#lmao just raw chaos and stupidity

[fillinforlater]

On her knees

Male Reader x Shen Xiaoting, Kim Jimin (Monday) (ft. Miyeon)

Length: 6469 words

Tags: daddy kink, like, very, very daddy kink, dub-con, dom!reader sub!idols, degradation, slutification, anal, anal creampie, tits play, clit play, humiliation, blowjob, breathplay, deepthroat, spitting on idol, tying up idol, bondage, slapping, tit slapping, rimming, a phone call lol, you are super powerful, tit fuck, curses, rivalry, cleaning up Xiaoting, taming Xiaoting brat!Xiaoting / goodgirl!Monday, polygamy ofc, threesome ofc, riding, anal virgin, tears and drool and juice and... okay that’s enough tags lmao

TW: my usual chaos of rough sex, idol degradation, curses and a lot of dom play with hints at emotional manipulation and dub-con, also ropes

Inspiration/Credit: Long ago, in a Discord chat far, far away @sooyadelicacies sent two gifs that made me lose my shit. I found my shit and we picked up this month old story and it’s now finished lol

(A/N: I hope you have fun with the (usual) Sooya degradation collab lol. Sorry for taking so long, more is on the way!)

“Hi, Daddy.”

Not again. She is so greedy, insatiable, never satisfied. You gave it to her four times already: two in the morning, one during lunch break, one in the bathroom—but even after hours of dance lessons and vocal recordings, she still craves you.

"I want to be full of your thick cock, Daddy. Let me feel your warm cum."

"Sorry, you won't get me today. It's already past 10 and I am exhausted."

"Fine. You don't want to play. Then I'll just find someone else to fuck me. Raw."

"You little shit—"

The moment you raise your voice, Xiaoting drops to her knees. Her black lace covered arms find their way behind her back and her bare knees rub on the floor of your living room. Of course she did not bother to change after her final dance practice. Her gorgeous beige dress with an antique design shows off her wide hips and puts her porcelain skin on display. Your anger keeps you from admiring her further.

"Yes, Daddy! Punish me. I'm such a disobedient little slut," Xiaoting says teasingly.

Your eyes can't look away. She does not deserve this attention. The best punishment would be to leave her unsatisfied. The logical thing would be to go to bed and get deserved rest. The most helpful thing would be to tie her up and leave her alone. However, it's to no avail. Your gaze is already wandering over her curves, those delicious, well-defined curves—and Xiaoting notices.

"Oh, you like my wide hips, Daddy? They were made just for you to grab on and slam your load into me. Would you like that~?"

"To make things clear: I don't need you. I can breed many girls, more beautiful than you. You're just a worthless toy for me." 

A step towards her, then you spit. The wet impact on her face makes Xiaoting groan in ecstasy. She thinks she’s got you and every bratty reaction or remark will get her closer to get what she wants from you. It's either she pours them out of her filthy mouth or reveals her neediness and willingness to be—

"I don't care what I am, just breed me!."

Immediately, you hit her wide-ass hips with the back of my hand, before pulling back her head at the handle that are her brown locks. Rinse, then another trail of spit runs down her flushed features as she cries in pain. 

"Shut up you fucking toy! Should I get Monday in here and breed her in front of you? She is such a good slut, way more worth than you."

Xiaoting smirks through the sting.

"Take us both, Daddy, if you think you can handle us, that is."

"Stupid brat! You have no idea how we play this game!" 

Squeeze the flesh on Xiaoting's thighs before giving it a resounding spank. You know it doesn't take any effort to get Monday over here. Just a quick message on your phone while Xiaoting shows her greedy, needy, bratty face and wiggles her attributes. From a drawer, you grab a rope and tie Xiaoting's arms behind her back. 

The door opens a minute later, with Monday walking in. The view of her outfit makes you smirk in lustful delight. Always the good girl, she decided to wear one of your favorites: skimpy, tight pants in white and a red crop-top with red see through sleeves. 

"Hi, Daddy. Sorry for taking so long."

After seeing Xiaoting on the ground, she wastes no time kneeling next to her and looks at you. Those fierce eyes, something her fans adore and something that makes up a lot of her stage presence are completely different around you. She looks like an obedient puppy, ready for orders, ready to play, and happy to see the one she pledged herself to.

"It's fine. Get up."

You grab a chair and place it in front of the two girls.

"Come sit on Daddy's lap, Monday. You're such a gorgeous slut. Your ass looks great in those shorts."

Monday smiles softly and mouths a thank you while carefully planting her ass on your crotch. Your hands move under her crop top to find bare breasts underneath. This slut always does it right, you think to yourself and dive in. Your rough fondling on the mounds make Monday melt with moans as she throws herself back onto your chest.

She has always been sensitive at this part of her body. It’s of course no secret to you, as you go faster on her nipples. The supple movements of her ass on your cock become quicker, more stimulating. Combined with the sound of her sweet voice and the sight of Xiaoting's sinful body it makes your rock hard. Envy overcomes the bratty ones face.

"Play with me too, Daddy. I’m far better than Monday."

"Oh really, bitch? I think I'll enjoy Monday quite a lot. Look at her! Drooling all over herself, and she isn't even naked yet!"

Lust, though powerful, rarely makes you lose control. Spreading Monday's legs apart and revealing a damp spot right in front of Xiaoting's eyes might seem erratic, but it's planned, calculated. The effects on Xiaoting are easily predictable to you. She begins to lose control over her tongue as it leaks drool and her orbs become clouded in a haze of arousal and envy. 

"Daddy," Monday mewls, "please touch me. I'm so needy for you."

Now, Xiaoting is really on the clock. If she doesn't act accordingly, your cock will soon be in Monday's delicate pussy, and you will pump her full of her seed—and Xiaoting cannot allow that. Her knees scratch over the parquet surface and turn red as she inches towards you. Her soft cheek presses against your crotch and Monday's core, making the sensitive girl groan and you scoff:

"Hey bitch! If you want to make your pitiful existence useful, remove Monday's pants.”

If this doesn't spur on their rivalry, then nothing ever will. The two were friends for years, sure, but they always competed for the No. 1 in everything. From classes, to their dance teams, even in volleyball and their orchestra. To one-up the other is a victory they both yearn for on a weekly basis, so it's no wonder that you found yourself with two gorgeous after one of them became addicted to what you can give them. 

Being your No. 1 cumslut is just another competition.

"Daddy~" Xiaoting whispers as she gets up and moves behind you so her words only reach your ear, “I know you want your big cock in my tight ass, hm? It’s exclusively for you today.”

You smirk at what she tells you but you don't give in.

"You fucking brat. You think you can tempt me and just get your way?" 

"What did she say, Daddy?" Monday asks.

"Xiaoting is offering her ass like a common street whore." 

Monday huffs and furrows her brow in annoyance. 

"But Daddy, I'm a good girl. Xiaoting isn't. She doesn't obey like I do, I—" 

Monday was not ready for anal and she communicated that with you before, so it was a dirty trick that Xiaoting decided to pull to maybe turn the tables. Rejecting you could free the spot on your lap for the greedy Xiaoting.

"That's right, baby girl."

Your hand glides over Monday's bare abs, then into her skimpy shorts. You find a cleanly shaven, drenched pussy, but the most important thing is her clit. The hidden, small nub is filled with blood from her arousal.

Expertly, you begin to rub it. Monday's moans now become screams, her sizable breasts and thighs tremble as her whole body succumbs to shakes of a quickly approaching orgasm.

Xiaoting has waddled back in front of you. She tries to look confident in her plan, but mostly, she looks aroused and needy as hell. Her legs rub together, her tongue slips out at times and you know she would love to show you her bare ass and hips. Too bad she is still tied up.

"You are such a talented vocalist. I always love hearing you scream for me baby girl. Do you see this, Xiaoting? Monday gets rewarded first because she isn't a dumb fucking brat like you are. I don't understand it; you're top of your class back in school and a world class ballroom dancer yet you have no discipline when it comes to my cock."

"Daddy, it's because your cock made me dumb. It feels so good, I can't think of anything else. All the time, I think about it and want it in my slutty pussy. I'm such a dumb whore for Daddy's dick, I just want it to breed me."

Xiaoting's impressive rant is cut short when you give Monday's pussy a slap at just the right time and angle. In a piercing scream, Monday cums hard, squirt shoots out of her cunt in multiple ropes and stains her shorts and your hand. 

"You sound convincing, Xiao," you say with a mocking voice, while undressing a Monday who is still on her high, "but it’s mostly lies. And your ace, it falls short if Monday offers it as well."

"Daddy,” Monday softly says,” I love you. Please, fuck me first." 

Xiaoting scoffs at her rival. Monday always played a saccharine melody that would give her a better chance at getting the first bite of you. 

"You're such a good girl, Monday."

You fish out your hard on and slap it against her wet folds. Xiaoting is gawking at it with every slap. She'd burst in a frenzy the moment you'd insert the cock into her rival. The seed she wants to breed her should never be in Monday’s pussy.

Your plan is a different one however.

"Monday, you are my good girl, yes?"

"Yes, Daddy. I'm a good girl for you and your cock."

"Do you know what good girls do?"

"They do what their Daddy says."

"So—"

Your slaps on her wetness stop and you adjust the light woman on your lap.

"—would you let me fuck your ass?"

Xiaoting smirks victoriously. There was no way Monday was going to let that happen, she wasn't ready. Besides that, you knew how amazing her ass was. It’s probably unbeatable. Soon, she will have you inside her and finally get her way.

Monday looks at Xiaotings gaze before resolving herself. 

"Daddy… I love you. Do whatever you want with me, I'm your good girl, your good whore. F-fuck my a-ass if you want. I belong to you only."

Xiaoting's eyes widen. Shock and fear dominate her emotions, she did not expect the brunette girl to be this brave. If not for her own restraints, it would not have come this far. However, an obscene drive to watch Monday take her first cock in her ass makes her freeze and focus on the scene before her.

Monday's eyes are shut. She squeezes down her eyelids, while you feel her asshole squeeze down around your aligned and slowly penetrating tip. She is not relaxed, which makes her tight but this is clearly not comfortable for her.

"Relax, baby girl. You are so, so good for taking it. After using your perfect ass, I'll give you a special reward, okay?."

No response from her, as your lips suck on her neck shortly. You kiss your way up her delicate throat, but the tension keeps her motionless, further penetration is impossible now.

Xiaoting’s sweaty face shows a smirk. Maybe things are as expected. Monday isn't able to take your massive cock in her ass. This will be over soon, and then you will pick her ass, because it’s actually fuckable.

"Daddy, g-go slow please, it h-hurts," Monday cries softly.

In your deepest, most soothing voice, you hum into her ear:

"Relax. You're so good. I'm almost in."

Rubs on her smooth skin, your calm breath and a deep desire to win bring Monday to relax. She loosens and your cock disappears inside her puckered hole inch by inch. 

"No," slips from Xiaoting's tongue. 

You grin at her, but before you can say something to degrade her, your entire dick is surrounded by warmth. The tight texture of Monday's unused asshole makes you groan and praise her further:

"Oh, baby girl! You are doing so well! Where is Daddy's cock?"

"My, my ass, Daddy, you're the first and only person to—my hole, this hole is yours! It belongs to you. Sh-shape it to your will, paint it with your cum and r-ruin it with your cock, Daddy!"

Pull out a little to savor Monday's tightness.

"Such a perfect slut. Unlike someone else."

Xiaoting is on her knees again. She did not expect to lose and certainly not in such a severe manner. With her arms behind her back, she is absolutely helpless and her stupid brain forces her to watch.

And watch, she does. Her skimpy lace panties you haven't even cared about inspecting are drenched with juice. Her knees and wrists have bruises from her struggle to move. Her bratty mouth is quiet, her lips shut except for a faint whimper. Desperately, she stares at your cock and how it starts to thrust into Monday.

"How is it Monday? Do you like my cock in your ass? Do you wish you had done it earlier? Hm?”

Monday's answer is interrupted by mewls and heavy breaths: 

"Y-you’re so big, Daddy, ah! T-to be honest, I-I was very scared, so I did not—fuck—want to try it."

"And what changed your mind?"

"Th-that I have to be a good girl for Daddy and that he owns all my h-holes."

"Very good answer," you coo right behind her ear, "Raise your arms, so I can see your cute breasts bounce."

Being the ever obedient girl, Monday follows your orders. You savor the sight of her well-shaven, smooth pits. How she wraps around your cock with her tight, virgin asshole leaves you groaning in joy. Who needs pace if something squeezes this intensely?

"Hey, stupid toy!" you address Xiaoting, who wordlessly kneels in between your legs, "Make yourself useful and remove Monday's top. Maybe I'll let you suck my balls if you succeed."

Xiaoting is not yet entirely mindless. With skilled movements of her legs she gets up from the ground. Because her hands are still restrained, she has to use her teeth to gently grab Monday's top and pull it over the moaning girl's head. Xiaoting's resistance falters quickly, you notice.

You then look at Xiao coldly as you fuck faster into Monday:

"You seem to have forgotten your place brat. The only fucking reason you're here is to serve me, to pleasure me. The only reason you're an idol is because of me. The only reason I am here right now is because I want to fuck you whores! You are nothing but holes for me to use." 

Pulling out your phone you scroll through your contacts. It was just a who's who of K-pop idols, an abundance of groups from across all generations.

"I can fuck whoever I want. BLACKPINK? They would reroute their flights from Europe to here right now if I called them. TWICE? I could have all nine of them here serving me. Girls Generation? From Taeyeon to Jessica, they listen to my call. IU? I'll celebrate her anniversary soon enough. 

And do you know what you are, Xiaoting? You're just an upstart, talented maybe, but don't you ever fucking think you're above any of this. Monday's getting her virgin ass stuffed by my cock because she's an obedient good girl, meanwhile you're bound up and absolutely useless all because you decided to throw a tantrum to the one person who built you with a single whisper.”

Xiaoting falls back onto her knees. No words can express the magnitude of the revelation she has just witnessed. It spins her view of this world around. This ‘Daddy play’ was more than a mere kink. There was real power behind this and she maybe should’ve seen this coming.

"Can I suck your balls, Daddy?" 

Xiaoting’s voice is stern, barely audible through Monday's increasing moans and screams. It’s a mask to hide the fact that she is limp to you if your contacts aren’t a well-planned fake. Once again, she underestimated you.

"No, bitch! You have to say it like you mean it. There is still brattiness in you. You might be the worst case of this I have ever seen."

One of your hands is securely at Monday's waist, to hold her in position. Fucking her harder and quicker is easy now and she has learned to stay relaxed at all times. Soon, she will cum from her ass for the first time and then she is finally three useful holes on a delicious body with a beautiful face. That is exactly how you like your sluts.

The same cannot be said about Xiaoting. Your second hand gives her puffed up cheek a small slap, then another and a third, before you knock her over with a hit for the ages. Xiaoting screams out in pain and her following words are a babbled mess:

"Please, Daddy! I need to suck your balls!"

"Wrong again, you selfish brat!

"I need, I need—

"I need to pleasure you, Daddy, please! Or else I'm a useless piece of meat! Please give me a purpose, Daddy!"

You smirk in delight and wrap your hand around Monday's throat. The idol's eyes have disappeared into the back of her head as you get her closer and closer to heaven. Her shrieks are in perfect rhythm with how you fuck her ass. 

In Xiaoting's brown eyes, there is desperation, the dread of not being part of her group, of not being an idol, of not being used. She has no clue if your power really stretches to all these women you have listed, but she wouldn't dare to question her Daddy. You have finally put her into place and made her a crying, drooling, leaking mess that stains your parquet with three kinds of liquids. 

"Suck on them, Xiaoting, and maybe you can have the rest that leaks out of Monday's ass."

It wasn't any of the music programs in school, or dance competitions, any of the auditions or performances on Girls Planet 999, no, this, this right here was the most important performance of Xiaoting's life. She knew that now. She knew if she didn't impress you, if she didn't suck your balls perfectly, this could all be over for her. She would be nothing because you have it all in the grasp of your hand.

Reverentially, Xiaoting inches her lips closer to your crown jewels. Right above her is Monday bouncing up and down your cock at rapid speed. She is completely in bliss, orgasms shake through her pale body and make her beautiful limbs and features glisten in sweat.

With full concentration, Xiaoting parts her lips and takes your testicle into her mouth. The feeling of her lips, her hot mouth, her delicate tongue, they make you groan and leak more of your pre-cum into Monday, who is nothing but a mindless fleshlight now.

"Don't stop!" you shout down to the sucking and licking Xiaoting "You seem to be worth something for the first time."

Your orgasm approaches quickly, your tip ready to burst, but you want to feel Xiaoting a little longer. She deserves to be this low, to get nothing, to know that she is the last you'd actually want to impregnate.

Knead Monday's bountiful bouncing breast with an eager hand, use the other to pull Xiaoting's hair back and see her sparkling eyes. The eyes of a slave, a slave for your manhood, putting an awe inducing face on your balls because she sees it as mandatory. 

A final lick from the bottom side of your balls to the bottom of your shaft and you burst with Monday fully wrapped around and clenching on you.

"Pay close attention," you groan to Xiaoting as you feel the torrent of hot cum clean out Monday's ass. 

Xiaoting is helpless to observe the shudder of your body as she can all but feel the millions of swimmers leave their home in your sack and diligently rush to migrate into Monday's ass. She could feel how your balls feel less full, lighter as you unloaded what should have been her prize. 

Monday is helpless to stay put as she feels your spunk fill her other hole for the first time.

"Daddy, so hot! My ass, I—"

"I'm gonna use it often from now on. You have proven yourself, baby girl."

"Yes, Daddy! Fill me, my ass is yours. I love you."

Monday is left motionless. You lift her from your cock and immediately, her puckered hole clenches shut. All your baby batter remains inside her, except for a small droplet that sticks to her ass.

Xiaoting quickly tries to glide up your cock with her tongue, but you hold her hair firmly.

"Nuh uh, bitch! You don't deserve to suck it, hell, even cleaning it is too good for you. Clean Monday's ass if you want leftovers."

Xiaoting is helpless to nod and meekly turns around to try and take what she can get from Monday's ass, except Monday masterfully clenches her hole and looks back at Xiao. 

"Don't even think about it. You don't deserve this. I worked hard for this by being a good girl." 

Monday then turns to look at you. 

"Daddy, may I clean your cock, please?"

"Get on your knees, baby girl. I'll give you what you want."

"Thank you, Daddy."

Monday shoves a distraught, almost depressed Xiaoting to the back and kneels in between your legs. She opens her mouth wide and you shove her favorite piece of meat down her throat. Monday gobbles and chokes at first, but she keeps her eyes wide and her hand in her lap, just like the best sluts you trained.

Behind her, Xiaoting gets into position. She is like an addict, doing everything for a little dose of her drug. Still bound by the restraints around her wrists, she shifts into an awkward position to get her face in front of Monday's ass creek. 

No disgust or hesitation in her moves, Xiaoting immediately eats Monday's ass and tries to open the tight entrance. Monday wants to resist, but you pin her with both your hand and gaze to remain in her sucking position. Ever the obedient girl, she stays mostly calm as Xiaoting becomes violent with her slick tongue.

As much as Monday wanted to stop Xiaoting, she knew her focus should be on cleaning your cock and she would make sure she delivered in that area as well. 

You look at the sight before you, two up and comers getting their training on how to please you. They weren't anywhere near the levels of some of their older peers you had at your command, but they showed promise. Especially Monday will surely fall into the category of ‘willing good girl’. Xiaoting however is still not broken the way you need her to.

"Xiaoting, who is a female idol that inspires you?" you ask seemingly random.

"Hm," she contemplates, feeling only tiny droplets of cum on the top of her tongue, yet not giving up, "Miyeon-unnie of GI-DLE, Daddy. I adore her beauty."

"You have good taste. She looks amazing, especially in the new blonde hair style. It's funny: I made her so addicted to anal, she doesn't even want to be bred anymore. Nowadays, I'm glad some other guys can satisfy this lady, cause we both just don't have time for hour long anal sessions."

Out of a random mood, you pinch Monday's nose and watch her give you a puzzled look.

"Baby girl, would you please take it all for Daddy?"

It's not a plea, but a command, and Monday knows. She nods, a little scared of what's to come, but still goes down. Her tight throat presses on your hardening cock and the lack of air quickly makes her gag.

"Stay. Stay. Stay," you repeat calmly, Monday's nose firmly closed with your digits. Large globs of saliva begin to run down your shaft, balls—and then drip onto your floor. 

"Good job," you coo while Monday fears for her life because of lack of oxygen in her lungs. Good girls go all the way for their Daddy and she does, even when her lips are blue and cheeks stained by tears. 

You pull her off your cock and a final rain of saliva rains down. Slowly you back off and take Monday with you. She takes deep breaths and you caress her cheek with a soft smile.

"You have proven yourself. I'm impressed, you really are a masterpiece, maybe the best of this generation."

"Th-thank y-you, Daddy."

"I'll give you a gift later. Now, let's watch this bitch clean the floor with her tongue."

You shoot Xiaoting a look and she obeys. She drags her tongue on the floor to try and sop up any remaining particles of cum that remain in the sea of Monday’s saliva.

"Don't stop licking until I say so. Monday, keep sucking my cock will you?" 

As they do so, you bring your phone to your face and push a couple buttons letting it ring. The facetime call starts and a familiar face pops up on screen.

"Daddy! It really is you!" 

Miyeon's voice is filled with delight and excitement. Her face on your screen expresses the same emotions, just with a hint of naughtiness in her expression. A lip bite from her with that blonde hair and crimson lips would be deadly for any of her fans. 

Not for you however. You made her like this.

"Hey, Miyeon. You look amazing. Nice to see that you picked up so quickly. I bet your schedule is tight."

"Not as tight as me though," she giggles as you shut your mouth to not groan at what Monday's mouth does. 

"I always have time for you. I just got back from another shooting. You'll love our new music video~"

"Mhmmm, I bet I will. If I do, I'll be sure to come and reward you. AndYuqi. And Shuhua. And, anyways, I called you because a younger idol told me you were her inspiration." 

You flip the camera around and Miyeon doesn't even bat an eye at seeing two naked girls on your apartment floor, one sucking your cock and the other licking the floor. 

"Now, the one sucking my cock is Monday, she's a good girl. The other in the back is Xiaoting and she has been rather difficult." 

Both Monday and Xiaoting were shocked to varying degrees. For Monday, being fully nude and exposed like this was a new experience which made her blush. The lack of oxygen from before however lowered her rationale significantly, so she continues to suck your cock diligently.

For Xiaoting, the revelation that you really did know other Sunbaenims leaves her in even more fear than before. Your power must be far beyond what she could imagine, and if she continued to piss you off, her idol career might be in trouble. She puckers her lips and sucks the drool in like a vacuum cleaner, anything to increase Daddy’s approval.

Miyeon is unbothered and looks at Xiaoting. 

"Hmm, I see why you chose her Daddy. I'm sorry to hear she's being disobedient. Maybe she's not worthy of you. You can always have me come over and satisfy you, Daddy, you know that."

"I know, Miyeon. You have always been eager and great at finding my needs. You deserve a great comeback with no distractions and extra tasks, so don't sweat it. Now, do you know what I should do to make her really understand and accept her role? She seems to do what I tell her, but doesn't like it."

"Well, she seems to enjoy licking and sucking your floor clean. Look at her tongue lapping it up like a dog and her lips, sucking on it like it's your cock. What even is that? Girl juice?"

"Nah, it's Monday's—fuck—saliva, mixed with rests of my cum. That's the only reason why she is so eager, I assume."

"Hmm," Miyeon ponders and taps her chin, "Show me Monday again. Does she look like she loves it?"

You point the camera back down and hear Xiaoting whimper in the background. Her dress gets stained by the rest of the saliva as she gives up on drinking it all.

"Look at her!" you say proudly, caressing Monday's hair, "She is a great pet. Was hesitant to take it in the ass, but today I pumped it full and she is keeping it clenched."

"Aww, and she looks so genuine! Daddy, you made another super star. Her feisty eyes look amazing like this. You better fill her cute mouth~"

"Shut up!" you laugh. Only idols that have proven themselves are allowed such banter, and Miyeon has definitely earned this right in the past. Her full-nelson truly is next level.

While still joking around with Miyeon, you give Monday no warning and suddenly blast your second load into her throat.

"Daddy!" Miyeon laughs over the phone and then pouts, "You're making me wet. I'm getting jealous!" 

Miyeon then directs her attention to Xiaoting. 

"I'm one of your role models? Then you should behave for Daddy. Do you have any idea how many other girls he could fuck? All I see is a spoiled brat who is wasting my Daddy's time."

"Sun-sunbaenim, I—"

"Shh. Look! He is filling his other slut again and you still fight it. I thought you wanted his glorious cum."

"I-I really want it!"

"Then act like it!"

Miyeon then turns her voice back towards you. 

"I hope I helped, Daddy. I know some of the Rookies can be a pain, but they learn eventually. I have to go but I'll be thinking of you tonight and I'll be sure to send you some photos. Come fuck me soon, okay? I got a pedicure and my nails are white."

"Ugh, you are so needy! Just find a fanboy or use Yuqi. I heard she is good with a strap."

Miyeon just giggles. Before waving you goodbye, she lowers her phone and lifts up her top. Beneath it, she wears a bra, but it is so thin and skimpy, her nipples poke through and leave little to the imagination.

"Love you, Daddy~"

Then the call ends. You groan, somewhat annoyed at Miyeon being overtly teasing, but Monday doing her final, gentle clean-up of your cock, makes you smile. She looks very, very much exhausted. You tap her temple and point at the large, red designer couch.

"You can take a rest over there. Blankets are in the box behind it, if you're cold. Don't want you to catch a cold. You've been naked the whole time."

"You're too kind, Daddy," Monday says with a hoarse voice. The thorough usage of her throat made her incapable of speaking longer sentences so she just waddles away slowly.

"You, however, are still in your skimpy dress, with the same attitude, same shackles, same posture. There is no cock in you, no pleasure, no cum. Do you understand why? Do you finally realize that resisting me is futile? That your little rebellion of neediness was absolutely stupid?"

Xiaoting lowers her head in shame. 

"You think you're the only one brat? I have whores far better than anyone in your generation! Do you think that Jessica Jung got as far as she did in SNSD by herself? Or Kwon Yuri? You think IU moved beyond being dirt poor with just her talent? And do you think I haven't tamed my share of disobedient, pretentious dumb sluts? Doyeon, Somi, Yena—I’ve tamed countless brats. You are so out of your depth, Xiaoting. Don't you ever fucking forget your place."

"Yes, Daddy. I'm sorry, Daddy."

"Let’s make something clear: What are you?" you shout with harshness, putting even drill sergeants to shame.

"I-I, uh—"

You create a makeshift ponytail out of her messy hair and yank her head up. She is red all over. A picture of shame.

"What the fuck are you?"

"I'm a good girl! A good girl who needs a Daddy!"

"Wrong!"

