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owliellder · 8 months

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The Finer Details

Post DI! Leon Kennedy x Painter f! Reader

MDNI 18+

(Session 1, Session 2, Session 3, Session 4, Session 5, The Reveal)

Description: Leon realizes that retirement is in his best interest now that he's getting older. All of his accomplishments as an agent mean he's truly earned a painting to commemorate..

Warnings: Not Proofread, Age gap! (reader is anywhere between mid-late 20's and Leon is 40), Porn w/ Plot, Use of she/her pronouns, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Alcoholism, mentions of trauma/PTSD/depression, P in V smut (wrap it NEOW), Leon cries during sex 💔

Tags: Older Leon Kennedy, Younger afab!Reader, Leon is SAD but he is your muse, Crying, mentions of Leon masturbating, starts off with Dom! Leon and Sub! Reader, falls into switch territory because that man needs some serious TLC, Praise kink, Hickeys, Handjob, Nipple play, Oral sex (m! and f! receiving), and a heavy dose of Aftercare

Author Note: You know how each president of the U.S. gets a painting at the end of their term? I'm thinking like that. Plus, my favorite hobby is recreating renaissance art, so I figured this was a good fit (hopefully).

Cross posted onto AO3

Session 1: The Sketches

It was late at night when Leon made his decision to retire fully.

He had gotten home over an hour ago from reviewing mountains of paperwork, most of which pertained to missions that other agents have gone on or will be going on.

Younger agents. More energized agents.

The fact that he hadn't gone on a full mission since San Francisco was driving him up the wall. But that's what he wanted. He requested to hang back the last two years.

Both Chris and Claire had fully retired themselves right after San Fran, Claire being the first to retire to focus on her growing family with Chris following suit only a few months later. Jill was still around, but she was doing similar work that Leon was, only she was in a completely different department which was states away.

Of course Leon still talked with them all as regularly as possible, he'd go insane if he didn't, especially with Claire having a couple kids now. He wasn't the greatest with children, but it was refreshing seeing his friends achieve such normalcy. He wanted them to have the best life they could away from everything.

Having turned 40 a few some months ago, Leon was having a bit of a mid-life crisis. The mission to San Francisco a couple years ago had made him realize just how much toll the job itself had taken on his body. After being assessed and allowed home a few nights after returning from the mission, his body ached; joints creaking, back nearly thrown, just... tired.

Don't get him wrong, he was always tired after missions, but this was different. This wasn't just the regular aches and pains he dealt with after being tossed around like a rag doll, this was age.

Deep in his mind, Leon was still that 21 year old boy in Raccoon City. He never got the chance to properly grieve and move on, his mind forever changed by that event. Mentally, he was stuck there and had been this entire time.

It had taken the man this long to truly recognize the fact that he's older now. He's not that boy from Raccoon City anymore. He hadn't been in a long time.

What was he do to now? Leon had wanted so badly to serve and protect the people, but not like this. Not like he has for the past 29 years.

He spent his most formative years fighting unimaginable horrors, watching people suffer, watching people die. You don't just come back from something like that.

And unlike the friends he's managed to keep close, Leon didn't have someone he trusted. Hell, he barely trusted himself most days.

So now here he was, sitting drunk in his shower with his legs pulled up to his chest, his arms resting atop his knees while the water pelted down on him, silently mulling over everything he's ever seen and done during his time as an agent.

The water had grown cold at this point, Leon having quickly lost track of how long he was sitting spaced out like that for. Thankfully, he'd already cleaned himself before he ended up sitting down, so the hardest part now was just standing back up to get himself back out.

It took him a couple more minutes before he finally hoisted himself up with a tired groan, both his knees popping from being stuck in position for such a lengthy amount of time.

Once out of the shower, towel loosely wrapped around his waist, Leon stared at himself in the mirror; busy studying the crow's feet on both outer corners of his eyes as well as the prominent bags sitting under them, the smile line around his mouth, his now brown hair, the stubble on his face and neck that's he's neglected to shave, and just how exhausted he looked.

How has he never noticed any of this before? Why's he look so different now?

Settling into bed after this brutal realization was a tough task. The man followed his nightly routine of taking four Tylenol and two of his prescription sleep meds before setting his a/c 65 degrees Fahrenheit. He learned quickly many years ago that tossing and turning at night would make him overheat and sweat.

But tonight, nothing Leon did could ease that sinking feeling in his chest, that feeling of unfulfillmemt and shame weighing on him more than ever before.

The poor man barely slept at all last night, hangover evident by the way he was still slightly uneven on his feet as he leaned over the center island in his kitchen, head between his forearms while his hands sat clasped together.

Leon knew what he had to do. He's been feeling it ever since Chris and Claire made their departure, but it was so easy to deny. How was he suppose to give up the one thing that made him important? Sure the stress of his work was heavily tasking on the mind and body, but it's what gave him purpose. He felt useful doing what he did.

The man showed up for work late that day, barely having managed to dress himself. He didn't know exactly who to go to in this scenario, but everyone seemed surprised that the Leon Kennedy would show up for work in some ratty t-shirt and grey sweatpants. The stares were making him incredibly uncomfortable and he was quickly regretting showing up at all.

After sitting in his own office for awhile to avoid the looks and whispers, Leon eventually sauntered over to his superior's office, an almost solemn look on his face as he let himself in after knocking.

Needless to say, Leon was relieved his superior knew this was coming. Slightly offended, but relieved nonetheless.

It had been a long time coming, and it was only a matter of time before Leon threw in the towel, especially since he was now just working behind the scenes instead of on the frontline.

He was allowed to return home for the rest of the day if he wanted to, which Leon quickly took. He really didn't want to be in that building for much longer.

As soon as he returned home he went right back to drinking. And as ashamed as he is to admit, he even cried a little, half empty whiskey bottle in one hand while the other was clenched tightly into a fist as he gripped the pant leg of his sweats.

There wasn't anyone Leon could talk to about this. Chris and Claire had their own respective partners to come home to after retirement, but Leon? Leon had nothing besides a dingy and cold two bedroom house with only the basics inside, including his alcohol cabinet.

The man didn't even give himself time to date, only the occasional one night stand with randoms from the bar. He was too afraid that he would endanger anyone he allowed into his life like that, not to mention he'd been betrayed one too many times to trust in someone that way again. It was his way of keeping himself and everyone else safe.

The therapists he was assigned throughout the years all had the same concern regarding his love life, and deep down Leon was just as concerned, but he rationalized it with that hero complex he developed.

But he just couldn't rationalize it anymore. Leon was alone. He was alone, sad, and afraid.

About a month after Leon's retirement was processed and announced, word spread quickly throughout numerous government branches. There was a celebration set up at the White House to honor his service as a field agent.

The President had separated him and Leon from the party to slowly walk through the many hallways in the building. The old man could tell just how bothered the now ex-agent was by his retirement, so he figured now would be the best time to talk to him about his final task.

"You know," The President spoke up after a couple minutes of the two walking in silence, prompting Leon to slowly turn his head to listen. "I'm sure you've heard it so many times tonight, but you truly were one of the best agents I've ever seen."

Leon chuckled quietly, shaking his head a bit at the compliment. He had heard it a lot tonight, but obviously it was different coming from him.

"I'm serious. This county, probably the entire world, would've been in shambles if not for your hours spent." The President continued, slowing his walking to a stop.

"It means more than you know." Leon responded simply, voice a bit gravelly from the few drinks he's had. He took a couple steps more before stopping as well, turning around to face the prominent old man.

The President sighed, giving him a sympathetic smile while nodding. They stood in silence for a brief moment before the old man spoke up again, pointing lazily down the hall. "Follow me, I've got something I want to show you."

From there, the two wandered further down the halls until eventually reaching one hall that had lights more centered towards the walls, highlighting the picture frames that sat evenly spaced out amongst them.

Leon seemed a tad confused until he was able to focus on the first painting they walked by. He knew each president got a portrait painted after their full term was served, but the man in this painting wasn't a past president.

He stopped walking to stand in front of the painting, admiring the details it had before glancing down at the bottom of the elegant frame, a placard reading a name he didn't recognize. What he did recognize, though, was the word Agent that sat in front of the man's name.

While zoned into the placard, Leon didn't register the gentle hand that had been clasped on his shoulder, the President's voice breaking through his trance. "For as long as there's been bioweapons, we've had agents fighting to stop them. But only a few agents have truly outdone themselves. Agents like you."

Leon blinked a couple times before turning his head to look at the hand on his shoulder, eyebrows furrowed. He wasn't quite understanding what he was saying.

The President took his silence as a cue to continue, his sympathetic smile turning into a happier one as he gently tugged Leon's shoulder to get him to start walking again. "The D.S.O. has produced some of the greatest agents since Benford created it back in 2011. You were amazing before, but you've outdone yourself time and time again."

Leon still wasn't quite understanding, really only half listening as he kept his eyes trained to the numerous portraits of agents as he slowly passed them.

The two stopped in front of the last painting in the hallway, only a few spots away from leading into another hallway. It was Chris and Claire in this painting. Chris was sitting down in a chair while Claire stood next to him, hand resting on back of it, both of them smiling.

He studied the painting for a minute longer before whipping his head around to face the President, who was still smiling, as the realization slowly settling in.

"I-" Leon struggling to speak, glancing back at the painting before quickly looking back at the old man standing next to him.

The President simply nodded his head, smile widening with a gentle laugh. "Right. The painting process takes a bit of time, but I think you've more than earned this."

The ex-agent had so many questions. Firstly, why hadn't Chris or Claire mentioned this? But more importantly, he gets to have his own portrait painted?

"The painter knows all about you. She's excited to meet you." The President started down the hall again, Leon not far behind, still stuttering out nonsense as he attempted to form even a sentence. "I'll give you the information you need to get started with her. I have it written down back in my office."

A painting?

A painting. A painting for him. A painting to honor him. What?

Leon was once again sat on his couch, blankly staring at the small business card with a date and time written on it in pen. He'd read the info on the card so many times already, wanting to make sure he got absolutely nothing wrong.

Apparently he didn't have to call and confirm, all he had to do was show up to this random address at a specific date and time, which was soon. In a couple days kind of soon. Also, he thought he was reading the time wrong, but no, it was four in the morning, not four in the afternoon. What an odd and rather inconvenient time.

Even after memorizing the business card front to back, Leon would be lying if he said he didn't forget about meeting up with this mystery painter. He'd been rather aloof the past couple months, it was hard to pull himself out of that funk. He'd been staying up late and sleeping in even later, so hitting snooze on his alarm a good few times was just muscle memory at this point.

It was almost 5am when he realized where he was suppose to be, eyes shooting open as he yanked himself out of bed, desperately trying to clean himself up enough to be at least presentable.

The man was mentally chastising himself the entire drive. It was a short drive, which he was surprised by, and the building seemed quaint; red brick with large windows that sat on what looked like either a second or third floor.

He parked his bike right near what he assumed was the main door, pulling off his motorcycle helmet before knocking and waiting.

The last thing Leon was expecting was you to unlock and open that door; young and pretty, so pretty...

"Mr. Kennedy?" You asked, eyebrows raised slightly with a small smile. He nodded, just barely noticeable, reaching a gloved hand up to wipe at his eyes as he caught himself staring.

Your smile only widened at his nod, stepping aside to allow him into walk in. It took him a minute to realize you were still talking, shaking his head out to refocus himself.

"-again, really, no need to worry about being late. I was trying to work with your schedule but I should've known it's changed up a bit by now, right?" You lead him up a set of narrow stairs, though he was mostly following the smell of your perfume. It was such a light smell but he definitely picked up on it.

You opened a door immediately to the left of the stairs, letting Leon follow you inside. The sun was just starting to rise, shining through the large windows in the open room.

The place was cluttered, yet organized. Crowded, but that just made it all the cozier to Leon. His house was bare and lacked any sort of personality, but this... this place was covered in you.

"I'm glad you like it in here." You said in a quiet voice, looking up at him as he took in your workspace. He was smiling ever so slightly, which you mimicked with a smile of your own. "I try to make it welcoming in here, my apartment is the same way.."

Your voice trailed off as you walked over to a mostly put together set up near the back of the room where the only wall without windows sat. There was a chair sitting close to the wall, the same chair Chris was sitting in for his portrait with Claire, along with your easel sitting empty a few feet away.

Leon stood frozen, only moving his head around as he took everything in. He followed you with his eyes as you fumbled around with something, eventually producing a blank 24" x 36" canvas that was still wrapped in thin plastic.

His mouth made an 'o' shape as he pulled himself from his small trance once again, beginning to slowly make his way over to the set up you've made. He placed his helmet down on the floor beside the chair.

After placing the canvas on the easel, you walked back over to where you'd gotten the canvas from before grabbing a heavily used sketchbook. It was a large one, the paper a light brown instead of white.

Leon had only just realized that there was a faint sound of some form of classical music playing from somewhere in the room, glancing around for speakers before looking back over at you.

"I'm not getting started today, we're a couple steps away from that, so don't worry about appearance just yet." You said softly with a breathy laugh, quickly making your way back over to where he stood next to the plush chair in your setup, his hand feeling over the worn maroon fabric.

Leon nodded silently, moving to sit down once you requested he did, furrowing his eyebrows as he watched you drag over a small table. You worked fast, that's for sure.

Eventually, you'd set up a little tabletop easel to sit on the table you'd dragged in front of him, grabbing your swivel chair to sit in as you placed your sketchbook on the easel, open to a blank page.

"I just need to get some basic ideas of your facial structure since that's most important when it comes to these kinds of paintings. You're gonna be wearing a nice tuxedo when I do the second- no, third sketch for the final painting, but this is just for me to get a feel for you and vise versa." You rambled quickly, pulling out a pencil from one of your pockets before fully sitting down on the chair, bringing your legs up to sit criss cross.

"Uh.. Alright..." Leon responded, clearing his throat a bit. He didn't really understand what you'd said, you spoke a little too fast for his tired brain to keep up, but it seemed like whatever you were doing was necessary so he just rolled with it.

