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suuuupernovaaa · 1 year

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muntxa si

MUNTXA SI: (english) to mate with, marry

(Adult) Neteyam vehemently opposes his human mate becoming Na’vi, for fear of losing her.

This story makes many assumptions - just go with them to enjoy the ride.

2,247 words.

The strength with which Neteyam opposed the idea, right from the very start, was a shock to everyone who knew him. When his mother first mentioned it, she saw a familiar fury in his eyes, one she knew she’d worn many times.

His brother nearly lost his head when he brought it up, and his father hadn’t even tried to broach the subject.

What he didn’t know was that they weren’t bringing it up of their own accord, though it was something they’d thought about before. They were bringing it up because I had brought it up to them first.

I was the only one who wasn’t shocked by his reaction. I knew that all Neteyam would see was the danger and risk involved, and there was nothing more detestable to Neteyam than putting me in harm’s way. This was a sometimes annoying but mostly reassuring trait of his, especially given that, as a human living on Pandora, danger was lurking around nearly every corner for me. Ewya had blessed me with a strong and capable - but slightly overbearing - protector.

After weeks of his family telling me it was me who would have to convince him, I finally plucked up the courage.

We sat in our Mauri pod, late at night, and the words spilled out of my mouth before I could fully control them.

“I want to become Na’vi. Norm has an Avatar for me, he’s been hiding it since I was little, and he told me on my 20th birthday. It’s fully mature now.”

Neteyam sat at the edge of our pod, his legs dangling over the edge and into the water, and he spun around so fast that his braids smacked the wall of the Mauri.

His eyes narrowed and he lowered his chin. “No.”

Taking a deep breath beneath my mask, I stood up. “You don’t get to decide for me, Teyam. I have decided, and I know the clan will support me.”

“No!” He was standing too now, towering over me at nearly twice my height, but he could never scare or intimate me, even if he truly tried.

“Listen to me, Neteyam. You are only thinking of the risk involved, and not the reward. I can’t survive here forever, as one of the last humans. What if the air tanks run out? How will we live our lives together, with me in this human body? Have you considered the fact that your lifespan is twice mine? What will you do when I am too old, even, to run and swim? I won’t live like that, Neteyam!”

I felt hot tears in my eyes, and tried to blink them away in frustration. “You can’t force me to live a half-life with you when a full life is within my grasp! I know Ewya will give this to me. She wouldn’t have brought me to you if she didn’t want us to be together.”

Neteyam’s hands rested on my shoulders, enveloping me, stressing to the both of us our impractical size difference.

“Y/N... you don’t know that she will give this to us. She may take you home to her.”

Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath, trying to ignore the panic I could see in his face.

“I have to do this, Neteyam. We won’t have a future together if I don’t. Norm and the others... they talk about having to leave, without a permanent colony here. Their supplies won’t last forever. They would either take me, or leave me here to die with no oxygen.”

Neteyam pulled me down, so we were sitting face to face, our legs crossed.

“I cannot lose you, Y/N.”

“This is our best chance, Neteyam. Please. Please let me do this.”

As much as I had been pretending it was only my choice, and I didn’t need his permission, I knew I couldn’t do it without his blessing. That just wasn’t something I could do to Ma Teyam.

I watched his chest rise and fall with deep breaths as he contemplated.

“We will do this, Y/N, and if Ewya takes you, I will follow you to her myself and bring you back.”

It took time to plan - time that was exciting for all of us. We decided to fly back to the Tree of Souls to give my human body the best chance, since with the Metkayina, the ceremony would have to take place under water.

The Omatikaya welcomed the Sullys, and one sky person, back with open arms. After all, it wasn’t as if I was a stranger to them - I had many friends to greet, as well.

The ceremony was set for the night after our return. Neteyam was quiet at dinner, and his mother watched him cautiously.

“Son,” she said, handing him a plate, “I see the spirit within Y/N. It reminds me of your father - strong, stubborn, a little frustrating.” She smiled, but Neteyam couldn’t bring himself to follow suit. “She will be okay.”

She gripped her son’s arm and he nodded, but the sinking feeling in his chest was there to stay, until the ceremony was complete.

Neteyam walked with me, hand and hand, through the large crowd there to witness my birth - or my funeral.

I could feel the tension radiating through his body, but no matter what I said, I wasn’t able to ease it for him. I would be lying if I said I wasn’t nervous, myself.

There she lay - me, but not me. Tall, with long, thick black hair and eyes that would surely be a piercing gold when opened. She was beautiful; it was the first I was seeing her.

“Oh, Neteyam...” I said, a lump in my throat, and gripped his arm tightly as we approached the tree.

He placed his hand over mine. “You can still change your mind,” he said, but with a sly smile, the first I’d seen him wear in a while - he knew there was little chance of that.

He lifted me up and placed me next to my new body, where the spiritual leader of the Omatikaya waited, a serene and focused look on her face.

She gestured for me to lay down, and I turned to Neteyam. Maybe it was the proximity to the Tree of Souls, but I felt a calm - and tried to convey it to Neteyam with a smile. His family stood behind him, taking their seats to join the ceremony. Neteyam would stay with me until it was done.

He nodded, and I could practically see his heart beating through his chest as he helped me to lay down, my head inches from my avatar’s.

“You will sleep now. Be calm,” a voice above me said, and I had only time to tell Neteyam I loved him before I sank away.

Watching her eyes close, a panic gripped Neteyam’s heart and he felt as if he could vomit in front of the entire clan.

He turned and sought his mother, and would have been embarrassed to do so in any other situation. She was seated between his brother and father, all holding hands with eyes closed, chanting to Ewya.

He watched as Ewya reached up, covering his mate in feather light touches, and he put his hands on her, praying to Ewya, reminding Ewya how much this human woman meant to him.

Silently, he told Ewya of the first time they’d met, at only six years old, and of their first kiss at 12, how she fought with him through the Great War despite her size, how long it took him to work up the courage to ask her to be his mate, and how they cried together when she said yes.

This woman is my life, Great Mother, he prayed, I ask that you return her to me in either body here, and we will make the most of this life we have together.

Every minute felt like an hour, and then the Tsahik reached over and pulled the mask off of his love’s face.

She was gone, at least from this form.

“She is passing through Ewya now, Neteyam, and you must guide her back,” the Tsahik said.

He leapt carefully over to her avatar body, taking it in for the first time. Those were her lips, the shape of her eyes, the sharp dip between her nose and mouth - all his favorite things about her, right here.

“Yawne,” he said, reaching out to touch her soft face, “can you hear me? Follow my voice. Come back to me so that we may return home together, and live the life you promised me.”

He looked to the Tsahik, who nodded in encouragement and resumed chanting. The cries of the clan rose around him, his father and mother’s the loudest, and he steadied his shaking body with a deep breath.

“Y/N, Yawne, hear my voice and follow it. I will wait for you forever - remember the promise I made. Do not deliver two souls to Ewya this day.”

He nearly shot back when the woman before him took a gasping breath, and amber eyes shot open.

It’s impossible to describe how it happens. It’s not a wordly experience, and there are no words to properly convey it.

Ewya is real, and she gave me a second chance at life.

Neteyam’s face hovered inches above mine as I gasped for air. He slipped his hand around the back of my neck and pulled me up, and even in this new body, in my disoriented state, I was acutely aware that I was naked.

“Yawne,” Neteyam whispered, and I saw the tears spilling from his eyes. He only called me Yawne - beloved - once before, when he asked me to be his mate.

“Tiyawn,” I replied, my voice breathy and almost foreign to my ears. My ears! I reached up, trailing my hand over my thick hair and reaching up to feel the pointy, blue ears atop my head. A giggle escaped before I could stop it.

“Can you stand?” he asked, gripping my arms.

I leaned into him. “I am naked.”

“You are Na’vi now,” he replied with almost a shrug, “but I will carry you if it concerns you.”

“I think you should, my legs feel weak.”

They felt strong. My entire body felt strong, and I couldn’t wait to learn how to use it.

I glanced over my shoulder to see myself. My former self. As Neteyam lifted me into his arms and stood up, I thought I should cry for her... but she didn’t feel like me, not anymore.

The clan cheered and whooped, hollered and threw their arms triumphant in the air, as Neteyam stood with me and let out what sounded like a war cry, shaking me in his arms.

The joy in his face was like nothing I had ever seen before. It was beautiful, especially seen through these new eyes.

He rushed through the crowd, to his Ikran, and mounted in one fell swoop with me in his arms.

The Ikran felt so much smaller than she had when we’d arrived less than an hour ago, but of course, I was the one who had grown over three feet.

He took off, holding the saddle with one arm and me tightly in the other, to a place we could be alone.

Back at our temporary home, I was finally able to take a breath and try my new body out. For my first few steps, I had to hold Neteyam’s hands, until I got the hang of it.

I felt weak, but I knew that would wear off. This body was strong, and I was going to make it even stronger, so I could finally keep up with Neteyam.

The thought made me burst into tears as he searched through his mother’s things for something I could wear.

“What is it, Y/N? Do you hurt?” he asked, rushing to my side with only a necklace in his hands.

Embarrassed, I tried to wave him off, but he was too on edge. “Tell me, Yawne. Tell me what you need.”

I threw my arms around his neck and pulled him tightly to me. My face rested perfectly on his chest, where before, it was just over his waist - making hugging an awkward feat. We fit perfectly together now, and it made me cry even harder.

“I’m just so happy and grateful, Neteyam.” I pulled back, wiping at my tears. “Tell me what you think.”

“What I think?” he asked, turning his head to the side.

“Of... me. Of my body. Do you still, I mean, do you like it?”

His gaze softened and he reached up to cup my cheek. “I have loved you for 15 years, Y/N. I loved you human form. Your small body, your beautiful soft hair, and your light eyes. I loved every moment of our life together.”

The tears threatened to return.

“But this... this is my dream, Y/N. I see it now, what you’ve always seen. You were meant to be one of The People, to be with me, to be the mother of my children and my mate for life.”

A smile spread across my new face so wide, I thought it might crack. “I love you, Neteyam.”

He pulled me into his strong arms, and we took a deep breath together.

“Forever,” he whispered in my ear.

I squeezed him tight. “Forever.”