A slap across Xiaoting's cheek. A new kind of redness makes its painful imprint on her slutty face.

"I'm—I'm a slut! A whore, desperate for Daddy's milk—"

"Wrong again, you dumb bimbo!"

This time, your hatred for her stupid dress gets the better of you. You tear it apart and free Xiaoting's impressive melons with their stiff nipples. They swing at the release and they swing more when you smack them once from side to side. Xiaoting leans back and cries. The lower part of her dress is drenched in Monday's saliva and her own pussy juice.

"I'm a toy! I'm nothing, no idol, no girl, no human—just a toy, and Daddy owns me!"

"And what do toys do?"

"They don't resist and get used."

"And when I'm bored?"

"You throw it away."

Xiaoting sobs. She looks inconsolable. You successfully put a new understanding, and along with it, a new fear into her brain. This is what she signed up for. This is her life now.

Your hold of her hair becomes lighter until you caress it slowly, then you reach over and kiss her neck gently. 

"You can leave right now with zero consequences, Xiaoting. If this isn't for you, it isn't for you. You can leave right now and I won't think ill of you, your career will keep on going just fine. Make a choice."

"I'm a toy, I must be useful."

"Do you only do this, because you think you have to repay me, because I gave you this opportunity?" you ask, going further down and kissing her collarbone.

"N-no. It's because I love your, your cock, Daddy."

"You want to be a toy for my cock? Is it that good?"

"Yes," she says in a tiny voice, still whimpering and gasping for air through her tears.

"Well, now you know how this works. It's like the rules to a game, and everyone can win something. Every idol that has accepted to play this game has won something. Of course there is a main price—"

You suck at Xiaoting's nipple and make her moan through the whines and tears that stain her beautiful tears.

"—but that doesn't matter right now. If you agree, you will start from the bottom, kneeling, begging, like you do right now. It will be tough and this won't be your only punishment, but you can definitely achieve glorious goals."

"I want this, D-Daddy. Please, let me be your toy."

"Very well then."

You continue to suck at her tits, rolling your tongue around her nipple and latching yourself to them. 

Xiaoting can only moan as she was finally receiving just a bit of your touch, your pleasure. She didn't deserve it, but she would enjoy it while it lasted.

Once you had your taste of her tits, you were going to put her to work. 

"Xiao, give Daddy a titty fuck. This shall be a part of your test."

"Of course, Daddy. Thank you, Daddy."

You loosen the restraints around her wrists and she wiggles them off of her arms. All her struggles have left them slightly scared with bruises and cuts. She has indeed shown some determination after all.

Xiaoting puts her hands to work, not daring to touch your manhood with it, but only her breasts. She wraps the soft pillows around your base and starts to press down. It's secure in the pocket her tits form and you groan in approval.

With a tiny boost of confidence, Xiaoting starts to jerk her tits up and down to create friction, but with the lack of lubrication, it does not go smoothly. Xiaoting things for a second to not immediately put herself into a disfavorable position. She asks with a soft, submissive voice:

"Daddy, is this toy allowed to drool onto her tits?"

"Hm, Daddy will help his dumb toy. Open up."

As soon as Xiaoting opens her mouth, you stick two fingers inside and force them deep into her. Her consequent gags produce a lot of drool quickly and she can finally imagine how your cock would feel in her throat.

You go rougher, fucking her throat with your fingers until Xiaoting closes her eyes and takes your dominant attack. She leaks all over her breasts and your cock and when you pull out, she giggles in between chokes.

"Thank you, Daddy. You are so kind."

She begins jerking at a fast pace. You hiss as your cock is still sensitive, but Xiaoting's eagerness is nothing you want to stop. She enjoys finally being useful and looks at you with doey, lovey orbs that you have seen in other bratty idols. 

Jessica. Rose. Yena. Almost nostalgic how you had to tame them. If Xiaoting can ever reach their level? It's up to her. If her thighs are equally good, she can definitely make an argument to be a great toy.

Xiaoting starts to use her entire upper body to stimulate you. She almost jumps up in place and takes deep breaths to puff up her chest. It's a valiant effort that certainly has its effect on you.

"Damn, toy, you've got talent. Close your lips and look at me."

Xiaoting looks up at you and jerks out your orgasm. It creams at her melons and partially shoots across her face to cover it in streaks of white. You pull out from her softness and smear the cum on her tits all over them. She giggles but you press a finger on her luscious lips to keep them shut. Something in her expression is disappointment, but she longs for nothing but your approval. 

"Monday? Come over here, good girl, and clean my toy up! It's covered in your favorite glaze.

Monday, ready as always when her Daddy calls, jogs over and kneels next to Xiaoting. She starts to lick up all the cum from Xiaoting's tits like an greedy animal, before going up to her features. Careful licks, and nothing remains. It's all for Monday, she doesn't share and swallows it immediately. Xiaoting accepts it wordlessly.

In the meantime, you sit down on your soft, large chair and triumphantly look at your two sluts. At Monday's fat ass and her irresistible figure. At Xiaotings fat thighs and her irresistible face. God, they were an incredible catch.

"Monday, get on Daddy's lap. I'll fill up your pussy now.

"Oh, and Xiaoting! Come here and kneel before me. You may watch."

“Thank you, Daddy,” they say in unison.

#kpop smut #female idol smut #male reader smut #male reader insert #kepler smut #kep1er smut #xiaoting smut #shen xiaoting #weeekly smut #Monday smut #weeekly monday smut

[4thenookie]

random hcs 4/??

please send some of ur hcs to my ask box id love to hear some thoughts!!

in my hc both sally and the puppeteer are poltergeists and they cause chaos together

sally isn't as sweet as a lot of people think, she causes mischief by slamming doors, throwing shit around and running down the halls giggling at stupid o clock

brian is everyone's cool uncle

tim and brian still eat like college students, they live off instant noodles and stuff

toby can cook surprisingly decent food (lyra taught him some basic life skills)

puppeteer likes edgar allen poe

brian has a tiny notebook full of sketches and pressed flowers

toby does art!! it's very abstract

him and helen do art together so theyre pretty chill

pretty sure this one's canon, but puppeteer and helen are really close friends :)

sally is a GOD at games like mario kart and it makes jeff so so mad

jeff is insanely competitive because liu was the favourite

everyone is really cold to the touch, particularly BEN and ej

BEN is a stoner

toby wears gloves a lot of the time to try and stop himself biting at his hands

jeff has too much pride to admit it but he really misses the bond he used to have with liu

everyone is insecure that's why they shit on each other so much

nobody really likes slenderman (good)

nina got over her jeff phase now they kinda beefing lmao

liu is the token straight

helen wants to get to know everyone else in the manor (aside from pup and toby) but he never learned how to socialise

he waits for people to come to him and barely anybody does sobs

i wholeheartedly agree with the headcanon that brian makes the most shitty unseasoned white people food known to man

like it's so raw it might just get up and walk out

sally loves studio ghibli

this is a bit short because ive ran out of thoughts for now!! I'll be back with aesthetics and music tastes soon <3

#creepypasta #creepypasta headcanons #sally williams #puppeteer #ticci toby #bloody painter #jeff the killer #homicidal liu #nina the killer

[powerpolyculeshowdown]

You said I could rambles about Rexanidala @ you so here we are, i hope you won't regret your choice ❤️

OKAY SO FIRST OF ALL you have the characters aka the canon couple (Anakin Skywalker & Padmé Amidala that i think most people know at least from names?) and then you have Rex aka Captain Rex aka Anakin's right hand man during the Clones Wars and LISTEN in general i love their relationship but if you add poly to it??? -chefkiss-

Like listen you have one of the most powerful Jedi, one of the most badass & kindest Senator & one of the best Clones Officer around there, you put them in a room together, and they lost all their braincell and something ends up in fire. There's so much raw chaos in them. They're so competent but they forget everything when you put them together. They just go and cause so many problem, they're probably the reason why Mace Windu decided to stay bald and why Obi-Wan Kenobi ended up grey that young.

Various exemple of their chaotic energy: the very classic "someone is trying to assassinate me so I'm gonna go into the lion's den and almost get killed, i mean i did take my Jedi bodyguard with me after all—" from one Padmé Amidala; "one of my friends got killed so I'm gonna resolve his murder even if it's not my job" from the same Padmé Amidala; "imma gonna crash this ship on the enemies bc why not" by Anakin Skywalker (self-proclamed best pilot of the Galaxy); "imma gonna give my lightsaber to my very secret wife to prove to her how much i love her and oooops there's a hostage situation and i don't have my weapon anymore" by, again, Anakin; "I'm gonna shot point blank at a clone bc he was acting suspicious and I'm not telling anyone and especially not my superior officer why i did that — hey look it was a droid i was right lol" by Rex; "you know what since droids want to pretend they're us I'm gonna pretend I'm a droid in clone armor" by Rex AGAIN; and, obviously, the whole "Padmé & Anakin are married but it's a secret so obviously we're gonna kiss everywhere, give lovesick at each other all the time, acting all lovey-dovey and/or jealous when with each other, to the point that even our enemies know we have something going on", to the "Rex for some reasons knows about their relationship and is trying to cover for them but he's really not any better than them in the art of lying and/or pretending he has no idea what's going on". They're disasters and i love them <3

ALSO Re: the last part, there's a whole scene where 1) Anakin is like "hey Rex come on we have something to do -wink wink wink-" IN FRONT OF SOME OF THEIR MEN 2) Rex is like "srly, rn now??" And Anakin insists and i swear when you watch this scene without context........ so gay 3) Anakin uses Rex's helmet to call Padmé "in secret" (re: they're so bad at keeping it a secret) and Rex is keeping guard 4) while they are talking, and despite the fact that they haven't seen each other in months and haven't been able to talk to each other a lot, Anakin asks advices to Padmé bc he's worried about Rex and wants to help him 4) Padmé knows Rex & the way he think enough to reassure Anakin and she's also worried about Rex but trusts him 5) LISTEN THEY'RE IN LOVE I DON'T MAKE THE RULES.

Anakin/Padmé is pretty much established but it's like,,,, so easy to add Rex to their couple??? Like, ofc Anakin is close with him, he's his most trusted man and his right hand man!! He knows him & cares for him & trusts him everything and everyone he hold dear!!! But also Rex & Padmé bonded in their own way!! Like, mainly, they got infected by a dead virus together and almost died, which, u know, is always a good way to bond with your future wife <3 And they're obviously friends!! And i absolutely believe they team-up to stop Anakin from doing his most stupid ideas lmao (at least when it's not their brand of chaos and thus they enable him ofc).

ALSO there's Ahsoka!!! She's Anakin's Padawan so obviously she's close to him, and bc she goes to war with him she's also close to Rex (and the rest of their men, tbh it always kills me a little how they all care for each other)!! He gives her advices and takes care of her and supports her!!! And they obviously love each other a lot!!! Rex's love for Ahsoka literally saved her life during Order 66 idkdjdj I'm so normal about it. BUT ALSO she's close to Padmé!!! Padmé is her friend!! She follows Padmé on stupid mission she decided to do herself and uses as justification "Anakin told me to stay with her to learn politic :D" kdjdjdjdj anyway she's at the same time their little sister and their kid and i LOVE IT.

Also there's so much angst potential. Like, Rex survived the end of the war but neither did Anakin nor Padmé. Rex didn't know Luke & Leia were their children. He was robbed of his kids' whole life!!! Rex didn't know about Anakin being Darth Vader either!! (He had a suspicion but no real answer.) How do you want me to be normal about it???

And in a Palpatine-slips-on-a-banana-peel-and-dies au, they can just raise the twins together and they would be even more chaotic that they already are in canon <3 but also i think they deserve it. As a treat.

Anyway i love them so much and we're like five out there shipping them but IT'S FINE. MY LIVE WILL NOT DIE.

thank you <3

(sponsored by the show Star Wars: the Clones War)

Thank you so luch for rambling @ me about ur blorbos i love when ppl are sonpassionate about stuff they love

#polyasks #long post

[sunmoonkunoichi]

Marichat/Reverse Crush AU/How-stupidly-complex-can-we-make-the-love-square-until-its-incomprehensible AU/Or whatever the fuck you call this

It starts because Chat remembers Ladybug's voicemail asking if Marinette was "cute" way back with Evillustrator and snowballs with every dodged request for Multimouse on the grounds of "keeping her safe" since her "identity was known".

And Chat, as he's want to do, puts 2+2 together and gets fucking 23.

Now Chat thinks Ladybug is not only in love with Marinette, but has been secretly pretending to be in love with the famous oTheR BOy maybe to throw Chat off her scent, or maybe because she thinks he won't accept her, oh my god does she think he's homophobic??? What should he do???

Be a good friend and support her, that's what!

Meanwhile, Ladybug has been going through the 5-stages of grief thinking Chat has been scorned by Adrien Agreste at some point since every time she mentions the model Chat's response is increasingly hostile. At first she thought Chat hated Adrien, but all his comments seem to be critical of his inability to face conflict?? Or show his true feelings?? "Pretty boy" is said with such scorn that Ladybug (who is also the Anxiety-Catastrophic-inclining Marinette who regularly declares her own death at minor inconveniences and whenever she gets hit with her long list of secondhand embarrassments) has made up a whole backstory of how Chat is secretly bisexual and is using Ladybug to get over his horrific attempt at trying to express his feelings towards Adrien oh poor Chat she totally understands where you're coming from you poor kitty.

Cue Chat trying to wheedle out Ladybug's secret relationship with Marinette by making more comments about Multimous and how nice it was to do that mission with Marinette! Can he do it again? While also making more visits to her balcony to figure out why LB fell in love with his shy, awkward, yet brilliant classmate and oh god oh no she's actually really funny and sassy and way too cool for Chat or Adrien LB has fucking TASTE!!

(he also has been really emphasising his support for gay rights every time he hangs out with Ladybug (which isn't helping his 'secret pining bi' angle LB is frothing over) to the point where even local news outlets and the LadyBlog are debating whether Chat is queer af (which has always been a pretty firm belief in Paris, what with the leather outfit and hand gestures like ✨you know✨) or just pro-LGBT+)

On the other hand, Marinette has being trying to suss out this ""secret mean side"" of Adrien's that has made Chat into such a scorned lover, resulting in her being a little cooler to Adrien, which in turn has made her actually capable of speaking to him now he isn't some perfect figure on a pedestal.

("Plagg! Marinette frowned at me when I accidentally bumped into her today and told me to 'watch it, pretty boy' before leaving!!! She didn't stutter like usual, which I thought she did because she hated me, but what does this mean now????"

"That I'm not paid enough for this")

Except Chat has also been sniffing around her balcony a lot and she can't help but feel sorry for a fellow Adrien-Lover, so now she's been spending a lot of free nights with him and wow he's actually so sweet and shy beneath the flirty attitude and oh no he's actually kind of hot, and if Ladybug was the rebound from Adrien does that make Marinette a viable love interest??? W H A T???

This got away from me, but honestly we're at the point that it'd be so much funnier to make the lovesquare even more complex like yeah fuck it up you two dumbasses.

#this came to me in the shower #as all good thoughts do #and i couldn't help but laugh at the thought of reverse crush happening but only if its through more misunderstandings #i want adrien to get jealous over LB being with marinette and Marinette with LB and not know WHY #And Marinette be a little mean to Adrien for breaking her best friends heart while also hyping Chat up because he deserves love too! #lmao just raw chaos and stupidity #reverse crush au #marichat #ladrien #adrienette #ladynoir #honestly im tagging them all cause all the relationships get fucked around here #miraculous ladybug #ml #chat noir #adrien agreste #ladybug #marinette dupain cheng #lovesquare #textpost #sunnymoonrambles

[kaistarus]

Mistexting Mayhem

Pairing: Nishinoya X Reader

Words: 1.6K

Summary: You accidentally send Nishinoya a text that was meant for Yachi and now he’s knows secrets you were hoping he never found out

A/N: If you think this fic is anything but crack you’re wrong lmao I’ve always wanted to write a fic with this style and Noya is great for the chaos i needed. It was fun

Masterlist

[6:40pm] idiot⚡: look y/n without adhd id be too powerful

                         i could beet god himself in handtohand combat

                         god was afraid of my raw fuckin awesomeness wen i bursted from the woom

[6:41pm] y/n: there is so much wrong with what u just said

[6:41pm] idiot⚡: i have absoltly no clue wat

[6:43pm] y/n: put those 3 brain cells to work. I believe in you

[6:43pm] idiot⚡: but theyve reached their daily quota

                          plz there so tired and overworked

You snorted, a dopey smile on your lips as you laid surrounded by textbooks and homework, swinging your feet in the air behind you. You focused intently on the cell phone in your hand doing everything you could to procrastinate the schoolwork around you.

[6:44pm] y/n: noyas so stupid

[6:44pm] yachi❤: i thought you liked him?

[6:45pm] y/n: jeez Yachi. dont come for my throat

                       i cant help that i have bad taste 🙄

[6:46pm] yachi❤: if it helps he tripped over a stray ball today

                               maybe think of that till you don’t like him??

Unfortunately, the image of Nishinoya waving to everyone then biffing it only had you smiling like a dork. How you’d gotten to a point that Nishinoya being an idiot made you swoon, you’ll never know.

You raised your eyebrow suspiciously at the new notification on Snapchat from ‘Tanaka’ and after swiping it open you nearly dropped your phone. Looking back at you was Nishinoya, his head tilted and eyebrow quirked in confusion with a gari-gari kun shoved halfway down his throat. The caption at the bottom reading ‘daaaammn look at your prince charming go 😩’.

You frowned at the picture, letting out a frustrated groan at how your heart accelerated against your ribcage. You quickly tapped out of it and reopened the messenger app.

[6:57pm] y/n: we have to kill Noya

[6:57pm] idiot⚡: we??? what kind of mission is this??? 😤

[6:58pm] y/n: i like him too much. he has to die. its for my own good

You waited impatiently for her response and almost debated doing your homework since it took longer than you felt necessary. You supposed you had suggested murder to Yachi, but still…

When you finally received a response your entire body froze.

[7:11pm] idiot⚡: U LIKE ME?!?!? 😍

                          UR KILLING ME?!?! 😢

                          IM SO CONFUSED......

                          and a lil turned on ngl👀

Your hand covered your mouth in horror as you processed what the hell you had just done. This didn’t happen to people in real life. Mistexting was stuff people made up when they created fake texts for social media to get likes. You didn’t think people actually went through this.

You opened new notifications to escape the hell that stared you straight in the face.

[7:15pm] Tanaka💪: Yo, whatd u do. Whys Noya having a panic attak

[7:16pm] y/n: I accidently texted him instead of Yachi and told him i liked him 😣

[7:16pm] Tanaka💪: O wtf thats hilarious 😂

[7:17pm] y/n: ITS NOT HILArIOUS

[7:18pm] Tanaka💪: Hes askin if its a prank. Wat do i do?

[7:19pm] y/n:I DONT KNOW SDKFHJN IM THE IDIOT WHO STSRTED IT

He stopped responding and you banged your head against your pillow anxiously.

[7:23pm] y/n: YACHI ITOLD NoYA I LKED HIM AND NOU HE NOS WAY DO JI DO!?!????! 😭😭😭

[7:23pm] idiot⚡: THIS ISNT YACHI!!!!

                           HOLY FUKC U DO LIEK ME!!!

You screamed into your pillow. Were you fucking kidding? This could not be happening.

[7:25pm] Tanaka💪: dude, twice? i cant save u now 🤪

[7:25pm] y/n: betraying me in my time of fucking need? i’ll remember this asshole

[7:26pm] Tanaka💪: so vulgar 👀

You growled at Tanaka’s uselessness and bravely peeked through one eye as you went back to your conversation with Nishinoya.

[7:24pm] idiot⚡: STOP IGNORING ME I KNO UR TEXTING RYU

[7:26pm] idiot: IM GONNA KEEP SPAMMING U TILL U ANSWE RME😤

[7:26pm] idiot⚡: 1

                          2

                          3

                          4

                          5

                           6

                           7

                           8

                           9

[7:27pm] y/n: what is this twitch chat? fuck 

[7:28pm] idiot⚡: your heeeeererererreee 🥰

[7:29pm] y/n: soooooo………..

                        clearly there has been a misunderstanding

[7:29pm] idiot⚡: oh nonono. I understand PERFETCLY. u LOVE me

                         its ok. this is a safe space. we can discuss feelings 😌

[7:31pm] y/n: there are zero feelings to discuss

[7:31pm] idiot⚡: then y did u say u like me too much so i have to die?

[7:34pm] y/n: i am filled with rage 🤬

[7:34pm] idiot⚡: rage over how much u liiike me???🥰🥰🥰

[7:36pm] y/n: definitely not

You racked your brain for some kind of reasonable sounding excuse, eventually landing on:

[7:36pm] y/n: It was autocorrect

[7:36pm] idiot⚡: HAH????? FROM?????

[7:38pm] y/n: HAH???

                       ....Nora?

[7:38pm] idiot⚡: Who TF is nora???? 😡

[7:39pm] y/n: someoe i like obviously 😏

[7:40pm] idiot⚡: so u like them but u use my name so much it autocorrected to me? 🤔

[7:44pm] y/n: OK MR DETEcTIVE WHERE TF ARE THES BRAIN CELS COMIN GFROM?

[7:45pm] idiot⚡: i pull them out for special ocasions 😌

[7:45pm] y/n: well how bout you pack those up and put em away

[7:46pm] idiot⚡: how bout two people who LIKE each other SAY something so they can DOOOOOOOO something bout IT 🙄

You began typing a frantic message about how it was none of his business until you processed the message. Then you read it over several times before letting out an audible, “what the fuck.”

[7:50pm] y/n: YOU LIKE ME

[7:50pm] idiot⚡: I FLIRT WITH U ALL THE TIME WAT DO U MEAN yOu LiKe Me!?!

                          FUCKING OBVIOSLY

[7:51pm] y/n: literally when. name one time.

[7:52pm] idiot⚡: I WALK WITH U EVERY MORNING!!!

[7:53pm] y/n: I thought that was a coincidence???

[7:54pm] idiot⚡: I BRNIG U SNACKS DURING LUNCH!!!

[7:54pm] y/n: I thought they were leftovers??

[7:55pm] idiot⚡: …....I call you cute and invite you to my games.

[7:56pm] y/n: you call everyone attractive and i thought there was like a audience quota or something........?

[7:57pm] idiot⚡: ….i cant tell who i should be upset with rn but i think its u 😑

[7:58pm] y/n: WAT WHY!?!

[8:00pm] Idiot⚡: I LIKE U+U LIKE ME=WE LIKE EACH OTHER

[8:01pm] y/n: whoa. slow down. I hate math 😣

[8:02pm] Idiot⚡: ===WE SHUD GO ON A DATE!!!

[8:02pm] y/n: HAH!? i think you started multiplying that addition problem buddy 🤨

Your cheeks were beginning to ache from how wide your dopey grin was. You couldn’t help but tease Nishinoya-it was second nature at this point-even if you now knew your feelings were mutual.

[8:04pm] idiot⚡: i suk at math but thats NOT the point

                         point iiissss i think deep down u want to hang out and cuddle and fall in love

                        maybe even..... 😏 kiiisssss

[8:04pm] y/n: WHOA WHOA WHOA

                        WARN ME BEFORE YOU GET NSFW

                        i would never premarital eye-contact. let alone k🤢ki-🤢🤢kiss🤢🤮🤮

[8:05pm] idiot⚡: well we would have socks on 🙄

[8:06pm] y/n: oh. well if there’s protection

[8:06pm] idiot⚡: Im not a maniac

[8:07pm] y/n: i suppose as long as you dont do something stoopid

                        like faceplant in public

                        that would be humiliating

[8:08pm] idiot⚡: I-

                          who told you that 😠

[8:08pm] y/n: i have spies everywhere noya

                        youre never safe

[8:09pm] Idiot⚡: kinda hot 👀

                         makin me fear for my life like that👀

[8:10pm] y/n: i hate that i like you

                        It kills me inside 

                        i feel braincels leaving with every conversation

[8:12pm] Idiot⚡: fan behavior 😏

                          so am i taking u to eat tomorow or wat?

[8:14pm] y/n: if I HAVE to 🙄

[8:14pm] Idiot⚡: No u GET to

                          I am a fucking delite 😤

[8:15pm] y/n: whatever helps you sleep at night

[8:15pm] Idiot⚡: nothing helps me sleep at night. this mind never rests

[8:16pm] y/n: thinking 24/7 and still not a smart thing comes out of that mouth 👀

[8:17pm] Idiot⚡: yas, bully me more 😫

[8:19pm] y/n: ok thats as much as i can handle for one day......

                       im gonna pretend to do homework

[8:20pm] idiot⚡: okie... good luck my sweet baby pogchamp 🥰

[8:20pm] y/n: no

[8:20pm] Idiot⚡: 😘😘😘

[8:22pm] y/n: 🙄✋

[8:23pm] Idiot⚡: oh FUCK yas 🥵 shut me UP

[8:25pm] y/n: suddenly all i feel is endless regret

[8:26pm] Idiot⚡: i have that effect on people

                          See you tomorrow 🥰🥰🥰

[8:27pm] y/n: unfortunately 😘

[8:27pm] idiot⚡: 🥵

You flung an arm over your eyes and let a small giggle bubble up from your chest. Nishinoya was probably the biggest idiot you’d ever met, but you couldn’t help that thinking of spending time with him had you kicking your feet with excitement.

You supposed you should actually get started on your homework. You reached forward when a notification popped up from Yachi, asking if her idea worked and you had stopped liking Nishinoya.

...you should probably break the news, huh?

#nishinoya yuu #nishinoya imagine #nishinoya scenarios #nishinoya yu x reader #nishinoya x reader #nishinoya yu #tanaka ryuunosuke #yachi hitoka #haikyuu!! #haikyuu x reader #hq nishinoya #nishinoya #nishinoya yū #haikyuu #nishinoya yuu x reader #haikyu x reader #haikyuu imagines #haikyu!! #haikyuu x y/n

[capsized-heart]

l’ incendie

Pairing: Hal x Reader

Summary: You grew up as witness to the atrocities committed under the British crown. Lord Grey is your father and newly pledged councilman of the royal court. Now, England has a new boy king, one who is set on keeping peace in Europe. You are determined to see England burn, even if it means corrupting the lionhearted boy of Eastcheap.

Word count: 10k+

Warnings: explicit smut, strong violence, sacrilegious imagery a blowjob in a chapel lmao

A/N: l’ incendie ; French translation for fire

..so..I watched The King back in November and have had this idea in my brain for the past 2 months now?? It literally consumed me. All throughout my last few weeks of classes and final papers, this is honestly all I could think about, like I’ve been bumping the soundtrack and rewatching the film to plan this, I looked at Lord Grey’s true lineage (he aint Scottish btw I made that up..but he really was related to King Edward lol).......I’ve just had to get this out of me for so. long. and I’m so happy that I finally have! It feels like this huge weight is gone, but I’ve enjoyed this creative process so much, like it’s so exciting when you hyper-fixate find a new piece of media that you enjoy so much that you dive completely and utterly into everything about it that you can get your hands on, and this is my piece for this!