He was left a little speechless again at how you just began sketching, glancing up to his face and down to the page you were working on over and over. "...do you need me to, I don't know, pose or something?"

The way you kept looking at him was making feel a little uneasy. Granted he's never been in this sort of situation before, this whole process was very unfamiliar to him.

"No, no. You can move your head around and stuff. Get comfortable." You waved off, eyes wrinkling as you smiled at him. Leon nodded again, deciding to take the opportunity to look around your workspace again.

It really was a cozy space. Full of color and life, even the curtains you had lining the windows offered so much pattern and detail to the room. The back of the room where the two of you sat was more cluttered with less decor, but the front of the room was a whole different story with those massive floor pillows, blankets of all sorts strewn about, that big fluffy looking area rug, it was all so... homey. It was even inspiring him to decorate his own house a bit.

The sound of your pencil scribbling on paper and the faint sound of the classical music playing was all Leon could hear for awhile, eventually letting out an anxious sigh before beginning to talk. "So... a painter, huh..?"

"Oh yeah, I've been doing this since I was little. Obviously I wasn't that good back then, but I really improved after high school." You immediately responded, voice a little louder than his. Clearly the topic excites you. "If you want, I can hand you one of my other sketchbooks to look at while I do my thing over here?"

Leon patted his hands against the arms of the chair before nodding to the side, pursing his lips slightly. "Mm, sure. Let's see what ya got.."

As soon as he agreed, you stood up and shuffled over to the corner of the room where some desks sat arranged in a makeshift cubicle. You opened a drawer and pulled out a couple sketchbooks, still as raggedy as the one you were using now.

Walking back over, you carefully handed them to him, which he slowly took after meeting your eyes for a brief moment.

Once you made your way back to your chair, he placed both sketchbooks into his lap, opening up the one on top first. The man flipped through them silently as you began to sketch him out again.

You'd zoned into your work, adding just a bit of shading to your sketches to help emphasis some features when Leon cleared his throat again. You leaned to the side to look at him, your smile quickly returning when you saw his baffled expression.

"These are... wow, okay, how old are you?" Leon asked, head jerking upwards to meet your gaze once more. You just giggled in response, using the pencil as a fidget before returning to sketching.

"Sorry-uh, I don't mean to come off as rude or anything, but to be honest, I was expecting you to be some old lady when I saw the portraits you've done." Leon was quick to try and explain, probably misinterpreting your lack of response for unease.

Your giggle turned to a small laugh, leaning to the side once more to look at the man. "Well, I'm glad I could surprise you a bit. Hopefully I don't look old."

Leon groaned and wiped his hand down his face. "Again, sorry. Didn't mean to imply." He shook his head and looked back down at the two sketchbooks sitting in his lap, continuing to flip through them.

It was only a couple hours until you decided you got a good enough feel for drawing his face. Grabbing the sketchbook, you stood up, pencil still in hand, looking down at the sketches you made as you slowly walked over to him.

The man noticed you standing up, quickly moving to close the sketchbooks you'd given him in favor of seeing your new sketches.

"I... I think this'll be enough today. I don't want to keep you too long." You said, handing him the sketchbook. Leon took it from you, careful not to smudge anything as he finally got to see what you've been doing for the past two hours.

He furrowed his eyebrows as he studied the sketches you'd made of his face, seeing all the different angles, even the smile, how'd you get his smile?

You seemed to grow nervous the longer he stared at your sketchbook in silence, his intense look making it seem as if he didn't really like them. "Are they... Are they okay?"

Leon jostled the sketchbook a bit in his hands before standing up, now towering over you as he kept his eyes on the paper. "Just okay? These are beyond amazing."

You let out a small breath you didn't notice you were holding, heat rushing to your cheeks as you smiled at his compliment. "Oh, thank you.. I'm sorry, normally sketches don't take this long but it was stressed to me that your portrait was very important so I wanted to get everything as perfect as I could.."

"Seriously, you're a mad woman if you think these wouldn't be good." Leon chuckled, handing the sketchbook back to you. He kept his eyes trained on you, even after you turned to look down and close the sketchbook. Only a fool would miss that blush on your cheeks, it looked good on you.

"Anyways, when should I come back for the next.. uh..." Leon paused, crossing his arms loosely as he struggled to think of the word.

Luckily, you finished the sentence for him. "Session. Again, this painting's importance was stressed to me a lot, so probably the next time you're available?" You talked while you shifted the small table back to where it had originally sat under one of the numerous windows, tossing the sketchbook down on the chair cushion.

"Alright, since it's importance has now been stressed to me as well, I can probably clear up some stuff in my schedule. How's tomorrow sound?" Obviously, Leon had a completely free schedule, but you didn't need to know that.

"Tomorrow works great! The sooner the better!" You laughed, placing a gentle hand on his bicep as you walked past him to grab a sticky note. "I'll give you my personal number, just let me know when you're thinking of coming over and I'll meet you here, okay?"

Leon looked at your number before pocketing the note, nodding his head with a smile of his own. "Sounds good. Same way out?" He pointed to the door that you brought him in through, bending down to pick up his motorcycle helmet right after.

You confirmed with a thumbs up, now drinking water from your water bottle as you'd forgotten too while focused on drawing. You felt bad for not offering him any water while he was here, but you won't forget next time.

The man gave you a curt wave before leaving the room, quietly shutting the door behind himself.

You had to admit, you've worked with a very small handful of agents since it takes a lot for them to earn their own portrait, but Leon Kennedy had to be the one of the most handsome men you've ever worked with. Maybe even one of the most handsome men you've ever seen.

Lucky you pay attention to detail, cause you definitely didn't see a ring on his finger.

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starrclown · 6 months

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Pigsy character sheet! 🐷🍜

(It's a work in progress...)

Is it bad that my second favorite character is the main character's father?? Also, PIGSY IS MK'S FATHER!! NOT WUKONG!! Don't get me wrong, I love Wukong BUT HE IS NOT THE FATHER!! *Insert Jerry Spinger meme* Ya know a oneshot I'm working on, (and just a silly headcannon I've seen that isn't that popular but it's cute) is that Pigsy adopted both Mk and Wukong. Like he got used to Wukong and just decided "Yep I need another one." and Wukong is Mk's big brother. It's cute okay. (Also I'm pretty sure that Tripitaka was a father figure to some extent to Wukong. I can't fact check that because I've never read Jttw but I think it's cute that Tang would be a father too Wukong twice after Wukong lost his family. (I don't know, I like it.)

Anyway back to Pigsy. Pigsy is a very underrated character and I wish he just got a bit more outta him. Like I know he's in I think every episode but I just wish we knew a little more about him. Like does he have siblings? How did he meet Tang and Sandy? Why does he yell at Tang for being a freeloader but still provide him food?

(I know the answer, they're married/srs.)

These don't have to be episodes or anything but I wish we knew a bit more. Exept the Tang one. I do genuinely want to know how they met. We knew from a photo in Pigsy's kitchen that they graduated together but HOW did we get there?? Just curious. Anyways back to my drawing and why I added stuff I added!!(Stuff will change so be prepared)

☆ Why he is so scruffy/fluffy??

1. I like the idea that Pigsy is a mix between a boar and just a normal fluffy pig. His mom is a boar and his dad is pig. I don't think female boars have tusk but shut up okay!! Let me have this. I just like the idea alot that Tang is this polished, rich boy while Pigsy is this fucking scruffy wild animal.

(Same dynamic with Wukong and Macaque. Wukong is this fluffy, golden, heart shaped monkie and Macaque is this scraggily animal.)

☆ Trans Pig??

2. Yes. I whole hearted believe that Pigsy is FtM. So is Mk. I just have this silly idea that Mk came out to both Pigsy and Wukong as Trans (Pigsy first obviously) and they both responded "Same kid." (I like Genderfluid Wukong but that's still under the Trans umbrella so ehh.)

☆ Lil details you might not have noticed.

1. Mk's little front hair part that sticks out of his headband is in the same shape as Pigsy's ears.

2. Pigsy has rips in his ears because he used to get into fights at school. (Another oneshot idea i'm working on where Pigsy is being made fun of like always so Tang decides to one punch man his bullies. Yeah Tang gets his ass beat and Pigsy and Tang get emotional.)

I believe that while most of Megapolis is accepting of demons and monsters not all parts like demons. Especially back when Pigsy and Tang were in middle and high school. It's better now be he still has scars from it.

3. Pigsy's wedding ring is on his right hand on the drawing to the left. Pigsy has a pretty and shiny wedding ring from Tang while Tang has essentially a tinfoil for a ring because Pigsy's couldn't afford much. (Pigsy feels bad about it but Tang wears that thing likes it's gold so he obviously likes it ALOT.)

4. Pigsy has both darker and lighter parts of fur. I have no explanation for this. Let's pretend it's because boars are darker than pigs so his Mom's fur tone is shining through. (Also that stupid "Pigs roll around in dirt and mud joke.")

5. I know I've talked about my oneshots on Wattpad (that's aren't out yet cause I want them to be good.) But for a Freenoodles oneshot I'm working on I 100% believe that Tang brags about Pigsy.

6. I updated my Tang design! If you look at my Instagram you can see this ugly art I did for Tang and Pigsy and they alot diffrent then I drew them three months ago. (Yes I am slow when I update.) I really like the way I drew him. His hair is really fun to draw.

I think this is as much as I wanna talk about this drawing. I've gone on long enough and I wanna work on other art projects. Anyways live, laugh, love Pigsy 🐷🩷!!

-⭐️StarClown⭐️

#digital art #artwork #lmk #lmk fanart #lmk pigsy #lmk tang #lmk mk

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robininthelabyrinth · 3 years

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Hi! This is for the prompts: LWJ and WWX get together at Cloud Recesses but it’s a secret. When it does come out tho, probably due to WWX mischief some how. JC comes to the conclusion that LWJ has managed to ‘defile WWXs honor’ and now JC has no choice but to fight on behalf of his big brother, who clearly has been wronged.

Honor, Defended - ao3

Untamed

“What are they doing,” Jiang Cheng said, voice strangled, eyes staring.

Nie Huaisang stood up on his toes and squinted over his new friend’s shoulder. “Fighting?”

It looked like fighting.

“No.”

Not fighting? In that case, at least by Nie sect standards, that meant –

“Flirting?”

Jiang Cheng growled, which meant Nie Huaisang’s guess was right. “I’m going to kill the rotten bastard in white! I bet he waited until Wei Wuxian was alone just for this. How dare he take advantage of my – of Wei Wuxian!”

“I mean, I don’t know about that? They seem about tied,” Nie Huaisang said, making a mental note – not that many people could match up against Lan Wangji, especially when he was in a you-are-breaking-the-rules sort of snit. “Each one’s giving as good as the other gets, if you know what I mean…I’m talking about fighting!” He added hastily, seeing Jiang Cheng’s expression. “Just the fighting! And hey, maybe the Lan sect doesn’t flirt through fighting?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Jiang Cheng said. “All cultivation sects flirt through fighting.”

Damnit, Nie Huaisang thought to himself with a sigh. That means I’m going to have to train with saber after all if I’m going to get somewhere here, doesn’t it? Well, at least da-ge will be pleased…

“Are you going to interrupt?” he asked, hiding his face behind his fan. “If fighting is flirting…”

As expected, Jiang Cheng choked. “Not all fighting is flirting!” he hissed. “But that most certainly is!”

Nie Huaisang didn’t understand fighting, so he just shrugged.

“Why don’t you confront him later?” he suggested, but Jiang Cheng shook his head, his features already settling into a mulish expression that had no right to look as attractive as it was. “All right, I see I can’t convince you. Good luck defending your brother’s honor, then?”

“If Lan Wangji doesn’t stop flirting with Wei Wuxian in class, I’m going to do something violent,” Jiang Cheng said.

“Okay, now I know you’re delusional,” Nie Huaisang said. “But still very pretty. Oh, I’m torn…actually no, I think I’m fine. I mean, what cultivator do I know that isn’t a bit delusional?”

“Can you stop talking nonsense and focus on how we’re going to split them up?” Jiang Cheng demanded irritably. Really, it was no wonder that Nie Huaisang’s best attempts at flirting were going nowhere. Jiang Cheng was thick.

In many appealing ways. Mm.

Damn his bad taste.

“Well, I think first you have to start by reversing your statement until it resembles the truth a bit more,” Nie Huaisang said, trying to be practical. “It’s Wei-xiong that’s flirting with Lan-er-gongzi, not the other way around.”

“He’s just like that!”

“A giant flirt, you mean?”

“Sociable,” Jiang Cheng insisted with the sort of blindly loyal stubbornness that was sadly very, very appealing to those surnamed Nie. Mouthwatering, even.

“Right,” Nie Huaisang said, dabbing at his mouth with his sleeve to make sure he wasn’t drooling. “I see. All right, I’ll help you. I’ll even promise to find a way to break them up for good, guaranteed – but first you have to meet one condition.”

Jiang Cheng arched his eyebrows, looking unwillingly intrigued. “Name it.”

“You have to come up with one way in which Lan-er-gongzi has been flirting with Wei Wuxian that isn’t ‘he existed being pretty in his general direction’.”

Jiang Cheng opened his mouth.

Nie Huaisang waited.

“…maybe he should consider being less pretty,” Jiang Cheng grumbled.

Nie Huaisang patted him on the shoulder, then left his hand on his shoulder because why not.

“We’ve all thought that about him over the years,” he said. “Better luck next time.”

“You’re supposed to be helping me preserve my brother’s honor!” Jiang Cheng hissed at Nie Huaisang, who had made absolutely no promises of that sort without giant loopholes that he could walk right out of. “Not – encouragingthis!”

“I didn’t! I just helped Wei-gongzi play a tiny little prank –”

“With pornography!”

“Tasteful erotic art,” Nie Huaisang corrected.

“With cutsleeve pornography!”