#avatar #avatar 2 #neteyam #avatar way of the water #neteyam x reader

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spacelazarwolf · 9 months

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Hey, I saw a post from another tumblr user that you are a Zionist and spreading false info about Jewish people being excluded from pride parades and I don't know what a Zionist is (they just said it was nationalist) but I enjoy your blog and wanted to ask you about it directly to understand better whats going on if thats okay? Im not anonymous in case you want to privately answer or tell me youd not want to discuss. 💕

first, i wanna thank you for being respectful about this, and for asking this off anon. this tells me you're asking in good faith, so i'm happy to answer.

i've had to state numerous times on my blog that i'm not a zionist bc people love to slap that label on any jew they disagree with, which is exactly what's happening in this situation. they disagreed with what i said about a lot of jews not feeling comfortable at pride because of the pervasive antisemitism in queer spaces, and several queer events banning the jewish pride flag because it "looked too similar to the israeli flag" and decided that made me a zionist. it happens a lot bc ppl know that that word is very taboo in activist spaces, and labeling you a zionist is a surefire way to get you kicked out of a lot of progressive circles. interestingly (said with a huge dollop of sarcasm) this rarely happens to gentiles.

zionist is also a pretty useless word for determining what someone actually believes, because depending on who you ask their ideologies can range from "i think that jewish people should be able to live in the land that is currently israel and palestine alongside palestinians and other indigenous groups" to "i think that only jews should get to live in that area and we should kick everyone else out." and as you can imagine, there's lots of people like me who agree with the first statement but vehemently disagree with the second. it's become somewhat of a dogwhistle, to the point that alt righters popularized "zio" as a slur, which was then picked up by leftists (because there is also a huge problem with antisemitism in leftist and non palestinian gentile-dominated antizionist spaces.) one of the events i mentioned in the first paragraph deleted a tweet using this slur.

the person you're probably talking about also claimed that i, a genderqueer trans man, am a misogynist, because i said that jewish masculinity is very culturally different from white masculinity and that i find a lot of comfort in it. they cited a bunch of problems with misogyny within the orthodox community, despite the fact i'm not orthodox or even ashkenazi. what it boiled down to is that they disagree with the takes i have on anti transmasculinity, and they needed something else to pin it on.

so in the future, if you see someone accusing a jew of being a zionist, take everything they have to say with a bucket full of salt and do as you did with this ask and go ask the person what they actually believe. sometimes you'll find their beliefs actually don't line up with your morals and you can unfollow, but the vast majority of the time you'll find that they just said something someone didn't like and it was the easiest way to discredit them.

in general, i don't share my opinions about zionism/antizionism on tumblr because that's not what my blog is centered on, and also i oppose the expectation that jews should have to disclose our opinions on zionism in order for gentiles to determine whether or not we are worth listening to. i also have a lot of thoughts abt how the focus on anti-anything makes it easier for activists to weaponize that activism against marginalized people, but that's an entirely different post.

anyway, i hope that answers your question, and i will probably pin this ask somewhere on my blog since i have been asked this a few times now and it seems unavoidable since ppl just won't drop it.

#ask avishai

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rebouks · 4 months

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Robin’s first day at school after the winter holidays was just like any other; painful, overwhelming, and slightly boring.

There was a myriad of reasons he didn’t want to be here, but Oscar and Courtney were adamant it was somehow important-.. and mandatory, so Robin didn’t have a choice. They’d become immune to his avoidant shenanigans over time too, no longer were they so easily fooled, even when he’d made himself sick on purpose.

He’d given up eventually, the worried glances they’d exchange each morning proving to be as tiresome as school itself. Pretending to be fine was better than being shipped off to some snooty shrink again; one who wouldn’t believe him anyway, who couldn’t even imagine the nonsense he was subject to on a daily basis, despite their fancy certificates hanging behind their fancy desks.

Robin was completely mute whilst at school, save for the odd whisper to Jude or sometimes Jacob, if necessary-.. but never Juniper. She was too condescending with her concern and far too obvious. He wanted to fade into obscurity, not be thrust into the limelight by an overzealous cousin trying to do the “right” thing by speaking on his behalf.

He’d resorted to telling her off in the end, her lip quivering as he explained how she was only making things worse. Robin wasn’t sure what had surprised her more, the fact that he was so vehemently opposed to being defended, or that he’d spoken to her at all. She’d acquiesced though, so that was something.

The only person he spoke to properly was nurse Wiles, or Silvia, as she insisted at this point. The cacophony of voices and Robin’s general disdain for being trapped in this hellish building for six hours a day usually resulted in a pounding headache and a disgusting, dissolvable aspirin; he was her most frequent visitor, discounting the child that was practically allergic to everything in sight.

He kept to himself as much as he could, scrawling out enough work to avoid being pulled up and listening to music wherever he could. He had a solid collection of tiny I-pod shuffles and headphones by now, enough to rotate between classes as they inevitably wound up being seized by exasperated adults.

His favourite deception were the decoy headphones, their obnoxious size drawing immediate attention and victorious confiscation. He’d huff and hand them over in defeat, only to thread a smaller more inconspicuous pair beneath his shirt and tuck them under his thick, curly mop as soon as their backs were turned; they were none the wiser, content with their perceived punishment. Robin thought teachers were supposed to be smart…

Though Robin’s long tangle of curls were useful in some ways, they also drew their fair share of unwanted attention. As if being provoked, shoved, tripped, and called “Mutey” wasn’t enough, he was often referred to as a girl, particularly by the other boys.

He wasn’t entirely sure why it was so hilarious, or why it never got old, especially since it was painfully obvious by now that he didn’t give a shit. He was used to being the proverbial punching bag. Being as different as he was obviously made him an easy target, almost as though he had a bullseye permanently woven into the fabric of his jumper.

He’d surmised that they had their reasons for picking on him though; some had parents who were just as cruel, some had none at all, some were desperate to fit in, and some were just too stupid to know any better.

Either way, Robin had decided a long time ago that he’d rather they mithered him with their so-called bullying than risk upsetting some poor schmuck who wasn’t privy to the concealed insecurities that diluted their venomous words and wicked laughter.

Most of Robin’s classes were raucous, yet dull. He could barely hear himself think over the combined clamour of diligent workers and class clowns, and since he could usually glean the answers to any questions from his classmates or the teachers themselves, he never saw much point in trying.

He knew it probably wasn’t great to miss out on the “working out” part of the work, but it was too hard to concentrate even if he’d wanted to. Oscar always helped him with his homework after dinner anyway, so a least he wasn’t going to end up completely lacking in the brain cell department-.. hopefully.

Swimming lessons and PE weren’t so bad, but art was his favourite class of all. Most people got too caught up in what they were doing to daydream noisily or obsess over potentially incorrect answers. There was no right or wrong when it came to creation, and Robin was actually good at drawing, painting, or whatever else his sticky fingers fancied throwing together.

His art teacher even let him wear his headphones during class too, so he’d get to sit at the back of the room in a blissful cocoon of loud music and pencil shavings, wishing every period were this laid back.

All in all, school was utter shite; and at the end of each terrible day when the bell finally rang, Robin was beyond glad that it was over.

Previous // Next

#ts4 #sims 4 #simblr #ts4 story #sims story #forever in between #fib #robin finch #jude moya #levi sears #we're baaaaaaaaack #i've missed my babies!!#'cept some of em aren't babies anymore #poor lil ginger guy rlly can't be arsed with school.. ough #;-;#twbullying

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deripmaver · 8 months

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Which is worse, rape or murder? - Or, should Casca have died during the Eclipse?

Unlike most of my meta posts, this is one I'm making as a direct critique of a specific take I've seen. It's similar to my meta about apostle Casca in that regard, where I want to look at a specific idea and why I dislike it, as opposed to wanting to explore my thoughts on an aspect of canon. To be clear, this is only something I do if I've seen a take a bunch of times, enough so I know it's not a one-off. It's also not something I do because I want to engage in discussion with the people who've said whatever the take is, it's something I do in case other people who agree with me might be interested in a meta post that's more in line with their viewpoint.

I provide this disclaimer because, as I've said a few times now, the idea that it's the better choice to have Casca die during the eclipse is one that I just really dislike, and I make that preeeeetty fuckin clear. I can't control who sees this or who comments, but I did think I should make my stance explicit.

Berserk fandom is an absolute treasure trove of bad takes about rape and sexual assault. Considering the seriousness with which the manga takes rape, despite it's sometimes quite dodgy framing and portrayal, the fact that the fandom is Like That is fully a testament to cishet men's inability to consume media without turning into a brainless amoeba of toxicity.

I have to say, though, what shocked me the most was that this particular take, that Casca should have just died during the eclipse, was not from the dudebro side of fandom ('cause if she had they couldn't make their silly little "casca enjoyed it" jokes).

I'm coming right out of the gate with my opinion, which is a firm no, Casca should not have died during the eclipse, and the story would be weaker if she had. I'm going to presume during this analysis that the people who say this assume that her death would be instead of her rape, as opposed to her being raped and then dying, which would be... Horrific. Even more horrific than canon, lol.

I do have sympathy for some of the people who wish she had died, and in a way I understand, though I vehemently disagree. Some of the posts with this POV sound almost traumatized as they proclaim I wish she would have died, it would have been better. As this is something I've only noticed in the tumblr fandom side of things, where most people are women, I think this comes from women readers feeling furious and sick about one of the most vile rape scenes out there. In some ways its intentionally vile, in others - ie how grotesquely sexualized it is - it's unintentional. Then, of course, she continues to suffer in her disabled, infantilized trauma state. I hear these readers wanting to shout at Miura that he should have just killed her off rather than force her, and us, through reading that. It would have been kinder.

I have... Far less sympathy for others. There's a side of fandom that simply does not care about Casca (in a different way than the dudebros who don't care about her despite gushing about how she's peak tomboy waifu). It's amazing the veneer of progressivism these people put on as they say that Casca should have died, because she did not contribute to the narrative before the eclipse, and she certainly hasn't after. Going to get even spicier for a second and point out fandom's long history of wanting female characters dead because they get in the way of mlm ships, and how I think this is SOMETIMES simply another manifestation of it.