And my boy Timmy?? Had no fucking clue who this guy was before I saw the film, now I’m writing fics about him a;sdkfjskj but you’re here reading this so. we’re both guilty.

I love story arcs like this where you see a character’s slow descent into corruption and having it revealed that someone was talking in their ear the whole time....i eat that shit right up. Reader’s character is heavily inspired by Lady Macbeth. Using wiles, using sex, etc. Ooh baby. I had fun with this. 

gif credit to @michonnegrimes​ 

Scotland was once your true home. Moors, lochs, rugged mountains, biting cold, all. You remember the endless mist and gloom, the wet winters of your childhood that made the creaking wood of your cottage whistle and moan. Summers were warm and mild and the highlands bursting with rich green and sunlight, running through fragrant fields of heathers, bluebells, myrtle with your skirts damp with dew, shrieking and choking on laughter as your older brother, Callum, chased you all throughout your little village of Kirkcaldy. Laughing himself, grabbing at you and wrestling you down into the mud, blossoms, and river water.

“Yield! Yield to the English crown or perish, wretched witch!” Callum would boom in mock play, tickling your sides until you’re gasping for air and tears stung your eyes.

“Aye! I yield!”

“What? You mad girl! Take it back! We are Scots!”

And then Callum would descend on you with all the wrath of England and you’d be howling with giggles and screams.

Returning home at nightfall smelling of wind and rain with vibrant wildflowers tangled in your hair and dirt streaking the skin of your cheeks, still plump with baby fat. Scarce food, but stomach full of adventure and blissful naivete. You were happy. 

Your father would scold you promptly before his voice would soften a touch, smoothing back your hair from your face. Round, curious eyes and missing teeth. A feral, untamed child. 

Daughter of Lord Thomas Grey. His precious girl. So much of your mother in you, the same fight, the same spark and love for life. Until you had ripped her body from the inside out and she had lost too much blood, the wet nurses unable to stop the bleeding and she had given her last breath cradling you lovingly against her naked chest.

You had killed your own mother. 

In your early years, Callum and your father gave you nothing but warmth and protection, the sole surviving daughter of Grey lineage. But a child can only be sheltered for so long. Your world is a man’s world. Your country is no stranger to bloodshed. 

The Anglo-Scottish Wars have endured for as long as you can remember, rebel leaders beaten down by English captains and more Christian blood staining the lush lowlands with every day. Robert the Bruce. Percy Hotspur. Blood all the same.   

You are bleak, wild, uncivilized in the eyes of the English. 

It’s all your people have ever known. Weary, resilient Scotland. 

You have no memory of your mother, your earliest memory being the image of William Wallace’s torso strung up in the village square and the ensuing riots that had truly put the fear of God in you, mounted soldiers and civilians clashing in a fury of slick, gory steel, longswords and blacksmith daggers, a fear so raw and primal it struck you frozen and you’d soiled yourself in the midst of chaos. Callum had grabbed you and raced the four miles home as you bellowed atop his back with great, ugly heaves, snot and tears dribbling down your chin. 

You didn’t need to understand the politics of rebellion or Wallace’s stake in it all to understand a massacre. 

You have no memory of your mother, only murder in the name of the English king. 

But you’ve learned to nurture that little glowing kernel of survival, of the fighting spirit and grit inside you that had evidently cost your mother her life. You’ve kindled it, watched it ignite with every passing year of war, your body flourishing into the figure of a young woman with embers in her soul. A stable simmering of flushed coals beneath your skin, glistening in the pools of your irises, ready to flare up and burn all you touch should you choose to. 

You feel it now as a jostling carriage takes you to Northumberland, England. You sit quietly, watching the hills of Scotland tremble by, eyes hungrily drinking up as much of its strong landscape as you can.

Your father and brother have already gone ahead to England to make arrangements for Callum’s recent engagement to Isabel, Countess of Essex and only daughter of the Earl of Cambridge. You are reuniting after a lonely week, perhaps your last, to ever see your homeland. 

Callum’s betrothal didn’t come as much of a surprise, rather, you’ve been counting down the days until your village lifestyle was doomed for inevitable change; for years, your father has been preparing the two of you for noble life outside of Scotland. Son and daughter subjected to the arts of chivalry, proper etiquette, gentility. The best that your little village could accommodate.

Your father and his maternal ancestry have interestingly long influenced the English courts, as his title of Lord would suggest. Through his grandmother’s side, you are distant descendants of Margaret, Duchess of Norfolk. 

King Edward himself. Now cold and buried in London’s Westminster Abbey. 

The coals jump, flames twisting at the idea of relatives long dead sitting idly on the opportunity and resources for a coup d'etat, instead choosing to line their own pockets and watch your country crumble from the comfort of their English estates. 

The carnage and murder of monarchy feel that much more personal to you. 

With your brother’s new marriage, Callum will acquire lordship and be gifted property in Essex. Your father will be secured a seat in the king’s council. You will be given rooms and hospitality in the castle as a noblewoman available for marriage. As Lady Grey. 

A lick of fire coils up your throat. 

God save the king. 

**

The switch cracks so hard against the skin of your knuckles that your lip draws blood when you bite back a scream. Pain diffuses up your arm in fractured, ringing jolts and your eyes flood with hot tears. You hazard a look at where an angry welt has already started to flush, red and pulsing on the back of your hand. 

“Again.” Says Miss Hunt.

Your gaze falls to the open manuscript in front of you, to the passage that you’ve rehearsed aloud for the past two hours. Your tongue works nervously in your mouth, swallowing. Sweat glistens your brow. You think you may even be trembling. 

You draw in a quick breath and begin again:

“Time and tide wait for no man.

The life so short, the crafts so long to learn.

People can die of mere imagination.

And gladly wolde he lerne, and gladly teche-”

Another crack and this time you can’t restrain the cry that leaves you. You blink back the heat blurring your vision, set your jaw when Miss Hunt clasps her hands coldly behind her back and looks down at you over her hooked nose. 

“Your voiced consonants are absolutely horrid, girl. Don’t close up your mouth. If you are to perfect the King’s English, you are to completely forget that savage dialect before I cut out your tongue. Am I understood?”

Miss Hunt gives you a smart swat to your cheek.

You nod quickly. 

Another stinging swat.

“Am I understood?”

“Yes, Miss Hunt.”

Satisfied, she turns on her heel, granting you a few precious moments of quiet, of rest. Afternoon light filters into the chamber in dusty, silvered shafts, hueing the book’s pages in a drab of diluted grey. The inked words of Chaucer bleed back up at you as you settle your breathing. 

This English sits like gravel in your mouth, low and rough and choking up your throat. Sharply iambic, as if everyone is talking down to the other. 

England’s English sounds slow and stupid.

You wonder if Callum had this much trouble mastering the accent. You wonder if Callum, as a Lord, has ever been slashed with a switch.  

Since your arrival to England and for the better part of a year, Miss Hunt has dissected every syllable of your speech through bodily punishment and repetition, ripped out any trace of Gaelic, any remaining trace of Scotland on your tongue and sutured it back together with mouthfuls of Chaucer and pompous, exaggerated vowels. 

But pain, degradation, and humiliation are wonderful motivators. And to your horror, it has worked.

Your father recently introduced you to a few councilmen out of courtesy and as the sister of the soon to be Lord Grey of Essex. You politely discussed politics, entertained banter and jests of marriage proposals. None questioned your status as an English noblewoman. 

Masquerading with voice and poise. 

But that hasn’t stopped your secret, unseen resistance. 

Miss Hunt may have taken your language and cadence, but her practices have only shown you the true powers of speech, knowledge, shown you just how intimidated and afraid all of England is of the bold north, of any European empire threatening its legitimacy. 

A cowering dog with raised hackles and snapping teeth, but only so out of mad fear. 

The harder Miss Hunt pushes, the deeper you dig into your own studies. By day, you are her sole pupil. By night, by candlelight, you are the pupil of Cicero, studying rhetoric and the power of spoken influence. You’ve also begun to study French as a means to bolster your wiles and mental arsenal. 

You are already a so-called savage by blood. Learning the language of England’s arch rival will do nothing to hurt your reputation. 

You feel a bead of sweat slide down the base of your spine as the switch swishes impatiently in Miss Hunt’s clutches. Oral recitation and the simultaneous reduction of your accent demands every ounce of your concentration. You know already that if you are hit again, the skin will break and you’ll only be reprimanded harder. Miss Hunt is sadistic and cold with her beady eyes and that ugly high starched collar.

“Again.” Her voice clips evenly.

So, you inhale a strong, supportive breath and begin again, pushing down the smolder in your chest.

**

The day of the wedding is cloudless and full of sunshine, a rarity for England. Callum has been bustling about the chapel’s back rooms in nervous energy all morning, fixing his hair and dress shirt over and over. You send your father to go and calm him down as you tend to Isabel, shooing him away quickly so your father’s mirrored jitters won’t affect her before the start of the ceremony. She gives you a small smile of thanks.

Isabel looks beautiful sitting in front of the mirror as her maids finish arranging her hair. Back straight as a board, plump lips and cheeks the color of a rosy, coral pink. You help to pull the veil over her face and the thin fabric does nothing to mute her radiance.

You see the flickering range of emotions in her eyes as she sees her own reflection. The life that all women are fated to live. Her last moments of true freedom, uncertainty for the future, and that small, significant trickle of vanity at having a perfect day of her own. 

You see it all. After all, you are a woman. 

She relaxes a bit when you lay a comforting hand on her shoulder. Her gaze finds yours in the mirror. 

“You and I will soon be sisters,” she laughs softly. You give her a pleasant smile.

“I would want nothing more.” 

Her throat works as she swallows tears, gives you another radiant laugh. “Someday, you will be sitting here, too.”      

The truth of her words causes your smile to weaken, but you quickly hide it by busying yourself with her skirts and lace. Your world is a man’s world, even outside of war-torn Scotland. One man’s world, to be exact. 

King Henry IV.     

“And I expect you, my dear Isabel, to be at my side when that day comes.” You say to her. She nods kindly. 

Your brother and Isabel are married a few hours later beneath the rainbowed, iridescent wash of stained glass and chiming church bells. And as the newly wed couple beam at you and their close company of friends and family, as you see Callum hold his wife proudly on his arm, you think that the bride and groom may truly love each other despite their arranged marriage. The possibility of such a happiness makes you grin wide and the familiar coals to simmer down ever so slightly.     

The reception then moves to the chapel’s outdoor gardens. Ornately trimmed hedges, chirping birdsong, bubbling marble fountains, and the sweet fragrance of daisies and roses perfume the budding spring air. 

The sun is warm on your skin, the air brisk and comfortable. You keep your fur lined mantle draped around your shoulders, your embroidered sleeves catching hints of daylight, the jeweled metalwork glittering about your waist. And with your hair twisted with ribbon and pinned back with a light linen caul, even Isabel herself murmurs that you look as refreshing and incandescent as the flowers surrounding you. You smile back teasingly, whisper that no one could possibly compare to the blushing bride. 

As sister of the groom, you mingle politely, accepting congratulations and kind regards.  

You see familiar faces, lords and fellow council members alike, and some of those not yet well acquainted. You meet Cambridge, Isabel’s father and a bird of a man. Gangly limbs and a flittering that accompanies his quick movements, but cordial and gentle. He tells you the union of your families will be prosperous, benign. You agree.  

Then, Cambridge is pulled aside by a young man. Cambridge seems to recognize him instantly and clasps him into an embrace, chuckling heartily.

“Hal! You made it!” he exclaims. The two talk together briefly before the young man turns to you. 

He’s tall and lean, broad chested with sloping shoulders. The angular planes of his face are undeniably handsome, a strong nose, full dark lashes and brows that frame his bold complexion. Black, unkempt curls and soft, hooded green eyes that hold an undertone of vigor, like his very gaze has commanded attention his entire life. They flicker over you quickly, as if you’d imagined it yourself, a trick of the light. 

You don’t miss the way they linger at the exposed dip of your neckline, however.

“Aren’t you going to introduce me?” He then asks of Cambridge, his voice a soft murmur and his eyes never leave you. 

Cambridge looks quickly between the two of you, as if acknowledging your presence again for the first time since this young man’s interruption. He burns bright red, stammering, then gestures to the stranger beside him.

“Of course. My lady, may I present my cousin, Henry. Prince of Wales.”  

The suddenness and sheer absurdity of it all almost makes you burst out in laughter.

Cousin? King Henry IV’s eldest son is the cousin of your father-in-law? 

With this marriage, you realize your family is now tied to the most powerful family in all of Britain. Yet, no one in the wedding party seems to have even acknowledged the presence of the boy prince dressed simply in dark cloak and tunic.

And then you remember. Prince Hal is a drunk, a dangerous playboy from Eastcheap. His claim to the throne is as illegitimate as the probable dozens of children from his bedded girls. 

And asking for a formal introduction from his cousin? It’s utterly laughable, pathetic even.

Hal’s gaze is unwanted, skin prickling from where his eyes trace the curve of your chest in a way that makes you feel vile. 

So, you wet your lips, pretend to wordlessly accept his flirtations and give him a slow flutter of your lashes. The reaction he so craves from you as his chin tilts back in delight, hungry to see more. 

“Your reputation precedes you, my lord.” Your words drip with venom. Flowery girl with a serpent’s sharp tongue. 

The barb makes Hal’s features tick in surprise, shock before settling back into a cool demeanor. 

“Then you’ve heard of me.”

Your mask of amour stays firmly in place.  

“It is hard to be deaf against such defamatory gossip.”

Hal hums softly with a hint of a smile, breaking his gaze to look out over the reception, ego obviously bruised. Cambridge goes pale as a sheet.

Isabel suddenly swoops in with the apology of wanting to introduce her father to a newly arrived guest and excuses him, hauling him away by the arm. Cambridge looks relieved to go.

And then it’s just the two of you beneath the halo of rose-tinted light. 

“Beautiful ceremony.” He says simply. Hal is incredibly soft spoken for a prince and you find yourself unconsciously leaning in to hear him speak. Part of the intimate charm that makes him so alluring to women, you think. A whispered promise only for you.   

“I thank you, sire.” 

He takes a step forward. It startles you, enough for him to crowd you against the garden trellis wall. Ivy and lavender press into your back, dancing in the same breeze that peppers goosebumps down your spine. You shiver softly. Hal steps closer.

“I pray this is not the last of today’s festivities?” His words ghost over your throat, tickling the shell of your ear. 

“No, sire. There will be a dinner tonight,” you reply just as quietly. You understand the game perfectly because it is the same one you have been playing your whole life. You indulge him, fire sparkling behind your fluttering eyelashes. “Surely your cousin will be expecting your attendance.”

Hal leans over you, hair tickling your face, green eyes glimmering. Up close, you see that freckles and beauty marks dot his skin. “I’m sure he will.”  

You think you see him incline his head as though to kiss you. For a moment, you’re frozen, entranced. 

You turn your cheek and his lips brush your temple. He hesitates with a low chuckle, keeping his close proximity.

“Then, I will see you tonight, my lord.” You whisper. Your fingers graze his arms as you sidle out of his reach. You can feel his eyes on you as you go and rejoin the other guests. 

You leave him burning. 

**

The tavern teems with merriment and the sound of fiddle, fife, and drum. You feast on broiled meats, roasted potatoes, greens, sweet breads and cakes until your stomach is full to bursting. 

 The glow of candlelight is lush and sensual, throwing shadows over the faces that only hours before you had shared with in prayer and communion in the church of God. Now, every attendant indulges in debauchery.

You’re drunk, blood pounding with mulled wine and spiced ale and cider. Pleasantly warm and head swimming, watching Callum and Isabel and friends and family dance about the room as if possessed, twirling in swirls of colored fabric that make you laugh and clap along in breathless euphoria. 

You catch a glance of a figure standing in the doorway. You see the motion of a glass moving to lips, throat working to swallow drink. When the glass falls, you lock eyes with Hal.

You beckon him forth with a crooked finger. He grins wickedly and sets down his cup. 

Despite the obvious wine in him, his steps towards you are sure and true and his hands feel good against you when they caress your waist, pull you against him.

You play coy and twist out of his arms. He groans. 

He follows you like a dog until you’re in the midst of spinning bodies and then you turn to him. Giving him the permission to finally touch you.

His eyes ignite. He splays a hand on the middle of your back, perfect pressure, authoritative, the other gripping you tight and then you’re both cackling with drunken mischief as he guides the two of you across the creaking wooden floor. 

You let him support you, lean against his chest, enjoying the sensation of being held so close. The thrill of feeling wanted. 

Even if it is all a charade. 

The strings and beat of thumping drums careen to a crescendo that has the entire tavern whooping and hollering in delight. You break apart from Hal to join in as the music flows through your limbs, absolutely enchanted, throwing back your head like that feral child from girlhood.      

Hal looks just as wild, the rumored wayward prince. Long, dark locks falling in his eyes, tunic unbuttoned and disheveled. Light and shadow dancing across his face in a manner that makes him look devilish.  

He pushes a glittering goblet into your hands, eases his strong fingers around your own to help bring it to your lips. You see the unmistakable red slosh of wine and wordlessly drink. He watches you tip back the goblet, watches rubied jewels of crimson spill down the sides of your mouth and down the skin of your throat.   

“That’s it. That’s a good girl.” He cooes. 

The flames feel desperately hot, flushing your skin and cheeks, burning bright behind your lips. Or perhaps it's the alcohol? Or the prince’s wandering touch that now seems to be cupping your breast, tongue lapping at the trails of wine…

The heat is suddenly too much and you push away to a secluded corner filled with empty tables to catch your breath. Hal slumps beside you. His head lolls, dipping to press another whisper of a kiss to your jaw and his weight feels comfortable against your side.

You don’t know what comes over you. Perhaps you truly are possessed.

You turn into him and then your hand is reaching between his thighs. 

Hal exhales sharply in your ear. You harden your touch, feel him widen his stance to accommodate you. He braces an arm behind the small of your back, supporting himself on the space of the wooden bench as your fingers slip below the waistband of his trousers. 

He gives a strangled sigh when you grip him tight and begin to coil your hand. His head lolls once more, nuzzling into the crook of your neck, panting, bursts of hot breath fanning over your throat. You feel your own breath quicken, feel yourself getting excited.

You mesh your other hand into his curls and pull him closer, press your body flush against his. Hal moans, keening, his arm now around your waist. You shush him quietly, tightening the hold in his hair.   

To any patron, you look as though you’re only consoling a drunken boy, simply talking in the muted light. The shadows hide you both but the flames shine in your eyes.     

“Enjoying the festivities, my lord?” You sigh into his cheek. 

“Please don’t stop..” Hal whimpers. 

You chuckle through a half-lidded gaze and work him harder. It’s delicious, erotic. 

You hold all power, all of England in your delicate grip. 

You watch his mouth fall open, dark brows furrowing, feel him tense against you before the eldest son to the crown spills himself onto your fevered palm with a sharp gasp, chest heaving.  

“Good boy..” you murmur with a cheshire smile, running your fingers soothingly down the line of his jaw. Hal shudders with aftershocks, eyes closed, forehead glistening with sweat. 

Before he can attempt to try and reciprocate the favor, you wipe your hand on his cloak and stand to fetch another drink. 

**

You avoid Hal afterwards and don’t see him again for the remainder of the night. You think he must have gone home with another girl to satisfy himself and it makes you smile knowing you are responsible for laying that trap, for letting him taste pleasure, driving his desperation and taking it all away just as easily. 

Your brother and Isabel spend their honeymoon in London before returning to her home in Essex. They write to you, informing of their safe arrival at the new estate and that you will have to come visit in the very near future. It warms your heart. You already miss them terribly. 

Soon after, your father is awarded the scarlet, fur-trimmed peerage robes of the House of Lords and with your new rank, you experience the privilege of wealth for the first time. 

Rich foods, dresses and flowing silk skirts, cosmetics, more books and manuscripts than you can imagine. You glow with health, beauty, pride, and sharpened wit.

But you have not forgotten your burning flame. Aided by money and status, your little light only grows stronger.

**

King Henry IV dies of sickness on a warm March morning. It had only been a matter of time, the stubborn man had been calling your father and the other lords to his bedside for the past several months to continue to discuss the politics of his own wars. In his dying breath, Henry IV saw that his empire had fallen to civil strife. 

Court and kingdom are called to witness the coronation procession and as you stand with the lords and ladies of the crown inside Westminster Abbey, inside the church containing the tomb of your distant descendant King Edward and the generations of his forefathers, the same Gothic abbey where British monarchs have turned men into rulers and tyrants, you watch the archbishop anoint Prince Henry of Wales with holy oil. 

His curls have been trimmed clean, his bare skin and body presented to be blessed with the sign of the cross. All old ritual, old prayer and Latin incantations that have been performed for over a thousand years.

So what is a new boy to wear the crown?

Beneath the arched stone cloisters, baptized in the sunlit streams of stained glass, you watch that same ceremony unfold again with burning heart. And harmonized by the tolling of bells, Hal is dressed in royal robes, regalia, scepter and all, shedding the title of prince as you all pledge homage to your new King of England.

“All hail King Henry.” The archbishop calls out to clergy, God, and country.  

“King Henry!”

**

Neither you nor Hal feel the heat of embarrassment when the court is ushered into the dining chamber and you meet again in candle and firelight. The feast is an intimate setting, shared by the company of Hal’s new council, clergymen, and close family. Your father is seated alongside Cambridge, Chief Justice William Gascoigne, and the archbishop; even his sister, Queen Phillipa of Denmark, is in attendance.

Hal’s appearance and demeanor is surprising to you.  

He looks striking, handsome as ever in his new robes and you can sense that familiar aire of charisma and confidence you remember from the wedding as Lord Chamberlain presents gifts from the monarchs of the world. A jeweled vase from King Wenceslas of Bohemia, a trinket of a mechanical bird from the Doge of Venice. Hal is jovial, good humored and merry. 

The presence of his cousin and sister seems to comfort him greatly. And rightfully so, considering he now sits on the throne of his dead father. Dead as well is the alter ego of the delinquent prince.

Like a spoilt child opening wrapped packages at Christmas. The privilege of royal blood. 

When the final trunk is presented, a gift from the Dauphin, you quite nearly let out a low snicker. 

A ball for the boy king.   

You see Hal hesitate before picking it up and the silence throughout the chamber is long, uncomfortable. The entire court seems to be holding its breath. Yet, you know there is an aspect of truth to the Dauphin’s gesture. 

A boy indeed. You recall Hal’s touch and him gasping into your neck, his muffled begging, how quickly he had finished in your hand…

Then, the cool magnetism returns to his features. He locks eyes with you and you wonder if he is thinking of the same moment. You are both proud challengers, wielders of personal charm. 

You wonder how long it will take to break him completely.    

There’s a glimmer in his gaze you think to be from the blazing hearth as he tosses the ball once against the chamber’s stone wall, then catches it deftly with youthful poise. 

**

After the coronation dinner, the court is dismissed and you find yourself to be one of the last remaining patrons as guests trickle out into the adjacent hallways and disperse through the rest of the castle. You deliberately hang back, watching your father, Cambridge, Phillipa, and William slip through the doors, slowing your step so that Hal can catch sight of you.  

“Lady Grey,” you hear. His voice is galant, hushed with that same temptation of seductive promise. With your back still facing him, you can’t help but smirk. 

You feign surprise and turn.     

“Yes, my lord?”

Hal beckons to where he stands by the fireside. You gather your skirts and join him in the welcoming nimbus of light and warmth. When you bend to curtesy, his fingers find your chin, tilting your eyes to his own and forcing you to rise to your feet.

“None of that is necessary, my dear,” he whispers. He keeps your face cradled between thumb and forefinger, a delicate pressure, one that makes you feel precious as he holds you close. “Tell me, did you enjoy tonight?”

“Immensely.” You smile. Indeed, you have. The Dauphin might as well have spoken on your own behalf.  

Hal hums, pleased. His thumb brushes the corner of your mouth, then eases in between the petals of your pink lips. You purse them ever so slightly and watch his self-control start to simmer. The candles burn low around the two of you, the only source of light emanating from the hearth itself. You are reminded of how the shadows flickered on the planes of his face the night of the wedding. Now, you see the same shadows again, but as king.  

“I want you to have something.” He says finally.

He looks reluctant to break his touch from you, but you see his hand disappear within the folds of his robes. He then produces a glittering pendant with a golden chain, a necklace that looks ablaze.

Amber, you realize. 

The surprise that crosses your features is genuine. Baltic amber set into teardrop sterling silver and gold, a gift from Rupert of the Palatinate and the kingdom of Germany. An extraordinary piece.

Hal’s hand finds your waist and you turn to offer him your bare neck, pulse pounding. You have no say, no power to even deny this token of affection. 

His caresses against your skin as he fastens the chain are soft and featherlike and you can feel his breath on the top of your spine. The pendant is heavy, rich with precious stone and gilded metal, settling between the valley of your breasts. It feels cold, but shines like an inferno. 

He lingers, tracing your shoulders when his mouth presses to your ear. 

“Turn. Let me look at you properly.”

When you do, the weight of Germany itself, of foreign and fallen kingdoms and countries, conquered and pillaged and burned, simultaneously settles between the tender skin of your sternum. 

Hal’s eyes cloud with dark delight when he sees the flaming amber. He takes your chin back in hand, angling your face every which way, studying how the firelight glints off the pendant with a sensual curiosity. 

“Beautiful.” He murmurs. 

Your body begins to react on its own accord, chest rising and falling with faster breaths, your cheeks blooming. 

“I thank you, my lord.” 

Still cradling your jaw, he brings himself closer with only a whisper between the two of you. His crimson robes seem to swallow you completely, like the gaping maw of Britain’s lion, a mantle of blood. He speaks into the gap between your mouths, yet you feel every word upon your lips.

“With this gift, I expect to see you more around my court, Lady Grey. Am I understood?” 

The tension he commands is unbearable. He watches you carefully, dark eyelashes fluttering. Trapped like a pinned butterfly. Then, you understand he’s waiting for a verbal response. 

“Yes, my lord.”

He releases you.

The pendant suddenly feels more like a collar. 

You’ve underestimated Hal. He is just as much the player as you.

**

You keep your promise. You see Hal daily in passing, often dressed in full regal attire as he comes from the council chambers, your father, William, and the rest of his train tailing close behind. The twinkle in his eye when he sees you is discreet, reserved only for you. The amber pendant remains fastened around your neck at all hours of the day, even while you sleep and bathe, like fire and ice between your breasts. A piece of Hal always with you. 

The two of you are a queer, twisted pair of sweethearts. You’ve yet to be fully intimate since that wedding night, but the pressure that ripples with every fleeting glance, every grazing touch of lips and skin is enough to prove your attraction for each other. Or rather, the attraction to the game. 