“Cutsleeve tasteful erotic art.”

“Nie Huaisang! You’re missing the point!”

“Am I?” Nie Huaisang asked thoughtfully, tapping his fan against his lips. “I don’t know, I’m not sure I am. Can you explain what the point is again?”

Jiang Cheng threw his hands up into the air. “Listen, it was bad enough when Wei Wuxian got thrown out of Teacher Lan’s classes and had to go copy rules in the Library Pavilion for a month; that’s disgraceful and loses face for our sect, but at least his personal honor was preserved –”

Bad scholarship was, in fact, not an impediment to having personal honor. Nie Huaisang knew this fact forwards, backwards, and intimately.

“But then Teacher Lan fell for Lan Wangji’s tricks and decided to assign him to supervise copying –”

“Lan-er-gongzi has tricks? That’s news to me.”

“…well, either way, they got cooped up there in that room, together, alone, for – for weeks!”

“Hasn’t Lan-er-gongzi been using the muting spell on Wei-xiong most of that time?”

“No, eventually Wei Wuxian learned his lesson and now he shuts himself up whenever he sees him starting up the spell, he complains to me and shijie about it constantly every night,” Jiang Cheng said, grumbling. “Stop interrupting me!”

“Sorry. Go ahead.”

“Anyway, if that wasn’t enough, you’re now encouragingthis debacle by setting up a prank that involves Wei Wuxian, Lan Wangji, and cutsleeve pornography.”

“I did,” Nie Huaisang agreed. “And it’s tasteful erotic art, Jiang-xiong.”

“Why do you keep insisting on that?” Jiang Cheng snapped. “Isn’t it the same thing?”

“No,” Nie Huaisang said patiently. “Because I also have pornography, and it’s a lot less tasteful.”

Jiang Cheng stopped, utterly distracted from his previous rant. “...you do?”

“Mm. Want to see?”

“Lan Zhan! Lan Zhan, wait for me, I want to talk to you – I need you! See, for whatever reason, I can’t find Jiang Cheng anywhere. Can you help me look –”

Nie Huaisang shut his window before Jiang Cheng could overhear and get distracted.

They were busy.

“All right,” Nie Huaisang said. “I admit it, you’re right.”

Jiang Cheng looked at him. “…you do?”

“I do.”

“Right about…what?”

“About the flirting, and Lan Wangji having tricks,” Nie Huaisang said, nodding wisely. “See, the Lan sect take their rules about their forehead ribbons very seriously. It’s parents, children, and lovers only. So if you ran into Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji entangled on the path near the back mountain, both of them soaking wet, with Lan Wangji’s forehead ribbon wrapped around their wrists…why, that’s practically an elopement!”

Jiang Cheng, predictably, turned purple. “He eloped with my – I’m going to kill him!”

“Have fun with that,” Nie Huaisang said happily, and watched as Jiang Cheng drew his sword and charged, shouting something.

Wei Wuxian attempted to defend their conduct, except apparently their conduct involved finding the ghost of a Lan sect ancestor –

“Did you bow?” Nie Huaisang asked, very unhelpfully. “Both of you? So you’d say you’ve made your bows to the older generation? Have you bowed to heaven and earth yet, too?”

Lan Wangji gave him a death glare, but maybe he should have thought of that before writing to Nie Huaisang’s brother disclosing details about Nie Huaisang’s love life.

“I’m going to kill you!” Jiang Cheng roared.

Nie Huaisang smiled over his fan at Lan Wangji and gave a jaunty little wave.

A few days earlier

“Wait, so, you’re actually together?” Nie Huaisang asked, and Lan Wangji nodded. They were having tea together the way they always did at the middle of the week, a tradition started long ago when their brothers were visiting and being utterly intolerable. Even their long-standing fight with each other would be put aside for mid-week tea. “Well done!”

Lan Wangji’s ears turned a little red. “Mm.” After a few moments, he added, “Mm.”

“No, no, I don’t think you need to worry,” Nie Huaisang said. “He may seem flighty, but he’s very loyal…the Jiang sect might object, though. They can be a bit tetchy about these things.”

Arched eyebrows.

“What do you mean, how would I know? Have you somehow missedthat I’ve been trying to snag Jiang Cheng all summer? There are more things in this world than Wei Wuxian’s waistline, shapely as it may be.”

Eyes narrowing.

“…don’t you dare tell my brother!”

A smirk, not that anyone else – excluding Lan Xichen – would know.

“I don’t care about your ‘appropriate conduct’! If you tell my brother that I’m dating instead of studying, I’ll find a way to make your life miserable, too! Just you wait!”

#mdzs #jiang cheng #nie huaisang #lan wangji #wei wuxian #my fic #my fics #honor defended

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cinnamonest · 3 years

Text

Albedo idol girl darling thoughts M A N I F E S T E D

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Well, to be entirely honest, he thinks the whole idol thing is a little dumb.

For someone like him, at least. He's a PhD student in his final semester, lots of work to be done and all that. So, you know, he's a responsible, accomplished adult. Not the kind of person who gets into "that stuff," as he calls it in his head.

Nor does he even know how he encountered it... He just takes the occasional break from work to mindlessly open whatever app first pops into his vision and scroll through the feed. He's never watched anything like it in his life, so he's not exactly sure why he gets recommended some idol girl thing, and even less sure why he taps it without really thinking. Probably one of those videos that gets recommended to everyone. Well, can't be that, it doesn't have that many views... Probably loosely connected to some video game he's searched before or something. He's familiar with idols and what they are, and the subculture surrounding them, but he's never really cared about it.

Honestly, it's kinda pathetic that a bunch of grown adult men get so obsessed over these girls, he thinks as he watches. He's seen the type. Lonely, asocial dudes, most definitely virgins whose only female attention in their entire life is their mother, well into adulthood with no real social group to speak of.

...Not that he's much better off, but he hasn't quite sunk down to their level. The only reason he doesn't talk to people much is because they're busy, and he's even busier. He managed to make a few friends in undergrad years. Well, study partners who mooched off his notes since he was one of the top students, but same idea. They were people he spoke to more than once, which is what constitutes a friend, right? And for the record, one time in high school a girl in his class said she liked his hair. He hasn't changed the way he wears it since. Whenever he's sad, he thinks about that compliment from 10+ years ago, and it makes him feel a little better. But now, he's constantly slammed with work and research.

And his acquaintances are also all busy. He sees notifications every now and then from social media he never checks. Everyone is getting married at this stage in life, both friends and even other PhD students in his department. Not that he's ever been invited to a wedding, he just overhears a lot of conversations, sees notifications of posts. And he will too, eventually. He just has to finish up his degree, and then... Meet a girl. Well, that's actually the second step, step one would be finding out how to go about meeting a girl. He's... Never done it before. Probably does not happen sitting in the research lab at 11:30 pm on YouTube. He's talked to one of the other PhD students who's a girl before. And only stutters sometimes. He was even able to look her in the face while he talked to her once. That's a good start.

Ok, so maybe he is a little bit pathetic, but not as bad as... These guys. Reading the comments of the video actually make him feel a little better about himself, because frankly, they're kinda wild. The worship and fawning over girls is one thing, but they even have timestamps referring to various members like "she's super cute here!" Or "you can kinda see her thigh at 3:12!" Etc etc. Yeesh, creepy. And they get into comment fights over who is the best member, as if it even matters. It's fascinating in a human-social-experiment sort of way, the manifestation of a subculture and how humans interact with each other. On and on it goes, hundreds of commenters. He pays more attention to the comments than the actual video, but the song is kinda catchy in that annoying sort of way, and the girls are cute, just kinda... The typical thing he'd expect from idol groups. But the building will close soon, so he taps back to home screen and swipes the app closed.

Unfortunately, the algorithm remembers.

And he's not certain why he clicks the next one either, the following day. The lunch breaks he takes are usually pretty rushed. Not that he has specific class times at his level of academia, but he likes to get his work done. He intentionally eats either a bit later or earlier than the lunch crowd to avoid crowds and interactions. Finds a nice secluded little table tucked away. So when he opens it back up, what do you know, several more videos get recommended. It's absent minded when he taps on one, the kind of numb-brained entertainment every modern person indulges in, videos you wouldn't really be interested in but just watch because they're there.

Ok, this is really creepy. These dudes have made compilation videos of close ups of each specific girl. It's the same group as the video he saw before, same little lewd costumes. Admittedly the girls are kinda cute. He can kinda understand the appeal. But he's not like those guys, he would never become like, obsessed with them.

The song is actually really catchy. The kind of mindlessly addictive, repetitive pop music that's the same four chords over and over, each song is so similar you can't really tell them apart, but it gets stuck in your head anyway. This group has... nine members. Who needs that many singers in one group? It's not like a band or anything, they all just sing and do their little choreography. Guess that's a form of talent, even though he doesn't really get it.

Some of the groups he sees in recommended videos are cute and wholesome, and while this group is cute too, there's a very... Blatantly intentional lewdness to their poses and costumes. A hypersexualized sort of cuteness. Clearly marketed at lonely losers who have nothing better to do with their time than obsess over a girl who will never even know they exist.

He taps another video.

So many compilations, yikes. He has to give the guys credit, they're insanely loyal to the individual member that they decide to fixate on. Oh, and they even make official figurines and posters for these girls, that's... Something.

And a few days later he can kinda recognize the girls. They have color themes, you know, identical costumes except each girl's is a different color. This lead one is red, this main backup is blue, etc etc. Lots of bright colors. Kinda hurts his eyes to be honest.

And he's seen compilations of every girl except... The pink one. The pink one is always kinda off to the side. Well, these groups do have their favoritism, there's apparently one or two lead singers in all of the major idol groups, and the rest are basically backups and dancers. Still, a lot of dudes get super devoted to the non-main girls. So yeah, he's never seen a compilation for the pink one... He can't always exactly remember which one is which but now he's seen enough to know the other girls' names. He's not sure what hers is though. So he googles it and gets the name.

Wonder why she doesn't have as many videos...? Oh, it's because she's the newest member. Only been around a few months. There's... A whole board dedicated to the group, which he's getting this information from. Wow, pathetic. What kind of person spends their free time browsing a forum for an idol group? Well, he's just doing it to find information, not for fun or anything. He was just curious. Now he knows and he can forget about it and never look at anything related to them again... after he types her name and group name into the YouTube search bar and checks the results out, that is.

Oh, so they do have some compilations for her, just not many. "(Name) thigh compilation." Fuck, these people have no limits to how creepy and pathetic they can get, he thinks... as he watches the video. Ok, admittedly there are some good thigh shots there. There's a comment. "At 4:26 you can see her panties." Pathetic. They're not wrong though. Just to be sure, you see, he tapped the timestamp, and you can, in fact, see them. Stripes. Cute.

But he still has to do his work. Can't get too invested in watching mindless videos all day. He's got a thesis to work on.

That makes him curious, though, he thinks as he goes about his research. Do these girls go to school? Do they like, skip college, or do they join some kind of performing arts school or...? So he googles it. He can remember the pink one's name now, so he just finds her Wikipedia page. Oh, so she joined right out of high school and has been in various groups ever since.

Wait, various groups? So she has more groups she's been in? What are those? Before he typed her name into the search along with the group name, but if he just searches her name he gets... A lot more content from earlier years. Huh. Didn't know some of them did group-hopping like that.

Still, no education. Must be all smiles and body and no brains. Guess that's all you really need. Yeah, looking at that whole act they do... All giggly and childish and lewd... She's probably not too bright. At least she's pretty and sings nice. And the thighs are rather good. Smooth looking. They have a sort of jiggle when she jumps up and down on stage. The thigh highs they make those girls wear have that nice little dip where the skin is compressed by the fabric. Like... right there at that closeup. He takes a screenshot.

It's readily available, he's already seen the video and knows the best parts, whereas searching for porn would take time. The sooner he can get the daily stress relief out of the way the sooner he can work on his thesis. So this way is faster. That's why he's jerking off to the thigh video and not taking the time to look for porn. Plus, it makes him cum faster. Which it probably shouldn't since it's just thighs, but... Probably has something to do with the tease of it all maybe. That makes sense.

Or maybe it's that cute little giggle he can hear at some parts. She smiles and jumps and spins and laughs.

...It makes him wonder what she'd look like crying. Scared. Whimpering. Covered in bruises and bite marks. The contrast between that state and the one on the screen. The process and the things he could do to get her from one to the other. Yeah, he realizes, it's that thought, rather than the happy giggling on video or tease aspect, that makes him cum.

He's aware that his... tastes... are a little on the fucked up side, but hey, there's plenty of bastards out there far worse than him.

One day he discovers she has social media platforms. He... Doesn't really have any. He doesn't have Twitter or Instagram or any of that but... He downloads the app and makes an account for each. Just to follow her. Ooh, they even have the option to get a notification every time she posts... That's good. Otherwise he might check too frequently. He sets a special sound effect for notifications for her socials. The first few times, you see, he would get super excited when his phone went off, only to be disappointed when it was just a work email. Thus, he made the separate sounds.

He wouldn't say he has a favorite, that sounds really cringey you know? He just... Likes her more than the others. ...Dammit, that's what a favorite is. Ok, maybe he has a favorite, that's not that bad. He's not obsessed. He hasn't bought any merchandise at all or anything, especially not member-specific merchandise. Which they do have, because he visited the store page for a while and spent all his willpower physically restraining himself from buying something. It's not that he's biased, he just thinks she's objectively better than the rest of the group. Which can be backed up with evidence, anyone with eyes could tell by watching the performances.

As to what specifically draws him to her... he's not certain, to be honest. Maybe it's because she's the least appreciated out of the group, new and all. The less popular one. Or maybe her personality... She seems so sweet, even though he knows it's probably just an act for the fans. Or maybe just those thighs. That's also a valid possibility.

He cracks and buys some of the merchandise. Only about $300 worth. But honestly, he gets more invested into just printing out pictures of you. Pasting them onto the wall above his desktop. It keeps him going when the nights are hard.