To be fully fucking clear, I do NOT think that being a grffgts shipper (censored so this doesn't show up in the tag LOLLLLL) precludes being shitty about Casca. I think tumblr's demographics, and those demographics' typical shipping preferences, mean that grffgts is naturally going to dominate. By simple statistics, most of the people whose opinions I hate are going to be grffgts shippers. Same with most of the people's opinions I like on tumblr tbh. I do, however, think it's prudent to point out old school fandom misogyny, and how I personally feel it's showing up in the fandom, and also point out that it pisses me off that Casca dying during the eclipse is at all presented as the least misogynistic outcome.

I'm also going to say now that this is firmly being kept in the realm of fiction. In real life, there are horrific discussions about how being a victim of rape defiles you for life, and that it's better to die without the "shame" of being raped than live with it. While I have to be blunt it's difficult for me to separate some of the discussion of Casca dying during the eclipse from that anti-survivor bias I see in real life just because ~we live in a society~, I in general think this sentiment is coming from a place of simply analyzing, narratively, which outcome is less misogynistic given how the rape in canon is portrayed.

Would it narratively have been better for Casca to have died? What about the impact of her death versus her current storyline?

First, I think I need to outline my interpretation of the eclipse rape. I don't think that the decision to have Griffith rape Casca was Miura simply being a misogynistic cishet dude who threw in rape for the hell of it. I also don't think it's OOC. Again, there's much to critique in how it's drawn, but not in the fact that it happened. Griffith, in his moments of feeling out of control and powerless, uses sexual advances to reassert his control over the situation - see Charlotte, or the wagon scene with Casca. A distaste for sexual violence committed by his enemies doesn't mean Griffith is incapable of wielding sexual violence as a weapon himself. In real life, there's a paradox where rape committed by political or social enemies is seen as the worst crime one could ever commit, while the mundane rape committed as a consequence of patriarchy is excusable and the victims should be blamed and shamed. Did Miura have the gender studies acumen to think about that when writing? I dunno, but neither does anyone who thinks he didn't.

I also think it's supposed to establish his actions during the eclipse as fully over the moral event horizon. Without it, it's easy to ask if ultimately, Griffith's decision to sacrifice his followers to a cruel death is justified to create a perfect utopia. With it, it establishes Griffith as acting fully on cruel, malicious impulse in moments of emotional turmoil, which puts his future utopia in jeopardy. I can't be the only one who sees Falconia as a ticking time bomb. Of course, this doesn't mean he needed to rape Casca, but simply that I think it was necessary to his character to do something that crossed that moral line. He could have raped Guts I suppose. Killerbambi has entered the chat.

While I think this might sound strange, I actually think it's immensely validating to have a character who is a victim not just of rape, but of rape committed by someone she already knew. That's genuinely unique in media on the whole, which plays into that paradox I mentioned earlier - in real life, the vast majority of assaults are committed by someone the victim knew. Having the story surround the continual, horrific trauma of betrayal, of having to watch the person who hurt you move on while trauma keeps you in horrible stasis is almost so realistic it's... uncomfortable. Painful. Hard to read.

There's no greater purpose to what happened to Casca. She didn't grow from it, instead she regressed.

Her general lack of agency post-eclipse is much critiqued in the fandom and like. Fucking yeah fair LOLLLLLL BUT ALSO... But also. Fandom on the whole can be so cruel about traumatized female characters, like there's no way they can do trauma "right." In Casca's case, her lack of agency is turned into a reason she should simply have been killed off instead, as though there aren't so many survivors who, while not as literally as she does, retreat into a shell of themselves and are frozen with trauma as the world begins to pass them by. Of course, the critique would be that she's not a real person, she's a female character written in a misogynistic way by a man, but I personally think this overstates Miura's issues with his portrayal of rape. To me, it presents what they think are his biases as justification for their own biases.

Time and time again, I see survivors discuss feeling validated by Casca's trauma response after being assaulted. Even the parts of the rape scene that I vehemently dislike, such as the hyper-focus on Casca's body and the physical reactions she's having, I've seen more than one person say they felt validated because they too had an unwanted arousal response during an assault. I'll still critique the scene, but regardless of if this was Miura's intention, its impact is clear.

I'll again plug this article by Jackson P. Brown, How Berserk’s Casca challenges the myth of the “Strong Black Woman.” Just to show a quote from it:

All of the action of the story after Conviction Arc is in service of restoring Casca's mind. During Conviction Arc and after, Casca has groups of women who love and protect her, with women as her source of safety. Guts is single mindedly focused on bringing her back, putting his body on the line again and again to protect her and restore her. I wondered about including Guts here because I'm sure I'll get some anon about the Beast of Darkness, which again fair LOL. I have complicated feelings on that, but mostly I think the importance the narrative puts on her mind and her protection is touching, and I think this outweighs how the negative things apparently mean that she should have died.

Her story and trauma, despite its flaws, is shockingly realistic and validating to so many people. She's also a key narrative component post-eclipse, and not just ~for Guts' manpain~ or as a helpless plot device, her story is her own. I've written about Elaine as a character and what she represents, but in brief, Casca doesn't disappear after the eclipse. Miura wrote Elaine with these moments where Casca comes to the surface, and while I wish we had more of her POV I think you can look at how she's coping from how Elaine reacts to the world around her.

I also think it's necessary to have Casca at the Hill of Swords. There's Guts, who Griffith torments in the way only a bitter ex can, and Rickert, who doesn't know what happened the day of the eclipse, but I think Casca is the key component in that scene that cuts through all of Griffith's posturing and Guts' anger. She is there, making the real, human cost of what Griffith did during the eclipse unignorable in a way that no other character could. It's one thing for Guts to be furious with him and Rickert ignorant, it's another to have someone who loved him so innocently and dearly trembling just at the sight of him. Let's not pretend that the depth of betrayal in this scene would be the same if you swapped her for, say, Judeau.

It's funny, Miura is quoted as saying that his initial reason for keeping Casca alive was to provide Guts an ever-burning flame of vengeance, an eternal reminder of everything that he lost during the eclipse. What's wound up happening, on a meta level, is that Casca provides the reader a constant reminder of what happened during the eclipse. As more and more focus is given to her PTSD with her revival, the cruelty with which Griffith acted (and continues to act) becomes harder and harder to ignore. It becomes more difficult to push it aside as just bad, misogynistic writing.

And also, quite simply, I like narratives about trauma recovery, and therefore I'll always find Casca's story worth telling despite my frustration with a lot of it. It's absolutely wild to me that for how often I see the fandom complain about her being "fridged" they think it would have been better to see her ACTUALLY fridged, no chance of coming back at all, just dead to fuel Guts' revenge arc. Would it really be better to have her be just another dead girlfriend? Really?

That's really what it comes down to. I like Casca as a character, and I want her to have lived. The people who wish she had died, many of them simply don't like her as a character. Not all, particularly in that first group I mentioned at the start, but many. Everyone has their preferences of course, but I don't think I need to respect when someone thinks a character has so little influence on the narrative that they should have just died, especially if that character is Casca.

If Casca had died during the eclipse, it would not have been a good death. It would not have been brave, or triumphant, or worth anything for her as a character. Judeau died to protect Casca, but even his death was not brave, it was just sad. That's the whole point of the eclipse.

To have Casca die that way would be a disservice to her as a character, far moreso than to have her struggle on as a traumatized victim of sexual violence. That's genuinely what I believe.

#berserk #casca #casca berserk #berserk meta #casca the og victim of yaoi IN CANON

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actual-changeling · 4 months

Note

I’m sorry if this is stirring things up as I really don’t mean it that way I’m just new into the fandom and getting a bit confused between posts.

I’ve seen a lot of people saying that people are switching Crowley and aziraphale’s personalities, perhaps to make aziraphale seem a bit more forgivable? Or just misunderstanding their characters entirely….im just finding it a bit hard to catch on to what people mean and what characteristics are being switched

It seems to me that aziraphales behaviour is quite inconsistent and confusing anyway 😅 (intentionally written that way)

I guess that’s what people are getting caught up in

You're not stirring up anything, don't worry!

I can definitely understand that for someone who didn't experience all the developments as they happened, it's hard to understand where we landed and why.

Everything that follows is my personal opinion and how I interpret the posts and discussions I am seeing. There are a few different kinds of topics:

some people "sided" with either Aziraphale or Crowley in the divorce and are treating anything that doesn't align with their side as wrong or outright offensive

a few of them are outright vilifying one or the other, going so far as claiming that they're abusive towards the other character

there are people excusing and justifying Aziraphale's behaviour in the final fifteen minutes, the final fifteen as they're commonly called, and are freeing him from any responsibility for his actions

then there are people who (imo for good reason) take issue with posts like that and that's how we get either respectful discussions or immature arguments, depends on who's doing the talking

if you happen to have some basic reading comprehension and have touched grass sometime this week you will probably find yourself with in the "we have nuanced opinions on complex issues and discuss them like adults" corner, which is my personal favourite

I want to add another, more... potentially inflammatory type of post, which is people 'defending' Aziraphale against accusations that people who 'hate Aziraphale and love Crowley' spread—but, and I am not lying or exaggerating, I have yet to come across ANY of those posts they claim exist.

Maybe it's my corner of the fandom, I don't know, but all I see is people vehemently defending Aziraphale and at times ruining both his and Crowley's character, but never any of the posts that supposedly sparked it. On top of that, the only hate I've gotten (which is a surprisingly large amount) is from people 'defending' Aziraphale against me because obviously I hate him and everything I do and say is against him. Go figure.

Aziraphale IS contradictory, it's what makes him hard to understand for some because he holds seemingly opposing views at the same time without settling on one or the other. Crowley can seem more forward or easily understood, but once you get down to it they're both complicated, layered characters you cannot break down to angel good and demon bad (which yes, is actually takes I see floating around more than I'd like).