You keep Hal on his toes, never fully give in even when he invites you out for evening strolls in the palace gardens and the safety of darkness envelops you both. It is your nightly ritual to walk the grounds together amongst hushed breezes and chirping crickets, you as a means to unwind before bed, and a way for Hal to clear his mind of the day’s tolling demands. 

And tolling they are. Despite his bravado, he is easily irritable, tense. You listen when he speaks to you plainly about his frustrations for the court and archbishop, how they all expect from him the same swift retaliation of his father. 

You find Hal’s consciousness of this want to break tyranny quite curious. Sons are typical to idolize their fathers and see past faults. It is why you know how cruel kingship has endured in Britain for generations; learned behaviors become expected and change more difficult. You’ve even seen that same behavior in your own brother.

And Hal’s trust in disclosing even this to you is telling. The thread to unravel the boy king.

Tonight, you dare to pull at it, heighten your girlish wiles and offer him a lingering kiss and soft words. You tell him that Christendom is damned and tease that it’s his own fault his council is made up entirely of old, graying men, your father included, when he could have anyone else.   

Hal’s spirits seem to lift a little with a ghost of a smile, understanding you perfectly as his arm snakes around your waist. He pulls you into a secluded labyrinth and settles into the stone seat of a fountain, pulls you atop his lap. The kiss he returns is fierce. 

Without the burn of alcohol to subdue your senses, every touch is intensified tenfold. Hal feels it too, his breath coming ragged as he breaks the kiss to mouth down the skin of your neck, the dip of your collarbone, your chest. His hands wander beneath your skirts.

“It is only polite that I return the favor..” You hear him say.

Your mind is reeling. You knew this moment would eventually come, yet you feel ill-prepared when his fingers brush your core, his other hand gripping the back of your neck. You gasp, finding his lips in another tangled kiss, straddle him completely. 

It’s strange, exhilarating to be on the receiving end of your little game. 

If you are to truly break Hal, you are to first make him believe that he holds any sort of power over you, to reverse that dynamic you had set the night of your brother’s wedding. 

You are to let him touch you. 

And like the flaming sword of Raphael, Hal’s pendant, it is time to finally draw upon your fire. 

You hate how good Hal is at this. He knows just where to caress inside you, the right amount of pressure, the weak spots at your throat and just below your ear. Your competitiveness takes over and you push him back against the fountain, start to circle your hips, grind yourself down on his hand and grip at the rich fabric of his tunic to better anchor yourself. 

His eyes pool with lust with every sigh from your lips, watching you closely. He rolls his thumb, picks up the tempo of his fingers, relishing the sight of you slowly falling apart on top of him.  

But it isn’t enough. You lean in and wrap your arms around his neck. He responds in tandem, gathering you close as you rock against him, the friction of his thighs sending you closer and closer to that threshold of pleasure. 

“Please..I need t-to…” you whisper into his neck, into his mouth. 

Words of magic. Hal’s expression flares with masculine pride, the delight of pleasing a woman. 

The last of the day’s golden hour spills over you both in glowing, peached splendor and with the sound of the fountain’s rushing water as your only witness, you muffle your final moan with a desperate kiss, bliss pulsing behind your eyelids. Hal keeps his fingers where they are, coaxing the last waves of your orgasm out of you, cradling your chin with his other hand as his lips part yours, slipping tongue as you come floating back down to earth.

You’re dazed, flushed, lazily kissing when he removes his fingers. Slick when you suck them into your mouth and taste yourself. The velvet of your tongue makes him shiver.

“Now, what ever are we going to do about your council, my lord?” You murmur once you catch your breath. You gently kiss his fingertips.

Hal only smirks and pulls you to him.

**

Your plan begins to take motion. With each passing month, you worm your way deeper into Hal’s heart with honeyed words and empty promises. He confides in you more and more as he grows wary of his councilmen, trusting only the pretty face he sees in the privacy of his bedchamber each night. Graced against silk pillows. 

You sense the crushing pressure upon him, his own doubts and fears. You slowly leech away his magnetism, his charisma, and take it for yourself. His eyes dim, harden with resolve. Gone is the assurance for peace. Hal instead grows cold, timid, questioning his every move. 

You only burn brighter.  

**

There is talk that a French assassin has breached the castle.

You hear the conversation for yourself when your father and William are called down to the dungeons, hear Hal speaking directly to this assassin as you linger at the top of the stone staircase. 

“Qui êtes vous?”

“J'ai été envoyé par le roi de France pour vous assassiner.”

Hal’s voice is cool, calm as he pries for details. The assassin’s responses are noticeably vague. You infer it to be out of his own self interest. 

Then, nothing. Days go by with no direct action from Hal.

You grind your teeth. War with France would be the perfect fruition of your schemes, the final act in a tragedy deemed to be an epic of British monarchy. War with France would show Europe and the rest of the world the extortion and murder of the English crown; not that these neighboring countries needed such a reminder. But England and her king have been blind for too long.

Previous attempts at quelling war had caused Percy Hotspur to rebel, Prince Thomas of Lancaster to push on and die alone on foreign soil. 

Is Hal not trying to prove himself in this same way? Proving he is not like his father? Just as Thomas had wished for his peers to see him as a commander and better equipped to bear the crown despite being the youngest son, is Hal not guilty of this same charge of public approval? 

And having the privilege to sit idly atop a throne amidst all this makes your blood boil. Idleness is instability, you’ve learned this years ago. 

You will be the one to push Hal to war.

**

You are sewing one afternoon in an empty chamber when the strained voices of your father, Cambridge, and William reach your ears. Hushed and argumentative, it draws you to your feet, possesses you to lean against the frame of the door and just out of sight.

You hear the disgust in your father’s tone when he speaks of the king. The weakness in forgiving France, the lunacy of Hal’s ascension. It amazes you, grips you tight at hearing such passion and loathing; you’ve never heard your father speak this way about anyone, let alone the head of England’s monarchy. Slander and defamation carry swift punishment. 

You learn that he and Cambridge have been approached by French agents. The three men debate quietly as you stand against the door, nearly panting. A coup d'etat? The idea excites you more than it should. But you perish the thought quickly before you can get ahead of yourself.

Why only approach the two of them? Surely to turn England’s people against their ruler, a greater number of conspirators would prove to be more efficient? You know distrust is not uncommon among Hal’s council, so possible traitors would not be hard to find.  

This approach means your father and Cambridge have been judged weak in character by the French. Insecure, lacking, most likely to bend at the knee for candied prospects in exchange for loyalty.

And now as you eavesdrop on your own father, you know Lord Grey does not have faith behind his king and is too afraid to do anything with it. You know that if you had not gathered this knowledge for yourself, you would never have been told so, unseen as all women are expected to be.

These French agents and councilmen think they hold all power with their debates and their meetings in private, oblivious to the fact that it is women who move the world. Women like you, wielding their very sex to push these men as pawns. 

Are men not born into this world by women? Do men not seek a woman’s tender embrace for love and comfort and to carry on long, unbroken lineages of royal blood?

Your own father, as all his peers, are blind to the influence you bear over Hal. Even Hal himself. 

**

You find yourself in the king’s private quarters one cold night, sitting in front of the hearth and watching the crackling, shimmering flames that warm the room. The soft silence is comforting to you as you sit bathed in orange glow, wrapped in furs and waiting for Hal’s return. 

Your mind wanders. You think of the French assassin still held captive in the dungeons beneath your feet, how the man had been granted asylum in exchange for a confession. 

“Quel était le l'ordre?”

“Que je devrais tuer le roi d'Angleterre.”

And with the French approaching Cambridge and your father, it is certain, undeniable that tension is thick and stakes high for all of England. 

You are standing on the very brink of war, standing flush at the edge of a swallowing cliffside with dragging winds and dark, inky waters swirling beneath you down below. Waiting to embrace you, like the jagged shores of St Kilda, the northern shores of Scotland. Calling you home like a siren’s song. 

And Hal only needs one final pull before you both fall together. 

The chamber door opens and the king steps inside. His presence is stormy, like a cold wind blowing into the room. 

He’s dressed handsomely in a navy tunic and dress shirt, a mantle that drapes over his burdened shoulders. Yet, his hair is mussed and disheveled and you can see the tightness around his eyes. His once youthful glow now gone, but a sharpness to him that you think resembles a pike; diligent, wary, and still capable of hurting you if you’re not careful.

You pretend to quickly wipe away tears before you stand to greet him. Hal sees this and his brows draw together in concern, further contorting his expression into one of pain. He comes to the fireside.

“Good evening, my king,” you say as he takes your hands.

“What upsets you so?” he asks you directly. His voice is strained, sets your pulse aflutter more than it should. You give a small, breathless smile, a shake of your head.

“Nothing of your concern, just innocuous thoughts, my lord. Let us go to bed.” 

But you do not move in the direction of the luxurious canopied bed, one you have grown intimately familiar with. You stay exactly where you are and let Hal’s mind race.

His fingers grip your chin and when you meet his eyes, they’re bold and smoldering, the first touch of life in them you’ve seen for sometime. His grasp is strong and a muscle ticks in his jaw.

“Speak freely to me. Please,” he whispers. “Of all people. My dear, speak true.” The last word falls like a plea from his lips. You suppose it is one as he pulls you closer. A boy desperate for truth, constricted and poisoned by a council of vipers.

Unknowingly turning to the girl with the pretty mouth as she pours poison into his ear. 

At this, you bite your lips and summon tears that spill forth, pool your vision. You let the familiar sensations take over, the shortness of breath, the depleted posture, and pretty soon you’re trembling, weeping in Hal’s arms.  

“This assassin. It frightens me,” you say finally, broken. “If he had fulfilled his order and taken you from me, left me here all alone…oh, Hal. I’m so afraid.” 

His thumb circles your cheek, silent. You sense that dangerous cocktail of anger and darkness simmering just beneath his skin. Anger at the world, anger reserved for his dead father.

“France means to have you killed, Hal. Then what of us?”

Us? England?

Tears drip down your neck and onto your rising chest. Where you’ve left the first clasp of your blouse carefully unbuttoned. You press yourself to him ever so slightly, look up through tear-soaked eyelashes and embered iresis. 

“Then what of me?” you whisper.

Hal’s lips are crushing against yours. You feel every ounce of his anguish, every bit of tension wound tight in his frame, every doubt, every fear. You feel the restraint as he cradles the back of your neck, his other hand finding your waist as he pushes you flush against him. The dichotomy to feel love, to feel comfort and safety and to relieve and dispel just a hint of the pressure building inside him. The dichotomy to conquer, the urge to channel this animosity in a way he must be familiar, to ravish you completely. 

With your bosom rising and falling so sweetly, eyes glittering with tears, looking almost divine with firelight circling the shine of your hair in a golden halo, you watch Hal’s walls collapse. You let him succumb to that mirage of safety and warmth, to ease his conscience. You will both get what you want, eventually. 

You break apart to kiss the line of his throat, his pulsepoint, where you know he’s weakest. Hal gasps as you thread your fingers through his curls, bring your lips to his ear in a soft lull.

“May I have you tonight, my king? Completely?”

His response is immediate, yet wordless when he tilts back his head and feels your mouth against his jugular, the hand at your waist tightening. 

At last, you lead him to the bed with the intent of christening it. 

He pulls you atop him, helps you unthread the bodice of your nightgown. Despite the blazing fire behind you, the air chills your shoulders, your chest as you slowly expose more and more skin, finally letting the thin fabric pool around your waist. The feel of his bare hands cupping your body fuels you, act as your catalyst. Soft, firm. 

The amber necklace swings like a golden pendulum when you stoop to kiss him again, his fingers ghosting over the skin of your back. Hal’s desires are plainly stated as you feel him harden against your inner thigh.

There is no time for coy deception tonight. You make quick work of his tunic, leave his trousers and instead unfasten and pull him through, positioning where he wants you most. Hal is already nearly panting.

You arch as he settles inside you, a biting stretch that has both of you sighing when you bury yourself into the crook of his neck. Something long-awaited. You stomach the discomforting pressure and set a rhythm, one that has Hal cursing into your hair.

“You must protect the women of England, my lord,” you whisper. “Who will do so if you are gone?” You punctuate your point with a well-timed swivel of your hips and Hal moans low and guttural. “Your wives and children. Can you protect me?”

Hal’s arms wrap around you, nearly choking on pleasure. “I will. Anything for you. Please...” 

Unseen by him, you grin. You can practically hear the crashing ocean waves, to feel the quench of water at long last! You think you could make him do anything in this moment with how enthralled he is in bliss. 

You sit back and Hal’s hands glide over the smooth expanse of your stomach, watching his eyes grow dark, the amber pendant swinging between the two of you. The discomfort in your belly is gone and you start to mirror Hal’s pleasure, head falling back, sighs growing louder. 

And as the two of you finally fall from the cliffside and towards the waiting waters, Hal gives a soft cry, vision rolling and you feel his heat spill onto your inner thigh. You kiss him until the strength drains from his body, a true succubus as Hal at last descends into sleep, relaxed. 

You have the king’s word. 

**

You awaken the next morning to find the bed empty and cold. Surprised, you dress alone and return to your chambers to call for your breakfast. When you send for your father to share his company, the servant returns and tells you Lord Grey is currently engaged and his presence cannot be requested.

“A meeting, you mean?” You ask the servant rather crossly. Why must everyone speak to you in riddles? You obviously did not sleep much the night before and had trouble long after Hal had finished, like a slumbering babe beside you. Typical.

Your mood sours further in that you won’t be able to share this meal with your father. You despise spending mornings in solitude. It seems like it’s been ages since you’ve last seen each other in private, with no councilmen lurking about.

“No, my lady,” the servant stammers slightly, the words stumbling out of his mouth. “Lord Grey is condemned and is forbidden from taking meals before tomorrow morning.”

“What?” You growl at his vagueness. Your anger and irritation rise hot and fast and you’re tempted to hurl the glass cup of strawberries at this blubbering young fool. 

“Lord Grey and Cambridge await execution tomorrow morning for treason, by order of the king.” 

Your world stops. You send the servant away with a ghost of a whisper.

When the door snaps shut, you laugh mournfully. So the gossip had come to naught. Hal had indeed kept his word. Your stomach turns in nausea. Food is suddenly the last thing on your mind.

You rush to your writing desk, overturning bottles of ink, hands shaking when you retrieve quill and parchment, attempt to pen a desperate letter to Callum with a fevered hand. But before you can draft a single sentence, your blood turns cold.

You have not heard from your brother, from Isabelle in weeks. Have your worst fears already come true?

Glass and fruit explode against the far wall.

You tear out of the room like a bloodied banshee in search of Hal, fingers tinted crimson from cut glass and mashed berries. 

And if thy right hand offend thee, cut it off, and

cast it from thee: for it is profitable for thee

that one of thy members should perish, and not

that thy whole body should be cast into hell.

One of Miss Hunt’s chosen passages from the book of Matthew comes crashing into your mind. You are like Eve, you think. Bearing the burden of Original Sin with lust and curiosity. You have tasted the fruit and have seen the evils of mankind. Never in your wildest dreams could you have imagined your plan backfiring so horribly. 

Now, hellfire awaits your father, for you when you draw your final breath your last day on this earth. Suddenly seeming to loom that much closer. 

You approach Hal like Samuel’s ghost did to King Saul on the eve of war, the Philistines instead of the French. Interchangeable, cycles of warfare that have dawned for milenia and will continue until the end of time.  

He looks terrifying, colder and more severe than you’ve ever seen, outfitted in those horrible blood red robes that one coronation dinner long ago you had once thought he looked becoming. 

You know with one wrong word you could be joining the two men to die at first light. Your mind races. 

“My lord, to think my own father had been plotting against you sickens me,” you speak slowly. The sentence stings like venom in your mouth, damning your father. Hellfire burns brighter. But it is the only way you can protect yourself. Your grisly appearance, your quick breaths, it is all to sell your story. “May I accompany you tomorrow morning as witness?”

Hal’s lips twist into a hint of a smile, the shadow of his former self. “Of course, my dear. Lord Grey may have failed his fatherly duties as protector, but I will not.” 

**

And so, with your hands wrapped in fresh bandages and stitchings, you stand in a courtyard with wind whipping around you, the only Christian woman among councilmen and knights as you watch your father lay his head upon the chopping block. His hair has been shaved off to ensure the killing blow will be swift and true. Shivering, pale, and damp with sweat, he looks like a ghost. Soon, he will be one. You want him to see you in these final moments, for him to know that you will utterly destroy this king, but you cannot risk the danger. 

Like the coronation, Latin prayers are recited, only this time they are prayers for your father and father-in-law to find peace in the afterlife. The last time you, Hal, Cambridge, and your father had shared company like this had been at the wedding. You know now that Callum and Isabel are truly dead. In the blink of an eye, Hal has slaughtered your entire family.

Weary, resilient Scotland.

You do not cry. You must show your loyalty.

“Requiescat in pace.”

Weak, fragile as Lord Grey starts to whimper aloud. No daughter should see their father, their protector through girlhood, like this. 

The axe glimmers in the sunlight and is brought down with deadly precision. Your father’s head rolls grotesquely off of his shoulders in a wet gurgle. His body is shoved aside and Cambridge is pushed onto the block next, now slick with fresh blood. 

Neither you nor Hal flinch.

**

You are now fatherless, Hal, kinless when you enter the neighboring chapel alone. You sit in the first pew respectfully, head bowed as Hal crosses himself and kneels before the altar. With his back to you, you study the firm line of his spine, his clasped hands with the beaded rosary held firmly between. Unmoving, statuesque. He prays for a long time.

Thou shalt not kill. 

You wonder if God is so forgiving.

The images of angels, of Mary and Joseph and flawless purity are what drive you to march up to Hal and kiss him hard. He hums in surprise, brows furrowed, the pressure behind his mouth mirroring yours when you grip the back of his head.

You want to kill him the same way he had murdered your father. But you settle with digging your fingers into the back of his neck and relishing in the way he hisses against your lips. You fumble blindly with the fastening of his trousers.

“What are you doing?” he growls.

“Shut up.” You bite back.

You’ve never been afraid of Hal before today, you’ve had no reason to be. You’ve been so careful to build the reputation and the facade he sees, using words and sex to push him like the chesspiece you had thought him to be. And he’d pushed right back.

You want to hurt him in the only way you can.

He cries out when you suck him into your mouth with teeth and harsh pressure. You’re anything but gentle, taking him as far as you can so that you’re choking and Hal is grunting and pulling at your hair and the lewd sounds of your lips and tongue echo to the tops of the vaulted ceiling. 

You’ve both lost family today. You are both selfish and full of quiet rage. The consequence of Hal’s choice is evident in how hard and wet you mold your mouth around him, how his hand tightens and pushes you farther down, wordlessly ordering you to finish him off in this holy church.

Like Christ Himself with bandaged hands, you twist and work at whatever you cannot fit between your lips. His hips snap forward, tears collecting at the corners of your eyes with burning throat, your scalp stinging from where he yanks back your hair, your linen caul disheveled. Saliva dribbles out of your mouth.

When his moans grow high and desperate, you take him out of your mouth and Hal’s release splatters white on the skin of your cheek, mouth still agape. He slumps forward on his knees, panting, as if still in prayer. The rosary dangles between his fingers. 

Thou shalt not commit adultery. 

The cross looms before you, silhouetted by candlelight. It is too much and you turn away.

**

If the change in Hal’s nature had not already been felt by all, it is seen in his dress. No longer does he donn the regalia of red cape and sceptre, but dark tunics and jackets that fit snug over the expanse of his chest. No more are the billowing robes, now replaced with tight military clothing and jackboots. A captain preparing for battle.

Hal recruits John Falstaff and countless other marshals for his campaign. It’s truly happening, you think. France will soon feel the wrath of England as your homeland and countless other countries have. 

The amber necklace sparkles.

Tomorrow, Hal sets sail across the English Channel. Another crusade to add to the Hundred Years’ War. You wonder if French women are just as lustrous as the rumors suggest. 

This is the last night you will be together like this for some time. The thought of Hal with another woman makes you quicken the hand you have around him and he gasps into your chest, spilling onto your thigh like that wedding night centuries ago. You’ve already made love countless times tonight, your bodies fitting together because it is only natural for two corrupt souls to find solace in the other. 

Masquerading with voice and poise. A boy from Eastcheap and a Scottish girl. 

As Hal shudders against you, kissing your throat and twining his fingers into your hair, he tells you he loves you.

You think you may love him too, in that twisted way of how fire craves oxygen. You need each other to fuel chaos. 

You understand better than anyone the burden of a child forced to grow up, the weight of decisions and the toll it takes. Only the strong can endure such hardship, only the strong can triumph and come out on top. It has been so forever, a law as old as the world. 

 The speed at which Hal is already hard again makes you chuckle darkly. He pins you to the bed, hovering, eyes bearing into you before he enters you just the same.

“You were made to be beneath me,” he rasps, gripping your face with a single hand. His eyes glitter in the low light. The double entendre of his words make you rake your fingernails down his back in angry lines of red. He sucks a bite into the skin of your collarbone. 

 You know that when Hal returns from France, he will no longer be yours. He will be changed, most likely to marry a foreign princess to ensure peace. You think of Isabel and how she had evidently been the one to put you in this position of status, how a marriage is a man’s means to gain power. A law as old as the world. 

Do you want him to be yours? The same way the English crown has raped and pillaged for the thrill of conquering the barbaric? A trophy? A prized kill? Still, the thought makes you bitter.

You say you love him back when he finds the spot below your ear, pushes your legs apart to drive into you that much harder.

There’s a bit of you that prays he will be victorious, that he will return to England and be yours again. But even if your paths do not cross in the future, you know you will see him again where the flames grow hot. Be that in his chambers or down below. 

#timothee chalamet #timothée chamalet #the king #timothee x reader #timothee chalamet x reader #timothee chalamet imagine #henry v #king henry #king henry v #prince hal #prince henry #the king 2019 #imagines #hal #king henry v x reader #henry v x reader #timothe chalamet #timothee chalamet fanfic #timothee chalamet x you #timothee chalamet x smut

[sugasugawarau]

Synopsis: You knew that Kageyama Tobio was not your soulmate - and that was why you could not help but succumb to the waves that lulled you away from the shores of fate + semi inspired by Eyes Blue like the Atlantic by sistaprod ft. Subvrbs. Also part of @yacoka‘s collab <3 (2.4k words)

Warnings/notes: Some angst near the end, soulmate red string au, gender neutral reader. No beta we die like Rex Lapis so if I ever feel like it this may be edited at some point asdahdhj idk LMAO

— Prologue

There are as many reasons to fall in love with Kageyama Tobio as there are fractals made by the ocean’s breath as the world inhales and exhales, flourishes and wilts, conquers and surrenders. It would not even be a hyperbole to say that in number, they remain unrivalled to the plethora of stars that stain the waves with their reflection and run deeper than the scars of lightyears that paint lines from Cassiopeia to Aquila.

After all, he is the darkest hue of navy blue.

Determination that moves in an orchestra of thundering waves, brandishing on its crest an admirable recklessness, heeding not for the need to call upon courage or confidence; polished instinct that endued one with the same awestruck feeling when facing the beautifully suffocating obscurity of their life in this world, a mixture of raw fear and the need to impart a piece of their soul in everything they do despite how fragile the skin shielding their heart is.

But the best part of loving Kageyama was that you were not - or will ever become - destined to be.

— Shoreline

Red.

It was a word that was always thrown about in conversations, the fuel to the catastrophes that were high school gossip chains, and the colour that held the mangled passion of the string of fate. Garishly predestined and easily tangled by unnecessary complications of jealousy and confusion, it is needless to say that you hated red with more passion than the love it emptily promises with a title as shallow as soulmates.

That was not to say you despised love. There was nothing wrong with love itself, a fact which you had decided firmly since the spry age of four years old. What was wrong was its combination with soulmates: a rigid formula, nothing like the walks with your grandmother on the bright summer roads littered with flowers as her calloused palm gently guided you, or the laughter you shared with your friends after a long run in the rain, hugging each other goodbye at the end of the day despite the muddy battle scars covering your arms and legs from falling countless times.

Your mind could have kept you engaged in your internal debate for longer if you were left to your own devices, but an awkward cough and the sound of a desk shifting towards your right brought you out of your reverie, bringing your drifting thoughts back to the classroom surrounding you.

Perhaps your look of confusion came off as hostile, for the dark-haired boy now sitting next to you looked at you with a slight glare that felt forced, an automatic effort to defend himself.

His tone of voice only confirmed your unconsciously off-putting expression as he gruffly stated, “Group project.” to explain his sudden presence.

“Oh. What’s the topic on?”

An awkward silence had ensued while you tried to calmly collect yourself by gathering a handful of pens from your pencil case after being caught in your heinous crime of not paying attention to your English teacher.

“You don’t know?” Came his reply, causing you to occupy yourself by finding extreme interest in a lime green highlighter you did not have any recollection of ever buying.

“Well, I clearly wasn’t paying attention.”

“You… weren’t?” The slight intonation in his tone was a stark contrast to your initial impression of him and caused you to look up at him, almost letting out an amused snort at his befuddled frown to which he furrowed his brows and shot a challenging “What?” in return. Realizing that he was genuine in believing that you were deep in thought over the lesson, a burst of laughter blossomed past your lips, attracting a few odd looks from your nearby peers and an abashed glare from him.

You paused to take a breath, a repetition of sorries stumbling their way out to appease the onslaught of nagging you thought would follow shortly. Instead, all the boy muttered was a simple, “You’re weird.”

“Sure, but that’s beside the point - were you paying any attention?”

“No.”

Seeing your face contorted to stop yet another bout of laughter to roam its way into the world as a result of his bluntness, he shot out of his seat and announced that he would go ask the teacher, unable to hide his puzzlement as he walked away. He would come to regret this decision when the teacher began to lecture him, earning more heads to turn his way as she scolded him before sending him off dismissively with a sticky note that you assumed had your now long-awaited topic.

Before you could thank him for enduring what could only be one of the worst things to experience as a high school student, he wordlessly handed the piece of paper to you and sat down.

“Kageyama, right? With this project, you’ll have me to thank for the A we’ll get,” you promised confidently, to which he responded with a halfhearted “Good luck.”

If he had been a close friend, you would have taken the small textbook on his desk and gently hit his head at his evident lack of belief in his capabilities, but settled for a clipped sigh instead. After all, you did not want to further contribute to the premature wrinkles Kageyama was making himself prone to with all of the brow-furrowing he did.

This is going to be one long month.

— Largo

Like how the ocean reluctantly caresses the sleeping shore as it wakes from its slumber during low tide, your lives slowly flowed together.

During the first week of your group project with him, he would greet you curtly, and on a few occasions, you would have short conversations about the outline of your book review.

And this singular week was enough to show that there was some (okay, maybe a lot) of backing behind the teacher’s warning about Kageyama’s dismal grade.

While you flipped through A Midsummer Night’s Dream, you would catch the all-too-familiar confusion on his face - it was written on his features so blatantly that it was almost comical, as if taken straight out of a shonen manga.