But he refrains from ever commenting on anything. Some of these losers are just... so embarrassing, he can't stomach the thought of being associated, even if it's just an anonymous comment online. It's still pretty... Distasteful. He still browses the boards every day. You're his lock screen now. And home screen. And also your solo is his ringtone. He only sets his phone on sound when he's alone at home, though, when he's at work he puts it on vibrate. He... doesn't want anyone hearing that. No offense. He has some appropriate amount of shame, unlike the other bastards.

And the girls probably know that most of their fans are these kind of loser men, right? She'd probably be surprised someone nearly graduating with a chemistry doctorate is sitting around watching these dumb videos. Is that more or less pathetic? He thinks less, hopefully.

In fact, the other fans kind of irritate him. They're really cringy and annoying and it gives him secondhand embarrassment. And something... Deeper. Something about seeing the comments upsets him on a visceral level. It's gross. Sure, he's grateful for the dudes who sit around and make a list of timestamps for upskirt shots and the like, but... It kinda bothers him, feeling like there's some other dude out there sitting around, watching these long videos with his gross eyes and recording the times of shots that get him off. It feels gross. But more like... A violation against you. Sure, your group is very blatantly sexualized and intentionally risque in clothing but... Still, it feels wrong for someone to go through and get to see all of that.

Well, someone else. It's ok for him, since he's not a gross degenerate like the rest of them. He does genuinely see himself as... Above them. You know how like, back in the day, how the nobles used to sit around and watch plays from the far back while the peasants gathered around the stage? It's like that. He's not a gross loser or a NEET or anything like that. He's got a life. Well... Not a social life, but he's doing better than them, at least he has a degree, and soon a higher degree, and a job. He has a lot of things they don't. Basic hygiene. Student loan debt. And uh... Well, he's probably more pleasant to interact with, at least he's not gonna be frothing at the mouth like an animal if he saw you in real life. He would certainly freeze up, but that's preferable, isn't it?

And one day there's a video circulating in the idol community - not that he's a part of it or anything, he just keeps getting the dumb videos and watching them for mindless entertainment - where some girl group had an attempted kidnapping. Not her group, but some other group. The video has gone viral. Some dude tried to rush the stage and pull one of the girls away. Apparently the cops found he had an obsession with her.

What an idiot. If you're gonna kidnap someone, put some effort in, jeez. It's not hard to figure out how to do it right.

If that were him, he wouldn't be that stupid, he'd just look for an interval where she's alone. They have those solo or breakout group songs where some of the girls are backstage, just get her then. Memorize the concert schedule, wear something over your face, chloroform her, and stuff her into something and walk right out. Easy.

....

He catches himself in the thought and realizes that might have been a bit creepy, but he was just thinking in terms of hypotheticals. If he was the kind of crazy to do that, that's what he'd do, that's all.

He's always enjoyed entertaining strategic thoughts, really. He's had a couple fantasies about how he would commit murders of this or that person before, and he's never murdered anyone, so thoughts don't lead to actions. He just... Really doesn't like those people, and the fantasies help him... Deal with it. He just likes to strategize about methods, and how he'd get away with it... Stuff like that. Actually, he's convinced it's a very normal thing, but no one wants to admit it. Everyone has detailed murder fantasies every now and then.

Which is why this is no different. He's just strategizing because it's fun. He has no intentions of doing anything for real. He just plans out the details like a game. And tells himself to just never think about it again.

Until one specific night that he's staring down at his screen. Lying in bed. He should be asleep, he needs to be up early tomorrow but... He's just checking to be sure he's reading this correctly. You're coming to his town? He wouldn't think so, since it's not too big, just your average college town. But still, you'll be right here, right in his general vicinity, not far away at all.

Not that he'd ever actually go to such an event. No way. He hates crowds with a passion. He hates loud environments even more. A concert is like his worst nightmare. Besides, knowing the general audience of your group, it'll be a bunch of sweaty NEET dudes who haven't showered in a month and haven't crawled out of their house in even longer. No thank you.

But.

That's when the thought pops back up. It's been a few months since that night he had that strategizing fantasy, and, well, he tried to forget it but... It kinda lingered in the back of his mind. And now it's back in full force.

He shrugs the idea off. It's crazy. He'd never actually do something like that. It was just a fantasy.

...But he could get away with it if he wanted to.

He's not scared or anything, no, he's confident in his strategizing. He knows he could. Totally. It's foolproof. There's no need to carry it out to know that, besides, what would he even do with you?

Well, he's pretty certain he does know what he would do with you. He's watched that thigh video maybe a hundred times now. And even if he won't admit it, he's jerked off to the exact same fantasy for like, several months.

He doesn't really... Think about it. Just kind of slips into subconscious actions. Autopilot. One click and well, there goes $400 on an amp case. His eyes gaze over the dimensions... And then there's your height on the Wikipedia page... Yeah... That should work. He gets it sent to the address a few doors down just in case, and snatches it from in front of their door, but he finds himself backpedaling. What the hell is he doing? He would never actually go through with this, what a waste of money... But he still opens it. Sets it beside his front door. Tests the wheels to make sure they work.

He knows how to make chloroform. He doesn't need YouTube tutorials (unlike a certain someone else), he knows exactly how to do it, even alternate methods besides the usual acetone and bleach combination - so long as you end up with the same chemical makeup, it's all the same. He just goes with the traditional way though... Doesn't really know why he does it. Just mutters as he stares down at the concoction wondering why he wasted his time... But he pauses before pouring it down the sink, and instead puts it in a container and keeps it on the counter. Your weight is on Wikipedia too. Taking into account your height and weight you would need about... Yeah, a very specific amount to knock you out for about three hours.

The concert day draws closer and closer and he can't sleep very well. His mind keeps running what-ifs. Just, hypothetically, what if he did go through with it? What then? What would he do long term? How would that all work out?

Well, you'd probably hate him for a while, right? But that changes. Stockholm syndrome sets in. He would know, he had to take Psych 101 back in undergrad, and the professor talked about it for a full 10 minutes, so he's basically an expert. It's been like, 7 years since then, but he still kinda remembers it. He remembers that it's supposed to set in at about 2 weeks, and solidify with time. If the captor is nice, that is, which he totally would be. ...Maybe not in bed, but most of the time. He would be nice to you, and you would start to like him. Besides, they said Stockholm syndrome set in faster if the abductor has good qualities, so, he could also reason with you, remind you that you're lucky you got abducted by someone with money - or, well, he will have money once he graduates! - and isn't some ugly gross slob. He's clean and neat. Sorta... He'll clean up all those dishes that have been sitting there a few days now, pick up all those clothes off the floor... Ok, now he's clean and neat. And, uh, what else would girls care about... He's smart. He's pretty sure he can say that with confidence, if nothing else.

Ok, so, it would work. He could... Keep you kinda... Tied up here... If you started complying within that two week period, he could get you up and walking before atrophy set in. You'd probably have to get used to the lifestyle... Right now he's kinda on a budget, but, he can get you things to keep you occupied... And so, yeah, it could work. It's simple, just keep you with him and isolated for a few weeks and uh, you'll transform into some kind of hypersexual obedient cumslut and never want to leave. That's... How Stockholm syndrome works right? Maybe he should have paid more attention in that class... Oh well. He never liked psychology.

So the day draws nearer and nearer and he starts really getting into the right... Headspace. It's a sort of manic state that he's in. Operating without really thinking, all inhibitions removed by simply refusing to think about it. He lets the subconscious take over and do all these little things to prepare, until finally that day is tomorrow. And then he kinda snaps back to full awareness and questions, again, what the hell is he doing? He can't just... Kidnap a person! Normal people don't do that... It's illegal, he'll get caught, it'll ruin his life and....

What life does he really have to ruin?

That's the thought that sort of solidifies the decision. He realizes why he's even on this path in the first place. Sure he's got a lot of academic accomplishments, but his life is... Rather empty. He doesn't really have anyone. Maybe that's why he's slowly become... Consumed by this obsession that yes, he's now willing to admit to himself is indeed an obsession. It's kinda slowly taken over his everyday life without him even noticing it was happening. He's... Kinda miserable. And very lonely. And... If nothing else... This one girl makes him feel kinda happy.

... Which is why he's going to go through with it.

And he slips back into autopilot, ends up standing outside the building. It's every bit as loud and headache-inducing as he knew it would be. Ugh. He can't wait to get out of here. If this doesn't work, well, he'll be forced to turn around. The plan is a very simple one, actually... Act like he's supposed to be there. And he does. Dresses in all black like stage technicians do, dragging his big amp case behind him, holding a bunch of cords from random things he grabbed in his house, and tries not to look nervous, keeps a neutral face and walks straight forward and... He slides right in. The security guards off to the side don't even bat an eye.

And then he has a moment of "well, I didn't expect to get this far." Pauses. So uh... what now? Well, probably should find you first. He memorized the setlist, so he knows when you'll be off... And alone. Right now there should be three of the girls backstage. It's pretty easy to find where you are, but he's paranoid that the amp case is too loud as he's dragging it around. It's necessary, though. And then, finally, he stumbles upon the room... Opens the door, half expecting to be immediately stopped, but... He can just kinda waltz right in here, some open backroom, a person here or there coming through, a lady that looks like a makeup artist doing something over there, and an actual, real tech guy over there... And over to the far back corner... Oh. That's you. He takes a moment to revel in the sight, unable to move or even breathe, and has to mentally prepare himself before moving forward. He's... Not sure exactly what to do at this point... It's kind of perfect, to be honest, there's no one around you, and you're right out of sight, where he could turn the corner and not be seen. But he's not sure how to... Approach? He thinks about it as he walks, but again, autopilot is on in his brain and he's just numbly walking forward. Does he just... Keep walking until he's right at you and just... Or...?

And a miracle happens. You hear someone coming and you turn and smile and ask are you the tech guy here to fix my mic? You point to the little microphone attached to your face. They told you someone would be coming to fix it before your next song. You presume that's him, since he's dressed in all black like all the other stage techs. He hesitates a moment, wide eyed, but then nods. Yeah, that's him, he says. His voice cracks when he says it. It's kinda cute.

You smile at him. It's wide and sweet and genuine and it almost makes him pass out on the spot. He has to swallow for a second before continuing.

But, uh, he can't do it right here he says, because fiddling with it could disrupt the uh, frequencies, cause that really shrill sound you hear sometimes. So, um, come over this way a sec, over in this dark corner of the studio conveniently out of the view of all people and security cameras. You don't know how any of that stuff works, so you trust him, it's his job after all. So you get up and straighten your little skirt out - wow those are even more revealing in person - and walk over it the dark corner where he's waiting and... it's the last thing you remember.

He does a quick look left and right to ensure no one saw you collapse in his arms, but sure enough, this area is empty. You fit into the amp case with ease. Just curl your body up and pop the lid on. Wait, can you... breathe in there? Well, it won't take long to get outside. He just rolls the case right out the door, right past the guards again, and no one stops him, no one suspects a thing. Puts the case in the backseat, opens the lid, does a quick check go make sure you're breathing alright. So he props it open by keeping a book in between the case and lid as he drives home.

Once he does get home, he just does the same thing he did before - close the lid, roll you into the elevator and up the stairs and into his place, looking back over his shoulder over and over. And once he gets you inside he just kinda... falls to his knees. Shivering. Disbelief. Because holy shit he actually did it. He actually went through with it and it worked. He sits there and stares at the case and - oh, fuck, gotta open it again for you to breathe. Actually, he might as well... take you out... when he first shoved you in, he was so high on adrenaline he didn't really process any of it, but now... he almost can't bring himself to take you out. That means he has to, like, touch you. He's gotta take a moment to mentally prepare for that. So he does. Deep breaths. And finally, with trembling hands, pulls you out, carries you on shakey legs over to the bed and sets you down.

You know, you're a lot... Smaller... Than you looked on screen. Sure, he knew your height and weight but... somehow you still seem so much smaller than he expected. That's good. Will make everything a lot easier, since you're easier to restrain. And your thighs. They're... so soft. This is so much better than the video. They're so... fleshy and warm in person. Perfect. And wow, that skirt thing is... scratchy. Actually, up close, that whole outfit thing you wear looks super uncomfortable. It probably is. ...Well, guess he now has a reason to take it off.

The rest of your skin is... also fleshy and soft. Warm. Your face... chest... stomach... everything. Your tits are really cute, too. It occurs to him that all those rabid commenters on all those boards and videos would probably kill to be him right now, pinching and squeezing at your nipples. He's seeing something they will never see. It gives him an ego boost, to be honest, makes him feel proud to get a sort of one-up on them. He gets you naked, but refrains from pulling your legs apart. He probably... wouldn't be able to control himself, and he's aiming for some self-control right now.

So he waits. Breathes deep. Restrains himself with every ounce of willpower he has. It occurs to him he has no fucking clue what he's gonna say to you. Unfortunately, that thought occurs to him as you're starting to twitch and mumble, so, he doesn't have too much time to think. Oh, fuck, you're not restrained... well, he bought some duct tape and handcuffs and blindfolds off of amazon too, so he quickly puts those in place as you're starting to wake up, and then finally, you come to full consciousness -- that telltale jerking at the restraints, the muffled little cry of confusion and fear. It's kinda hot to be honest. Well, fuck, very hot actually. You're so scared. It gives him a rush of power. Said rush goes straight to his dick.

He's got a mixed twist of guilt and arousal at the whole thing, but... he's still trying to have some self control... and if you start begging and pleading and crying, it would be too much. Oh, no, not that it would be too much in terms of guilt, no no, just that he wouldn't be able to stop himself from fucking you if he sees you cry. So he leaves the restraints on for now, so he can't see your face emote.