#alex answers asks #alex talks good omens #good omens #crowley #aziraphale #good omens season 2 #go2 #aziracrow #crowley x aziraphale #ineffable husbands #ineffable wives #ineffable spouses #ineffable divorce #the final fifteen #good omens fandom

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gingerjolover · 6 months

Note

Wait would you like to share more thoughts on the boys and their commitment styles 👀

i would be happy to pretty anon! sorry if it is jumbled or messy, as always we can discuss!

i am 1000% going to contradict myself, like yes i FULLY believe these but i am not opposed to writing/i currently have marriage-related fics in the works. I also want to write an addition to this where it's their love languages 👀

phoebe - gives me married vibes all the way. maybe it's because she was previously engaged, i just feel like she loves with every fiber of her being and i can't imagine her with someone for a long ass time and not committing herself to them like mind, body, and soul without govt documentation lol

i think way before you're engaged, you would already be maxine's mama or second parent, there's no way you wouldn't be building a home together. she strikes me as a lover who just wants to share things with you. she's involving you in the care of maxine, in decisions in the home, she's involving you in her career whether it be on the album or on a tour, she's including you in her friend groups and it just gives like chosen family/little family vibes.

again, i think she values commitment, and not in such a traditional way where she like needs to be married to feel connected but like she just loves waking up and knowing that she's your wife. IDK i could be wrong about this i just have her in my brain really valuing your relationship, but enough that if you were against marriage, she would happily be engaged forever or even just be your life partner contentedly.

lucy - i have moments where im like yes, lucy is a WIFE but other times i feel like she is so vehemently against tradition in the way that you don't need to be married for her to be committed to you. i think if you were against marriage she would be fine, If you really wanted to be married I think she would do it without a shred of doubt. I imagine a scenario where you both aren't sure but maybe there's like some perks of being married legally. like i feel like if you DID get married, it would be for like tax purposes which i know sounds so fucked but it would be so funny she would definitely lovingly call you her beneficiary, but i don't think she would do a courthouse wedding, even for legal reasons she would love a small ceremony with your family and friends and it would just be a whole vibe.

rn i think she has roommates in Philly (go birds), but as i write her often i think she also values a home base and regardless of how long you've been together, she would be building a home with you and like taking into consideration your style and interests and making you comfortable. i think apartment hunting with her would be so cute! she is such a deep thinker and i think her opening up and letting you really know her and her quirks in a way that maybe only a few others know her would be her way of committing to you. Like waking up, rolling over, and realizing that you know everything about her and love her anyways would mean more to her than a wedding ring.

julien - same with lucy, sometimes im like yup she wants to be married in a small backyard ceremony in the fall and she's wearing a beautiful suit and your guys' dog is the ring bearer and lucy and phoebe sing for you both and it's not a religious ceremony, i think it would just be all vibes, like no pressure just truly a celebration of your love and commitment to one another.

other times i think she is not going to get married but she is buying yall a house and taking you to places in the world you've always wanted to go and getting your initials tattooed on her ring finger and tattooing your name over her heart or writing a song where the title is just your name and its about unfiltered love and gratefulness. she is obviously (like all of the boys) so loving, she loves the boys so much, she has a great outlook on life now (that speech she made where she said the boys gave her her voice back had me BAWLING) and like all of them, i don't think she NEEDS to be married to show her commitment. Julien, in my mind is a very small actions everyday type of lover, like yes, the tattoos are grand gestures, but she's playing your favorite songs in the morning or washing your hair when you're tired, she's making you your favorite meal when you're sad, and she prides herself on knowing you so well that she can just kiss you in the right places and know she doesn't have to put a ring on your finger for you to know she loves you.

#anon cutie #boygenius #julien baker x reader #lucy dacus x reader #phoebe bridgers x reader #boygenius blurbs #boygenius x reader #i have no evidence #this is just my brain #i am only a girl

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jjngkook7 · 1 year

Text

Choices (3)

Werewolf Au! Jungkook x Reader / Enemies to Lovers [Angst and mature content. Not smut but almost smut.]

Summary: Jungkook finally found her. His mate. His lifelong partner. But she's a human. Does he have to stay with her or can he stick it to whatever and whoever binds mates together and make his own decision?

Chapter 1 Chapter 2

She winced and shut her eyes as Jin pulled out the last piece of glass in her leg.

“And you’re done!” Jin chimed, “Now all we have left is to clean you up and put some ointment on you and you should be good as new.”

“Thanks.” was all she could muster. It was still hard to find her voice after everything her and Jennie had been through. Being in a room with six real life werewolves didn’t help either.

Taehyung had taken Jennie back to his house behind the cabin wanting nothing else to do but stay by her side. Jin and Mina came home right after the chaos, the brand new groceries they bought forgotten outside in the cold. Jin had reassured her that Mina would take the best care of Jennie as she vehemently opposed having Jennie out of her sight. She finally let Jennie go when Taehyung promised that he'd keep her safe.

The pain from Jin tending to her wounds made her want to pass out numerous times but her body fought the need to, afraid to be unconscious during such an unpredictable moment. Fortunately, the pack was very kind and comforting, except for one member who hadn’t said a word to her yet.

“You’re quite the fighter. I heard your kicks from up the hill.” Hoseok, the one with the bright smile complimented.

She could only smile back and shrug. She had met the pack once at Jennie’s birthday but never got to know them on a personal level. Everyone was too busy partying and attempting to tame Taehyung when he went sicko mode to have a conversation. In all the fairytales she read, none of the stories ever talked about how beautiful werewolves were and surprisingly hospitable too.

“Yeah, what you saw are called rogue werewolves. They’re incredibly disgusting and dangerous. They take pleasure in playing with their hunt often ripping their prey-“

“Jimin,” Namjoon turned to him with a forced smile, “I don’t think now is the right time. In fact, let’s give her some space guys.”

Jimin scratched the back of his head and offered her a quiet apology accompanied by a meek smile. One by one, the members followed Namjoon, offering a sympathetic look as they left. Jungkook was the last in the line, his footsteps heavy and his mind cloudy.

“Actually Jungkook, could you stay for just a few minutes. I have to go prepare some cream for these two.” Jin said, face still facing towards her.

“I-uh, sure.” Jungkook stammered.

“I’ll be right back,” Jin placed a hand on her head, “you’re in good hands.”

She felt the emptiness of his presence immediately. Jin was so warm and gentle, making sure to soothe her with words whenever she whimpered or flinched. Jungkook on the other hand had dark eyes complimented with a piercing gaze. He seemed uncomfortable and almost annoyed. She tried not to look at him because every time she did, that foreign feeling that she had when she first met him would fill her entire body.

She heard Jungkook take a seat on Jin’s stool, the legs squeaking against the floorboard.

“H-how are you feeling?” he asked.

Her eyes fluttered closed at the sound of his voice. If looking at him proved to be difficult, the sound of his voice was almost unbearable.

“You um..you did a good job,” he continued, “those things are sometimes hard for us to fight.”

She pushed back the sigh wanting to escape from her chest. His voice was soft and coated in honey. Realizing that she might look even more crazy than she already did trying to drown in his voice while covered in blood and cuts, she opened her eyes to face him making sure to look at his nose.

Jungkook saw her lips move but he couldn’t hear a thing. He was too hyper fixated on the details of her face to hear a thing. The drumming of his heart and the pulses of electricity shooting up and down his spine was quite the distraction as well. When Taehyung and him were racing down the hill, he could hear every sound she made but not Jennie, he only heard her. He soon realized that the adrenaline coursing through his body was because she was in danger. Jungkook had known for a long time how strong the bond between two mates was but now he was experiencing it first hand and he hated it. Having a human mate that was chosen for him was already irritating but now he had the ability to feel what she felt. Jungkook was losing control of his own life bit by bit and it’s all because of her. He turned his attention to her hands that were clasped tightly against her lap and felt his muscles relax slightly. She didn’t know what was going on and he wasn’t sure if she felt what he felt whenever they looked at each other. No one knew Jungkook’s secret and he was going to keep it that way.

“Um Jungkook.” He hated how much he liked the way his name sounded coming from her.

He looked at her with a raised brow, ignoring the pulsating energy going through him when he did.

“You’re bleeding.” she whispered pointing at his hands.

Jungkook furrowed his brows in confusion and looked down at his hands. It was then he realized that he had been digging his nails into his palm so hard that each one had drawn blood. She flinched when he got up with a jolt, the stool almost toppling over in the process.

“I’m going to check on Jin.” Jungkook murmurs, keeping his head down.

“Wait before you leave!” she suddenly called, both of them surprised by how quickly she found her voice.

Jungkook kept his hand on the doorknob, body still turned away from her.

“Why were you at my house a few days ago?”

Neither of them dared to move or breathe. Jungkook felt the doorknob growing warm by how hard he was gripping it. His mind was loud trying to run through believable lies.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Jungkook lied, “try to get some rest.”

With that, he left not glancing back at all.

________________________

Tired eyes stared at Namjoon waiting for the leader to dismiss the pack. It was nearing three in the morning and many questions were still left unanswered. Where did the rogue wolf come from? Is there more coming? Why did it appear in public so comfortably? Namjoon was particularly stressed because he felt like he was letting his pack down. He was the one that was supposed to have all the answers but this situation perplexed him as much as the other member.

“I think we should just be happy that the girls are okay,” Yoongi spoke out, exhausted and wanting nothing but to sleep, “we should all get some rest and figure it out tomorrow.”

Namjoon nodded at Yoongi as a thank you to which Yoongi replied with a slight tug of his lips. The members all got up grumbling in response to show their dissatisfaction with how the meeting left them with more concerns. Jungkook remained seated watching as Namjoon carefully approached Taehyung whose eyes had yet to shift back to their normal brown hue. He heard Namjoon tell Taehyung not to worry too much before patting him on the back and retreating to his room. There was so much noise around Jungkook of footsteps, doors being closed, goodnights being exchanged yet for some reason, he could hear her breaths she was taking as she was sleeping loud and clear. Soon it was just Jungkook and Taehyung left in the living room, both tired but unable to sleep. Taehyung let out a deep breath as he let his body drop onto their sofa, hands tucked behind his head and eyes staring at the ceiling. Jungkook leaned against the armchair he was situated in and dropped his head over the headrest, eyes closed trying to block out her breathing.

“How’s Jennie holding up?” Jungkook asked.

“She’ll be okay.” Taehyung replied.

“That’s good to hear.” Jungkook said, reciprocating Taehyung's flat tone.