“You know if you’re stuck you can ask me for help.”

A slight scowl greeted you over the hedge of pages he had been burying himself in, followed by a biting, “Who said I need help?”

You could only roll your eyes in return.

“Please drop the prideful act. You've been glazing over the same page for about twenty minutes now."

After a few seconds of grumbling did he finally comply, and with your explanations, his bookmark was now comfortably sandwiched between the double-digit page numbers right as the bell rang. You hummed in satisfaction before returning your desk to your original spot, expecting him to rush out along with everyone else - so to turn around and see him still standing there was a bit of a surprise.

“Did you still need help with the last few lines?” You settled on asking, not really wanting to plague your break with work but offering nonetheless. Thankfully, he shot a look of disdain at the play as he stuffed it away haphazardly in his bag.

“No, I just wanted to,” he trailed off a bit, the tinge of red on his ears an out-of-character detail you decided not to comment on, “to say thanks, I guess.”

You smiled softly at the unexpected gesture of appreciation before giving him a teasing nudge which he stiffened slightly at.

“Well, I can’t have you bringing down my mark now can I?”

“Nevermind, I take it back.”

“Too bad, I have those words of gratitude stored nicely in my hippocampus already.”

From there, tutoring sessions with Kageyama became the norm, with you sometimes asking about his volleyball team after he had let slip that you were a better teacher than Tsukishima (something you would be sure to smugly share if you ever met the infamous middle blocker).

By the end of the month, all of the hard work - and a couple of all-nighters due to procrastination - brought forth an A as you had promised.

Even your relentless teasing, varying between “I told you so!” to “You owe me at least three meat buns now” which were all met with an annoyed “Shut up”was not enough to dim the smile he tried to hide.

— High tide

With the force of nature, the tide rose without warning; from goodnight texts to confessing to the first “I love you” uttered shyly between shameless souls, neither of you was sure where things began, but found comfort in such liberating chaos.

In times where he needed to be held, you were there, and the insecurities you would hide, he would turn beautiful. And today happened to be a day for both as you stared absentmindedly at his bedroom ceiling.

“Hey Tobio, what’s your take on soulmates?”

“We’ve been together for almost a year now, what do you think?” he put his phone down and turned towards you, “I could care less about soulmates or whatever else is worrying you enough to make your overthinking go into overdrive.”

“Rude, have some respect, it’s my profession after all,” you shoved him playfully as he snorted in reply, “It’s just... If your string ever appeared, wouldn't you rather-”

“Listen Y/n, did you know that I’m scared of dying but I’m even more terrified of the thought of living without you? I could never and don’t ever want to replace you. People can talk all they want, if I could find a love like ours without something as stupid as a piece of string then I don’t need a soulmate.”

“Really?”

With a flick to your forehead, he huffed in fake exasperation. “Really.”

“Huh, who knew you could be so romantic.”

“It's not romantic, I'm just being honest, idiot.”

“You sure could make do with some more lessons on manners and social tact. It's too bad you can't pick up on those as well as volleyball drills.”

Before he could retaliate, you enveloped him in a familiar embrace, burrowing your face into the large hoodie he donned.

It was effortless, his company.

— Ebbing away

But it wasn’t all romantic.

You fiddled with your phone as you waited for any sign that Kageyama had seen your messages, the pack of meat buns you had bought on a whim no longer letting off their fragrant steam. You knew he had an important match coming up against Seijoh, that he had to prove himself, that he lives hungrily and foolishly like no other. But his missing presence went beyond volleyball practice, keeping his distance from you even when he was right by your side.

Why am I stuck reminiscing about the past when we still have each other?

Why does every step I take towards him feel as if I’m only drawing myself farther away from him?

A carousel of rhetorical questions spun around your head as you stopped your slow pace towards Karasuno. You were not blind; you knew the rumours and dirty looks from your classmates were not something anyone could be immune to, that he tried his best to spend less time around you at school. The only conclusion you could reach was that he was ashamed: either of you, or the fact that he had begun to see his red string and could not bring himself to face you.

Ignoring the urge to let yourself cry, you glanced down at your phone once more, 8:30PM flashed across your eyes, followed by your empty notifications. There was no way he’d still be practicing at the school now and even if he was, you doubted he would be happy to see you. Maybe - no, definitely - it would be better to head home, and maybe stop by the convenience store you had bought the now misshapen meat buns from to get some tea and call it a night.

If only fate did not reciprocate your hatred towards it.

Stepping into the small store, the first person you are greeted with is none other than Kageyama Tobio. The whole situation was like a fever dream, and you would do anything to be able to let out a laugh and have him call you weird all over again. But all you could bring yourself to do was blearily stare at him.

He turned around quickly, as if not wanting to be caught before ushering you outside. “Y/n? Why are you here?” he hissed, a stiffness that he had recently adopted to his body language that you were now all too familiar with.

“What? Am I not allowed to go into any and all convenience stores I please?” You challenged, a part of you waiting for him to care enough to see how tired you were, to actually look you in the eyes for the first time in weeks.

He did not, opting to turn his head towards the door again.

“It’s not that, it’s just-”

“Just what? Tobio, what is up with you lately?” A pause ensued, broken by a small hiccup as your eyes dampened - God, how much more pathetic could you get than crying in front of some dingy convenience store - “Do you even love me anymore?”

How odd. You thought that by finally uttering the final question that had been dancing around your mind free to the world, you would feel better. That he would reassure you, as he always had.

Not that he would at last meet your gaze, grabbing your hand to look at the red string wrapped around your ring finger.

The taste of tears and Kageyama’s eyes as blue as the Atlantic all felt miles away from you as an orange-haired boy stepped out of the store, his mouth dropping into an o-shape when he saw that his string led to you, a disheveled mess arguing with his teammate.

“Kageyama…You knew? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I didn’t want to face the reality of it all. Because I was afraid of losing you.”

“But I wouldn’t leave you-”

“I know you wouldn’t but you should!” Kageyama’s furrowed brows, once a quirk of his that you were fond of, now elicited a sick turmoil in your stomach, “You have to. Please.”

You wanted to yell at him, let the blood pour out of any and all raw words of anger and hurt.

Who was he to decide what was good for you, to throw you at some boy you never met before, to give up?

Then again, you could never say you would not have done the same for him if you knew he had found his soulmate despite the sweet words he had told you so long ago.

So you let yourself go. For his sake.

#kageyama x reader #kageyama tobio x reader #kageyama x y/n #kageyama x you #haikyuu x reader

[vialdovi-artstuff]

some bad photos  and stupid ideas of team dark 

long story short-i got this idea/au where shadow/team dark are fighting against a big meanie,evil god,alien,whateever, proably mephiles ha and shadow inhibitors just break and his anatomy go funky and he transforms in some sort of ´´adult version of him ´´, he cant stay as a sonic clone all his life so his biology just go fuck you, you arent a moebian hedgehog my dude and he gets to be bigger now and flufflier, he also transform in some kind of slime/tentacle black doom look alike monster but that is before this, negative energy and fear affects him the same way the chaos emerald do, the big ass tail come from the biolizard

ok now he is adult he also has more of a fashion sense that he picked up from rouge but more minimalist and sadly he cant skate anymore since his shoes just break and he is way too tired and big to do that,dont be sad for him he can teleport anywhere he wants to lmao,he also has only part of his rings that he uses are  under his wrists

in personality he is way more mature and nihilist but in some weird groovy kind of way,he makes mistakes, take bad and good decisions as everyone, he is just a very conflicted mf but also has good intentions even if he is scary sometimes 

now with rouge and omega,they are brothers,like absolutely found family trope, think of we bare bears,they are these kind of brothers that make pranks and insult eachother but wont hesitate to to help the other even on the smallest problems or that will totally hear  them ramble about some shit at 3am , funny thing is that both rouge and shadow think of themselves as a the older one while the others are the younger,both are aware that omega is baby tho 

as for rouge outfit, i wanted to giver some really feminine comfy classy sport clothes so she can steal all the jewels she wants and be comfy about it but also cute.

now my most important hc about them ... is that the 3 of them are absolute idiots when it comes to cooking and eat like shit, like for example;rouge is just a bad cook, is either raw or burned with her,even her coffee tastes like oil,she is just inept when it comes to this 

shadow burned one of their hideouts once trying to use a microwave,there is some much things to learn about food that he gets overhelmed and nerveous.poor dude woke up tried to destroy the world,change his mind ,found his alien dad,kill him and sonic is constantly nagging him about races that food is the last thing that crossed his mind but despite all of that and the fact that he doesnt need to eat he still tries and eat everything bc he actually likes to eat so he taste any shit he finds ,rouge once found him eating a bag of salt 

omega is curious with food and since his brothers are bags of meat he thinks they absolutely need all the food in the world so he tries to cook but he doesnt have the taste sense,he tried to cook rocks once...

so that is my stupid novel about these anthro animals,idk team dark is just the best and i wish sega would do more with them...

they also squat like a pair of russian fellas while drinking some coca cola or the sonic equivalent of coca cola 

#my art #sth #sonic #sonic the hedgehog #shadow the hedgehog #rouge the bat #e 123 omega #team dark #doodles #doodle dump #art #artists on tumblr #a stupid novel by me #bitches do some nostalgia content from their childhood to cope #im bitches #they are my fave from sonic tho and they deserved the best #i could do some digital ones later idk #im sorry omega i love u but are a pain in the ass to draw

[stargazer-balladeer]

venti dating a dumbass. just, raw hardcore stupidity. eating rocks, eating an onion like an apple, and general very dumbass shit. its not that their not intelligent- they just don't have the braincells to not cause chaos.

venti just- JOINING IN- the dumbasses are at it again

Lmao- 🤣 you two have one braincell— imagine diluc’s face when he sees you two eating rocks and doing all that- he’s go “nope” and walks away-

#anon.txt #anon.imagines #lily.imagines #simping for venti

[lveclouds]

a/n: an atla au that i’ve been planning to write about for a while hehe and i apologize that this oneshot  jumps around a lot (oops) and it is slightly different from the actual show and wow this is the longest thing i’ve ever written lmao and this is very much raw and unedited so if there are any mistakes, that’s on me fklkflkf

genre: fluff, angst, enemies to lovers, forbidden love, doomed love 

rating: pg-15 (see tw)  (i’ve bolded them so they are easier to see) 

word count: 5.4k 

pairing: avatar! reader x firebender yoongi

warnings: a bit of violence, (it’s nothing graphic), light swearing, mentions of family death (very brief and doesn’t go into much detail), mentions of blood (very brief), a nightmare sequence, major character deaths (nothing  too graphic or super violent)

summary: you were supposed to hate min yoongi. after all, he was from the fire nation, and their people were responsible for the chaos that had divided the four nations all those years ago, and for the death of your family. however, no matter how many times you fought, and no matter how many times he got under your skin, you eventually caught feelings, and now the two of you were in a relationship that was never meant to happen. and now, you, along with yoongi, have to face the consequences. 

disclaimer: i own none nothing related to atla (the story, setting, etc) all rights go to nickelodeon and michael dante dimartino, the main creator of this amazing show.  also, originally, the cooling chamber is used for prisoners who dare to step out of line while imprisoned on boiling rock, and they are only rendered unable to bend for a full week. however, i decided to change it because i don’t want to make their deaths too graphic or violent or disturbing, as the show barely has anything like that and i do not want to disturb my readers. 

“he was like fire, and i like water, and we often clashed, but somehow, we managed to fall in love. however, because we fell in love, a grave punishment awaited us, one that would haunt us for the rest of our lives.” 

prologue

min yoongi. the mere mention of his name was enough to make your blood boil and your insides churn with anger and hatred. he was arrogant, hot-headed, and worst of all, infuriatingly gorgeous. messy, raven hair that fell into his eyes, which were dark and piercing, pink lips that always curved into that irritating smirk you despised, perfect cheekbones, a chiseled jaw, and the long scar on his left eye, which would’ve made anyone else look terrifying, but somehow, it only made yoongi even more attractive than he already was, which deeply vexed you. he was from the fire nation, whom you hated with all your heart. they were responsible for the death of your family all those years ago, when you were just a little girl who didn’t know the complexities of the world, nor did you know that you would one day be the one to put an end to the all the slaughter and turmoil. you remembered the day they invaded your village all too well. you had been helping your mom prepare dinner, when, all of a sudden, loud shouts pierced the air, and you heard the crackle of fire and heavy footsteps making their way onto the shore. your father, already armed with his armor and scimitar, rushed outside, yelling over his shoulder for your mom to protect you and your brother. your mother, who was firm and loving above all things, calmly instructed for you and your brother to slip out of the tent if things went bad, to which you agreed to, despite being deathly terrified of what was going to happen. before you knew it, the flap of your tent was blown open, and you felt a rush of warm air wash over you, and you clapped a hand over your mouth, holding back a terrified scream as two fire nation soldiers barged in, mouths twisted in evil smirks. they grabbed your mother roughly by the wrist, who put up to resistance as they dragged her away, and you felt tears fill your eyes. to your horror, your brother, who was only eight years old, ran after your mother, who was looking at him with tears running down her cheeks, silently pleading him to go back inside. her attempt was in vain, as your brother persisted, desperate screams escaping his throat, and you were frozen in the corner, tears freely falling down your face, watching, petrified, as your kind and outgoing and brave brother was dragged away, possibly to his death. after you had managed to calm down, you quickly gathered all you had, which was nothing much, just a water skin that your grandmother had gifted you before she died. despite it being nothing too significant, you still held it dear to your heart. somehow, you had managed to escape, quietly hiding behind ruins of igloos and tents, and escaped onto a boat, not daring to look back at the destruction that the fire nation had caused. and, as you let the boat carry you away, you clutched the water skin to your chest and cried. 

(fin.) 

fast forward ten years later, and you were now eighteen, and you had traveled all around the four nations, being sure to avoid the fire nation at all costs. within the ten years that you had traveled, alone and unarmed, you had managed to discover something: you were the avatar, the one person who would be responsible for stopping the war between the four nations and the only one capable enough to stop the fire nation and their scheme to take over the entire world. at first, you didn’t want to believe it, for you were a poor girl who grew up in a small village in the southern water tribe, and as far as you knew, none of your ancestors were avatars, at least, or so you thought. turns out, your great great grandmother had been a past avatar, a very powerful one at that. you hated to admit it, but you were terrified. after all, being the avatar wasn’t going to be easy, and, to top it all off, you had to save the world from absolute peril. granted, you weren’t exactly experienced in the whole “avatar” thing, but you were willing to try. and, so far, you had been able to improve your waterbending, and had mastered earthbending. now, you were working on your airbending, studying scrolls you had picked up while exploring an abandoned air nomad temple. you were currently staying at a small inn located in a remote village in the earth kingdom, training nearly every day. however, you found it difficult to concentrate, for thoughts of min yoongi popped into your mind, which greatly irritated you. you had had only a few encounters with the arrogant prince to be, but you had come to despise him. you hated the fact that you thought of him, for you could just imagine that stupid smirk on his face if he found out, and for heavens sake, you hoped it would stay that way. every fight you two had made your blood boil, and the sarcastic remarks and teasing only deepened your hatred. you vowed to never fall for an arrogant asshole like him, nor would you ever consider giving up anything for yoongi, not a chance. little did you know that three years  later, you loving yoongi would be your greatest downfall. 

yoongi gritted his teeth in annoyance at the trembling servant before him, trying not to get irritated at his cowardice. “speak.” he grumbled, letting out an exasperated sigh. “i-i ‘m s-sorry your highness, i-i didn’t mean to tell your sister about the a-avatar. i-it just-” it just what?” “i-it was a mistake, your highness.” yoongi sighed. he was exhausted from the countless meeting his father forced him to attend that day, and he didn’t have the energy to deal with such a fool of a servant. “whatever, just don’t let it happen again,now, get out of my sight.” yoongi muttered, waving his hand absentmindedly. the servant nodded, frantically getting up, sputtering out apologies and nearly tripping over his own feet as he exited his bedroom. yoongi groaned in annoyance as he hopped down from the chair he’d been sitting on, stretching out his weak limbs. the meetings had been quite tiring, and yoongi thought he was going to insane from listening to incompetent men ramble on and on about pointless war strategies. ok, yoongi knew that coming up with war strategies wasn’t easy and they were doing their best, but none of the strategies they come up with have succeeded, and yoongi was starting to lose faith in them. yoongi knew he could be a bit hotheaded and a bit arrogant and selfish at times, but he wasn’t heartless, and deep down, he knew that the men were just trying to help with the crisis that was plaguing the world. yoongi sighed and plopped down onto his bed, closing his eyes. he was so tired to the point where he couldn’t even be bothered to get under the covers, and soon sleep came over him, covering him like a blanket. 

y/n scowled, clenching her fists together tightly, her dark eyes full of anger and spite. her beautiful face was bloody and a long scratch was on her forearm, but she didn’t seem to notice. yoongi had been thrown off to the side, clutching his arm awkwardly, and there were smudges of dirt and blood on his face, and his body felt like it was being stabbed with a thousand needles, but all he could focus on was y/n, facing off against the fire lord, rage ablaze in her eyes. the fire lord gave her a once over and sneered. “so, you’re the so called avatar? heh. you look weak, and definitely not enough to defeat me.” y/n’s scowl only deepened, and yoongi could see the ember of a flame kindling in her now open palm, illuminating her features in a orange and red glow. “you killed my family, didn’t you?” she hissed, the flame in her hand getting stronger, sparks flying in the air. the fire lord let out a dark, heartless chuckle. “oh, you mean the powerless and pathetic waterbenders who didn’t even try to put up a fight? ah, well, if you must be so curious, i did kill them. they were imprisoned for a while, and i ordered my soldiers to starve them, and when i got tired of keeping them alive, i took their lives with my own hands.” yoongi stared in horror as the flame in y/n’s hands got bigger and bigger, and her dark eyes glowed with fury, a strong wind lifting her up in the air, and she was now a blue streak against the dark sky. when she spoke again, her voice wasn’t normal, it was almost as if she had been possessed, and that’s when yoongi realized: she had entered the avatar state. suddenly, a fight broke out, and yoongi shielded his eyes from the debris and the smoke that was heading his way, struggling to see. and, when the smoke finally cleared, yoongi’s heart felt as if had been ripped out of his chest. his father was dead, lying in an awkward heap on the ground, and a few feet away lay y/n, her blue dress tattered and torn, her body lifeless. yoongi held back a scream as he crawled over to her body, fighting back tears. her dark hair was messy and strands fell over her face, and with shaking hands, yoongi reached out to brush them away, there were scratches and bruises covering her arms and legs, and the cut on her arm had gotten worse, and then he noticed the piece of metal in her chest, blood pouring out of the wound. yoongi finally let the tears fall, grasping hold of her now cold hands, letting his emotions pour out of him like a waterfall. 

yoongi shot up, his brow coated with sweat, breathing heavily. his heart was beating wildly in his chest, and he felt as if his ears were ringing. over the past few weeks, he had been having recurring dreams of y/n dying in different ways, and he couldn’t understand why. why was he, out of all people, having dreams of her dying over and over again? why? he scowled and wiped away the sweat with the back of his hand. “this makes absolutely no sense. i don’t love her,  nor do i have feelings for her, so why am i having these dreams?” he mumbled to himself, head swimming with thoughts. yoongi shook his head, as if to try and rid himself of what he had just dreamed of. he decided to go back to sleep and not try to think of her, for it would only cause him more confusion. 

(three years later) 

you dodged a flying rock just barely, propelling yourself upwards with air, landing gently on your feet just seconds later, and allowed yourself a quick sigh of relief before turning back to the battle at hand. your bending had gotten better since then, and you were just mastering firebending, the one element you dreaded learning, but alas, as your duty as the avatar, it was mandatory to master all four elements. you were currently locked in a slightly tense fight with thugs from the earth kingdom, who had previously tried to steal your belongings just weeks ago, and as you were on your way to the local market to pick up some food, you were ambushed. luckily, the thugs weren’t too dangerous, and had a few weapons, but not any you were too concerned about. after the thugs were lying on the ground, groaning in pain, you wasted no time in running away, not bothering to look back, just in case one of them recovered. the local market was ablaze with activity, street vendors selling food and other items, such as jewelry and cloth and weapons, and some were even offering to read your palms. you made sure to stick to the stalls that were run by people who didn’t seem to care about the avatar, and those who seemed to just see you as a normal girl, which was enough for you. after all, you weren’t even supposed to be going to crowded public places, as there is a chance that anyone could recognize you, but since you had been to the market so many times and no one seemed to bother you, well, you didn’t worry too much. however, you still kept your guard up, making sure no one was following you and trying not to use your bending without people seeing. you rushed back to the inn you were staying at, making sure to look over your shoulder as you went, feeling your heartbeat speed up a bit. yoongi was lying down on one of the beds, eyes closed, chest falling up and down peacefully, his soft breaths filling the room. “yoongi? are you awake?” he cracked open one feline shaped eye, lips curving into a small smile. “mmm. was just closing my eyes.” he mumbled, his voice barely above a whisper, but just loud enough for you to hear. you bit back an amused smile at the sight of yoongi in a tattered red cloak that was a far cry from the royal garbs he was used to wearing all the time. his dark, raven hair had gotten longer, and the strands were now falling into his eyes, and most of the time, his hair was messy and a bit unruly, but you didn’t mind. you hummed softly as you prepared dinner, which was noodle soup and fish. while you were adding ingredients to the stew, you heard yoongi slide off the bed and walk over to you, his bare feet soundless on the wood floor. strong arms wrapped themselves around your waist, and you couldn’t help but smile in amusement. “you’re finally up, huh?” “i was awake, i was resting my eyes.” “uh huh, and those little snores i heard? those were fake?” yoongi huffed. “shut up, i wasn’t snoring.” “whatever you say, yoongi.” you singsonged. yoongi sighed and let go of your waist, settling down in front of the small table in the center of the room, hugging his knees to his chest. “is the food almost ready?” “yes, your highness.” you teased, pouring the stew into a wooden bowl, steam rising into the air. as the two of you ate dinner that night, yoongi told you stories about his life in the palace, and how he had almost fallen asleep at a meeting because he was so bored. “seriously? and you got away with that?” yoongi shrugged, shoving a handful of rice in his mouth, and you nearly laughed when you saw a piece of rice sticking to his bottom lip, but refrained from doing so because you didn’t want to embarrass him. “they know i barely get any sleep, so i guess they’re used to it.” “why?” “why don’t i get any sleep?” “well, i used to have nightmares, mostly about my father killing me, you dying, and a few other things, and i don’t know, i’ve always been a night owl, i guess.” your heart dropped down into your chest. “what? you ‘ve had dreams of me dying?” yoongi sighed, running a hand through his dark hair. “yeah. but i don’t have them anymore. i had them before we fell in love or whatever. we hated each other before, in case you forgot.” “but, i still don’t get it. why would you have dreams of me dying?” yoongi shrugged once again, teeth worrying at his bottom lip. “not sure. anyways, don’t worry about it. it was a long time ago.” you nodded, but deep down, you were still a bit doubtful that the dreams were “nothing.” they had to mean something, you thought as you forced yourself to eat another piece of fish. you lay in bed later that night, staring up at the wooden ceiling of the inn, lost in thought. you couldn’t help but wonder if the dreams that yoongi had all those years ago meant something. you weren’t afraid of death, necessarily, as you knew that all life stopped eventually, but you were scared of when it would happen, after all, you hadn’t saved the world yet, nor had you mastered the four elements. you shook away all bad thoughts, silently scolding yourself for being paranoid, and snuggled deeper into yoongi’s side, letting sleep take over. 

the next morning, you awoke to the smell of smoke, and you immediately shot up out of bed, looking around for yoongi, who was nowhere to be seen. a wave of fear washed over you as you rushed to gather your belongings, heart beating wildly in your chest. you quickly put out the small fires that were blazing in the inn, turning the wood to ash, and ran outside. the sight that awaited you turned your blood cold. yoongi was being held captive by fire nation soldiers, hands tied with rope, and there was a smudge of dirt and blood on his right cheek, but otherwise, he looked unscathed, and you allowed yourself some relief. one of the soldiers, a tall and lean man, sneered at you as you got closer. “if it isn’t the avatar. thought we’d never see you, and honestly, i’m quite disappointed. thought you’d be taller, and well, a male.” you felt a surge of anger wash over you, clenching your hands into fists. “what do you want?” “first, surrender now and we’ll consider sparing your life.” “and if i refuse?” “if you refuse, then we’ll kill you while he watches.” you gritted your teeth in annoyance and snuck a glance at yoongi, whose expression was unreadable.  you sighed and slowly put your hands up in surrender, and before you could react, you were pinned down to the ground, dirt flying into your eyes, making you sputter, and you felt a knee dig into the small of your back, and you hissed at the sharp pain that shot through your shoulder. . “what are you doing?! you said you wouldn’t harm her!” yoongi screamed, dark eyes ablaze with anger. “you’d really think we’d spare her? she’s the reason why we’re always getting scolded, and the reason why our people are suffering, so she deserves to die.” “your people are suffering?? don’t you mean our people?” the soldier who was pinning you to the ground let out a bitter laugh. “our people? the fire nation no longer sees you as a prince, for you turned your back on your nation and ran away with the avatar. your father is ashamed of you, and you are no longer welcome in the palace.” yoongi scoffed. “please. i was never accepted by my father, and i got tired of living there, too many rules to abide by. the fire nation is pathetic and my father is a piece of shit. i used to be blinded by the teachings and the values that we lived by, but not anymore. the fire nation deserves to be burnt to the ground, and i hope i get to be around to see it happen.” you watched in horror as yoongi was kicked in the stomach, causing him to cry out in pain, body falling in an awkward heap on the ground. tears welled up in your eyes, and you forced yourself to look away, for you were afraid of breaking down in front of everyone, especially in front of fire nation soldiers, no less. the last thing you wanted was to be seen as weak. 

after a long stretch of silence, yoongi cleared his throat, causing the soldiers to look at him, sneers immediately forming on their faces. “what is it now?” “let her go, you can take me back to the palace and i will receive whatever punishment awaits me, even if it’s death.” your blood ran cold as soon as the words left his mouth, heart dropping down into your chest. the soldier who was holding you down let you go, and you breathed a sigh of relief as the pain in your back subsided. the soldiers laughed, and you felt dread rush over you. “awww, how cute. loverboy’s willing to give up his life for the pathetic excuse of an avatar this girl is.” one soldier said, his tone dripping with sarcasm and mockery. “no, take me instead,  i’m the one the fire lord wants to see dead.” the soldiers looked at each other and almost immediately, satisfied smirks appeared on their faces. then,you were roughly helped to your feet, and your hands were tied with rope. out of the corner of your eye, you saw yoogni looking at you, dark eyes swimming with tears, silently begging you not to go, and you felt a slight twinge of regret, but it was too late: you had already made up your mind. you were willing to sacrifice anything for yoongi, even if it meant inevitable death. you swallowed the bile that was threatening to rise in your throat as you were led away. suddenly, you heard loud screams from behind you, and you whirled around to see yoongi, who had somehow managed to break free from his restraints, the sharp features of his face illuminated by the orange and red flames that he was throwing at the soldiers, who tried to dodge them, but to no avail. even from afar, you could see the tension in yoongi’s shoulders as he fought, dodging fireballs every now and then, sweat forming on his brow. you could only watch as he singelhandedly fought off soldiers from his own nation, anger coming off him in waves. and, just as he was about to run towards you, his eyebrows set in determination, you felt the hilt of a sword slamming into the back of your head, and before the world around you turned to black, you heard a scream of pure agony and distress. 