Then, he does something really, really mean. He knows it's cruel, honestly, it's just... so cute. What that is, is that he does nothing. Says nothing. He goes about his work, typing away, knowing you can hear, but doesn't say a word. He knows you're awake, he just wants to see how long you can sit there scared out of your mind before you finally make another noise to draw his attention. Right now, he thinks, you're probably debating, you're probably questioning whether you should keep quiet and make him think you're still out or make a noise... but eventually you will. He can see you trembling. You're probably thinking so many horrible things right now, wondering what will happen, what he'll do to you... it fills him with a sort of sadistic glee that overrides the guilt it comes along with. Sure, the guilt is there, but fuck, he could almost cum just watching you shiver, and that's more important.

And you finally make a noise. A little whimper. He stops typing, and swears he sees you tense when he does. And when he stands up, walks over to you (making sure to stomp hard and walk slow for extra effect, watching the way you curl in on yourself with each step he takes), and stops right in front of you. Finally, tells you not to scream. He's gonna give you water, ok? You nod. And, surprisingly, you don't make any move to scream or anything, you let him give it to you. You don't move a muscle besides your shaking and sucking the straw and swallowing the water. You must be really scared of him. He knows that's technically not what he should want, but... it feels nice.

He spent that time of silence coming up with what to say to you. He says that for now, you're going to stay right here. Don't ask questions. Don't make any attempt to escape. If you really need something, tap the headboard until he hears. Understand?

You're... Surprisingly receptive. You give a twitchy smile and stammer out an o-okay. He's almost pleased, but quickly realizes what you're doing.

You've been trained for this, you see. This kind of thing is attempted rather frequently in the industry. You received training for this situation - comply, don't fight, prioritize your safety, because in 99% of these cases, the missing idol is found and recovered within 48 hours. So you do what you were told to do -- smile, pretend you're ok with it, don't do anything to anger your captor.

He knows that too. He doesn't do much in that 48 hours, in fact, he even tells you he's waiting to "see what happens." He knows he can't control himself very well, so he stays in his living room for the most part and works on research, it might be pointless if he's in jail a few hours from now, but oh well. Sleeps on his couch. He offers to feed you, but you say you don't feel good. He understands.

See, in his mind, if he gets to fuck you once or twice and then be hauled off to prison and never touch you again, well, that would be actual, literal torture, so much so that never fucking you at all would be more bearable. So that's why he forces himself to wait now. He feels like he can't breathe, he's so nervous, like any moment police are going to come knocking on his door. Every little sound makes him jump. He can't sleep.

But 48 hours pass and... nothing happens.

He breathes a bit easier. Finally dares to go online, which he's been avoiding, and check on your situation... Oh, wow, social media has exploded over your disappearance. But... They have no leads. Nothing. Says she basically vanished out of thin air. Situation is, quote, "looking hopeless." Huh. He did an even better job than he thought he did. There's videos from loved ones begging the captor to let the girl go, offering to give him money even. A lot of money. But, you're more valuable than any monetary measurements could ever conceive. And he's happy. It really worked out. Everything went right, and for once, he has something that really, really makes him happy.

Likewise, the 48 hours are even more torturous for you. You start out telling yourself it'll be fine. Hopeful. But that hope in your chest slowly, gradually dies out as you realize you've hit the 48-hour mark. Even for a normal missing person, you've always heard that if they don't find them within 48 hours... the chances of ever finding them goes down significantly. But, that's because they're usually dead, right? And this guy won't kill you, so, your chances are better, right...?

He comes back after that 48 hours and finally, for the first time since you woke up, crawls onto the bed, touches you, grabs your hips with his hands. Tells you that, well, they haven't found anything yet and it looks like they aren't going to, so you're officially his now, and he's no longer worried. You should accept it. It'll make things easier for both of you if you do. You'll get adjusted in no time, you'll see.

Unsurprisingly, you're a bit less compliant than you were when you had hope. You whimper and and struggle, but it's really weak. So much so it's cute. You ask who he is. No one important, he says. Just... A fan of yours. You can hear clothes shuffling. He doesn't waste time, he's already waited two whole days suffering, so he gets his dick in you pretty quickly. Manages to make you cum. It horrifies you and kinda surprises him too to be honest. You must kinda like pain, huh. Well, that works out well.

As time goes on, what hope you had left dies completely. Weeks pass. You realize they're not coming for you. In an attempt to get you to accept it, he even shows you that you've been replaced. They're rather quick to fix the absence. They have a new girl in your spot by the end of the month. He quickly realizes maybe he shouldn't have told you, from the way your face falls and you get all hysterical. Sorry. It's the way the industry is. Don't worry. She's not even half as cute as you.

He shows you the announcement when they close the investigation, too. This also earns a rather hysterical response, but he thinks it's important you see it, so you can finally come to terms with your fate, the way things were always meant to turn out. He gets a bit frustrated. Just accept it. It's not that hard. The sooner you do, the happier you'll be. It's for your own good that you accept it.

And you do. Try as you might. You begin to make conversation. He's the only source of interaction you have. You learn about him and his life. You become invested in it. You start to cum more easily. When he's sitting on the opposite side of the bed typing away, you find yourself slowly wiggling your way over and pressing yourself against the warmth, and he certainly doesn't mind. You ask him about his research just to hear a voice talk.

And sometimes you sing. It's absent minded, soft and quiet, when you have nothing else to do. He likes that a lot. You get sweeter. Nicer. Fight less. It does take a bit longer than two weeks to set in fully. But it does in the end.

He can't be with you 24/7, as much as he would like to be, so sometimes he has to tell you to just hang on a little while. Be good and sit still for just a bit. He'll be back soon. Just give him an hour. You're just really distracting and, well, his progress report is due tomorrow morning.

And you keep getting upset over the new member, bring it up a lot... It must have really bothered you, huh. Well, don't feel bad about being replaced. To him, nothing could ever replace you... you're still his favorite.

#.al #.idol

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lesbianakaashi · 3 years

Text

The Forgotten Shounen: Katekyo Hitman Reborn

This is not a “Why you should watch/read khr” or anything like that. This is just me going into the deep dive and throwing my findings at you. I’m making this because khr used to be my favourite series when I was 15 (I had plushees, posters, tradingcards, the art book etc) and now as an adult I constantly find myself baffled at how unknow it seems to be.

1. Okay first what is khr?

Katekyo Hitman Reborn! or just Reborn! is a series by Akira Amano which was published in Weekly Shounen Jump from 2004 to 2012 (with 42 volumes) and got an anime adaption which run from 2006 to 2010 on Tv Tokyo (with 202 episodes and one OVA).

2. What’s it about?

Khr is a parody of the italian mafia and plays in a world where the mafia is heavily influencial. The protagonist is the japanese middle schooler Sawada Tsunayoshi who is known as “No good Tsuna” because of his failing grades, general weak and cowardly personality and weak physics.

He becomes aware of the mafia world when a 2 year old baby called Reborn arrives at his house claiming to be the greatest hitman and declaring himself his home tutor. Reborn was send by the 9th head of the Vongola famiglia who is ready to retire and looking for a new heir. Which of course, is supposed to be Tsuna and now it's Reborns job to shape him into a worthy sucessor.

Tsuna rejects the violence of the mafia world and refuses the position as the 10th. Thanks to Reborn and his general craziness Tsuna meets different people and starts to make real friendships. Reborn wants 6 of those friends to be Tsuna's future guardians, basically a group of people which will be closest to him in the vongola famiglia. Tsuna might have no interest in those positions but the friendships he builds with them become really precious to him.

Reborns arrivial also brings in the enemies of the Vongola family which leads to Tsuna being forced to engage in battles. Generally Tsuna openly avoids fights and prefers to run away but will put himself in danger for his friends' sake or because of something Reborn did.

Through out the series Tsuna matures and gains strenght but he never becomes a power fantasy. He's just a guy with many flaws who grows through the human connections he makes.

Personally I think the relationship between Reborn and Tsuna is one of the best student teacher reltaionships in all of manga only topped by Mob and Reigen from Mob Psycho 100. Especially the last arc really underlines their unique relationship to me.

Furthermore, khr offers a new and unique battle system: The flames. I'm not gonna go into to too much detail but the general idea is that one fights with their dying will flame which basically turns off your the savety switch so you can fight with everything you have. The flames are seperated into different categories such as: sky, storm, mist, rain, sun, lightning and cloud and have different attributes asigned to each one. Tsuna's use of the sky flame and his transformation when using it is still one of my favourite shounen transformations to this day.

3. What happened?

The series did really well and then not so well over the course of its serialisation. After the manga got an anime adaption it increased in populairty and video games, light novels, and other products such as CDs were created based on the series. Reborn is one of the best selling series of Weekly Shōnen Jump and has sold around 30 Million volumes overall. It was and still is very popular in Japan but rather unknown in the west.

According to the article "The Rise and Fall of Weekly Shonen Jump: A Look at the Circulation of Weekly Jump" khr was the 10th bestselling series in Weekly Shōnen Jump, with a total of 7 million copies sold in 2007.

This number increasing to 15 milion in 2008. Which placed khr into the 4th best selling series of 2008 in Japan.

Between 2008 and 2010 those sales declined but still kept strong with khr as the 6th top selling manga in 2009, 8th best selling in 2010 and then 24th best selling in 2012.

In November 2014, readers of the Da Vinci magazine voted khr number 17 on a list of Weekly Shōnen Jump's greatest manga series of all time.

After the anime came to an apprupt stop in 2010 for unknown reasons the manga sells took a visible hit. (Apparently the studio wanted to put the anime on halt because they were busy with other projects and give Akira Amano time to develop her story but I couldn't find any source for this claim) Furthermore, the rushed last chapters of the manga in 2012 declined the popularity of the series even more. There's no offical statement as to why the manga was ended in such a way but it's reasonable to assume that Jump either cut it considering the decreasing sales or Akira Amano choose to end it for personal reasons.

Nontheless, Tsuna not being included in Jump Force (a fighting game where you can play as different characters from Jump) in 2019 even tho he made it in earlier Jump Stars games also underlines the decreased interest in the series.

Rumors on a reboot or anime adaption of the last two arcs surface from time to time but are genereally unlikely. Artland the studio which made khr has gone bankrupt around 2015-2016. It might be taken on by another studio but rather uncommen especially with such an old series.

4. Art style

The khr anime ended over 10 years ago and the old art style might not be appealing to newer audiences.

Especailly because the anime adaption follows Akira Amanos old art style which heavily developed within the years. Here a picture comparing characters in the new art style:

A modern anime adaption in the new art style would be aesthetically pleasing. It would probably look similiar to Psycho Pass since Akira Amano did the concept art for this series.

(My personal art student hot take is that both art styles are unique and fun. Up to this day Akira Amano still has my favourite art style and even if the amount folds in the characters clothing is a little extreme I love it dearly.)

5. Criticism

The show is not without flaws and even if I greatly enjoy it it wouldn't be right not to adress them.

Daily Life Arc:

A lot of people view the first 20 to 25 episodes as fillers and quickly lose intererst in the series. This is due to the fact that Akira Amano inteded the series to be a gag manga and focuses the first chapters on world building, character introduction and comical narratives. It's rumored that the decision to develop the story into a battle shounen was made because the sales weren't doing well enough at first. So the first chapters/episodes may seem titidious but are necessary for the story and the development of the characters. The tonal shift from a more gintama like gag manga to a darker battle focused story can also be offputting to some viewers.

Either way a lot of people blame this arc when discussing why khr never got an english dub or didn't end up on Toonami. I've also read that the manga never finished serializing in the north america. However, it finished in other western languages like german and spanish.

Censoring:

The anime censors A LOT. From Gokudera's smoking habit, Yamamoto's whole character arc which deals with heavy themes such as depression and suicidal thoughts. The general bloodiness of the manga was censored and sometimes whole chapters and characters were left out even if those were important to the devolopment of others.

Filler episodes:

Out of the 202 episodes the anime has around 29 filler episodes which makes roughly 14 %.

Sexism:

Even if Reborn was written by a woman most female characters are rather flat and their storylines often tied to a male character in one way or another.

Genereal things:

Khr, like many other long running series, is sometimes criticised for a lack of world building or unpopular narrative choices.

6. Hope?

Khr isn't exactly dead. As stated before the series is still very popular in Japan and still gets new merch pretty regulary. There are also petitions floating around for a reboot or a new anime season but those never get a lot of traction. Furthermore #Reborn2期アニメ化 (#Reborn2ndAnimation) used to get some traction on twitter not too long ago. Last year the Anime News Network did a poll on which anime the readers would like to see a rebooot of and khr placed second.

Either way here's a collection of recent khr things I could find.

- In 2018 a new bluray set was released in north america

- The khr stage play reached yet another new season

- A mobile game was released last year

- Currently ongoing anime cafe event called "Concerto di Vongola"

- Last month there was an event with the former VAs and stage play actors where they discussed their favourite khr episodes.

- There has been an increase in blind reacts to the openings on youtube which might bring in a new fan base. The biggest one I could find had around 90k views and was made in 2019. On this note check out the soundtrack. The first openeing Drawing Days by SPLAY still makes me go insane (but I'm biased of course)

There also renewed hope for a new season/reboot because Shaman King, Inuyasha and Bleach got anounced for new seasons after a long hiatus. It's important to keep in mind that the circumstances for those series are differnt tho. For example bleachs new anime is often tied to the immense success of the gatcha game.

7. Conclusion

Khr is a series which used to be a flagship for Weekly Shounen Jump and is deeply beloved by it's fans, especially in Japan. It influenced other shounen series like bnha. It would be nice to see it gaining a bigger fanbase in the west :)

#khr #khr meta #anime analysis #shounen jump #katekyo hitman reborn #mirytalks #long post #manga

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sopxhiea · 3 years

Text

Lush

Alfie Solomons X Reader

Summary: A month passes by: a month filled with her around his office, with her lingering touches and flirty looks and Alfie begins to realize that he has taken the devil herself out of her cage.

“Bite your lip once more, I dare you.”

“Get in line, sweetheart.”

He had made his decision. And made it quick.