No matter how hard Jungkook tried, his mind kept wandering over to her. He wondered what she was dreaming about or if she was dreaming at all. He wondered if she felt the way he did whenever they were near each other. At the end of the day it didn’t matter what he wondered because he knew that most of the things he felt about her was not his own doing. As long as he didn’t act on his primal instincts, wondering should be okay.

“It just doesn’t make sense.” Taehyung suddenly said.

Jungkook chuckled. The older one had a habit of talking to himself out loud and conjuring sentences that didn’t make sense.

“You and I were the only ones who knew that something was wrong.” Taehyung continued.

Jungkook didn’t reply, instead, let the older boy ramble. They were all used to Taehyung spewing nonsense. On some rare occasions however, they had gotten themselves out of some pretty sticky situations after translating some of Taehyung’s babbles.

“I know why I knew something was up but I wonder how you knew.” Taehyung pushed on.

Jungkook’s breath hitched in his throat. Taehyung was now upright, resting on his elbows looking at the youngest member with a sly smile.

“Jungkookie,” Taehyung sang and felt his smile grow bigger at the younger one’s irritation, “you found your mate.”

Taehyung didn’t flinch at all when Jungkook threw the closest thing near him across the room, not caring who it woke up. There was now a hole at the wall and the pack would give him an earful for destroying the tv remote tomorrow.

“Why are you hiding it? And why are you acting like such a piss baby?” Taehyung hammered on.

“I’m not hiding anything. I heard them from miles away.” Jungkook answered between gritted teeth.

Taehyung rolled his eyes and laughed, “You’re such a bad fucking liar.”

“Why don’t you shut the fuck up, Taehyung?” Jungkook growled, ready to rip out Taehyung’s throat.

The sound of something hitting the wall was heard from Yoongi’s room followed by him screaming, “Shut the fuck up!” Taehyung sighed and got up, shaking his head in the process. He approached the younger member not caring about Jungkook’s clenched fists or threatening demeanor.

“Don’t forget what happened to Namjoon before he knew it was too late.” Taehyung whispered, afraid that the leader could hear.

Jungkook lowered his gaze to the oak floors and watched Taehyung’s feet disappear from the living room going back to Jennie.

________________________________

It had been a few days since the attack. She was slowly gaining her strength back and all her wounds were healing in a miraculous pace thanks to all of Jin’s herbal creams. Jin had told her that the forest nearby was full of magical plant life that could cure any ailment. She was still debating whether or not she believed him because she heard him tell Jimin earlier to go eat a mouthful of mushrooms from the forest and die after he had teased Jin about something very miniscule.

She watched the pack and Jennie laugh through her bedroom window. They were all outside enjoying the fresh air. Jungkook and Hoseok were playing their own version of football while the rest were sitting on lawn chairs watching. Jennie was bundled up in multiple layers of clothing to keep warm while the boys were comfortable lounging in tshirts and shorts. She felt a small ache of jealousy in her heart. Jennie looked so at home and the pack seemed to regard her as one of their own. She wondered what it felt like to belong to a group and fully loved by so many people. She also felt silly for feeling jealous about Jennie’s Twilight life but damn what an exciting life Jennie had secretly been living. Once she was all healed up, she would return back to her mundane life and pretend like nothing from this week had ever happened. There was so much about this world she wanted to learn about now that she knew it was real. She found her eyes drifting over to Jungkook who was standing with his hands on his waist bullying Hoseok. His long black hair slightly sticking to his forehead from sweat and his eyes turning into crescent moons as he laughed made her stomach flip upside down. Jungkook was very easy to stare at and that was as close as she could get to him. She could never talk to him because he was never around and being too close to him made her body feel like it was on fire. Jungkook had some sort of effect on her that she had never felt before in her life. She had had boyfriends in the past but they had never made her skin flush and her stomach turn the way Jungkook did. She didn’t realize that the corners of her lips had turned up while admiring his features and her body leaned in closer to the window as if to take in as much as she possibly could meters away.

“How are you doing?” a voice behind her asks.

She tore her eyes away from Jungkook and turned around to see Mina standing by her door. Mina was so beautiful in every way. Her physical traits, her personality, her aura, everything. Like Jin, she was so comforting and soothing to be around.

“I’m doing a lot better thanks to you guys.” she answered, leaving the window and making her way around her bed.

Mina gave her a smile and entered her room. She watched Mina’s eyes go towards the window.

“Why aren’t you out there with them?” Mina asked, sitting next to her.

“Why aren’t you?” she asked back laughing when Mina sucked her teeth and nudged her ribcage.

They sat in a comfortable silence for a minute as she pondered how to answer Mina’s question.

“Honestly I just feel like an intruder,” she finally replies with a forced chuckle, “once I’m all healed up I will be out of all your guys’ hair!”

Mina shook her head and sighed.

“For the millionth time, you are not an intruder,” Mina calming voice filled her chest with a warm reassurance, “besides, I think there is someone who is very glad you’re here although it may not seem like it.”

She looked over at Mina who was staring at the wall in front of them. Although Mina didn’t say his name, she felt the butterflies in her stomach swarm. She felt like she was back in high school crushing on some boy she had never spoken to but had only seen glimpses of as he walked past her in the hallway.

“Who?” she asked curiously.

Mina got up, smoothing her skirt in the process before tousling the human’s hair.

“Whoever flashed in your brain just now is the one I’m talking about and the one you’ve been watching silently by your window over there.” Mina winked.

_________________________________

As the week passed, her relationship with the pack grew stronger but her relationship with Jungkook grew stranger. She was now able to opnely joke with everyone else and felt at ease eating at the dinner table with the whole pack. With Jungkook however, their relationship was at the stage of seeing each other at the end of a hallway and then going the other way. Whenever she did have to come into contact with Jungkook, she noticed that Namjoon and Mina would watch them with a knowing look. Tonight, she volunteered to clean up after dinner and Nmajoon volunteered Jungkook who protested but was immediately shut down by the leader. The kitchen that was bustling with noise and laughter a few minutes ago was now quiet; the sound of dishes clanking together filling the awkward silence between them.

“You don’t have to help if you really don’t want to.” she said, keeping her eyes on the dishes she was washing.

“I really don’t want to but Namjoon would kill me.” Jungkook mumbled.

Jungkook was in charge of cleaning up the table which didn’t take too much time. He watched her wash the dishes and felt guilty when he saw how much she was struggling just lifting up plates with her arms that had only begun to heal. Jungkook may resent her but he wasn’t cruel. Watching her hands slightly shake as she picked up a pan further proved his point that humans get nothing in return with this whole mate thing. He would get stronger, his senses sharper and his instincts better while she would just remain…human.

“Why don’t you just dry the dishes and I wash them.” Jungkook sighed, finally making his way next to her.

She didn’t respond, only scooting over to make room for him. There was a strict boundary between the few centimetres separating the two of them. It would only take one of them turning around to cross the border that the both of them had silently set up. Jungkook filled his side of the sink up with warm water and poured as much dish detergent in there to mask her scent as much as possible. It took every inch of strength within his muscles to not brush his fingers against her hand. He felt like one of those weird high school boys who had just hit puberty and wanted nothing more but a hug from any female that would look his way. Jungkook’s body ached for any kind of physical contact with her but he wouldn’t allow it. As the days went by, Jungkook felt more and more drained. It was mentally and physically taxing fighting against his instincts when she was living under the same roof as him. It didn’t help that his heat was nearing either. There were times when he would give in and allow himself some sort of gratification through a quick glimpse of her or lingering in a spot that she had left to allow her scent to embed into his skin. With his heat just a week away, Jungkook’s fill of stares and smells turned into a sick hunger. He would go to bed and imagine the things he would do to her during his heat. He’d wonder what she tasted like and if she’d get sweeter and sweeter the longer he went down on her. He’d try to think of what she would sound like taking his full length and how pretty she’d look dripping his load down her thighs after he was done with her. Jungkook would wake up with a raging boner that wouldn’t go away for hours and then he would get angry. Angry at how his body was reacting to some bullshit fate and angry at her. As his body grew more weak and his mind more chaotic, he almost started to hate her.

She cleared her throat in attempts to get Jungkook’s attention and to break the silence.

“So um, Namjoon told me that you’re the youngest in the pack. What’s that like?” she asked.

Jungkook frowned, almost rolling his eyes at how stupid her question was. This was another reason having a human as a mate was so frustrating. Jungkook and her come from two very different worlds. Her world was simple: wake up, go to work, socialize, sleep and repeat. Whereas Jungkook’s world was full of things that humans had been trying to answer for centuries and never getting close to solving. Majority of them didn’t even know Jungkook’s world existed.

“I don’t understand your question.” Jungkook said, plopping a washed dish on her side of the sink to dry.

Her throat began to dry up and she began to feel embarrassed for even trying to start a conversation with Jungkook. He was such a tough one to crack but she knew by how he treated his pack that he was kind, warm and lively. He even seemed to treat Jennie like a sister. But when Jungkook interacted with her, it was like a whole new person; he was distant and untouchable. Jungkook seemed to avoid her like a plague and she didn’t know why. Living with his pack for a week has peeled back many layers of reality for her. For one, magical creatures from fairy tales exist and yesterday she saw Namjoon chant something at the moon before a glowing circle surrounded their house. Apparently it was a safety barrier Namjoon set up every night but she was too freaked out to ask anymore questions. Knowing the little bit of information she knew now, she knew that the way her body reacted around Jungkook was too intense for it to be one-sided. Biting the insides of her cheeks, she decided to try to converse with Jungkook one more time.

“I guess since wolves have a pack dynamic and every member has a role to play, I wonder what it’s like to be the youngest member of a pack is all.” she tried to smile.

“Are you equating us to wild animals?” Jungkook scoffed.

She dropped everything in her hands to face Jungkook with widened eyes, “What? No! I just thought it was similar. I didn’t mean to offend you.”

Jungkook mirrored her actions and turned to her. His body completely towering over hers and his amber eyes burning a hole through her head.

“You’ve only been here for a week. Keep your ignorance to yourself until you leave please.” Jungkook said through gritted teeth.

Her widened eyes from earlier now cold as she leaned closer to his face, the both of them ignoring the surge of electricity traveling through their body from her actions.

“You’re an asshole,” she said, almost hissing, “I’ve done absolutely nothing to warrant the way you’ve been treating me this whole week.”