you awoke in a prison cell, head pounding as your eyes adjusted to the dim light. you groaned as you realized where you were. you had been brought to boiling rock, the most secure prison in the fire nation. the bars of your cell and the walls were made of an indestructible metal, and you immediately regretted not learning metal bending all those years ago. defeated, you slumped down in the corner of your cell, sighing heavily. the fire nation soldiers were right, you thought. you were a poor excuse of an avatar. not only had you fallen in love with one a fire nation prince, but you had also betrayed the values you were supposed to uphold as the avatar by choosing to try and protect yoongi instead of yourself. you knew that the past avatars before you would’ve done the complete opposite, for the sake of the whole world, and you chose to neglect all their teachings and values by trying to save him. you felt tears fall down your face. for the first time since your family’s death, you had never felt so hopeless and scared in your life. you knew that the fate that you had lead yourself to was entirely your fault, for you had chosen to love yoongi and defend him. deep down, there was a part of you that wondered if things would’ve been different if you had not fallen in love with the fire nation prince, but there was also a part of you that didn’t regret choosing yoongi. he had taught you some firebending techniques, and most of all,had treated you like fine china after you had started dating. he had been nothing but good to you since you dated, and you felt like an absolute fool for falling so hard, so quickly. 

you sobbed quietly in your cell, feeling completely helpless and defeated. there was no way you were escaping what was about to come, and you soon fell asleep, dried tears sticking to your face, heart heavy. when you awoke the next morning, you heard a guard unlocking your cell, and you slowly sat up, dread pooling in your stomach. you were led out of the cell and down a long corridor. you were practically shoved inside the interrogation room, which was dimly lit with metal bars in the ceiling, and the guard that was inside pushed you onto a chair, tying you to it with rope, which was rough and itchy against your skin. the interrogator stepped into the room, an old man with prominent frown lines around his eyes, looking at you with utter disdain and disgust. "so, this is the avatar? hmph. seems pretty weak to me." he muttered. you fought the urge to roll your eyes as he stood in front of you, eyes piercing. "did you or did you not kidnap the crown prince?" you couldn't help but let out a soft laugh. "kidnap? i never did such a thing, he voluntarily agreed to travel with me." the old man sighed impatiently. "and you fell in love with him, did you not?" you gritted your teeth in annoyance. "and so what if i did?" the old man smirked, and you fought the urge to break free from your restraints and punch him in his face. "well, isn't the avatar supposed to despise anyone from the fire nation? they have values to uphold, and while i don't know much about your ancestors, they would probably look down on you for it." "fine, i did." the old man scoffed. "it's pathetic, really. i mean, the avatar betraying her ancestors for a lowlife prince?" "i'm not proud of it, but i don't regret it." "is that so? well, you definitely will once you freeze to death in the cooling chamber tomorrow." and with that, he exited the room, slamming the door shut behind him. as you were led back to your cell, you felt as if your world had come crashing down. you had been unable to master all four elements, nor had you saved the world from absolute peril. and, once you died, the world would be thrown into absolute chaos, and no one would be able to stop the fire nation from causing absolute destruction.

that night, you sat in your cell, leaning on the wall, thinking about all the memories you had made as you traveled, and the ones you made with yoongi. yoongi, who you hadn't seen since you got knocked out, and who you didn't know was even alive.you knew that it was possible to resent yoongi, for he was one of the reasons why you were now in a prison cell, but you also knew that you were to blame. after all, you had fallen in love with him. despite the fate that was awaiting you the next day, you couldn't help but feel happy that you had lived a decent life, and you had managed to fall in love, even if it was someone you were destined to hate. "i love you, yoongi." you whispered, and you slowly fell asleep, with memories of yoongi in your mind. 

the bitter cold in the room enveloped you like a blanket, and though you had grown up in a village surrounded by glaciers, you had always been covered up in thick clothing lined with fur, keeping you warm despite the harsh temperature. you shivered slightly, rubbing your arms frantically, as if the action would keep you warm. though the cold was unbearable, you were at least grateful you would die slowly, instead of painfully, so at least you could reflect on yourself before you died. you sighed and slumped against the wall of the cooling chamber, feeling absolutely defeated. there was no way you were getting out this time. suddenly, the door to the cooling chamber opened, and someone got shoved inside. the door quickly closed and you could hear the joyful laughs of the fire nation soldiers outside, which vexed you. when you saw who had been placed in the chamber with you, you felt tears welling up in your eyes. it was yoongi, and to your relief, he looked uninjured. “y-yoongi?” you called out, trying to keep your voice as steady as possible, despite the tears running down your face. he looked over at you, dark eyes wide. “y/n?” he asked, his voice hoarse. “w-what are you doing here?” “i turned myself in.” “what? why?” “i couldn’t let you suffer without me. after all, i am the one who dragged you into this mess in the first place. you fell in love with me, and if you didn’t, you wouldn’t be here, freezing to death.” your heart broke at how sad he sounded. “yoongi, don’t blame yourself. i was the one who should’ve left, but i couldn’t bring myself to. i neglected my duty as the avatar and now i’m letting thousands, maybe even millions of people die. all because a certain firebender came into my life.  however, i don’t regret falling in love with you. you’ve helped me become a better person and you even helped me how to control my firebending. you also showed me that it doesn’t matter where you come from and that you shouldn’t let your nation define you. and, honestly, at least your face is going to be the last thing before i die.” despite the cold, you could see a faint shade of pink settle across yoongi’s face, and you allowed yourself an amused smile. “since when did you get so cheesy?” “don’t know. guess certain death just does that to a person.” eventually, you died peacefully with yoongi by your side, and while you deeply regretted not being able to fufill your duty as the avatar, you had at least shown that love didn’t come without sacrifice, and sacrifice didn’t come without love, for you would have gladly given up the world for yoongi. 

a/n: omg this was so long hehe but i hope you all enjoyed this! this oneshot took me forever to type up, but i had so much fun doing it! once again, thank you all so much for supporting me always, and i hope my stories can make you smile, or at least feel some type of emotions! 

tagging: @suhdays @softlyjiminie @softguks @jksmoongf @softlypouty @haylo4ever @sweetheartjeongguk @sketchguk @glossyfever @taeramisu @nahfamily @dylanxmin @saintjeonofbusan @mmmikrokosmos @sunkyeoml @honeylovecult @lomlkook @yoongislovecult @daechwitas @yoongismykink @periminkle @thotxuxi @fairyqook​ @moonmintrails @flowerseok  @koophoriia​@onherwings  @ppersonna​  @ot7always​ @koosgrl​  @cest-la-tae​ @minsprings​ @mygsii​ @roguebangtan​ @minniepetals​ @euphoria-vmin7​ @ladyartemesia​ @gguksbby​ @baekhyyun​ @randomkoalablog​ @yoonsgiggle​ @birthofvcnus​

#mine #bangtanhq #heartsforbts #oneshot

[starlightinhumanform]

Breaking Point

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Ships: Loceit (could be interpreted as platonic or romantic)

Summary: Sometimes being a light side just does’t cut it. After a particularly aggravating argument, Logan begins… changing. (Logan centric angst fic with guest appearances of most of the others,,,, but mostly Janus).

Warnings: Negativity/Coldness/Miscommunications Throughout, Mild Language Throughout, Some Mentions of Injury/Illness Used as Metaphors

Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort

A/N: This was written for the wonderful Spring Fling event here on tumblr! It was so much fun and I can’t wait to participate again! I know I’ve been very inactive lately and I’m very sorry for that (mental illness can be a real kicker lmao), but I’m trying to get back into my groove of writing and posting!! Stay safe and healthy. I love you all 🖤✨

Ao3 Link   Fic Masterpost    Fic Request Info

Logan was not a stranger to emotion. Despite popular belief, he experienced them like any other side. The difference was his ability to tamp them down, keep them from clouding his logic; it was an ability he prided himself on. Sure, sometimes his anger got the better of him when the others were being far too ridiculous. But for the most part, he was clean, calculated, cool.

Right now, though, his head was pounding. Virgil was shouting hoarsely and Roman was yelling back even louder. Patton just whimpered, trying to get the two to stop fighting but failing miserably as he flinched back from both of their raised voices. Thomas stood in the middle of it all with glazed eyes.

And Logan, what was he doing? Standing to the side. Being completely useless, it seemed. He pressed his fingers against his temples and tried to massage away the pain. His efforts once again failed and he turned his attention back to the situation.

Thomas had to choose whether or not to go to a Broadway audition and wanted to consult with his sides to get their opinions on the opportunity. Unfortunately his plan had backfired and now the choice was even less clear. It was a debate, they were trying to make a decision— Logan should have been leading the entire thing. Instead, he had been shoved to the side as Virgil and Roman turned the discussion into a fight.

“It’s too big of a risk! If Thomas fails at this, he may never audition again. Think about how that would hurt Patton. Think about how it could ruin his whole career,” Virgil hissed.

Roman answered too clearly, over-pronouncing his words as he spat them out like they tasted as bitter as his tone, “You’re suffocating me. You’re keeping Thomas from achieving his dreams. Your worries are simply too much. If anything is going to ruin his career, it’s going to be you.”

Virgil raised his eyebrows and gave a cold laugh, “Oh, I’m sorry? I thought we agreed it was my job to protect Thomas? So why don’t you just back the hell up and remember your place.”

“My place? And where exactly would that be?”

“Safety comes before your stupid fantasies.”

“This isn’t even about safety! This is about you being a coward!”

The room went quiet. Quiet, not calm. It was like the moments of silent after a lightning strike when everyone holds their breath, waiting for the roar of thunder. Logan needed to interject before things got even worse and this was his best opportunity to do so.

He cleared his throat, “If you two would like to pause this illogical arguing for a moment, I would like to make a few points.”

All eyes turned on him. He was nearly taken aback by the amount of anger in both Virgil and Roman’s gazes, suddenly turned on him instead of each other. It burned against his skin as they both glared at him. Patton tried to give him a smile but it was far weaker than usual. Thomas’ eyes were the worst— dazed from all the yelling, confused and torn apart from his aspects disagreeing so violently. Logan felt like he had failed; failed them all, but especially Thomas. It was his job to keep order, to weigh the pros and cons, to unravel problems, to make things clear. And when the others needed him the most, he had let it all fall into the hands’ of chaos.

“I just think there are better ways to make this decision. You two have been yelling each other for over half an hour and it’s gotten nowhere.”

“Yeah, because he refuses to admit that he’s wrong!” Roman interrupted.

Logan gritted his teeth, “Please try to restrain yourself from talking over me.”

Virgil was the one to break in this time, “Logan, maybe this isn’t the type of argument that you belong in.”

“Not the- not the type of argument I belong in?” Logan could almost laugh, “This is the exact sort of discussion I need to be included in because otherwise we end up in a mess like this!”

“Logan,” Virgil growled, “I don’t think you’re understanding what’s going on here. This is an issue me and Roman need to settle. No matter what that means.”

“No matter what that means?? Are you even listening to yourself? That’s the sort of talking that causes disaster!”

“No, Virgil’s right about one thing,” Logan turned his attention to Roman as he was interrupted once again, “This is between the two of us. Don’t get yourself involved.”

“If I don’t get involved, you’re going to tear Thomas apart trying to get your ways!” Logan could feel his temper slipping away from him just as his control of the situation was slipping through his fingers. These idiots had their heads so far up their asses, they couldn’t even see the damage they were doing to everyone else.

“Logan!” Roman snapped his name to get his attention, “Maybe you should just go.”

He scoffed, “Go? You really think you can solve this problem by yourselves?”

“Go.”

Logan glanced at the stairwell where Virgil had snarled a singular syllable at him, “Excuse me?”

“He said to go,” Roman was glaring at him, “And, in this case, I agree with him.”

Logan’s mouth fell open. It was ridiculous. They needed him, but apparently they just couldn’t see it. They needed him, but they didn’t want him. He shook his head. A laugh was rising up his throat but he couldn’t figure out what was so funny.

He looked around the room, “You really want me to go? Fine then.”

Thomas and Patton both seemed distressed but said nothing to stop him. Roman and Virgil didn’t have to say anything; the anger boiling behind both of their stares communicated plenty.

And that was all he needed. Logan sunk out of the room without another word.

He reached the mindspace in a matter of seconds, appearing in the dining room. The laugh that had been trapped in his throat bubbled over and crashed to the floor as it morphed into a cry. He clapped a hand over his mouth as giggles mixed with sobs and spilled past his fingers, filling the quiet room with hiccuping whimpers. It was just too much for him to wrap his mind around. His beautiful, perfect mind. And somehow they had managed to reduced it to this— a wreck, an absolute mess, emotions crashing into each other and spilling over onto his face so he could do little more than grip the back of a chair until his knuckles were white and he couldn’t even see through the ocean in his eyes.

His skin felt hot as the tears rolled over his cheekbones and directly onto the floor. He was not a stranger to emotion, but this— whatever the hell “this” was— felt brand new. New like new boots, the type that leave your skin blistered and red and raw. His body was shaking and his stomach turned and he was sure that if he sobbed any harder he might start retching.

He felt so vulnerable; he was a scar that had been scratched at so many times it had finally ripped open and started bleeding again.

Logan was angry. Angrier than he had been in years. He just wanted to help. Why couldn’t they see that? Why wouldn’t they let him help? But more importantly, why couldn’t he help? Was he useless? Was he a tool that had no purpose, tossed aside by the others like a spare screw that didn’t fit anywhere?

“Logan?”

His head shot up, back straightening and squaring up in under a second. Janus was standing on the other side of the room like he had frozen in the middle of his movements. His eyebrows were woven together in what seemed like concern.

“You don’t look ok?” His expression was a painting of confusion.

Logan rubbed at his eyes from beneath his glasses, “I- I assure you, I’m perfectly fine.”

Janus just laughed, silky and self-satisfied as always but maybe a little softer than usual, “Lying’s kind of my thing, remember, Logan? You look... great.”

Logan let his head hang, not even trying to keep up appearances now that Janus had called him out. He glared at the other side from over the rim of his glasses, “Can I help you? Or are you done ridiculing me?”

Janus took a couple hesitant steps forward, tilting his head to the side like he was absolutely fascinated by Logan. He began speaking slowly but it was obvious from his intense stare that his focus was very far from the words leaving his mouth, “Ridiculing? Oh dear, no, that was not my intention. What’s the matter? Something must be incredibly wrong to have put you in such a state.”

“What the hell does that mean?” Logan snarled, “Am I not allowed to act as irrationally as the rest of you? Is sanity expected only of me? Maybe I’m tired of it! Do you understand how exhausting it is to carry the weight of responsibility with no one to lend a hand? In fact you all fight against me, pushing me downhill and spiraling Thomas further and further away from stability. Well, maybe I’m tired of it. Maybe I’m so damn tired of yelling until my voice is hoarse, just because I’m trying to look out for the well being of everyone else only to be discounted because ‘it’s not fun’ or because I couldn’t possibly understand, being the cold and unfeeling robot that I am. I am sick of it!”

“Logan, I’m going to need you to calm down.”

Logan blinked back into the present.

Janus was standing in front of him, hands raised to hold Logan’s face. Logan was startled to find his cheeks damp once again with tears beneath Janus’ quivering fingers. Janus was staring at him with a combination of fascination and terror.

“Logan do you know what’s happening?” Janus’ voice shook nearly as hard as his hands as he drew them back to his chest.

Logan could feel his forehead crease as he stared back at Janus, “What do you mean?”

Janus laughed but it had lost its honeyed qualities; just a humorless, sharp exhale, “Look around you.”

He raised his head at Janus’ cue, taking in the room around him. A glass that had left on the table was now broken into pieces. The glass of picture frames hung on the wall now lay shattered on the carpet. Items scattered on shelfs throughout had tipped over or rolled onto the floor.

Logan’s mouth fell open, “Did I— How— What— Did I do that?”

Janus nodded his head slowly like he wasn’t sure to believe it either, “The whole mindspace started shaking.”

“What does this mean?” Logan reached out slowly to pick up a shard of the glass. His hands trembled as he studied the piece, turning it between his fingers as if he could find an answer in its angular edges.

“Well, sometimes when a dark side is distressed enough, they can negatively affect the environment around them,” Janus had been speaking in slow, almost broken segments as if he had been constructing the sentence word by word, choosing carefully and cautiously. Now, though, he started rushing his words out like they burned his tongue, “You know, like the screaming thing Remus does or when Virgil makes the whole room go dark, that sort of thing.”

“Wait. Janus, you said ‘dark side.’ And don’t try to lie to me, I have a perfect memory and I know what you said.”

Janus winced and tried for a smile, “Yes, well...”

Logan arched one of his eyebrows, “You are aware that I’m not a dark side, yes? And unlike Virgil, I was never once in my existence a dark side.”

“No, no I know that,” He clasped and unclasped his hands together serval times as if the awkward movement could fill the even more awkward silence, “I’m implying that you might be becoming one?”

“Oh, please,” Logan scoffed, “Is that even possible? And how have I even done anything to deserve the title of being ‘dark’?”

Janus mirrored Logan’s raised brow, “Oh, and I’ve earned such a label? The point is, you’re starting to act more and more like us. Whether or not any of us are actually deserve that title is a debate for another day.”

Logan studied the face in front of him. Janus was a master of deception— of course he was— but in this moment he seemed completely open, completely genuine. And if Janus was being honest... well, that could be a bad thing.

He opened his mouth to speak but the words were slow to come to his tongue, “So, assuming this hypothetical you’ve proposed, how could this happen? How is such a shift even a possibility?”

Janus gave another humorless laugh but at least he didn’t sound terrified this time, “I really don’t have the answer to that one.”

Logan stared done at the floor, eyes roaming the pattern of the carpet but his mind incredibly far away. Was that possible? Could a side go “bad”? More importantly, could he go bad? Was he bad? Had he failed Thomas so much, hurt the others so much, provided so little use yet so much ill-will that—

“If anyone has the answers, it’s going to be you.”

Janus’ voice broke through Logan’s thoughts, “What?”

Janus pulled out two chairs from underneath the table and faced them towards each other. He took a seat in one and pointed at the other, “Something is obviously wrong. Tell me what’s going on.”

Logan stumbled into the chair, stunned by the commanding note in Janus’ tone. He sat down and stared blankly across at the other side, unsure of where to even start. He pursed his lips for a moment, “Why does it matter?”

“Because you knocked my favourite mug off of its shelf and I need answers,” Janus rolled his eyes, “If what I think is happening is happening, that’s a huge change that could affect everyone— including Thomas. Now stop avoiding the question.”

Logan glared down at his hands gripping each other in his lap. His vocabulary had abandoned him. This simply was not a familiar situation to him. He shared facts, advice, outside information; but feelings, his subjective truth? That stayed locked away.

“Let’s start with why you’re crying, ok?” Janus’ voice was gentle but his question was still very clearly an instruction.

Logan jerked his head up as he realized there were tears running down his face. Again. He cursed under his breath as he rubbed them away, “I don’t even know. I guess I’m just not used to doing this, this sharing of emotions.”

Janus nodded, “And why aren’t you with the others? It sounds like there’s quite an argument going on up there. You usually jump right into the fray.”

“I don’t know,” Logan pinched his nose and tried to ignore the burning ache in his chest. It was strange, the emotion so raw and intense that it had the effect of a physical wound. It was like the tissue of his rib cage was being torn apart, “I tried to join in, to try and add at least a little reason to the discussion... but they refused to listen.”

“Logan, have they ever listened you about anything?”

He let his head fall back down to avoid looking at Janus, “Not really. I can’t help but think I’ve failed Thomas.”

Janus placed his hand on Logan’s shoulder, “No, no that’s not what I meant. I just wanted to know if the others took your advice.”

Logan raised his gaze to make eye contact with Janus, “Well, sometimes.”

“But do you have to work to get them to even hear you?”

Logan laughed, “Oh, yeah.”

“And to they ever listen to you about you? Do they even ask?”

“Why would they?” Logan paused, “Wait, should they?”

Janus stared at him like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing, pity swimming in his eyes, “I think I see the problem. I think your negative interactions with the others is causing you to turn into a dark side. It’s almost like a defense mechanism or something.”

“But my interactions with the others haven’t been negative. They can be frustrating, yes, but they’re the closest things to friends that I would ever have. At the very least, they are my companions. Right?”

Janus grimaced, “From what you were saying about ten seconds ago, their treatment of you hasn’t exactly been positive. I’m not say they’re not your friends, just that... maybe they don’t act like it as much as they should. They don’t seem value you or what you have to say.”

“But I need them to,” Logan spoke slowly, deep in thought, “How else am I supposed to help Thomas, to fulfill my purpose?”

Janus said nothing and Logan continued he train of thought, “I guess it makes perfect sense for me to do what’s necessary to be heard. I can’t protect Thomas from their violent irrationality if they don’t listen to me. I guess this is just the natural course of action.”

Janus seemed hesitant as he nodded, “I mean... yes, I guess so.”

“Besides—,” Logan shrugged, “—maybe being a dark side isn’t so bad.”

“What do you mean?”

Logan smirked, “Sometimes you need to raise your voice to be heard; if I need to scare the others a little to cut through the chaos, then so be it. And it seems that I’ve been given the perfect tool to do so.”

“Logan, I don’t know if that’s such a good idea... ”

But Janus’ voice was already fading away as Logan rose back into the argument. He had been ignored for the last time. Never again would he be brushed to the side for being the cold outcast. They would listen to him— whether they liked it or not.

Logan was not a stranger to emotion. And right now, he was smiling. Grinning, in fact— ear to ear, power flickering in his eyes. He was the voice of reason and no longer would he be an accessory to their foolishness.

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#loceit #platonic loceit #romantic loceit #sanders sides fic #sanders sides fanfiction #sanders sides fanfic #sanders sides angst #ts janus #janus sanders #ts logan #logan sanders #logan angst #logan sanders angst #dark side!logan #logan x deceit #starlight writes

[princessnijireiki]

…………so I just dreamed @manawahine was a high ranking military anti-villain with all the raw power of jason isaacs in a scifi movie set shortly into the future, where australia's prime minister was cartoonishly inept, racist, and homophobic (which… not to go "what else is new" but he was zoolander level stupid) and she murdered him on live tv & then took over the australian space program (???) in the midst of the chaos, like sent out the order & then got in this roomy ass sci-fi spaceship with like the suits & controls from the pac rim jaegers herself, on a mission to the moon, to set up a colony in the name of all gay people, refugees, and indigenous peoples of the world + tear down the american flag we left up there 50 years ago (lmao)

only a psychic american twink astronomer & his grad student boyfriend in cape canaveral were trying to stop her but I was like, "no, no, no, wait, she's making some excellent points, y'all need to play this by ear bc you are boring & the moon is about to get super cool super fast"

but it was like outrageously camp & SO much fun, like very sci fi "to wong foo" energy meets syfy channel original movie meets this:

and tbh I wish it was real bc it's what we all deserve smh… love u georgia xoxo

#dream turkey #manawahine

[haruki-ya]

As Good as Gone

Hm hi so here’s a lil Akira character analysis thing i’ve been working on for like ever...not sure what inspired this, it just happened and then kept happening. 

It’s pretty disjointed and like a very, very vague and self indulgent character analysis of the growth (and death) of Kaneda and Tetsuo’s relationship, written as best I could given my creative desire to make this as confusing as possible lmao. enjoy ! 

TW: brief mention of suicide 

Kid’s are mean.

Kaneda’s known that from the start. It’s in their blood, in their gap toothed smiles, and grubby hands. It’s why they have snotty noses and their voices are so high pitched. They’re mean in ways they have yet to grow out of.

(they’re mean in ways they won’t grow out of)

Kids are mean without reason to be so because they have all the reason in the world to be so.

Kaneda knows that.

Tetsuo does not. 

When Kaneda found him by the water fountain, his eyes watery and his hands shaky, all scraped knees and dirty clothes and pouty lips, he had clenched his hands into fists. Ignored the taste of blood running down the back of his throat, of the water in his own eyes.

He approached the boy with the intention of giving him back his stolen toy, the cool robot figurine that in his scuffle with the other kids to get it back, lost an arm. His steps were sure and even, shoulders held back and head up high.

Kaneda saw the boy look at him out of the corner of his eye, his head drawn down, shoulders hunched in, and he froze. His eyes were big and glossy and Kaneda didn’t see a mean bone in this boy’s body.

Kaneda reached the fountain just as the boy burst into movement, taking several steps back away from him. Kaneda gave him a once over, trying not to look too much like a predator eyeing his prey, but that’s just how it is.

On the playground, kids aren’t just mean, they’re animals.

Reaching into his pocket, he fumbled for the toy, handed it over with a smile.

“Here. This is yours, isn’t it?”

The boy stared with mute eyes, weary hands reaching out on their own accord. Kaneda stayed as still as a statue, afraid he’d scare the skittish kid off.

The boys fingers brushed softly over his palm and just like that they’d made history.

“It’s because you’re new here.” He supplied helpfully, recognizing the humiliation and pain and sadness in his eyes as he stared at the toy in his scraped hands. “They try to make it harder for the new ones. They’re just stupid. ”

The boys gaze fell to his nose, still drip dripping blood, and he grinned wide, sniffed it up back into his head.

“Me? I’m pretty new here myself. Those jerks haven’t left me a minute to myself ever since I stepped foot in this place, nothing I can’t handle though!” At the panicked look the boy sent him, he scowled and stooped low to stick his face in the steady spray of water from the fountain, feeling it in his nostrils. The water ran in pink swirls down the drain.

As he wiped his face on his sleeve, the boy’s eyes opened wide, as if he’d realizing something, and he said hurriedly through a small, shy smile, “I am...Tetsuo. Shima Tetsuo.”

Kaneda grinned widely. “Tetsuo, s’long as you stick with me, we’ll show those losers who’s the boss. I’m the King, Shotaro Kaneda, and I promise you that!”

The splatter of blood on Kaneda’s shirt, Tetsuo’s teary eyes, his hands curled tight around a broken action figure: it was enough of an indication. They’d already been defeated, ground down into dust and having blown away with the wind, they don’t care to try and find the missing pieces of themselves because they never will.

They’ll never win, but they grin anyways.

They pretend like they will, like they still have a chance.

(joke is, they were born on a losing streak)

-

“There’s something wrong with that kid.”