The room is quiet, nothing but the sound of cold wind seeping through the open windows. The inside of the apartment is scarcely decorated but there is flowers everywhere, some roses resting on the floor and some on the small table next to the lavish couch. The date and the occasion checks out while nothing moves inside.

It’s your place.

The you a month ago is a foolish girl, you realize. Someone who had hope for good things and perhaps miracles but not anymore. Although you think that maybe the way you had gotten a job and your own place had been a long-time wish granted. You don’t think much of it, just act and react to get through the days.

He’ll be here soon.

Without a cane in hand, you notice lately. He seems younger, acts like it too. He smiles more but you ignore the thought. He’s tough around the said bakery, shouts too much and is always angry but never with you. His eyes are softer, a little more merciful when you grace him with your presence, although it’s less often than he’d like.

The boarding school is in the other end of town, a bit too far to walk but his driver takes you sometimes. You find out his name is Ishmael, has a nice smile but he’s not a smooth flirt. You don’t comment on it, seeing as Alfie has done you a big favor and you find some sense in being good for a while.

But only for a while.

The game is still on, you’re sure it has never stopped, not when you and him are alone. You see it in his gaze, the hunger and the need to have you but you’re his employee now, someone under his wing and he’s not quite sure where that puts him. You know for a fact that he doesn’t give a single damn about employee and boss policy but it also has to do with the fact that you’re subdued around people since appearing out of thin air.

He doesn’t hate it.

Not exactly. He knows you have the upper hand behind closed doors, so much so that he’s ready to give you his life if you ask but around his employees, you act like there’s nothing between you and him. Little do you realize, the men don’t flirt too much and avert their gazes when you’re walking by and so you conclude that he has already spoken to them about not sparing a glance at you.

It doesn’t bother you as much anymore.

You still go to clubs but you don’t have to sneak out anymore, seeing as you have your own place. Men around are still hesitant, due to you being called ‘his girl’, although you’re sure that it’s the other way around since you’re the one who has him wrapped around your pinkie.

The horn outside is loud, so loud that it makes you want to scream but the neighbors don’t dare complain when they see the big black car with the scary boss in it. Far too scared to utter something as you get into the car and shoot him a smile.

The inside of the bakery is quiet, it’s a bit too early but you know he’s giving you day off tomorrow so you don’t complain. He settles in his office, sleeves rolled and the golden chain of his glasses reside around his neck. He smells all power and musk, some vanilla in his scent as Cyril walks around.

You still haven’t slept with him.

You came to close, too close last week when he had his hands under your skirt and was about to fuck you against the desk but gathered himself. You revel in the fact that it has been months and months of knowing you and yet, he still wants to be proper. You find yourself wanting him, just let him have you in the back alley of somewhere but you’ve perfected the art of covering up what you truly feel so he’s clueless.

Annabelle comes to visit every now and then, to see if you’re safe and checks your chest for bruises or possible hickeys but finds nothing other than small splinters on your hands. When she leaves, Alfie calls you over and carefully takes them out one by one, with a gentleness that seems foreign to him.

You clear your throat, wanting him to talk as you stand in his office, right in front of the door. You’re wearing a tight dress today and it makes him gulp when you take your coat off. His eyes don’t leave the paper for a solid minute, too afraid he’ll slip up and have you right there in his office in the early hours of the morning so he takes his sweet time composing himself and discarding his thoughts.

��Do you need anything?” you speak, a bit informal now that you see him on a daily basis. He’s still Mr. Solomons in front of the employees excluding Ollie, he’s Alfie in private.

Your Alfie.

You don’t grow attached, you repeat to yourself each night when you’re in the bath and the thoughts of his lips against yours find you. He’s a good kisser, you know that from first hand experience but it doesn’t surprise you anyway. He knows what he’s doing, as you find just how much he values your pleasure whenever he’s kissing you like there’s no tomorrow.

But it takes him longer to pull himself together.

He’s getting more careless each time, greedier and certainly a lot more hungrier. His touches get deeper, his kisses turn into bites after a while and he’s panting, actually losing his breath, when he feels your naked skin against his each time you let him kiss your neck and collarbones.

You bite your lip while waiting for him to talk and at that same moment, he finds enough courage in his poor heart to look up to meet your eyes but the sight feels like a bullet wound and he falls short of breath, in the very early hours of the morning.

He’s fucked.

Ollie knows this, sometimes even mutters it under his breath and finds it far too amusing for his own good. The lad is not blind and he knows Alfie well enough to point out certain things.

Things like how his mood shifts in the best way possible when you’re around, or how he fights a smile each time you enter his office. It takes Ollie a while to realize these since he’d thought of Alfie as a lone soul but he realizes, soon enough, that Alfie no longer wants to keep that status.

Alfie gulps and realizes you’re not even biting your lips as a seductive act but it’s too late. You catch his gaze and immediately catch on, far too smart for your own good, Alfie thinks. You offer him a slow raise of your eyebrows and you lick your lips once more, although he’s too focused on the entire image of you.

He clears his throat and you bite your lip, too aware of the effect you have on him.

“Bite your lip once more, lass.. I fuckin’ dare you.” he speaks without measuring his own words but you don’t care. You’re used to the burly old man speaking to you this way.

A gentle smile graces your lips and he knows, he knows, you have already ruined him in many ways. He has been with his share of women but after you, he’ll be ruined for life. You’ve ruined the others for him, he thinks, there’ll not be another one for him.

You shake your head and speak in a gentler tone, far too gentle for him in this soft morning as he watches your lips move. “I asked you if you need anything from me. If not, I’ll go to my office, sir.” The words left your mouth as you emphasized the last part and watched his eyes darken.

Ollie knocked on the door once and didn’t wait for the answer to come in.

The tension hung in the air, thick enough to go through it with a blade but the lad was already in. He looked at Alfie’s sitting form and you before repeating the motion again. Opening his mouth, he knew his boss was about to give him a load.

“Alfie, there’s a man who wants to talk to you.” he said, no apology for intruding as this was how men did things, with no manners.

You held the stack of papers against your chest as Ollie spoke and licked your lips, looking at Alfie the whole time. His eyes didn’t leave yours while Ollie spoke, only when he was done speaking did he direct his eyes to the lad. You thought he was either going to shout or go off on the lad but he did neither. He just spoke with a calm yet annoyed voice.

“That why you fuckin’ barged in ‘ere, aye?” he spoke, voice gruff as he sat behind his desk.

Ollie was used to this, far too used to the harsh talk coming from his boss so it didn’t faze him nor you.

“He says he wants to speak about the shipment to the East side. He has lads with him, Alfie.” Ollie spoke, all in one breath and it was easy to see the glints of fear in his features. He was good at hiding it but after being around him for some time, certain things became recognizable.

Alfie looked at you first and then the lad. It was far too amusing, knowing he was afraid of something happening to you. You knew how to defend yourself and use a gun, a good one at that but the big boss was still adamant on protecting his pretty little secretary.

Before he could speak, a shout came from the corridor. A loud one that made Alfie reach for his gun and one that made Ollie close the doors to Alfie’s office but it made you laugh.

“Alfie Solomons!” the shout echoed, loud and clear.

It was much more than a shout after that, so many more loud noises that filled the bakery. The rest was quick, the way Ollie grabbed your arm and tried to grad you to the back side only to be stopped by Alfie.

There was another shout after that, much more vile and vulgar and it only made you smile. Men were animals when they were angry. The shout echoed through the now empty corridors and you listened, eyes on Alfie the whole time.

“Fuck you!”

You chuckled, a bit too taken back by the clearness of the message and uttered something under your breath, something that was accidentally audible for the rest of the room as you spoke. “Get in line, sweetheart.”

Ollie ignored the glint in Alfie’s eyes as you said but his eyes never left yours anyway. He reveled in the fact, would repeat the words to himself for the next month or so but he needed to take care of the animal outside of his office now, even though he’d make sure to bring your point up.

You offered Alfie a small smile in the midst of all of it and he would get back to you on it, just needed to deal with something beforehand. Ollie took you to the back side of the said bakery where there were more guns and better safety and told you to stay out.

And seeing as you wanted to stay alive, you did just that.

---------

There’s no blood on his shirt this time.

He looks angry, stale almost as he walks through the empty corridors. Something is bothering him, something that managed to actually hit a nerve. You stayed in the small back room, shoulder against the door frame as he walked towards you.

The nerve had hit you.

You straightened as he walked, not stopping even he was too close into your personal space. His steps only altered when his nose almost pressed against yours. Contrary to what it looked like from the outside, this wasn’t a sign of affection.

He was livid.

Breathing through his nose, Alfie looked down at you while his breath hit your face. Ollie was on guard, he knew Alfie wouldn’t hit you but he wasn’t sure of anything at that exact moment.

“Who the fuck is Henry, lass?” he asked, voice calm as opposed to his flaring nostrils.

He watched you panic, lose your calm all in one second right before his eyes.

Henry was not a nice man.

You had played this game with Henry too, somewhere along the line when you were much younger. He was one of those men who became obsessed with one thing: having you. He had hurt you, the scar on your inner thigh would vouch for that and soon after, he’d been arrested due to your uncle’s complaints. He never listened, though. You knew he was bound to show up but this was the worst possible time.

“He was....he was here?” you spoke, voice breaking in the middle of the sentence which said everything that needed to be said. Alfie took a step away from you, no longer in your personal space while he looked at you.

This fucker was about to get a beating.

He needed to know who he was and why he had been screaming around his damn bakery first, so he spoke. “Yeah, he was. Fuckin’ shoutin’ your name and everythin’.” he said, still cautious.

“I thought he was dead.” you spoke with a hesitant voice and did not meet his eyes.

Ollie watched the whole thing, fully knowing he would meet this lad to end his life soon.

“He fuckin’ will be.” Alfie spoke and your eyes met his at last.

This was a bad idea.

The games were all fun and all but you didn’t want someone to die because of you. Henry was a good choice but the most you’d done was a kick in the crotch and knowing he would be on the other side of the soil very soon because of you didn’t sit right with you. And you didn’t want extra blood on Alfie’s hands because of you, knowing he had plenty of it.

Ollie was long gone so you felt yourself walk a step closer to Alfie with attempts to calm down.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” you spoke, hand reaching for his upper arm and residing there. The touch was natural at this point, just another reminder he had dangling right in front of his face.

“What did he do to ya’?” he asked, and started placing things together.

You knew how to stitch wounds back together and did exceptionally well in situations that had immense amounts of blood and panic so it only made him think that you had suffered those things yourself and your calmness came from experience.

You shook your head, more than ready to dismiss the whole thing now that he had asked that question. Your voice shook in the slightest as you spoke.

“Nothing...not too much I mean just-” He placed his finger under your chin and tilted your head so you had to look directly at his face as he stared down at you and spoke with a firm voice.

“Tell me, lass.” he spoke, his embrace magnetic as you stood close to the man.

Your eyes flickered between his own, a gulp present on your throat as you looked at him. You wouldn’t tell him now and he understood that soon afterwards. It was something that needed to be talked about later on, not now.

“Alright.” he said, getting the hint after you looked at him with nothing but a soft plea in your eyes. His hands clasped against the air and he spoke once again, Ollie also appearing around the corner of your eye.

“Up you go then.” Alfie said, climbing the stairs to his office behind you.

------

His hands were on you, quick too as they caressed your back. They would surely end up on your ass, squeezing and lightly slapping soon but you took your time while kissing him so he would remember the feel when you’d leave. His shin was right under yours as you straddled him on his big chair, you were sure Ollie had tried to come in a few times but realized what was going on.

This was the first time you were kissing him in his office this way.

You had earned the workers’ trust first and made friends with them, then you moved on to the next step which was screwing their boss. You had remained perfectly proper until now but they had all known that this was coming the first time you’d walked in as his little guest.

You broke the kiss but his hands didn’t let go of you, only recoiled around your arms and waist even tighter than before. You chuckled at the action, the protective big boss reluctant to let go of a thing half his size. You looked at his eyes as you spoke, lipstick no longer on your lips but more around his.

“You can kill him.” you said, out of breath and it took him a minute to snap back.

“What?” he said, gathering himself a little but his hand was still holding you in place by your waist. Your finger caressed his cheek, finding a napkin to get some of the lipstick off of him.

“Henry, I mean.” you said, face impossibly close to his and he realized that he was often finding himself inches away from your lips.

And for good reason.

“Lass, I’ve been fuckin’ kissin’ you for the past half an hour and that’s what you’ve been thi-” he spoke but you cut him off, still trying to wipe off some of the make up on his face as your hands held his head in place.

“No. Only for the last minute or so.” you said and watched his laugh which only made you smile in return but you kept speaking, you had been thinking of the terrible lad and you wanted justice to have its way.

“I’m just saying that you might even gain something from killing the bastard.” you spoke, as a matter of factly.

Alfie was a businessman and he was good to make deals with, so that was what you were doing.

You knew Henry had been disturbing some of the girls from your old school lately, Annabelle had told you so and a smaller girl had confirmed it. You had Alfie wrapped around your finger and so far, it had been proving to be very useful. The job and your own place were the first fruits of the harvest but this was bigger, this would impact other people’s lives for the better.

He raised his eyebrows at you and spoke, voice gruff as you sat on top of him. “How’s that, pet?”

“Get rid of him and you can ask one thing from me.” you spoke, getting up from his lap since he was distracted enough for you to be able to do that.

This was an in, an in you were giving Alfie and you’d never done that before, not with anyone and certainly not a gangster. It was usually the other way around, men owed things to you but the situation was different and you had grown slightly used to being around this man, so might as well give him the benefit of the doubt.

“Anythin’?” he asked almost immediately and you smiled, fixing your skirt and opening a window even though it was cold.

“Anything.” you said, too soft for his poor heart and he smiled at your words.

Wheels turned in his head, a small smirk apparent on his plump lips as he watched you close the door to his office after walking out. He knew you’d be the death of him but at this point, he couldn’t find it in himself to care in the slightest. He enjoyed the old game of push and pull and screamed for Ollie the minute you were out the door.