She stepped away from him, not being able to handle the way his breath felt on her cheek. Her fists were clenched tightly against her body as she felt her anger begin to rise at the werewolf.

“And don’t worry, I’m leaving tonight. Thanks for your hospitality.” she instantly regretted saying what she did. She had no way of going home unless someone offered to drive her or call her an uber. She wouldn’t even know what to input as her location. Magical forest or Werewolf forest perhaps?

“You can’t leave tonight.” Namjoon’s voice spoke.

Both her and Jungkook jumped at the sudden sound of his presence. Namjoon was leaning against the fridge with his arms crossed. His jaw was clenched and his foot was tapping against the floor in an impatient beat. She felt her body relax at the sight of Namjoon. Throughout her time here, Namjoon had made her feel the most seen and safe. He willingly answered any questions she had and always made sure to include her in conversations during lunch or dinner time.

“Thank you for welcoming me into your home but I think I have worn out my stay here. I’m leaving tonight.” she was able to muster one last time before pushing past Namjoon to her bedroom. There was so much she wanted to say to Namjoon and the pack before she left and maybe never see them again. She’d deal with how to contact them in the future to thank them properly for taking care of her but right now, she needed to go.

“We leave you alone with her for 5 minutes and now she’s leaving.” Namjoon sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Jungkook shook his head as he stared at the empty spot she was just standing at. A part of him felt guilty for pushing her so far away but a bigger part of him almost felt relieved that she was leaving. He could finally sleep and breathe. What he did was wrong and maybe when he finally found a new mate, he would find her and apologize for his behavior in the future.

“Her choice. You always tell us to respect other people’s decisions.” Jungkook smiled smugly despite knowing the tightline he was walking with Namjoon.

“Unless it is a decision that is harmful to themselves or others.” Namjoon snapped back. The leader grinded his teeth when Jungkook rolled his eyes.

“She’ll be fine. One of us will drive her home or whatever.” Jungkook sighed, wanting Namjoon’s holier than thou attitude to leave him alone.

Jungkook knew he had fucked up when he saw Namjoon take a deep breath and smile fondly at him. The leader approached him and placed both his hands on Jungkook’s shoulder, shaking his body slightly in almost a playful way.

“You’re right Jungkook! She’ll be okay because of the safety barrier I’ve put up these past nights. What are the barriers for again?” Namjoon asked, keeping a sickly sweet smile on his face.

Jungkook felt his chest tighten up. He had forgotten.

“Rogue wolves…” Jungkook answered in a hush when he remembered.

“Yes, rogue wolves. Their numbers the highest during this quarter of the moon. But she’ll be safe-oh wait! The barrier only stretches so far and she lives in the fucking city.” Namjoon’s face now dark and his grip on Jungkook’s shoulder tightening.

“And what do rogue wolves like the most, Jungkook?” Namjoon asked.

Jungkook refused to answer because he would have to tell the truth about her. Instead, he turned his head to face away from the leader.

“Her body is still weak and if she leaves tonight, she’ll die. Unless you’re willing to stay at her house day and night for a week to protect her from the rogues because what do they like the most Jungkook?” Namjoon asked, his voice harsh.

Jungkook’s eyes lowered to the ground, his shoulders falling alongside his gaze.

“Unclaimed mates.” Jungkook finally answered in a whisper.

“Get up there, apologize and stop her from leaving.” Namjoon pushed Jungkook’s body slightly before releasing his hold.

“She’s leaving? Why?”

Jungkook turned to a new voice entering the kitchen before groaning. By the kitchen’s entryway stood a scared looking Jennie and a jackass looking Taehyung.

“Why is she leaving?” Jennie asked again, worried eyes darting back and forth between Jungkook and Namjoon.

“No she’s…not. I have to um, I have to go talk to her.” Jungkook cleared his throat pushing past all three bodies and resisting the urge to punch the grin off Taehyung’s face.

She ignored the faint knocking on her door and continued to layer up as much as she could. She knew her plan was stupid but it was the only option that would allow her to leave without stirring up any conflict. She would leave while everyone was sleeping, walk through the forest until she reached a highway or a familiar location and call an uber. When she arrived home, she’d text Jennie and apologize for leaving abruptly before turning off her phone and sleeping until the next year.

She breathed a sigh of relief when the knocking finally stopped. “I’m just going to open the door.” Jungkook’s voice said from behind the door.

She froze as she watched the doorknob slowly turned. As the door opened, she braced herself for anymore shit he would spew at her only to reveal a defeated version of the spiteful man from earlier. Her eyes narrowed trying to figure out what he wanted as he closed the door behind him. Feeling embarrassed and ashamed, Jungkook kept his gaze focused on her neck. When he found that doing that made the lewd images in his mind that he usually formed at night to emerge, he decided suck it up and just make eye contact. The moment they locked eyes, he felt an ache in his chest so extreme he almost clutched his heart. Her eyes were flooded with tears and her face flushed indicating that she had been crying. Whether they were tears of anguish or anger, it made him feel physical pain.

"This mate thing is going to fucking kill me soon." Jungkook thought.

He didn't have time to process this new feeling or get angry how much control he was losing over his own body. He needed to convince her to stay for just a little longer. After a minute of silence, Jungkook finally spoke.

"Do you know what a mate is?" he asked, too stubborn to apologize.

She sighed and sat down on the corner of her bed, far away from him. She leaned back against her hands and stared at the ceiling, too exhausted to think.

"Kind of." she simply answered, not wanting to elaborate.

Jungkook looked out her window. The sun was just starting to set and they had a few more hours until Namjoon's safety barrier was needed.

"Let's go for a little walk. We have some things to talk about." Jungkook said.

[Hello! Sorry for the late upload! I hope your new year is starting off great!]

#bts smut #jungkook smut #bts fanfic #jungkook fanfic #jungkook werewolf #bts werewolf #jimin #taehyung #namjoon #yoongi #hoseok #jin #bts #choices #i-dont-give-a-fok

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ibuki-says · 1 year

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*waddles in here*

I’ve always been too shy to request-

But can I request Chiaki Nanami,Hiyoko Saionji and Rantaro Amami x reader who loves having his hair played with? (can be gender neutral and just head anons, whichever works. they’re my comfort characters <3)

chiaki , hiyoko , and rantaro with a s/o that likes their hair played with!

chiaki nanami

chiaki couldn’t help but be rather surprised when her lover first requested for her to touch their hair

another typical social interaction she hadn’t been quite aware of it seemed

before now at least

“o-oh!! okay…ummm am i…doing it right? i’ve seen this in…some games…i think…”

the shy gamer certainly wasn’t opposed to the action at least, especially once she got more comfortable with it

as long as they’d promise to return the favor, as she quickly realized why they enjoyed the gentle affection so much

it’s almost guaranteed that when she’s playing a game that only requires one hand, the other is surely weaving its way through their hair

even in those other times, should there be a cutscene or sometimes she’ll even pause her game to give her partner’s hair some much desired attention

the ultimate sign of her (or really any gamer’s) absolute love

hiyoko saionji

hiyoko, on the other hand, would be a tad less receptive at first

“ewwww!! touch YOUR gross and probably dirty hair!? ugh, i would rather die!”

she huffs and denies their request - clearly acting as if though it would be the worst thing in the world

however…a little bit of time goes by, maybe even enough to forget they had made the request in the first place

they’d be having a bad day, venting about a bad friend or difficult class

hiyoko clearly isn’t the best with comfort, but dislikes seeing someone so important to her so down so she remembers something they’d asked of her a while ago

and she silently offers her hand, slowly raising it to their hair, almost apprehensively, almost…afraid to provide such gentle affection

she eventually becomes comfortable enough to do it a bit more often

though she vehemently denies it should the action be brought up at any other time…even if her stark blush says otherwise

rantaro amami

unlike the first two, rantaro is immediately receptive to his lover’s request

having so many siblings, he was incredibly used to random and casual affection

though, of course, this is all the more special as it’s being asked by his partner

he’s generally a fan of all kinds of affection, anyway, so adding one more type to focus his attention on was certainly no big deal to him

“oh? you want me to play with your hair? why didn’t you mention it sooner? i would’ve complied right away…”

he can’t help but tease them just a little bit

any chance he gets, he’ll be threading his fingers through their hair

(even lazily braiding their hair on occasion should their hair be long enough to accommodate it)

#danganronpa #danganronpa x reader #x reader #chiaki nanami #hiyoko saionji #rantaro amami #super danganronpa two #killing harmony #chiaki nanami x reader #hiyoko saionji x reader #rantaro amami x reader #gn reader #gn!reader #request #fluff #fanfiction #danganronpa fanfiction #fanfic #danganronpa fanfic

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wherelibertydwells · 11 months

Text

The most popular host in US cable news history, Tucker Carlson has released the first episode of his new show since his April 24 firing from Fox News. The episode, which for now appears exclusively on Twitter, immediately went viral, having been seen by millions.

The reaction from the corporate media, which often struggle to attract a fraction of that audience, was as predictable as it was negative. CNN expressed that he "has given voice to some of the most extreme ideas in right-wing politics".

The Washington Post called him a "far-right pundit" whose monologue was "tinged with conspiratorial thinking and drenched in disdain by other media and political figures".

The Guardian claimed, without evidence, that the episode was "received with widespread derision" and seemed particularly upset that he "insulted Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelensky".

However, if someone stops to see what he said, he will realize that the terms "left" and "right" have lost their meaning in US discourse, becoming just labels used to stigmatize dissidents.

Calling someone an "extreme right" no longer reveals almost anything about their convictions. Carlson's debut monologue focused almost entirely on the proxy war in Ukraine, waged by the US and NATO against Russia. The Ukrainian war effort is being armed and funded by the US and its Western allies and is the CIA's top priority.

Carlson opposed US involvement from the beginning. In his debut monologue on Twitter, he once again questioned the policy of fueling a war involving the US and Russia, owners of the largest nuclear stocks on the planet; expressed skepticism about Ukrainian claims that it was Russia that blew up the Kakhovka dam , citing numerous examples where Ukraine lied in similar situations, such as when it accused Russia of blowing up the pipeline itself or of being behind the drone strikes against the Kremlin; and recalled that the greatest advocates of this war are the same neoconservatives who falsely told the world that Iraq had weapons of mass destruction.

