tap your fingers on your face before you smile. “Come with me.”

Wordlessly, he follows you and you lead him out of the house and into your garden. It was something your mother started before she left.

You took it upon yourself to try to keep it alive but you never had the same green thumb that she processed. Still, it wasn’t too shabby if you had to say so yourself.

Hyrule took a deep breath through his nose and grinned. “There’s magic in the air.”

You pause and turn to look at him. “You can smell that?”

“Nooo...” Hyrule laughs. “But I can feel like. It’s nice. It’s warm and sweet.”

You smile and hold your hand out to him, waiting until he seems to get a ahold of himself and pull him from behind you.

You walk together in silence before the old and beaten path opens up to reveal a small clover covered clearing, with a two seater swing hidden by the tree branches. “Come on, let’s sit there Link.”

Hyrule smiles and sits down first, pulling you unexpectantly onto his lap. “And here I thought we were going to go on those adventure you like so much.”

“No.” You blush at the close proximity but lean yourself against him, placing your head by his and poking his neck with your nose. “Grandma would still need me close by incase the kids get too rowdy. At least I’m within yelling distance.”

Hyrule nods and begins to play with your hair as he pushes off the ground somewhat to get the swing in motion. “I like this. I want one.”

“I’ll build one just for you.” You snort and snuggle closer. “Anything for you.”

“Only if you’ll join me.”

“Obviously. Who else you plan on swinging with?”

“I didn’t think I’d be here at all, let alone have someone other than you.”

You hum and play his hair even if you can’t see it. Hyrule shifts the both of you around so that you’re both lying on the swing instead of being precariously placed on the edge. “Well, I’m glad I’m with you.”

“Me too.”

Part 2

#linked universe #linkeduniverse #linked universe x reader

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nightswithkookmin · 3 years

Text

A quick lesson on ships

Because why not??😌

No but seriously, bare with me, I'm trying to answer your questions. Sit if you have to. Hehe

Uban Dictionary defines shipping as this:

A term used to describe fan fictions that take previously created characters and put them as a pair. It usually refers to romantic relationships, but it can refer platonic [sic] ones as well. (Just think of “shipping” as short for “relationSHIP”.) 9 Apr 2015

Ships can be platonic or romantic or both.

There's fictional ships and non fictional ships too. You ship two people you want to be in a relationship or who already are in a relationship or who you suspect to be in a relationship- perhaps due to queer baiting, ship baiting, romance baiting etc.

In the shipping fandom, there are two sects of people. Those who are Proships those who are Antiships- antis are ironically considered part of the shipping community because for some reason they are always in shippers business💀

Antishippers are those who oppose a particular ship or shipping in general (more on that later.)

Proshippers are well- Pro ships.

Pro-Ship

A term mostly used in fandoms, but can stretch outside of this to include original characters. The core belief is that shipping two fictional characters, no matter if they are family, share ages gaps, considered to be unhealthy, or show blatant signs of being abusive or other generally unsavory behaviours, are valid in a fictional setting.

Pro-Shippers or "anti-antis" are also known as "rainbow meaties" and will use 🌈 + 🍖 emojis together often in their bio on twitter or other social media platforms- usually within fictional settings.

These shippers reinforce the idea fiction is separate from reality and shouldn't be confused with the other.

‘Anti’ is short for ‘anti-shipper’ or ‘anti-[ship]’.

Kindly read through this thread to get the gist of it.

III

Shipping non-fictional individuals is a subset of Proshipping, in my opinion, known also as alternative shipping- as far as my knowledge on it goes.

As with fictional shipping, alt ships have their antis too. People who disagree with shipping real couples in a romantic way for whatever arbitrary moral reasons they have and who feel entitled to go out of their way to correct, stop, police and punish such shippers.

Then there are those who although may be pro real people shipping think they have the right to tell others how they should ship and to what extent they can ship.

Others too prefer to ship real people platonically because they view romantic shipping of real people as problematic.

So to answer your question on Anon's post- there is no such thing as a Proshipper who is also Anti shipping. Thats oxymoronic. Perhaps they might be platonic shippers who are anti romantic ships but not necessarily romantic shippers themselves.

I don't think there's anything wrong with preferring to ship platonically. It is when they assume by virtue of their false sense of moderacy that they are better than others that shit starts to get funny.

Those shippers are delusionally confused beings with a supremacist imperialist complex rooted in ignorance and absurdities.

I usually walk by those quietly. keep it pushing. Gotta mind my business somehow even though most times I just want to pull their hair and bite them and shit😭

I try to keep it classy.

Lord knows I try.

You are either pro ship or anti ship. There's no in between. Those shippers who are shippers but claim they are not are nothing but fraudulent, fake us, simps trying to bamboozle their way through life- pardon my Swahili.