He wouldn’t ask for sex, he knew that had its time.

He’d ask for something much better but first, he had to get rid of the poor bastard.

-----

Tagging: @clairecrive @parkbearum @sourirez @vetseras @mollybegger-blog @babylooneytoonz @peakascum @fuseburner @r-rose08 @innerpaperexpertcloud @caffinated-tree @cathartichaoss @ihavefandomsssss @thatchickwiththecamera @sugarcoated-lame @alainabooks143 @enrapturedbythemoon

a/n: I hope you like this one!! I think i’ll have a few more chapters out and see how things go but do let me know what you thought of it <3

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mmvalentine · 3 years

Text

The Bargain Pt 4 | Feysand

Modern AU. Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 5

Feyre’s last session was on a Thursday evening, Rhys’ last appointment of the day. And she was running very late.

Feyre rushed down the street, trying to scrape her hair back into some semblance of presentability, and narrowly dodged bowling an old man over in the street. She skidded to a halt outside the tattoo shop, spared just one glance at her reflection in the glass and then swept in. Despite noticing with horror the dark circles under her eyes.

She stood in the doorway, and watched Rhys look up from where he was sitting and sketching, probably startled by the clanging she was making by bursting through the door like this. She just hoped she wasn’t too late.

“I’m so sorry,” she said to him, still panting slightly. “I know I’m unacceptably late. Do you still have time to finish my tattoo?” Rhys put down his pen. "Of course," he said. "Are you okay?" "Yeah," Feyre said, looking away and self-consciously tugging on her dishevelled shirt. "I... got caught up at home, I'm really sorry." "That's okay," Rhys said. "Come on in."

They set up like usual, and soon Rhys was putting the finishing touches on Feyre's arm. She lay there and stared at the ceiling, Tamlin’s latest temper tantrum reeling through her head and still pounding in her ears. And this time, she barely felt the needles at all. She could hear the machines buzzing but the pain seemed very, very far away.

In all honesty, she was glad of a little pain today. Morbid as it may seem, her insides were churning so hard, the sharp physical sensation actually made more sense than the hurt and confusion that she felt every time Tamlin lost his cool. How strange, that being tattooed today seemed like just what she needed.

So she let Rhys finish the shading around her wrist, add dot work, and highlight in white, and just lay quietly. Better than opening her mouth and letting Rhys see what a mess she really was.

But Rhys seemed to notice anyway. He kept glancing up at her, as if waiting for her to resume their usual chatter. After about half an hour, he spoke.

"You know I'm really glad you're here," he said. "All day I've been tattooing this guy who just won't stop singing." It took a moment to filter through, but Feyre had to admit she was intrigued. Rhys went on, speaking quickly as if trying to fill the silence.

"Yeah, he's carrying on and on and even giving tips to Mor- she's one of the artists here, who's in a band. So he's telling her all these things about performing and vocals. Thing is, he's absolutely shite."

Feyre looked at him. Was Rhys… babbling?

"I had to make sure I talked to him the whole time, because if I stopped talking he started singing." Feyre snorted and Rhys smiled to himself.

"So here I am, trying to concentrate and tattoo as fast as I can, and trying to come up with lengthy topics of conversation before one of the guys comes over to murder me." "What did you talk about?" Feyre asked him. "Jellyfish," Rhys told her. "Jellyfish?!" "Yeah I've been listening to podcasts about ocean life and it's all I could think of at the time." "Okay," Feyre said. "Hit me with some jellyfish facts."

"Did you know," Rhys said, "that there is a species of jellyfish that never dies. It's got two life stages, sort of like you know insects have a larval stage, but it just shifts back and forth from one to the other indefinitely." "So it's immortal?" "Yeah, basically. Another species can glom onto each other and form a mega jellyfish, where like there will be a mouth jelly and an excretion jelly and all that but they're just one big jelly now." "Woah like hivemind jellyfish?" "Sure, except jellyfish don't have brains." "That's crazy." "Uh huh."

Rhys let Feyre ponder jellyfish facts while he went back up her arm checking for bits he had missed. Found a spot that would be shaded darker, and started on that bit. The needle bit into her skin with a whine.

"Hey," he said tentatively. "Are you okay?"

Feyre sighed inwardly, and wished fervently that she was the kind of girl that could make a guy laugh, and not worry.

"Yeah, I'm okay," she answered. "I'm so sorry I was late today. Looks like everyone else has pretty much packed up for the day and you're staying late because of me." Indeed the last artist had left the space ten minutes ago, and they were now alone.

"Well, actually," Rhys said, "I'm just about done here. Just have to finish up this bit... and we're finished." He sat up straight, put the machine down and wiped her down. Then he stretched in his seat while Feyre stared at her arm, turning it this way and that. A whorl of night sky and dreaming stared back at her, and for a moment she forgot Tamlin altogether.

"Rhys," she said, "this is incredible. Thank you so much. I…I love it." Loved the way it looked on her, actually. She had never been particularly fond of her own body, and couldn’t stop staring down at herself.

"You're very welcome. If you want, you can go look in the mirror and see then whole effect before I wrap you up."

So Feyre slid off the bench and skipped over to the full length mirror by the wall, and Rhys chuckled as he started packing his area down. She took in her reflection, this time bypassing her tired face completely and just seeing the ink in her skin. She had had the tattoo for months now, but it hadn't prepared her for what the finished product would look like. It looked like... like herself.

When she came back, Rhys wrapped her arm she paid the remainder owing. And then all that was left to do was leave. Go home. To Tamlin.

She stood on the spot, with one ankle turned out and her bottom lip between her teeth. Rhys paused.

"You don't want to go home, do you?" he asked her. And she looked up at him, and his searching, violet eyes, and couldn’t lie to him. She shook her head.

Rhys nodded. Looked around the empty studio, and then said, "Okay. Well I'll need another twenty minutes to finishing break down, and then I will tell you the rest of the jellyfish facts I know before you go. Deal?"

Relief slid into her veins. "Deal."

So she sat a stool in the corner of the studio while Rhys pottered about, putting things away and sanitising his station. Then when he was done, he pulled up another stool and sat opposite her, and told her everything he knew about scyphozoa while she picked through his sharpies and drew pictures in the blank spaces on his left forearm. It was only fair, she had said, since he had inked hers. He even had her sign the work, just below the heel of his palm.

"I'll get it tattooed," he said, "and then when you're world-famous I'll be a collectible item." Feyre laughed. "Okay, well then I'll give you a nice artistic autograph so you don't have to have some random girl's name tattooed on you." She scribbled her signature, and Rhys turned his wrist around to read it. "Oh so by artistic you mean illegible," he said. “Wouldn't want to upset any love interests," Feyre said, "I can't fight for shit." Rhys laughed. "Well there's no one to fight, but thanks for your thoughtful consideration."

They smiled at each other for a minute, until Feyre’s heart squeezed painfully and she forced herself to stand. "I should go," she said. Rhys took his markers back, and walked Feyre to the door.

And yet still, she couldn’t quite walk out.

"So, I guess this is it," Feyre said. "Thank you for everything." She lingered. "You know, I still think we could be good friends, you and I."

Rhys put his hands on the top of the door frame and leaned against it. The hard muscles of his triceps and forearms framed his face, and the light from the shop spilled around him.

"I'll make you a bargain Feyre," he said. "When you're getting tattooed you're really vulnerable and it can be easy to latch on to people who make you feel safe. So, give it six months, and if you still want to be my friend, I would love that. Okay?"

Feyre nodded. "Okay."

She turned to go, but before she did, Rhys reached out one last question.

"Feyre?" She turned. "Are you going to be alright?"

And Feyre put on her very best smile, smoothed it over her face like lipstick, and tried to photograph him, there in the doorway, in her mind.

"I'll be alright," she told him. And she waved and walked home.

****

This is based on actual conversations that I had with my tattoo artist recently, and he assures me all of those jellyfish facts are true. Mind blowing stuff.

MASTERLIST

TAGLIST: @ghostlyrose2 @highladysith @stardelia @feysand-loml @tillyrubes10 @ratabrasileira @live-the-fangirl-life @maybekindasortaace @annejulianneh111 @thebonecarver @rowaelinismyotp @loosingdreams @whythefuckdoiexist @inejsarrow @swankii-art-teacher @sjmships @courtofjurdan @teddytdr @positivewitch @thalia-2-rose @darling-archeron @rapunzel1523 @fairchildjace @asteria-of-mars

#feysand #feysand fic #acotar #fluff #mine

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consumeconstantly · 4 years

Text

Who Are You (and what will you become?)

1(you are here)| 2 | 3 | 4

Summary: “Over the years, I have found that blood means very little.”

The ice clicks against the glass almost inaudibly, condensation dripping down the side.

“So tell me, M. Wayne, why do you think I should even begin to consider you my father?” (all biodad bruce can be read as stand alone but are posted in chronological order)

__________________________________________________

At the tender age of nineteen, Marinette Dupain-Cheng has already become a jaded woman. It doesn’t shine through very often, hidden behind a carefully crafted facade of Parisian-brand carefree attractiveness and pigtailed youthfulness, but there exists, in Marinette, a certain bitterness.

“For a vigilante, you’re not very secretive,” Marinette remarks, keeping her tone measured, almost playful, so as not to draw attention to herself.

“Marinette.” Bruce inclines his head and allows the bartender to serve him a whiskey sour. He doesn’t drink alcohol because it alters his mental state in ways that are unpleasant, but ordering a drink helps him fit in, and with Marinette, the person he wants to talk to, right at his side, he can’t have his normal ginger ale substitute. “It’s good to see you.”

“Mmm.” She takes a sip of her French 75, playing up an interest that Bruce knows is a lie. “M. Wayne, you say that as though we’re familiar with each other.”

“Sabine and I were close,” he says.

Sabine is one of the few people who knew about his existence as Batman that didn’t live in Gotham. Many years ago, they were friends. Colleagues. (More.) Of course she told her daughter about who he was. How could she not have?

Sabine is-- she was--

“Close, you call it,” she says with mock awe, words slurring together. “Closer than close, really. Too close for comfort— at least, too close for you.”

When Bruce and Sabine’s paths crossed all those years ago, he was struggling trying to raise Dick. Sabine was equal parts a mother and a mentor to Dick in all the ways that Bruce couldn’t be. When she left for Paris so abruptly after the two of them parted ways, Dick didn’t take it very well. Even moreso when communications halted permanently. The fact that the radio silence coincided with Marinette’s birth is something only Bruce is privy to.

However awkwardly he and Sabine left off, it doesn’t change the facts. Bruce’s lips thin. “I’m here to offer you a home.”

Swirling her French, Marinette taps at her phone, swiping away at a few messages that she’s not interested in. “I’m nineteen and more than capable of taking care of myself. Though I suppose it stands to reason that it would be difficult for you to know that, what with how busy your extracurriculars keep you.”

“I’m not doubting your capabilities.” He’s looked into what Marinette has been up to over the past nineteen years of her life. He’s never been particularly concerned with her upbringing, not with a woman like Sabine at the helm of her childhood. Bruce was right not to be worried; Marinette has grown into a multi talented, extremely well connected entrepreneur based on her own hard work. Judging by the crowd that she runs with and the multiple charities that she supports both financially and with her own time, she will be a force to be reckoned with in a few years; Tim regularly extols the virtues of the brand MDC, and if he knew that he was sisters with the designer, he’d never stop raving about her. MDC is already being compared to the likes of Dior and Gabriel when they were first starting out. Her finances aren’t anything to scoff at, and at a few galas and charity parties that he’s had to entertain, anyone who's had the privilege to wear an MDC original talks about how sweet and kind the head designer is while complimenting the CEO’s business savvy.

Bruce has to admit that he’s impressed by how she manages to keep her identities separate. No one suspects the head designer to also be manning publicity and business.

He’s been watching her for the past day, and he has to say, for somebody whose parents just died, she carries herself with remarkable ease. If not for the red around her eyes and line of shots on the bartop, Bruce would believe that Tom and Sabine’s death didn’t phase her at all.

“There’s a but, isn’t there?” Marinette says bitterly.

She’s right in that assumption. As skillful as Marinette is in her field, she has no practical combat experience. A brief stint in fencing and martial arts but nothing beyond that. Even if she practiced martial arts for years, that wouldn’t be enough to convince Bruce to let her go off on her own. Martial arts as a hobby is an entirely different game than fighting for one’s life.

Marinette is simply not the kind of person who can face down a League member and come out of it alive.

“It’s for your safety.”

For the first time since entering the bar, Bruce sees a flash of true emotion cross Marinette’s eyes. It’s hard to see the color of her eyes in the dim lighting, but it’s impossible not to see Sabine in how her eyes narrow. Perhaps the dim lighting makes it easier to; in the light of day, Marinette’s eye color— it’s too similar to the shade he sees in the mirror.

“My safety? What about my parent’s safety?”

At that, Bruce internally cringes while keeping his face carefully blank. Tom and Sabine… their end wasn’t pretty. Not the most gruesome deaths he’s ever seen, but it was up there. Bruce never thought the League would do something as cruel as desecrating the corpses of the people they murdered. They may be assassins for hire, but most times, they do have some sort of morals.

The worst part about it is that their death is most likely a result of Sabine’s past relationship with him. Last month, a tabloid that drew comparisons between Marinette and Bruce. It didn’t take long for another person to dredge up pictures from when he was still with Sabine. Tom and Sabine didn’t have enemies well-off enough to hire the League. But Bruce? Bruce did.

“I’m not interested in any protection you have to offer me.” Marinette shakes her head. “Don’t worry. I’m not like you. I won’t become a vigilante out of rage or as a coping mechanism. I’m not going to go chasing after the League in a foolish pursuit of misguided justice.”

But Marinette doesn’t understand. She has a target on her back with her newfound association to him.

“I haven’t been active in your life--”

“Understatement of the year,” Marinette mutters.

“--but I’m not going to let you die when I can prevent it.”