This stance of opposition to the US/NATO war puts Carlson on the same side as people like Noam Chomsky, an icon of the global left, from important sectors of left parties in Germany, Spain, Portugal, Greece and Italy; the African National Congress in South Africa; the president of Mexico, the leftist Andrés Manuel Lopez Obrador; and, in Brazil, Lula.

If Carlson, therefore, is in agreement with much of the global left, how can he be characterized as an "extreme right" ? It is clear that this term had its meaning completely emptied, starting to be used against anyone who differs from the neoliberal consensus of the West in relation to wars, espionage, censorship and the economic guidelines of the so-called Washington Consensus.

By far what most marks Carlson's work over the last six years is the extreme skepticism, and sometimes disdain, with which he treats America's main institutions of power. Its most frequent targets have been the CIA, the FBI, the NSA (National Security Agency), the corporate media, big tech.

He waged a two-year crusade in favor of pardoning Julian Assange, whom he treats as a hero, in yet another point of convergence with Lula and the international left.

These perspectives, central to Carlson's worldview, are closely associated with the classical left. I felt so comfortable appearing on Carlson's Fox show because the targets of his fiercest criticism are precisely the intelligence agencies and neoliberal institutions that I have denounced in my journalistic career. Carlson's show was one of the few places on US television where this kind of opposition could be heard.

There are, of course, several disagreements between Carlson and most progressives. He is a vehement opponent of illegal immigration and the use of medication and surgery for trans minors, for example.

At the same time, progressive stars like Senator Bernie Sanders and Congresswoman Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez voted to authorize $40 billion to fuel the war in Ukraine and rarely, if ever, express skepticism about the claims of the CIA or the Pentagon.

Carlson is far from a leftist, but there is no world in which he and his core views can be defined as "extreme right", except a world in which that term is just a weaponized instrument to stigmatize dissent from established dogma.

Labeling someone the extreme right today is not about ideology, but only serves to coerce anyone who expresses skepticism about the policies of the US military-industrial complex.

Glenn Greenwald

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goodqueenaly · 1 year

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I just wanted to say that your theory of how Jaime will kill Cersei (the one you answered on March 14th) was really interesting but wouldn't that push Jaime inexplicably into villain status as opposed to his current status as sort of a bad guy that does good things/a good guy that does bad things? Also how do you think his story will end after he kills Cersei?

Jaime was (until his disappearance with Brienne at the end of his chapter in ADWD) the official representative of the crown in wrapping up the war in the Riverlands for the Baratheon-Lannister regime - which is to say, directly enforcing and empowering that regime and its chosen beneficiaries in the aftermath and as a result of the Red Wedding. Jaime continued the official royal employment of the Mountain's men despite their active participation in Tywin's broad strategy of war crimes (not to mention their own acts of cruelty and violence). Jaime undertook command of the siege of Riverrun, fully prepared to launch an attack if the Tullys did not surrender, and oversaw the transfer of the Tully's ancestral home to the family which had openly violated guest right to murder Lord Tully's nephew and the king he had acclaimed following the willful destruction undertaken by the Baratheon-Lannister regime (as well as his sister and any number of his bannermen and their supporters). Jaime left Tytos Blackwood with the wish of “a good harvest and the joy of the king’s peace” knowing that another harvest would be a complete impossibility (thanks to the onset of winter and his family's role in the destruction of Blackwood lands and men) and that Lord Blackwood’s true king was the one who had been murdered at his, Jaime's, father’s direction (and did much the same for Lord Bracken, telling him to “go home and plant your fields” even though there would be no time or resources to do so).

To be clear, I'm not mentioning these things in order to say "Jaime is an evil POS and has always been a supervillain", but rather to emphasize that his current story, and indeed his story overall, is far from spotless or morally uncomplicated. Jaime is, like many other characters in ASOIAF, capable of both good and bad, and I for one am not committed to any idea of Jaime "having" to be good or sympathetic or respectable for any remainder of his story, including the murder of Cersei. (This is the same reason I vehemently reject any theory that ties the valonqar murder to Jaime trying to save King's Landing or perform some other selfless or noble act.) The fact is that Jaime has thought quite a bit, and sometimes violently, through AFFC and ADWD about his resentment toward what he perceives as Cersei's romantic/sexual infidelity to him. I am not saying that Jaime's murder of Cersei will be connected to his sometimes violent feelings of resentment because I want to demonize or villainize Jaime, but because this is how the author has portrayed Jaime thinking about Cersei recently and because the author has very clearly telegraphed Jaime as the prophesied valonqar.

I have no strong feelings on what happens to Jaime following his murdering Cersei.

#asoiaf meta #jaime lannister

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itookyoudown · 7 months

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I know it’s been a while since you wrote it, but I’d love to get the directors’ commentary on this excerpt from “and i would be the one (to hold you down):”

Tim’s ordained badge hangs from a chain around his neck. It rests like a shield over his heart though Tim’s not so sure if it’s protecting him from Boyd or Boyd from him. Usually, the weight of the star was light. Like a pat of reassurance. Now, it wears heavy. Like a collar.

He supposes dog-like feelings are appropriate for him. In the army, they’d made a big whoop about the differences between sheep, sheepdogs, and wolves. An easy way to divvy up the world’s people into tidy designations. War may be chaos, but the military is orderly. Civilians, the good guys, and the bad guys. Tim’s a sheepdog. By default that makes him one of the good guys, though sometimes he has doubts on whether the world is that simple and clean.

It doesn’t feel particularly good to point his weapon at Boyd.

There’s a big difference between doing something because you like doing it and doing something because you’re good at doing it. Tim doesn’t like shooting people...but he does like being good at it. Taking aim at Boyd doesn’t feel good per se, but it feels familiar and that makes it easy.

In his heart, Tim’s still a soldier. Boyd’s not. He may have served, but he’s no longer one of the sheepdogs. Maybe he never really was. That’s the difference between them right there. Tim has the skills to shoot and the willingness to pull, but not without an order to do it. Boyd doesn’t take orders from anyone. He makes his own decisions now. Without input from anyone or consideration for others.

Tim can see the irrefutable evidence of Boyd’s most recent decisions. After all, Boyd’s wearing them. They’ve stained his hands and the front of his clothes. He’s already pulled first on someone and literally taken the clothes off their back. The local sheriff, Tim assumes, from the brown and beige star-smacked look that Boyd is wearing.

Boyd’s a wolf dressed up as a sheepdog.

There are no sheep left in the building.

Oh thank you! I'm actually really happy you asked about this even if I have to really dig into my memory bank.

and i would be the one (to hold you down). It was my first fanfic ever so I'm very fond of it, even if looking back I realize it's still raw in a few places and could have used some more baking. But I love the world I created for this and I pulled off the vibe & grappled with the themes I set out to explore in this piece.

So, this whole passage really was to acknowledge that while Boyd and Tim have commonalities (they're veterans they're southern boys they're soldiers they come from abusive homes etc etc) they are fundamentally very different people and they do NOT share moral values. There is zero overlap there, they're vehemently opposed in this regard. No same coin, opposite sides imagery happening here. They aren't even in the same piggybank together lol.

(I stressed the importance of this because it was intended to amplify the real horror at the end of Tim losing his morality when Boyd forcibly turns him into a vampire -- Boyd doesn't just take Tim's life, he does something even more sinister and destroys Tim's moral center).

I have so many feelings about the symbolism behind the badge of the US marshals. It's so distinctive and evocative that this bit was really just stopping to ponder what that badge means and how it is used and to show that Tim's relationship with his own job as a LEO isn't without nuance.

This whole bit about wolves VS sheepdogs is an old analogy (hi jesus as a shepherd imagery). But you'll also see it tossed around in veteran circles a lot -- shows up in military memes constantly lol. There's controversy about the dude and the essay/lecture/book it stems from, but I won't get into all that. Simply put, this analogy is one that Tim would be familiar with and I think as a young man who was sent off to war it really cemented into his mind. That pretty sounding and crystal clear separation between innocents, protectors, and predators is one that has helped Tim grapple with his moral injuries.

Though he doesn't fully buy into it. Tim is a product and weapon of the USA military propaganda machine, but Tim's service has left him questioning everything he was taught and told. Tim has remarkable self-awareness and I wanted to show that while Tim uses this mindset to help guide himself through the complications of life, he doesn't entirely fall prey to the us VS them mentality.

Tim's capable of self-reflection and in order to do that you need to have the ability to doubt yourself.

It doesn’t feel particularly good to point his weapon at Boyd.

I really wanted to make it clear to readers that Tim has little ill will toward Boyd. That his confrontation with Boyd is Tim acting professionally and that he's adhering to the vow he took when he took up office as a US deputy marshal. It doesn't matter that Boyd has been a pain in the ass to our lawmen for six seasons or that Tim is tired of Boyd and Raylan's personal bullshit or even that Tim and Raylan are implied to have a romantic relationship + the later insinuated that Raylan has been feeding on Tim.

Tim doesn't hate Boyd in this story. There's no rage or jealousy or hatred when he draws his weapon because this is Tim, as a LEO, reacting to an active shooting in a hospital.

In his heart, Tim’s still a soldier. Boyd’s not. He may have served, but he’s no longer one of the sheepdogs. Maybe he never really was.

Deep breath. I just love season 6 Boyd so much. He's awful and it's horrible to watch him unravel and go full-throttle with his cruelty and anger, but I think it's such a fitting end for him when you look back at all of his choices throughout the story. Tragic, in a certain light, but Boyd went from antagonist to full-fledged villain of his own accord and I love that for him. Go outlaw man go!

I loved including this bit because I think it harkens back nicely to all the lies Boyd tells and the masks he wears and Boyd never quite being who he says he is.

They’ve stained his hands and the front of his clothes. He’s already pulled first on someone and literally taken the clothes off their back. The local sheriff, Tim assumes, from the brown and beige star-smacked look that Boyd is wearing.

Nah we, as readers, know that'd be Carl, but this is told from Tim's POV and he wouldn't know about that. I did really like this bit though because we see Tim in LEO mode even in the heat of the moment -- he's making assumptions and trying to piece together clues but he's not stating facts. Because we're shown once again that Tim isn't acting from an emotional place.