Yamagata is leaning in close to him, hand tapping nervously against the bar counter, stance uncomfortable, eyes dilated and bloodshot.

Kaneda glances at him over the rim of his glass: his breathing is heavy and deep and he’s gone, completely and totally out in space, but there’s something new in this brand of “fucked up”, a lingering note of paranoia, a blossoming awareness in his unfocused gaze that rubs Kaneda’s skin the wrong way.

(it’s because he’s seen that look too many times in the mirror to not know what it means)

Kaneda doesn’t want to hear this, doesn’t need to hear this. He doesn’t care (but he does he needs to care) so he looks away, finds comfort at the bottom of an empty glass.

It’s the same thing every other night.

“He’s quiet, and what, with this gang, I can’t really say anything’s off bout that, it’s hard to be heard, but Kaneda, when he talks, it’s-I don’t know, it’s weird. There’s something wild in him. I hear it in his voice and it’s been in his eyes lately. You’ve seen how he is, right?”

Of course he has. It’s his job to see.

With Tetsuo, everything is a job, a responsibility, and Kaneda doesn'’t know why. He really has no reason to treat Tetsuo as if he’s his little brother, to worry for him and to worry about him.

There was never a reason, but there always was.

Tetsuo was Tetsuo and Kaneda was Kaneda. Kaneda could only fall so far. Tetsuo was born already at rock bottom. They were who they were and that was enough explanation in itself. It was for him at least.

Kaneda drinks on in silence, ignores Yamagata as he reaches into his pocket for a pill, feeling his eyes pulse in his head and pressure ache in his temples. Yamagata sighs in frustration, watches raptly as the pill disappears into his mouth.

“You saw how he was tonight, Kaneda. What the fuck was that about? One second he’s in the hospital, the next he’s sending someone to the hospital.”

Kaneda still says nothing, swallows the pill dry like he does Yamagata’s words.

“When the cops came and we split up,  I caught a glimpse of him all by his lonesome with a fat fucking grin on his face, going faster than I’d ever seen him go before, man. He’s not a team player anymore. I don’t know if he ever was. He’s just-he’s not the same.”

Yamagata watches him intently, eyes cloudy like the air in their lungs- breathe in, breathe out.

Kaneda watches back.

With a scoff, Yamagata pushes roughly away from him, snags a glass from the counter and downs the contents. He glances at Tetsuo, sitting in a secluded booth in the far corner, gaze on the dirty table, hands clenched tight around a can of beer, bloody and bruised and blank in all senses of the word.

“He’s changed, Kaneda...and something needs to be done about him, don’t you know?”

Kaneda watches him go, watches them all go, watches Tetsuo sneak out the back, careful, dark eyes finding his across the bar. Their gaze lingers and then-

He’s gone too.

Kaneda sighs and his head falls back, eyes closed.

It’s late and he should be tired. He should be somewhere else. It’s closing time and he should be gone and in his bed but

-something needs to be done about him, don’t you know?

“Of course I do.” He breathes out, frustrated, expecting an answer-from who?

The barkeep tells him it’s time to go.

Of course it is.

-

“I am...”

-

“Tetsuo!”

Kaneda is scared.

He’s scared for his life and for Tetsuo’s life and Kaori is dead and Akira isn’t and everything is chaos.

The stadium is crumbling and Tetsuo is growing, he’s getting bigger and his screams hurt, they burn Kaneda’s ears, thunderstorms in his head, louder louder louder and louder

-kaneda help me someone help help me help me kaneda kaori oh kaori she hurts we hurt it HURTS make it STOP help kaneda HELP me MAKEITSTOPKANEDAMAKEITSTOP-

Kaneda wants to go back to reform school, to Harukiya, to bike rides at ungodly hours in the morning, adrenaline rushes (but not like this) and wind in his hair, along his skin, through his soul, ripping him apart.

He wants to go back to pills and punching and people he doesn’t know, frozen faces at high speeds, higher than higher, as high as he can get and Tetsuo, Kaneda wants Tetsuo back, wants his friend who never had a real mean bone in his body, who cried a lot and ran from what he truly wanted, too shy to get it for himself, all synthesized anger and aggression and courage, frustrating and aggravating and impossible as he is

He wants him back.

“Tetsuo!”

His throat is raw from screaming and he feels like he’s about to pass out, he’s shaking and the ground is shaking and the world is ending this can’t be happening but then there is a blinding light and Kaneda can’t see anything, can’t see anything other than Tetsuo looking at him with those big wide eyes of his, calling for him, reaching for him and you have to help him kaneda you need to help him he deserves that much (and so much more a kid just a kid a poor fucking kid) it’s not his fault it’s yours it’s theirs it’s akira’s it’s his it’s his it’s all tetsuo’s fault HE’S JUST A KID

He is consumed and then they are no more.

-

Together, the three of us, we can save that innocent boy-

-

“Kaneda!”

He barely managed to hear Tetsuo call his name over the howl of the wind, over the shouts of glee and excitement, over the rumble and grumble of their engines. Kaneda turned to look at him, head light with exhilaration, breathless, shaking and quaking, at peace with his bike and the road.

He could crash. This was risky, hands in the air, brakes off, vision swimming, everything a risk, and he could crash, he could die, but that’s what made it so much better and for all the pills they’d taken tonight, Tetsuo looked how he felt: fucking amazing.

“Race you to Harukiya’s, Kaneda! Loser get’s the bill!”

And then he was gone, weaving around Kai and Yamagata, who hollered and laughed, taking off in pursuit of some chase they were never apart of.

And Kaneda gripped his handlebars, revved his engine to catch up, he did, because he was broke as shit and he was the notorious leader of The Capsules for a reason, but when Tetsuo looked back at him over his shoulder, eyes wide, grin like fire, cheeks burning with the wind and hair blown back, he was alive.

He was alive, Kaneda marveled, he was high and dry and alive.

He pretended his bike was low on battery and endured being the butt of every joke and insult for the night because Tetsuo’s burning smile, seared into his head, was so worth it.

-

People are mean.

Kaneda’s known that from the get go. It’s in their coding, in their wiring, in the circuitry that makes up their asinine personalities and infuriating complexes. It’s in their greed and anger and hate and selfishness (they’re mean because they don’t know what else to be, and they never will.)

People are mean for plenty of reasons, but not for enough reasons that matter.

Kaneda knows that.

And this time, so does Tetsuo.

When Kaneda found him by the ramp on Highway 14, his eyes swollen shut and his knuckles stained red, all torn clothes and broken bones and bloody lips, surrounded by Clowns, he had clenched his hands into fists and inhaled shakily, ignoring the tint of red that veiled his vision, the white hot rage that told him to bash their fucking heads together.

He approached the group of bikers with threats of pain in his eyes, hands clenched boldly into fists, nails digging crescent moons into his palms, through his gloves. Eagerly anticipating the bite and crunch of bone under his fists. His steps quick and paced, shoulders taut with anger and head bowed in disgust.

Kaneda saw Tetsuo look at him out of the corner of his eye, his head back against the pavement, shoulders lax with pain, and he was frozen. His eyes narrowed and blank and Kaneda didn’t see an unbroken bone in this boy’s body.

Kaneda’s anger ebbed as he reached the ugly ass group of jokers and his boys burst into movement, leaping at the clowns with pipes and baseball bats to get them away from Tetsuo. Kaneda gave him a once over, trying not to look too much like he’s reevaluating his worth, but that’s just how it is.

On the highway, people aren’t just mean, they’re merciless.

Reaching out his hand, he kneeled down next to Tetsuo, found his eyes, already watching him.

“Here. Can you get up Tetsuo?”

He stared with quiet eyes, battered hands reaching out on their own accord. Kaneda stayed as still as a statue, afraid he’d hurt Tetsuo.

The boys hands hovered over his arm, hesitant, pushed it roughly away and just like that they’ve changed history.

“Come on Tetsuo, you look like shit, you can’t really be trying to get up on your own right now.” 

Kaneda’s voice was flat, patronizing in his own ears. He recognized the anger and pain and hatred in Tetsuo’s eyes as he stared at the hand Kaneda had pushed into his face once again.

“We’ll take care of those sorry bastards for you.”

The boys gaze fell to his cut cheek, still drip dripping blood, and Kaneda raised an eyebrow, touched the wound idly and it stung.

“Don’t you worry bout lil ol’ me. Those assholes are the only ones that are gonna be feeling the heat tonight.” At the unamused look Tetsuo sent him, he scowled and jerked up just in time to watch Yamagata kick some fat bozo over the side of the ramp they’re on, blood on his hands, a smile on his face. 

The sewers stained red.

As he wiped his cheek with the back of his hand, Tetsuo stumbled to his feet, as if drunk, and hissed painfully through his red, clenched teeth, “I am...fine. I don’t need your help.”

Kaneda stared harshly at Tetsuo. “S’long as you’re as stupid and reckless and stubborn as you are, you will. I promise you that much Tetsuo!”

The smear of blood on Kaneda’s cheek, Tetsuo’s dry eyes, his hands curled tight around a broken wrist:  it was enough of an indication. They’d always been fractured, fucked up beyond repair and having been born that way, they don’t care to try and find a way to fix themselves because they never will.

They’ll never be whole, but they grin anyways.

They pretend like they will, like they still have a chance.

(thing is, they were never meant to be happy)

-

“I am…”

-

watching him watching Kei is watching him. He feels her gaze hot and heavy in the back of his mind and he shakes it away, runs his hands through his hair and touches his head to the ground.

Kaneda needs stability, needs to feel the crumbled cement beneath him, needs to feel alone in his own head right now. He needs to know it’s all over but it can’t be over and he’s so fucking conflicted he’s so confused. He grinds his head into the ground, clenches his eyes and fists and he yells a broken sound into the broken cement.

Kei takes a step towards him and he makes her stop he tells her to stop but he doesn’t say one word and she pauses, freezes where she stands. She heard him loud and clear.

It wasn’t supposed to end like this.

Tetsuo is gone and not even ten minutes ago he was right there, he was a kid with scraped knees and a broken toy and teary eyes and Kaneda was right there and he should have said something, he should have saved him, he-

was never supposed to save him.

Tetsuo finally took control, finally decided to do what he wanted, not what he was told, not what was already chosen for him. He wove his own path and he-

was never supposed to make it out alive.

Because the truth is, they’re only transient.

All of them. Every single one.  

Even the Gods.

-

but someday we will be...

-

“-as good as gone.”

-

“I am…”

-

“Number 41...what the hell is that?”

Kaneda’s parked on his couch, impatience in his voice, a pill or two working steadily through his system. He’s got a stack of Kai’s skin mag’s and more than enough sexual frustration in his system that he’s genuinely surprised Tetsuo hasn’t smelled the testosterone, hasn’t taken a hint, hasn’t moved from where he’s been standing in the doorway for almost five minutes, talking nonsense.

He wears a cold sweat on his brow like a badge, eyes fever bright and crazy intense, hands shaking, and suddenly it hit’s Kaneda, hard, that Tetsuo looks like shit and he’s practically just gotten back from the hospital.

There’s still a bandage wrapped, snow white, nice and tight around his dark mused hair, a gauze pad bulging out beneath it.

Kaneda sits up and blinks the fuzziness from his vision, takes a closer look at Tetsuo, watches how he shifts and his eyes drift away and then back to him, away, back again.

“I heard them, Kaneda. They were talking about me, but it wasn’t me. I was Number 41 and he was...special. They were saying I was Number 41 but I’m not and I’m not Akira and I don’t fucking know who Akira even is but he’s everywhere and he is everything and Kaneda, I can’t think right.”

At this point Kaneda stands up, slowly, because he’s worried now, he’s worried for Tetsuo he’s not making sense-

“I-I feel like something’s wrong with my head, it hurts. It hurts real fuckin bad Kaneda. And-and the pills help, but the pain’s still there. Akira’s still there, Number 41 is still there, you...you’re still there.”

This is where he takes a cautious step towards Tetsuo, whose eyes are roving over his face, then tracing the curve of the ceiling, the curve of his jaw, tracing the crack in the window-

“Of course I’m still here Tetsuo. I told you a long time ago, as long as you stick with me, we’ll show the world what we’re made of, yeah? You and me and our bikes and our boys. We’re all we’ve got.”

Tetsuo’s eyes drift towards him and they stay there: his gaze is hypnotizing, startling, reminding Kaneda of clear summer nights on top of the highest most dizzying buildings they can find, stars in the sky and beer cans and gusts of wind and standing too close to the edge, a breath away from falling-

“I’m sorry.” Tetsuo speaks so quietly Kaneda barely hears him over the neighbors, voice like it was when they were kids: soft, unsure, so so sad.

And suddenly Kaneda has no idea who this person is.

“Sorry? Wha...-for what?” Tetsuo’s gaze is gone again, locked on something he can’t see with his own eyes and Kaneda sighs, slumps his shoulders, shucks off his jacket and throws it over the pile of magazines he had planned on getting seriously acquainted with.

They can wait. Tetsuo cannot.

“Alright, hear me out. We’ve got no place to be for a while, and it’s late, why not crash here? We can drink some beer, watch T.V. from the hag’s place across the way and chill, yeah? You can crash here on my nice, comfortable couch and I’ll take that old, rickety, uncomfortable bed, cause you deserve nothin but the best. How bout it?”

He claps his hands together and grins wide, hoping to get Tetsuo’s attention and it works. His eyes stray towards him and they look more normal now, albeit a little lost.

It takes a minute for Tetsuo to answer.

“...There’s no way in hell I’m sleeping on that shitty old piece of trash again. Honestly, Kanny, it hardly qualifies as furniture, even if it does tie in with this pigsty…”

Kaneda’s jaw just about drops.

“You little shit! Like you’ve got any reason to be sayin that to me when you’re the one living in a junkie’s outhouse.” Tetsuo bristles, predictably, thankfully, pushes away from the threshold and his eyes gleam, face thunderous with humilated anger and indignation and this is the Tetsuo that Kaneda knows, not the one Yamagata keeps preaching about, what, with his heavy brow and stiff face and wild eyes, this is the kid he’s always been unreasonably fond of.

That is until he kicks Kaneda in the shin and tackles him onto the ‘shitty old piece of trash.’

“You asshole!”

-

There isn’t a funeral service for Tetsuo.

Not surprising, really. Tokyo is in shambles, tragedy fresh on everyone's minds.

The truth of the matter on very few.

Kaneda spends many sleepless nights playing the events of Tetsuo’s last days over and over in his head, wondering how it could have gone differently. If there was any possibility of things going differently. If he should have done anything differently.

He knows it's in vain, their paths strayed long before this bullshit happened, but Kaneda doesn’t know what else to do.

Kei drifts in and out of his apartment, bringing hot food from the shelters, trying vainly to coax him out of this deep, dark place he has found himself in with conversation about the ongoing reconstruction of the ruined town. Kaisuke visits once or twice a week, says very little, cries a lot. They sit together in mostly silence and smoke, drink, pop pills.

Try and act as if the city hasn’t just been blown to hell and all their friends are dead.

Kaneda, when he manages to fall asleep, dreams of Tetsuo. Sees flashes of him behind his eyelids when he’s awake. Hears whispers of his voice in the passing breeze.

He’s at a loss, doesn’t know where to go from here. Tells Kei this much one night on the roof of the abandoned building, standing close to the edge. He looks down on the destroyed city that used to be their playground.

Theirs.

Kei sidles up next to him suddenly and takes his hand into hers. Kaneda doesn’t look at her. She squeezes his palm tightly within hers. He doesn’t squeeze back.

“You go forward, stupid. That’s the only place you have a right to be going.”

A gust of air suddenly whips around them, making Kaneda sway on his feet and Kei cling a little more tightly to his hand. He stopped thinking about falling days ago.

A whisper sounds in his head, soft, unsure, and so so sad. He can’t tell whose voice it is anymore.

“Tetsuo chose his own path. He chose to chase after that power and use it no matter the consequences. Recklessly and heavy handedly, he chased after the thrill like you taught him and yeah...it sure as hell backfired on him. But despite that, at least in the end...he got what he wanted.”

Kaneda looks at her suddenly, curious as to what the hell she’s getting at. She always had a way of making him feel lost.  

She’s gazing out over the dark horizon of their wrecked town like he had been moments ago, like he has been for years. On her face is a smile that’s a little too bitter to look convincing, but its softened by the tears in her eyes.

“He had you on his side all the way to the end.”

Kaneda’s eyes rove over Kei’s face and he lets out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. It turns into a chuckle, incredulous and breathless. Kei’s eyes meet his and he matches her smile as something lights up in his chest, painful and raw and relieving. A dam breaks inside him and he’s laughing loudly now, thinking back to the first time he meet Tetsuo...just a sad, shy, powerless kid all alone in this mean world.

(s’long as you stick with me, we’ll show those losers who’s the boss)

“Yeah…”

He thinks about how he imagined Tetsuo being the one to chase him to the ends of the world, to follow him wherever he went like the meek, aimless kid he always seemed to be. 

Kaneda thought it would be himself throwing the wrench into the machine, fucking up the world big time and kick starting the revolution this shitty, merciless town needed.

But the shtick got old, and the tables got turned.

The powerless became the powerful.

Kaneda always thought he was a winner and never really saw the same in Tetsuo. Never really thought he would see himself in a position to fall so far, to lose so much. But still...

“He always did need someone to watch his back.”

-

#akira #tetsuo shima #kaneda shotaro #fiction #character analysis #?? #idk man #had this in my drafts for a while #finally decided to finish it #it's like #kinda weird #and not very good #but at the same time i am very happy with it #kei #kei (akira) #kaisuke #kaisuke (akira) #kaori (akira) #story #my writing

[crushingonrazz]

Drunk

On Discord today, @itsladykit @ollie-oxen-free @queenofbiscuits and I came up with some headcanons for what kind of drunks the skeletons would be? And I thought you guys would enjoy hearing these headcanons

Ollie fell and papyrus are sober drunks. they seem fine until you realize that theyre in the double digits with shots and they just go silent and then black the fuck out. red is the drunk thats randomly appearing and disappearing through the night. hes there, then gone for an hour, and when he comes back hes missing a shoe and is drunker than when he left. blue is an angry drunk. stretch took one of his m&ms one time while he was drunk and blue broke the bottle on the end on the table and threatened him. he punched a mirror because he thought razz had taken his bandana, but it was just his reflection. the embodiment of chaos. stretch and sans are the frat boy drunks. theyre making dick jokes and flirting with everything that moves. or everything that doesnt. sans insists that he saw stretch making out with a tree, but he was just as drunk so no one really knows. razz is actually a very nice drunk? everyone is surprised. he spends most of his time taking quizzes onlnie to find out what kind of dog he is. gets angry every time hes not a dalmation. slim is an emotional and self-loathing drunk. he doesnt drink for enjoyment, he drinks if theres nothing else that will help him black out so he doesnt have to remember. hes impulsive in all the wrong ways while drunk and tends to edge more on the "hurting myself but i dont really give a fuck" way. slim doesnt really drink

Crush Blue is the type of drunk that if you don't watch him like a hawk he'll be dancing on tables. He'll be dancing well, damn him, but he probably shouldn't be whipping his clothes off in the middle of the bar. Razz is the drunk that dances for a while but then as soon as theres a drink in his hand he plants his ass in a chair and does not get out of the chair until he either passes out or goes home because if he gets up he will Fall Over and if he falls over he will Cry. Sans is a weepy-ass drunk, he has like one beer and he's sobbing into a stranger's shoulder about how he doesn't even like alcohol anyway. Red is a hot drunk, and by hot i mean temperature, hes always standing in a cool corner and fanning himself and he always looks like he's on the verge of passing out, but then he also screams WOOOO! a lot? Probably to make up for the fact that he's kinda dead inside lmao. Papyrus doesn't drink often, but when he does, it's classy af, he sits with his legs crossed and he just kind of watches everyone disapprovingly and pulls Blue off of tables and such. Slim is an angry drunk at first, like picking fights and kicking ass and stuff, but as he gets drunker and drunker he gets to be more of a sad clown. He tells awful fucking jokes then cries when you don't laugh. "I never should have dropped out of college to pursue comedy" "that literally never happened" "leave me alone mom you'll never understand" but like it's not even mom its just Papyrus. Fell thinks he's a classy drunk but he's definitely not, he's a bad flirting kind of drunk that laughs really loudly and thinks "I DEMAND YOU GIVE ME YOUR NUMBER" is a good pickup line and is like legitimately surprised when it doesn't work. When people point out that he's married he's like "I know, it was stretch that I asked!". Stretch is also a flirty drunk but he's more like his brother, halfway convinced he's a stripper. Fell is not a fan of drunk Stretch unless he's also drunk. It's not because he minds the flirting, it's because he fucking always gets thrown up on, what the fuck stretch, i told you not to eat first.

Fresh I feel like Slim and Razz would have the highest tolerance just in general, mostly because the alcohol in Swapfell is a bit stronger than anywhere else. The person with the lowest tolerance is actually Stretch, this boi just can't do much after a drink or two. If they've been drinking for a while, Papyrus will usually be the first to bed. Getting drunk always makes him sleepy, so once he's had a few he's going straight to bed.  Red and Sans are almost always getting into some stupid arguments about science or time theory or having an arm wrestling match, even though Fell almost always breaks it up. Fell will usually go quiet and contemplative, which for the most part isn't a great thing? Sometimes he'll break down and start crying and leave before anyone can see him (either Red or Papyrus, if he's still up, will go and check on him). Blue is quiet for the most part (he drinks more than the average person anyways), but he'll also want to try that strangely colored drink with all the different colors because it looks like that multi-colored sand you can buy on tv. Sometimes you can hear him mumbling about science stuff that Sans and Red are arguing about, but he'll never jump in on the conversation. Stretch is a party-er. He wants to dance, he wants to sing, he wants anyone within reach to know how cool his brother is. Razz and Slim almost never get actually drunk around the same time that these idiots do, so they usually just hang around whoever is the least amount drunk and try to get at least buzzed before everyone else is ready to go home. Razz doesn't actually enjoy drinking all that much and only goes with them because they essentially strong armed him into doing it.

Kit Blue is a happy, bubbly, and overall very flirtatious drunk. He’s actually quite charming and confident. Stretch is a sloppy drunk. He thinks he’s being suave, but he isn’t, and he gets very handsy. He tends to hop into whatever bed is available, too. Edge gets cuddly. He’s otherwise pretty normal and reserved, but he allows a lot more physical contact. Red is mellow and sleepy. He’s kinda maudlin when he’s not smiling like an idiot. Doesn’t talk so much unless you motivate him. Papyrus is super energetic. He talks even louder than usual and he gets distracted very easily. Sans gets kinda clingy and he laughs a lot at his own jokes. And...his jokes are depressing rather than funny. Slim giggles like a schoolgirl, though he tries to muffle himself. Still doesn’t talk though. Razz doesn’t like to get drunk, because he’s more emotional. Anger and sadness particularly are just right on the surface. It’s like he’s just a bundle of raw nerves. Stretch, Red, and Sans will all band together for various pranks snd idiocy too.

#undertale #underfell #underswap #swapfell #headcanons #alcohol use

[kitto-toberu-sa]

Digimon Adventure Tri – Symbiosis (Part 5) Movie Premier

Aight so I had great seats and I was sitting with a friend so it was great because we were whispering ‘what the fuck’ and crying together. We had a group of us scattered throughout the cinema, so that was cool and we debated for two-three hours after the movie, and the next two days lol.

ALSO: It’s been a few days, emotions were high, my Japanese isn’t flawless, etc etc. I may be wrong, I may accidentally write ‘it was this’ when that’s subjective and not fact etc. Take everything with a grain of salt. I’ve covered pretty much everything, and I’m pretty sure most of it is correct and have noted where I think otherwise.

General opinion: Meiko’s story has gone on too long, and while it’s finally gotten good, it’s too little too late. However, considering everything that Toei has set up so far and what they have to work with, it was a good movie. I think it was better than movie 4, which is my least favourite, but not as good as others. Some moments were stupid and others did not get what they deserved. Ai Kotoba is beautiful and it’s really refreshing and just an all round lovely song.

Let’s get down to eleven pages of business!

We start with Meiko being choked by Gennai, a direct continuation of last movie. Meikuumon goes bonkers. And ends up opening a fuck tonne of portals to the real world and Gennai’s pretty happy because there’s angry Digimon invading the real world. It happens over a while (separate scenes) but these Digimon cause chaos by invading shit and stuff. They aren’t friendly but we don’t really see them do BAD things – it’s more that they have a bad presence and are making people v v nervous. Often Digimon like Tankmon. Like, if there were 50 Tankmon in your street, it wouldn’t matter if they were actively attacking or not. Them being there is enough of an attack to terrorise people. It’s also likely it’s the infection/Mmon’s influence.

Meikuumon almost kills Meiko but Taichi saves her. This isn’t an issue – tbh we all know Meiko can’t do shit for herself. She’s been rescued before, it’s her character type. What the issue is is after her rescued her, he kept holding her. This happens a few more times. The over touching is really unnecessary and leads a heavy TaiMei vibe throughout the movie, which I don’t like, purely because Meiko hasn’t really got much of a deep character). I can ship pretty much anything if it’s written well (even in fics) but Meiko has no character to write well. And considering Taichi was so overly touchy with her, yet abandons Hikari later made me super pissed. Meikuumon disappears into the real world. Meiko’s glasses cracked when Gennai choked her.

There’s a Meikuumon flashback where Mmon comes out of a bush to find Meiko. We see a pool of blood behind it – Meiko doesn’t with feathers in it. Meiko cleans Mmon up, Meiko’s mum is concerned why she has blood on her shirt. Meiko’s like wtf I wasn’t hurt?? It’s from Mmon’s claws. Neither of them figure it out tho (or say so directly). This is from around the time Meiko found Mmon (Meikuumon).

Throughout the film we see lots of Mmon flashbacks. Mei looking after her, bathing her, Mmon being terrified by birds when she gets lost (hence the pool of blood), Mmon sneaking in Meiko’s school bag, being lonely when Mei is away etc. We also see shots of her in a lab, being very unhappy, Meiko’s dad talking about testing and researching, Hime lurking in the lab looking ready to move, Mmon in a trashed lab on a rampage and Mei calming her down, but being scared at the same time.

Hiemkawa is stumbling around calling for her partner. Why did you reject me? Where are you? She’s lost it. She’s completely gone.

The kids are in the Digi World but the Digital World doesn’t want them (Yggdrasil’s doing?). It keeps raining or using plants to attack them. At one point an entire cliff disappears beneath them, so they all fall. Later, when they’re running more from the world itself, Takeru tries to lead the way but the cliff disappears again and he’s just in the moment before he falls and he’s like ‘eh?’ and it’s a really nice bit of humour.