There are a lot of anti shippers moonlighting as shippers in this fandom. It's fascinating.

Personally I think those people are either confused or their desires to appeal to other Anti shippers must have morphed their brains into ass dick hybrids.

Anti shippers in general are notorious gatekeepers, gaslighters, bigots, high key sanctimonious and often have a cis white westernized sense of morality and ethics through which they fliter others and expect everyone and everything to conform to.

They impose their values on others, their ethics on others, resort to manipulation, policing, intimidation and bullying to impose their will etc.

Within shipping, there are those who are Proshipping yet anti certain ships. Most Tuktukkers are anti Jikook. And assume anyone who isn't a tuktukker is equally anti Tae Kook and so go ahead and exhibit anti behaviours towards them.

Think of such groups of shippers as Proshippers with a preference for particular ships if you will.

There are Pro shippers who also feel some kind of way about Shipping real life people or alt shipping.

Here's further resource to help you understand what proshipping is

If you are intolerant with other shippers choice of ships or style of shipping and you traumatize them for it that's Anti shipping. Especially if you feel entitled and justified to traumatize others because you take a higher moral status over them.

You can be proship and not like how certain people, how they go about

Simply walk away, click off, mind your business. You are not the only adult in these streets and leave people to do what interests them.

I think for as long as I can remember, I've always been a proshipper and I ship both platonically and romantically, fictionally and alternatively💀

Some themes in fiction are a hard limit for me such as the R word, pedophilia, incest, child abuse- I just can never find the entertainment in those topics and will struggle through such themes.

But others believe it's just FICTION and those fictional characters aren't really dealing with the imaginary struggles we read about.

Yall do you sis.

I don't really know why people make a big deal of it or try to demonize the concept of shipping as if it were something strange or mysterious- just keep your moral values to yourself. I am not your mother's daughter. we were not raised in the same households.

Then again I think it all depends on the different cultures and social backgrounds we all come from and how entitled, supremacist or imperialist they are.

For Yoonmin, I shipped them romantically but didn't think they were a real couple at all. I just romanticized their interactions and found humor in it. At the back of my head I was expecting them each to one day find husbands or wives and go their merry ways and even harbored the thought they each could very much be in serious romantic relationships with others.

In similar ways, I shipped Minimoni and Vmin.

You can ship a pair romantically and not think at all that they are actually REAL.

A lot of jokers ship Jikook romantically and don't assume they are real. Just as a lot of people shipped say Elena and Stefan romantically even though Paul was married.

Some shipped Elena and Damon too due to their unscreen chemistry and even felt they could be a thing- that was before later it was revealed they had started dating in real life. Even that I was holding on to my Bonnie x Damon fantasies because Bonnie was my bias and I shipped her with everyone romantically- of course I didn't expect any of those ships to manifest into something because it was the character I was shipping not Kat herself. To this day I still love her onscreen chemistry and friendship with Damon and don't see how people could wish for it to be more than that😭

It was beautiful as is. Not everything should climax into sexual intercourse.

But if I felt at some point any of her ships had crossed into alternative ships I would have jumped on those and supported it whole heartedly.

If you assume a pair are a real couple and dating in real life that's alt shipping- a lot of alt shippers suspect a ship is real and that's why they ship them.

There is no such thing as platonic alt shipping.

And for me personally, because I believe Jikook are a real couple and have made that cross over I don't ship any of that pair romantically with other members anymore.

It's bizzare to me to ship someone I know has a partner romantically with anybody else- I make exceptions for Vmin of course💀

I know JK is side eyeing me but I don't care.

I want Tae to be happy too😭😭😭

Tae just wants his bestfriend and soulmate😭

It's too much😭😭😭😭😭😭

He stays shooting his shots🤣

Jimin Harem is real🤭

I must admit, I catch myself slipping on Vmin and Minimoni every now and then- old habits die hard and they don't make it easy 😫

But that don't mean I think Vmin is dating. THAT WOULD BE WILD.

Summary

Proshippers can be Platonic or Romantic shippers and you can ship a pair romantically and not assume they are real at all.

Anti shippers are just assholes trying to beat their values down people's throats.

Alt shippers don't ship their OTP with other players romantically.

I don't know what you mean by Jinkooker...

Do you ship Jinkook romantically or think they are real?? Sis...

Maybe you just ship them platonically or casually.

I ship all the ships platonically.

Especially all Jimin"s Tae's ships. I'd let my self flirt with the idea of romance every now and then.

JK's ships don't make sense to me as ships.

As nonplatonic ships I mean.

I'm fascinated each time I see a hardcore JK x any member ship besides Jikook swearing up and down JK is screwing Namjoon🤣🤣

I hope this helps??

GOLDY

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