Boyd’s a wolf dressed up as a sheepdog. There are no sheep left in the building.

Ominous sentences OMNIOUS. Here is kinda where I started to slip in the horror. And also on a practical level to explain Tim's alone with Boyd. The gunshots have cleared out the hospital. There is no one to come to Tim's rescue or help him.

And to go on a ramble for a moment here: when the horror does rise in the following paragraphs...the wolf, sheepdog, and sheep analogy actually entirely falls apart and is no longer applicable in any way. Because Boyd isn't human at all. He's not even a wolf. He's so far beyond Tim's understanding or ability to comprehend what Boyd is! Because vampires :)

That's also why this is the last time I use the wolf/dog/sheep imagery in this fic.

Thanks again for sending this ask! This was a fun trip down memory lane.

(author commentary ask game)

#tooks.txt #itookyoudown #justie author commentary #justie games

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delirious-donna · 2 years

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Love Hurts [Manjiro Sano]

Oct. 21 - Sano Manjiro aka Mikey (Bonten timeline) x female reader

Your boyfriend was the most loving man, most of the time, but sometimes he was the meanest person walking this Earth and he was going to make you cry from the venom he'd spout.

warnings: degradation, mean Mikey, petting in front of others, being called a slut, manhandling, orgasm denial, assisted masturbation, rough blowjob, gagging, unprotected sex, window sex

Masterlist

"You're the light of my life."

"The only person that keeps me out of the darkness."

"I don't know what I'd do without you…"

All claims made time and again by the man that you looked up to above all others. If he were the starless, midnight sky then you were the moon that hung ever-present. Mikey was the love of your life, the constant in a turbulent world that threw every kind of trauma into his path. It wasn't fair, it shouldn't be this difficult for one man, but you hoped that your devotion lightened his load.

You eyed your reflection in the mirror, toes twisting on the tiled floor and your lower lip bitten with dried blood lining the plush flesh that had been glossed and shiny only hours ago. The soft lilac dress mocked you, it was your favourite - his favourite - and you had worn it, especially for him.

It had been a mistake and you knew that now.

The very second your eyes met Manjiro's seated behind his desk, you had known it was a bad day. There was no way you could've known earlier; this morning you had roused him from his slumber in the same way as every other morning. Having to coax him back to consciousness as his face attempted to burrow further into his pillow and the arm hooked around your middle only tightened like a vice.

From the sleepy-eyed, yawning and affectionate lover he had transformed into the dark-eyed, cold and mean criminal boss that took no shit and had zero mercy for anyone. What had transpired to provoke such a stark change? You didn't know and wouldn't until he opened up to you - if he even would do so.

It had been meant as a surprise, a visit to his office to cheer him up and perhaps indulge in some naughty and highly inappropriate shenanigans, but that had been scuppered by the grim expression that turned Manjiro's face cruel.

The way his gaze had raked your appearance, and not in the lustful way you had hoped for but with vehement scorn - well, it had hurt. His finger lifted to beckon you from where you were frozen on the spot mere inches in the doorway.

Now, the almost sympathetic and uncharacteristic expression on Sanzu's face made sense as you had given him a small wave hello on your way towards Manjiro's office. He nodded in reply, his eyes sliding towards the door you were heading for and a slight frown tugging his brow down.

Forcing you to seat yourself upon the edge of his desk, a harsh palm spread your thighs, snapping the hem of your knee socks and only raising a smile when you winced at the snapback against your plush flesh.

"Whose attention are you trying to gain today, hmm?"

Manjiro's cold words had sent the lead weight from your stomach to your toes, there was a dangerous edge to his voice. The shake of his head when you tried desperately to assure him that you were here for him and no one else, the defiant jut of his lip and the fingertips that pushed further into the fat of your ass.

"I doubt that. I wonder who it is that you've got an eye on and what exactly should I do about it?"

You endured being posed upon his lap for the next hour as he took a business meeting with three men you didn't recognise. It was embarrassing, mortifying even, the way they watched as Manjiro's hand crept steadily towards the apex of your thighs before quickly moving their eyes away. The dark chuckle that he offered in response and the shifting feet of both Sanzu and Kakucho who stood against the opposing wall.

"You can look, she wants to be admired like an attention-seeking slut."

Your cheeks had burned with shame, tears threatening to spill from your eyes, but you couldn't deny that you were becoming aroused by how mean he was treating you. How possessive he was acting with those darn hands of his, exploring your curves as he continued to talk business like he wasn't feeling you up.

That first breathy moan that you had tried to stifle, really you had, was the last straw. You were pushed from his knee, catching yourself on the corner of his desk seconds before you would have tumbled to the floor and stared back into a face that was expressionless.

“I’ll see you later… don’t you dare change.”

With those words thrown at you like acid tipped blades, you strode for the door with your head held as high as you could manage. You refused to meet the uncomfortable stares of his second and third in command, instead, choosing to slam the door hard enough that it rattled in its hinges and damn the consequences.

Now, as you gazed at your reflection, your bottle had crashed and you were worried about the kind of man who was about to walk through the door. Whilst you never felt physically endangered by your man, he was nonetheless intimidating and you knew what he was capable of if pushed hard enough.

The front door slammed and a ripple of fear and something else shot from the top of your head right down and into your toes. A tendril of a sinful wish to be humiliated and talked down to washed over you and coated your complexion in a fierce heat.

You felt his presence before your eyes set their sights on his figure, the aura that surrounded him was overwhelming, intimidating and yet your soul answered his flare of power with a welcoming embrace.

Ash blond hair stole your attention, his bangs fell into those voidless eyes and his skin shone under the lights with all the luminance of a low-hanging moon. Dark circles pressed beneath his eyes and you longed to go to him, to soothe him in any way you could and share the burden with him, but it wouldn’t be welcomed - not right now.

Manjiro ignored you, his gaze pointedly fixed on the bed behind your knees as he unbuttoned his shirt and unbuckled his belt.

“Touch yourself.”

You jerked as if the two words he spoke were physical blows to your cheek. He sat heavily on the edge of the bed, his shirt spread open to reveal the honed muscles that you adored to detail with your tongue.

He sighed, a palm rubbing down his face. “Did I fucking stutter? Touch yourself, you’ve dolled yourself up like a proper little whore so you may as well get yourself off,” he hissed.

Your chest flushed at the insinuation, but your hand shakily slid beneath your pretty dress. There was a damp spot on your panties, it had been growing since he had appeared, your heart was betraying the mean words he levelled at you.

“That’s it, touch that slutty little cunt. Bet it’s drenched already. Did you like being drooled over by every man in that room earlier?”

Manjiro was behind you before you even realised he had moved. His strong palm graced the slender column of your throat, fingers and thumb coiling around the sides and squeezing lightly.

“Did you want me to bend you over my desk and show them who you belong to? Who this,” his free hand forced your legs to widen as he cupped your sex and pressed your fingers deeper between your slick folds, “belongs to?”

“Mi-Mikey,” you rasped, letting your head fall against his shoulder with puffs of air passing through your parted lips.

“Calling me that, huh? And where did Manjiro go? You think you get to use that nickname freely? Guess again…”

He manipulated your hand, taking control of your digits and working them aggressively against your pulsing clit. The taut fabric of your panties burned friction into your soaked skin and you whined at the sensation.

“That's enough for you right now,” he stated whilst ripping away your hand and finishing the work on his pants. You felt the heat of his thick cock between your thighs, Manjiro slid himself back and forth as he held the flimsy skirt of your dress to the curve of your spine.

“Goddamn, you were made to please me, you know that right? The perfect pussy to take my cock. Such a slut that you couldn’t wait for me to come home, had to turn up in this slutty outfit and tempt me when I should be working. Flaunting yourself in front of men that have no fucking right to even gaze in your direction.”

His strokes increased as the heat in his voice intensified. Manjiro was fucking his cock between your clenched thighs, the thick ridge of his cockhead catching on your clit with each drag of his hips.

Suddenly, he clamped down on your throat, making you squeak or try to squeak in surprise, and then he was spinning you. Hands on your shoulders as he forced you to your knees and tapped his weeping dick on your lips.

He was a force to be reckoned with, the power of his mood bending you to his will and you could only submit to him. If Mikey was your God, the man you worshipped and adored, then Manjiro was your Devil, the man you feared but admired in sinful secret.

“Open up, suck it good and I'll let you cum on my cock… not that you deserve it.”

Mere seconds after your lips parted, Manjiro was fucking your face with fervour. One hand tangled into your hair and dictated your every movement, holding you so your nose brushed his pelvis and you choked on his cock.

Strands of thick saliva mixed with precum dripped from your chin, having oozed from the sides of your mouth. Gasping and crying from how roughly he was fucking your raw throat. There was no time for your tongue to flick at the veins lining his shaft, for your teeth to gently nip at the ridge of his mushroom tip or for your cheeks to hollow.

Manjiro grunted like a beast, caught between wanting to watch your face with its ruined mascara and fat tears and wanting to let his head fall back, eyes closed in ecstasy.

The worst of his mood seeped out of him, as if he were soothed by the feel of your mouth and how you took his dark side without flinching or looking truly scared. He’d never hurt you, never, never, never. The mantra rang through his head and suddenly he needed you - needed you so damn bad.

Strong hands hooked under your arms, pulling you into a strong naked chest. He hugged you, his embrace so tight that you might pop but before you could protest, your body was spun to face the floor to ceiling windows that showed the dazzling lights of the city.

The glass was cool against your hands and cheek, held against the surface whilst Manjiro manoeuvred you into the position he wanted. Your hips grew back, toes almost tripping over his feet as he planted himself directly between your spread thighs.

One swipe of his sticky cock against your slit and he was pressing into you, he was slow but continuous. There was no lazy back and forth to open you up to take his entirety, this was a languid drive until he was buried up to the hilt.

“Let me show the whole of the city who you belong to. I'd see it burn before I let someone else ever touch you...”

#delirious writes #kinktober 2022 #kinktober #mikey smut #manjiro sano smut #manjiro x reader #mikey x reader #tokyo revengers smut #tokyo revengers x reader #manjiro sano

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