There’s a camp fire scene and there is such a beautiful rendition of Butter-fly playing. Easily one of my top ten moments. I don’t think it entirely matched the scene but damn. Release a stupidly priced BGM album of Tri with this on it and I’ll buy it in a heartbeat. Anyway, the scene is basically another ‘Meiko your part of our group’. One of Yamato’s lines was really cool ‘you’re not a chosen child. We’re the chosen children’. I especially like that line because it applies to ALL children, not just the original adventure kids. It isn’t about what you’ve experienced, it’s about the bond with Digimon some humans have.

Hikari is very much ‘we aren’t wanted. It doesn’t want us here. It’s telling us to leave’. And everyone doesn’t really like hearing that, but Takeru is really the only one going ‘uh, WHY do you feel that??’. Like it’s clear how the world is acting, but why does she think it’s the world attacking them more than a side effect of reboot or something. This is because they refuse to kill Mmon. The world is seeing them as a virus, something that’s unwelcome. Mmon is causing destruction and chaos – the digital world doesn’t want it, and essentially, if you don’t want Mmon dead, you’re on it’s side.

Tai’s mother is very worried about the situation. She’s worried about the world and her kids and the Digimon. She decides she can’t do anything but make sure they’ll be well fed when they get back, so she starts cooking. It might not sound good from my description, but it’s very simple and raw. She loves her kids. She knows she’s powerless. All she can do is hope and make sure they know how much she cares when they come back.

I wish we had more of these. Show me Yamato’s dad looking through footage trying to make sure the kids aren’t there getting hurt, Takeru’s mother harassing media contacts, Jyou’s family wondering about the casualities and hoping Jyou’s studies will help him if he needs it, Koushirou’s parents concerned but knowing how knowledgeable their boy is so he’s probably gonna keep himself out of trouble, Mimi’s parents worried, demanding police and whatever security agencies they can find if they know where she is, Sora’s mother glad that Sora grew up a tomboy and isn’t afraid of dirt and scary things, Meiko’s mother worried about the inner conflict her daughter must be going through.

Nishijima and Meiko’s dad talk while this is happening. MMON IS NOT EVOLVING. It is a power boost, yes, and it’s essentially very similar to the same levels of a shinka digimon, but it is NOT shinka. Mmon is abnormal and always has been. Mmon is confirmed to be related to Apoclymon in some shape – this could mean Mmon is an off shot of Amon, or got power/evil from the same source, anything really. Hackmon is very vague and unhelpful and has a difficult way of speaking. Also I found it really hard to concentrate here since Hackmon is sitting on a tv and looks very dog like, and considering it’s the movie about the cat digimon humans, I thought it was very amusing (small things, small minds?). Also, the tv is showing people debate about Digimon. One dude is very anti Digimon, another is very extra (think the shiny sparkly laser guy from BnHA, but not quite as extra) and then one dude, the closest to the screen, looks like he’s settling in for an angry nap. I love it.

Nishijima is pretty pissed and wants to know more and why Hackmon didn’t tell them anything. Hackmon is all like ‘lmao you couldn’t do shit anything anyway’ and Nishijima’s like ‘…true’. Also, Hackmon says they (Hack and Homeo) didn’t interfere with Mmon because they were trusting Meiko to keep it in line (ie Mmon was given to Meiko to be her partner, rather than them being destined for each other like the others). I mean, that seems like a bad idea, but okay sure, leave everything to the fate of a little girl. Why not. In any case, it’s now up to the Chosen to destroy Mmon.

Meiko is basically Mmon’s hope. Without Meiko, Mmon will lose it, hence why Gennai strangled her. Mmon is a toddler and Meiko is the safety blanket. Take the blanket away and you have a temper tantrum and uncontrollable actions on your hands.

The kids return to the real world with their Digimon. The fear mongering against the Digimon has reached bad levels, but we’re not really shown this so it isn’t as impactful as it could have been. (This could have been shown later with Mimi or Koushirou checking social media and getting pissed that people were talking shit about Digimon. I think they tried to a show don’t tell thing with the press conference on tv, etc, but I just don’t think it was done well, especially in some scenes where we see police/army/enforcement of some description trying to get civilians with cameras away from the Digimon infested spots, so it looks touristy rather than people being scared)

Anyway, a kid starts crying because Digimon are scary. Agumon’s like ?? let’s be friends and a police officer comes over. Obviously, Digimon are bad now so they call in support. Taichi fucking bolts and everyone follows. Digimon escape into the server. The kids are taken in by the police.

As they’re running, Taichi grabs Meiko’s hand. In the end, she’s like ‘um? I can run by myself?’. She’s polite and blushing, which you kinda do when you’re running and have your hand held by a cute boy. He lets go of her hand. There was no reason for him to do that unless he likes her or thinks she’s so weak she needs protecting. He’s never treated the other girls like that so to me it feels OOC. Her words also seem like a rejection to me. It wasn’t funny, didn’t develop anything and was oddly placed. Bad scene is bad.

The kids learn about how people view Digimon. It would have been nice to see interviews from classmates. Seeing Taichi and Yamato react again would have been interesting, plus you could have had Nishijima’s conflict of interests – Digimon dude vs teacher. What does he think of his student’s views, being so close to our chosen and being chosen himself?

Nishijima bails them out but can’t take them home. (Himekawa is missing, so he’s essentially doing her job as well) I guess the police chase was shown on the news or leaked or something, since people are in front of the Chosen’s house. Media too. It isn’t safe for them to go home. I wish they’d played up more of ‘but are our families ok?’. Especially Yamato’s and Takeru’s parents since they’re in the media!! Like, make them feel worried about how it will impact their jobs, or if they can even go to work or whatever.

He shows them a photo of Meikuumon blowing up the power plant. Meiko has new glasses as well as her old cracked ones (maybe she had a same pair of the same style at home that Nishi got for her, but considering he said it was too dangerous for them to go back home, idk. I guess people wouldn’t know who he is, but if the media is there you can bet they want interviews from the neighbours and anyone entering/leaving the building).

Anyway, Nishijima makes them hang out at school in the Calligraphy Club room. Apparently the school is shut for the summer, but mine never shut so… It’s possible this could be Obon, which my schools did shut for and a lot of businesses take a few days off for.

In a throw back to the stage play, now it’s night Mimi decides it’s time to gossip. My group was discussing whether the play took ideas from the movie, or perhaps they purposely tied it in, or new writers or what. A few other things were similar from the play that we hadn’t seen in Tri before, so it’s likely the creative teams spoke at one point.

Takeru says it’s only natural that they do ghost stories since it’s summer. Yamato is overly against it, which calls attention to him. Takeru enjoys mocking how scared he is. Yamato tries to deny it. The girls all gossip about him and he’s desperately trying to be cool. The DIGIMON start to talk shit and he’s even worse.

Jyou makes a lame attempt at telling a story. Yama’s slightly spoked still. Takeru starts (of course, with a torch light on his face). Yamato’s getting more freaked out. But the way Takeru starts just makes Mimi and Sora laugh so he passes the torch to Meiko (who ALL of the Digimon want to hear from :/ - whether you like Meiko or not, the fact that everyone hangs on her word is a little OTT at times).

So she starts. And this is something she actually is good at. Everyone’s freaking out. (It’s pretty generic, in a school hear the ringing of a bike bell blah blah) Yamato is fucking paranoid. “And on the other side of the door-”

Door opens.

SCREAMING

It’s just Nishijima. Nishijima is so confused why they’re all sitting in a dark room. Yamato looks like he had a heart attack ;;;;;; Honestly I can’t do justice to this scene. Everyone was great here and Yamato’s nervous twitching was PERFECT.

Anyway Nishijima buys them food and reminds them that it’s late. He asks if they want to stay the night. Yamato’s NO is perhaps a little too fast and loud lmao More shit talking ensures. Someone makes a snark about him being scared and Nishijima has also suggested a hotel, but Yamato has to gain back his image and says it’s fine to stay there. Jou wants the hotel but if it’s just him, he’d rather stay with everyone than being alone.

They call their families. Mimi is crying (not sobs, just tears, while she’s talking to her parents) and Sora hugs her while she’s also on the phone. We don’t hear most of the conversations, so this is very touching. Jou talks alone on the stair case, Koushirou is happily chatting away. Yamato and Takeru call their respective guardians and Yamato chooses not to talk to his mother. Hikari finishes talking to their mother and passes the phone to Taichi.

“How is she (Hikari)?” “Not gonna ask about your son?” (said in a joking way) “I know you’ll be ok. I’m entrusting the two Digimon and Hikari to you, ok?” “Yeah yeah”

We see their mum has made a huge amount of food to welcome them back because she was so worried about them. She’s relieved their back home, but you can see in her expression she’s still a bit worried.

Taichi is wandering around and finds Meiko on the phone to her dad. She’s very clearly not ok but her dad doesn’t seem to be giving two shits. Like, we don’t hear him talk, but judging by what we’ve seen he isn’t the most emotional man and she didn’t seem to be like ‘thanks for the pep talk. Im still depressed but thanks for trying’. Even when he was talking to Nishijima and they were saying as long as Meiko is safe Mmon is ok – he was like ‘hm, damn, hope she’s alright then because this thing is fucking shit up. So she’s probably not ok. Hm’. Yes, I realise more than Meiko is at stake. But decent parents would show more concern – nobody in the room (Hackmon and Nishi) are his superiors, he wouldn’t lose face, etc. There was no reason for him to be distant except he is distant. So fuck him to be honest. I’m all about good family relationships and I think Digimon has shown enough ‘oh they have family issues’ (Koushirou, Yamato and Takeru, Sora etc) that Meiko didn’t need it in her sob story either.

Taichi approaches Meiko and she is way too real. It’s great she is finally having deep thoughts, but she’s pretty dark and worries about her self worth (I’m someone who can’t do anything). She worries about if it’s ok for everyone to help her and put her in danger to help her rescue her partner. Taichi starts to go back to his leader roots. I wish I understood more of the conversation/could convey it clearer. Meiko really needed this development. This scene was important for her, and I really wish it had come a lot sooner.

The Digimon are all anxiously watching. “Should I tell Sora?” “Maybe I should tell Hikari!” “Yamato would want to know about this!”

Agumon wonders over to Meiko shortly after Taichi leaves. The Digimon do the same thing.

It’s honestly really cute. This is probably the shippiest thing ever. You can see it as friendship, but if Mimi and Jyou were talking I doubt the Digimon would bat an eyelid. Part of it comes with how new Meiko is and part of it is Toei being Toei. All the Digimon are curious to how their humans will react to this one on one time.

Agumon asks if she’s hungry. She mentions she’s fine, but her heart is a little empty. I can’t remember the wording, but he basically said that can be fixed because everyone likes her. It’s very naïve and childish, but it’s innocent and I felt like these incidents cemented her place in the group and made her more willing to trust everyone. She cries and hugs him.

(So I know a lot of people have issues with Tri’s humour. Mostly Agumon and his stupid food obsessed nature. The ghost story scene was done very well, and even Agumon’s scene here was done really well, despite me being bad at describing it. The humour fits the movie, doesn’t feel out of place and has done more to make Meiko a part of the group than so many other scenes combined have. It’s definitely one of the best scenes of the movie (ghosts) and in the Tri franchise)

The next day Mmon appears so everyone runs out to fight it. This fight is very long and the last 1/4? Maybe more of the movie is pure action (from here until the end). Surprisingly the streets are still ok. Everyone gets screen time but nobody really gets a shining moment. Everyone goes perfect and then mega (except Angewoman). Jesmon appears to eliminate Mmon who powers up to Raguelmon.

Maki is still stumbling around, wondering what the fuck she did because she caused the world to be shit and her partner doesn’t even remember her so what’s the point?

Hikari ends up being possessed by homeo again and fights it off. It’s saying they need to kill Mmon and Hikari ain’t about that life. THIS is the Hikari I’ve been waiting for. She doesn’t take shit despite her kind personality. If something was possessing you, would you sit idly by? It was a short scene, and you kinda see the real Hikari as a shadow/ghost, shouting to her body/homeo telling it to fuck off.

There is a pic of Takeru holding Hikari with Meiko in the bg. “I guess this takes place after Hikari breaks free from homeostasis” – yes. I have a lot of issues with this scene. It happens in the free for all fight and Taichi basically runs off to keep fighting. Considering this happens after the call where his mother specifically asked him to look after her, where he is the leader, where he is her brother!!!!, I’m pissed at this decision. Yes, the fight is important, but the digimon can do it by themselves? Humans get in the way? He should have been there for Hikari more instead of letting other people carry her (she’s fatigued and needs two people to support her). It also would have made his disappearance have more of an impact.

They enter the Digital World. (At one point Mmon protects Meiko and everyone is like? Is it because they’re partners or because Mmon wanted to fight Jesmon? The kids were divided on this and weren’t in clearly chosen camps. I personally didn’t see a whole lot of protecting Meiko in this scene – even Meiko wasn’t entirely sure).

Alphamon (Team Ygg) comes to fight Jesmon (Team Homeo). Everyone gets destroyed to baby forms. Omegamon has to fight/protect Raguelmon who is trying to fight Omegamon (from Jesmon). Jesmon charges a massive attack and tries to shoot Raguelmon (I’ll probably use Mmon since it’s easier sorry – also Raguelmon is never called that by name due to no evolution sequence, it never doing anything but screaming unlike every other Digimon, and Koushirou doesn’t look it up even though he looks Jesmon up? etc). Alphamon attacks Jesmon as it’s about to fire and it goes off course, causing the ground to shatter. I wouldn’t say Alphamon is on Omegamon’s side but they aren’t enemies..? As mentioned by Jay on WtW, even Miyazaki Ayumi (side note: AiM was very cute the whole thing, Hikari kept looking to Taichi to help her answer because MAO is kinda spacy and Meiko’s VA is  v v v cute) felt some confusion in this fight. Jesmon and Alphamon are nowhere to be seen after this happens and by the time the dust has cleared everyone is back to their baby form bar Mmon.

(I can’t remember at exactly what point it happens, but later on, we Himekawa in the DARK OCEAN!!! She sees the demony things, and has a gun but doesn’t use it. She’s still loony af. She drowns. Her scenes are short but really strong. Nishijima ends up kinda feeling that something happens to her (red string of fate www). He’s also wondering why he was chosen as a child (he did in the Hackmon talk as well – it’s really nice to see him be very human instead of a goof who happens to be a secret agent) and remembers him and Hime with their Digimon as kids.)

Meiko had been running toward Mmon at this point (she decided that it would be best for everyone if Mmon was killed – Taichi accepted this decision, though Yamato was initially against it. Yamato gave in – I believe it was partly because it’s logical – Mmon is causing hell, infecting everyone etc. Part of it is his crest – he doesn’t want his friends hurt (also why he fought the choice) or disrespect them when they’re serious (this seemed to be Taichi’s main motivation). Meiko has finally gotten serious and her choice is the most logical, and she’s the one that hurts the most from it. Disrespecting this would be pretty rude, and there is nobody else who can fight apart from Omegamon.)

Meiko running toward Mmon is partly due to her low feeling of self worth. On top of that, I think she was hoping to get hurt and to give Omegamon a chance to get Mmon. Meiko didn’t make this choice easily. She’s my least fave Tri character, but I really felt for her here. TaiYama had been following her (Yamato first – despite agreeing to Mmon being killed, I don’t think he would let this one slide. Again, she doesn’t need to be hurt, she’s hurting enough, it’s not logical for her to be physically hurt, his crest etc).

The ground shatters, Yama saves Meiko. This could be seen as shippy since he’s saved her more than once (she shouldn’t need to be saved as often as she has been…). But I don’t think so. He has the crest of friendship. He’s seen enough friends die. Again, I don’t think it felt particularly shippy so I think it was Toei being weird when they made him hold her longer than necessary.

Taichi nods to Omegamon in a very short but powerful scene. He’s so far away from the other two. Omon saves Yamato and Meiko as a result. Theres a few shouts as Taichi starts to fall. Nishijima tries to save him but they both fall. This was a really well done scene. I don’t think Digimon has ever filled me with so much dread. Yamato called for Taichi and that hurt. Shipper or not, these two have a strong bond. They don’t always agree or get along, and in Tri they’ve been weird, but they were shot by angels together. Taichi just gave up his life for these two. That’s a bond and a half.

Everyone thinks Taichi’s dead. That’s stupid, but they don’t know they’re anime ;p We don’t see them once they fall, but we don’t need to to know they’re alive. The reactions are lame in my opinion (and I discuss this shortly – the ones as he was falling were fine, but afterwards, I get everyone is in shock, but I don’t think it’s what it should have been). I think Yamato and Meiko will get a bit of time to open up more next movie due to how close they were to being in same boat.

After the dust settles, Hikari realises Taichi isn’t there. Oniichan doushite… Oniichan… Oniichan… Nobody can get close to her and the ‘distortion’ started. She wasn’t possessed or infected from my knowledge (and her eyes do the red glowy thing – kinda like homoe but less rainbow, more red/dark) (I don’t believe it was made clear what it was tho. It could be Yggdrasil influencing her in a moment of weakness, infection, whatever. This is how I see it). Earlier, it was mentioned that those who are the softest and most kind hearted are the easiest to break (Hackmon). Essentially it is the same as Tai going dark – she lost her light and kinda went blank. They really needed to show her breaking a little more instead of just going numb. If they didn’t show her darkness in the previews it would have been so much more effective. Even showing her Digivice cracking, being corrupted or something would have done something. Static noise. This scene wasn’t as good as it could have been.

Takeru tries to call out to her once but nada.

The darkness kind of left Hikari (and left her with a static barrier? So nobody could really get close to her) and it infected her partner (the darkness kind of swallows it??) and we got OFDM. Unfortunately no dark evolution sequence which would have been hella rad. OFDM and Mmon fuse – it doesn’t look like Mmon WANTS to (so it is NOT Jogress). (There was little to no reaction from Meiko – understandable. She almost died, her Digimon is causing terror and hurting people and almost hurt, how is she meant to feel???) OFDM darkness kinda sucks it up? The merge and it’s fucking terrifying.

If you’ve seen Evangelion, the angel that’s pinned to the cross underground?? THINK A GIANT WINGED TERRIFYING VERSION OF THAT IT’S NIGHTMARE FUEL Y’ALL

Big and white, creepy eyes (multiple, I remember them being black), massive butt (I’m sorry but it does), female. It’s creepy and gross and demonic. No hands or legs, like claw things.

So basically, Nmon is forced to evolve into OFDM (I don’t see Hikari’s darkness as attacking Nmon – it’s more like the darkness in Hikari can’t DO anything in Hikari, so it merges with her partner which is able to change forms (evolve) so it can let it’s rage be known – think of it as Hikari’s heart/emotions needing to let go of it’s anger and frustration but obvs, humans have limited ways of doing it, so by going to a creature which can fuck shit up, she can release her emotions better – idk if that’s the official explanation, but that’s how I saw it, especially as the humans and partners are meant to have such strong bonds it makes sense one influences the other, and it’d be a nice throwback to 01 Hikari when she used her inner light against the Numemon or whatever), it sucks Mmon into a portal (it’s darkness kind of leaks down to Mmon, smothers it, drags it up to the portal iirc) and the fusion comes down, Hikari tells it to fucking murder everything, and it goes back into the portal, to our world, and darkness starts to spread over the planet.

Yamato grabs Tai’s goggles and puts them on (!!!!!!!!!). (I cried. They’re my OTP of OTP’s) He basically tells everyone they have to get it together – he’s right. You may not like him as the leader, but someone needs to lead now. Who else will? Jyou who has spent half the series trying to balance two massive tasks? (I love him and would love to see him lead, but I don’t think Tri has really set him up to do that well – and Yamato has always been Taichi’s foil when it came to leadership) Koushirou, who already had a leader role after the reboot? Takeru, who’s focussed on the very numb and out of it Hikari? (Keep in mind Hikari fought homeo which is exhausting, she just lost her brother, she’s been running and fighting all day, her Digimon is now dark and fused with a Digimon that’s been bonkers from the almost start – from what I remember people were essentially helping her do everything, even stand up – it looks very PTSD to me.) Mimi, who’s crying? Meiko, who doesn’t really know anyone because Toei still forces the ‘no Meiko, you ARE our friend’ instead of her already being a friend/integrated group member (validating ur friends is cool – constantly going ‘we're friends’ tho kinda makes it look like they need convincing and it just doesn’t feel right). Sora? Maybe, yeah, I wouldn’t mind it, and tbh she deserves it since she had such a shit movie, but c’mon. We’re not looking at a perfect series and some of the moves made by Toei regarding Digimon as a whole lately have been bad (yes I’m looking at you Fes).

Yamato isn’t claiming to be the new leader or taking over. The WORLD is about to get destroyed by TWO OF THEIR OWN DIGIMON. They’ve essentially lost a mentor (Nishijima, two if you count Gennai) and TWO MEMBERS (Hikari is useless rn, Tai’s gone, three if you count Meiko without Mmon). They need to MOVE. Everyone’s in shock (I guess – I found their reactions pretty piss poor tbh) but he’s the one realising the urgency of the situation and doing something about it. Comparing his leaderships skills now to 01 Yamato’s is honestly stupid. You aren’t the same as you were a few years ago, so why hold that standard to him, especially when Tri (and the stage play) has often emphasised how time and situations make people change.

(In saying that, I’m looking forward to when he gives the goggles back!!! I don’t think there will be time for him to fuck up (though I wouldn’t say no to it), unless the movie is longer than any other. Also, this could well be a coping method for him too – keeping the goggles could mean that he’s ready to give them back, a way of keeping Taichi with them, that he doesn’t want to believe Taichi is gone and is waiting for him to show up aka a coping mechanism)

Koromon is looking down to where Taichi fell. He has such a small voice. “I couldn’t save him…”

It’s heart breaking. I don’t like that they don’t have their original memories, but this is so innocent and pure and the new relationships with their humans aren’t any less valid than the old ones. Yamato is encouraging in his own gruff way to him and leads the way back to everyone else.

Ai Kotoba is a beautiful song. Their voices match beautifully, the lyrics are wonderful and it fits the melancholy feel of the end. Please support them and buy a copy of the CD if you can. I’ll always love Wada-san’s works, but this is honestly a beautiful beautiful song and I’m so upset I can’t go to Miyazaki’s next concert (it’s highly speculated that AiM will be making a guest appearance).

Discussion/Ramblings (Some of this from the With the Will forum. People asked Jay some questions. I sat next to Jay during the movie. Afterwards the group I was with went to dinner – Jay was absent)

No 02 kids. But Gennai was doing a Ken every now and then? No reason for that, I guess he likes changing forms??

People are saying Taichi and Nishijima are dead which is fucking stupid. Tri hasn’t taken many major risks, they aren’t going to up and kill two characters, especially the main. C’mon y’all, really? There are no bodies. General rule = body means dead. No body = alive. They disappeared when the ground was cracking up – there’s plenty of hope. Nobody who saw the movie believes they’re dead.

Our group kinda talked about it and wonder if the 02 kids are in the DOcean or not, and also whether that’s where Taichi and Nishijima would go (02 maybe, not so much the other two).

However, we did think that Wizardmon could be coming back still. He isn’t a Digimon, and if he’s able to travel worlds/realms, if Tai/Nishi aren’t in the DOcean (no reason for them to be), but somewhere else, it’s possible we could see him. Plus, he could serve as a trigger to bring back Tailmon’s (everyones) memories/make her/Hikari come back to the light, especially if he brings the humans with him. I can’t remember the exact discussion, but it sounds more plausible than how I’m writing it lmao.

Attack names aren’t called out either for the most part. Evo scenes were merged, cut etc to cut down screen time, thank god. Taichi has a lot of screen time (more so than Hikari), and I like how they’re showing him becoming more of the diplomat the epilogue showed him to be. Whether the epilogue ends up being canon or not (I don’t care either way tbh), it shows a lot of growth and I enjoy and appreciate it.

DARK OCEAN DARK OCEAN DARK OCEAN

Some thoughts after our discussion: now that Meikuumon is known to be made of something similar to Apocalypmon, why (…I don’t know where I was going with this. I was typing at 2am after the movie after about four hours of discussion… went to bed without finishing the thought… maybe I’ll remember one day)

We’re curious as to what crest Meiko would have. Ken has one, so Meiko should definitely have one. With everyone else, we can kinda look at their actions through the context of their crests, but with Meiko, we have little to work with (no matter how I may sound, I don’t hate her – she is simply there for me. I WANT to like her, but I don’t have a lot of good reasons to…). Giving her a crest could help us understand/like her more, make her actions make more sense etc. I think it’s important for her as a member of the Adventure franchise tbh. The 02 kids had their attributes, so if she doesn’t get one, she’ll be left out in a bad way imo.

Some people seem to think Hikari and Meiko will get more focus in the next movie. Obvs to an extent they will since their partners are the Big Bad now (sure, people behind the scenes (Ygg, Homeo etc), but this is the immediate big bad). But this is the last movie – they can’t afford to spend too much time on these two unless it’s longer than usual. Don’t hold your breath for anything special. However, what can they do? They’ve lost their partner. They’re Chosen but have no partners. Where do they fit on the team? Interesting discussions could be had here.

The TaiMei moments are teasing and tbh, I don’t think either character likes the other in a romantic sense. I just think Toei was trying to be teasing but they failed. I haven’t seen anyone go “oh! Yes thanks I love it!”. Everyone was like “Thanks! I hate it!”. Why? Because it was done weirdly (mostly just by holding Meiko for an awkwardly long time) and it’s OOC on both ends. Meiko is constantly having everyone say ‘yea you’re our friend you’re in the group’ and then suddenly romance teasing? Doesn’t make sense.

Neither Hikari nor OFDM got the time they deserved. OFDM was in the movie for maybe a minute before fusing. I honestly feel bad for Hikari fans. This franchise (Tri) has been mostly Meiko. This was meant to be a movie about both of them (though Meiko honestly shouldn’t get one since they should have established her history etc well before now and she’s had ample screen time in every movie for that to happen with) and Meiko took over. Mmon also has the same issue. OFDM was placed on the poster, and yeah, it created hype, but unless we see more OFDM next movie, or the pure version, it’s honestly shit tbh.

I have a lot of hopes for the last movie, but I don’t have high expectations. Movie 4 is the worst in Tri imo, and 5 was maybe the 2nd or 3rd worse. Not good for this late in the franchise. I believe it will focus mainly on Taichi and Yamato (one needs to get back to the group, the other is de facto leader) and Meiko (because when isn’t Tri focused on her? Plus she lost her partner) and Hikari (many reasons). However, I believe Hikari may get shafted pretty quick a la Sora and once Yamato hands over the leadership again (which essentially means Tai shows up) theres no need to focus on him either. I do hope they punch each other tho. Is it really Adventure if they don’t hit each other??

I don’t think part six can answer all plot holes and questions, or give everyone ample and fair screen time and do well with the plot. I’m looking forward to it, but, I don’t think it can do everything I want it to or everything I need it too or everything it should do (tie up loose ends etc). All in all, enjoyable movie considering how everything has been set up, though it has it’s weird moments.

#Digimon #Digimon Adventure Tri #Tri Spoilers #I didn't talk about the talk segment much sorry!