Downing the rest of her French, she takes the Moscow Mule away from Bruce’s hands, eyeing the liquor up on display. She drinks the cold alcohol and revels in the burn that slides down her throat. Marinette swipes on one of the notifications she’s received on her phone in order to respond to it. “You’re a good man, Bruce. But your desire to protect me— what does it stem from? What do we have in common? Why would you use your time and effort on what’s essentially a stranger?”

Bruce has no good answer for this, but he has an obvious one. As soon as it leaves his tongue, it feels wrong. “We share the same blood.”

He can’t bring himself to call Marinette his daughter. That means that he would be her father and he’s not deserving of that title.

Marinette pockets her phone, eyes trained on a set of unusually shaped glasses on the shelves. “If that’s your answer, M. Wayne, let me tell you something. Over the years, I have found that blood means very little.”

The bartender comes around and tops off the whiskey sour. The ice clicks against the glass almost inaudibly, condensation dripping down the side. Bruce can’t tell whether the bartender knows Marinette or not, but he certainly looks concerned enough to, with how his eyes shift between Marinette and himself rapid fire. When the bartender’s gaze settles on Bruce, mouth turned downward, clearly suspicious of his presence, Marinette just waves him off with a gentle smile.

Her smile turns up the same way Tom’s did. She’s right; family is more than blood.

“Your answer to why you want to protect me is that we share blood, but you speak nothing of our relationship. Shouldn’t that have been the first thing you brought up?”

Bruce shifts uncomfortably on the bar stool. Marinette just laughs at his apparent awkwardness. “Talking of blood relations seems to be something you don’t enjoy, and yet the entire premise of your protection rests on it. Tell me, M. Wayne, do you think I should even begin to consider you my father?”

Even as inebriated as Marinette must be, she brings up points that he himself wondered on his way to Paris. Wanting to see Marinette safe goes beyond a simple duty to morality and virtue. Though Bruce is known for adopting kids with tragic backstories, it simply isn’t feasible to adopt every single one he comes across. To bring Marinette into his family at this age, to expose her to the life he lives would be beyond cruel. In essence he’d be replacing two parents with a ticking time bomb: himself.

“Don’t consider me a parent, just a guardian. It’s in my best interest to see you safe, and the best way to do that is to have you move to Gotham, where my colleagues and I can assure you around the clock protection.”

At first, he distanced himself from Sabine and Marinette because he didn’t want to disrupt her current relationship with Tom. Even if the two of them insisted that he could still be part of Marinette’s life, it just didn’t feel right to have the title of father when he wasn’t the one to put in any of the hard work. Then, as Tom and Sabine grew more comfortable in their life together, settled down and opened up a bakery, he was blindsided by Jason’s death. As his daughter grew older and older, there were just too many things in his own life for him to ever hope to kindle a relationship with Marinette.

Marinette laughs, but it’s really more of a bark. Her voice is too hoarse for it to come out any other way. Bruce can’t imagine how much she’s cried this past week. “If you wanted to keep me safe, where were you a week ago? Where were you two years ago? Where were you when I was thirteen? M. Wayne, I’ve heard a lot of rumors about you throughout the years, and I’ve always brushed them off as nothing more than tabloid gossip. But perhaps they got one thing right about you: you’re a liar.”

Marinette stands, swaying slightly.

“This— if you truly want me to uproot my life, I need more than you saying it’s in your best interest. I need—” Marinette reaches up to her earrings and allows her eyes to flutter shut. She needs more than a distant guardian. She needs someone to confide in. Someone she trusts. “It was nice meeting you, but I don’t need your pity. Not now.”

As she weaves through the crowd, Bruce can’t help but wonder whether he made the right decision all those years ago to not be apart of her life.

@biodad-bruce-month

Late to the game as always. This will be a multichapter fic but all parts can be read as one shots (and also as always anything posted to tumblr is never checked for accuracy and stuff so whoop)! They’ll be released in chronological order. If you want to get tagged in all things maribat, instead of commenting it under a fic, I’d appreciate an ask or a dm instead! I haven’t been able to go back through all the previous comments and create a taglist yet but perhaps. eventually.

#bio!dad bruce wayne month 2020 #first meeting #maribat #bio!dad bruce #marinette dupain cheng #bruce wayne #referenced character death #aged up! marinette #miraculous ladybug #dcu

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manchesterau · 3 years

Text

my thoughts after reading my policeman: SPOILERSS of course!! (ignore spelling or grammar mistakes) (this is very ramble-y and not as in depth as it could have been sorrryyy lol, if you want specifics send me an ask after reading this)

okay...so i read the book in 3 days....which....im very proud of myself bc it takes me so long to finish books but that’s not why you are reading this.

im not going to lie to you...i liked the book. i love angst, and this had plenty of it and i liked it. if you like books such as: harry potter, six of crows, red queen, red white and royal blue you will not like this book. i know many people found it boring, which yeah i can see that, but i didn't find it boring at all. but mostly because i love boring books but that's beside the point.

the book flowed easily, there isn't a bunch of raunchy sex scenes that ive seen people say it has (i...the things ive read idk what book they even read????) and Tom does has backward views on marriage and what it means to be a wife. but he is not overtly sexist or misogynist or abusive, or subvertly those things either. to be frank he's a scared gay man in the 50s trying to not get caught and thrown in jail. that's literally it. (ill go more into detail on him later). but if you want to read this book i recommend you go in knowing that there will be homophobia (the word queer is used as a slur....3 times or 4 but no more than 5), expect outing, expect not supportive characters, and remember to have some compassion (more on this later).

next i want to go into characters: starting with tom, then Marion, then Patrick, and then the other characters. so if you are planning on reading this book or just dont want to be spoiled them....don't read the next bit.

Tom:

I'm going to get this out of the way.........Tom (who we never get to know outside of the two-point of views we are presented with, and who is being played by Harry) is a police officer in the 50s UK. to be frank when the rumors first went around I was mad like a lot of people were, which is funny because when we got those pictures of harry reading the book before all the speculation we were....happy, that he was reading a book about a gay man. now...I don't care honestly. I could call out the hypocrites (i won't) and honestly I'm hypocritical myself. I use to watch shows like svu (if you were to turn it on right now I wouldn't turn it off) and I enjoyed watching svu. I know and have seen a lot of mutuals, people on my dash enjoy cop shows like b99, or who like actors who have played the character of police before. so it would be hypocritical of me to be mad at him (this is just my single black opinion) and then go and turn on svu (which I don't do anymore).

I'm not saying that no one can be mad, I'm not saying that the anger people have at him playing this role is bad or not needed or valid. all I'm saying is.....is that I don't care. I got angry over this months ago, and all that anger I felt I don't have anymore, and I can't tell you why. Harry is playing an abusive demented husband who traps his wife in a simulation, and then he will play a gay policeman trying not to face persecution..........and that's that. nothing I can say will reach him, he's playing these roles and there is nothing I can do. will I watch them (pirating of course) yes.

anyways let's get back to tom's character (do not use my opinion to silence other black people I will find you....don't do that shit weirdo): tom is......tom?? like I literally was expecting the worst when I read this because of what other people had to say. but as I'm reading him through the eyes of Marion (his wife) and through the eyes of Patrick (his...true love, fuck the 50s I hate the 50s) one word came to mind constantly: scared. Tom is very scared that he will be found out and his life will be ruined. His family knows about him, which is why I think his father (more on him later) pushed him to be in the national service (where he was a cook, which disappointed him). you don't realize his family knows and then his sister says something and then you go 'wait....THEY KNEW???' and then you will go 'oh so that's why-'

tom does have old fashion views that you would expect of any man at that time (gay or not it's the 50s and gay men are still capable of saying sexist shit). when asked by Patrick if women should still work after having a kid he said no it's the men's job to provide, Marion said she would like to keep working, he said no when they do have a baby (they literally never did, and idk why he thought he could be intimate with her for that long to produce a baby lol). that's....the most sexist thing he said in the whole book (there maybe some small things im forgetting but nothing that really stood out). that's it. I know it's not small and that was a legitimate issue in the 50s but yeah. Just in case you were apprehensive about Tom's character being a raging woman-hater, no,....he just wasn't a true feminist yet (???? I don't know that's like..the most this book says about an issue women were facing at this time). It's still bad what he said (you'll see how Marion justifies it in the book and both Patrick and her don't agree and try and challenge him on his view).

i dont want to go too in depth but it is very obvious from the beginning he has no and i mean ZEROOOO interest in her at all (you can tell when it hits him that he needs a wife and he starts to act a littleee different but it's not romantic at alll).

i feel like my review on tom is shit but like!! we don't really get to know him without bias from Patrick and Marion. I think Harry will play a wonderful Tom (even tho he doesn't not fit the description for Tom...at all....like at alllll).

To summarize Tom: very scared gay man from the 50s who is trying to do everything he can to not be found out. his family knows, even he knew at a young age, and yes he does quit being a police officer but it doesn't happen as soon as id like but then again he wasn't one for that long if you pay attention to the years.

Marion:

😑

i just...if yall could see the notes i made on her.....

To summarize Marion: SHE IS LIVING IN LALA LAND, TOM LITERALLY SHOWS HER NO ROMANTIC INTEREST AT ALLL, AND WHEN SHE METS PATRICK FOR THE FIRST TIME SHE FREAKING NOTICES THAT HE'S ALL BLUSH-Y AND SHIT LIKE...GIRL.....

this is a note i wrote that sums up her and tom's relationship (which is more like friends then anything romantic i mean god their honeymoon was horrible and he proposed to her....nvm 😑)

listen...i can't lie and say i didn't feel sorry for her up until the end when she (spoilers: she outs patrick to his employer which ends up with him getting arrested). after that...ive never hated a character more in my fucking LIFEEEE like oh my god i was pissed

all she does is have fantasies about him being romantic with her (holding hands, hugging, etc) and none of them come true...BECAUSE HES GAYYYYYY i really....the author could have done a better job because there were so many damn red flags.

she's fucking annoying and whiny and yeah it sucked to be a woman in the 50s but you literally outed someone your husband was in love with and thought that you could just go back to being married like he's not devastated and instead of telling what you did you stayed unhappy and made your husband thing that at any point they were coming for him too.......*****

Patrick:

PATRICKKKKK

Patrick and tom deserved a fighting fucking chance i hate the fuck 50s fuck you 50s!!!! I absolutely LOVEDDD his pov and seeing Tom through his pov like it was just so damn refreshing seeing the world through his eyes and how he navigates his queerness in the society they live in. (the dichotomy between a proud gay man and a scared maybe proud but fear overrules that (talking about Tom here) gay man).

There was a lot more to say on how gay men were being persecuted at this time than how women were treated in this particular book. There were some little things here and there about what was expected of Marion as a wife and of a girl/woman at that time but it wasn't the focus.

I loved seeing the way Patrick navigated through his world of art and creativity. And how Tom seemed to fit right in with him.

I hate the things the author made Patrick go through (outed, sent to prison, stripped of his job, and later on in the present day he has had 2 strokes in his 70s). it felt a bit much but it's not too distracting (Patricks pov takes place in the past as he writes in his journal).

Patrick and Julia (more on her later) are my two favorites in the whole book (Tom is third bc he's a very multi-facted character, Marion is not even on the list) and I wish we got a lot more of Patrick's pov.

Other characters!! (speed round bc this is wayyy too long):

Syvlie (Tom's sister): SYVLIEEE IM MAD AT YOUU I WAS ROOTING FOR YOU WHYY WHYYY

Julia: JULIAAAAA QUEEENNN (you'll see why i love her at the end)

Tom's parents: his father is abusive point-blank. or at least i think he's abusive (verbally). as im writing this i am now realizing that the way Tom's mom reacts to him (sometimes crying) is bc they knew he was gay omg wow.

tom's dad is very much a man's man guy?? Picture a sexist man from the 50s....now picture him with a gay son.....yeah, I'm not surprised Tom went into national service then to the police force. you can tell he didn't want anyone to find out about Tom so he pushed him to do what he thought best and Tom went with it, scared.

overall: please do not go into this book expected things to be all flowers and rainbows...this is a book about two gay men in the 50s yall.....

there is something to be said about the tragedy that is in a lot of queer stories, I'm more interested in how white these stories are (that's a rant for another time). but I don't mind my policeman, and i think stories like this should be told. because this actually happened (here is a link to em forster's story where the author takes inspiration from, he really had an affair with a policeman!!! who had a wife!!!).

the ending is bittersweet, and i couldn't help but curse for what could have been. Marion could have not outed Patrick (which she instantly regretted), she could have gotten a divorce (she even contemplated it), they could have been more secretive, Julia could have not said what she said. I think Patrick and Tom were sadly doomed from the start, I just wish they had more time together because I loved seeing their love (the little glimpse we got) bloom into something bigger than them.

thank you for reading!! here are random screenshots of my notes as i read this lol enjoy!!

can’t*

#*#my policeman #godd this book...i cant wait for the movie #mp

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antiloreolympus · 3 years

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6 Anti LO Asks

1. ok but on webtoons hiring list (off linkedin) right now they have job openings for art assistants for originals ... why isnt rachel using that ... ?

2. the (white) webtoon artists trying to white knight for rachel instead of being like hey wait why arent we being paid better too and wondering why rachel isnt using her position to advocate for better change is truly a new brand of brain worms. like yall should be demanding more for your labor, not accepting how bad the pay is and trying to justify rachel aiding in this system of underpaying the labor she benefits from.

3. ngl kinda weird how a few weeks ago webtoonists were critiquing how badly they were paid but are now defending how bad the pay is bc rachel is being called out for underpaying? idk to me i think they all deserve much better pay for the content they make, regardless if they get the same number count as rachel. like no please fight for better wages and working conditions for yourselves instead of defending someone who gets so many benefits and privileges that you wont see. thats my opinion on it.

4. maybe its just me, but isnt the fact rachels art team isnt long term bad? i know life happens and all, but the art team should be relatively the same for as long as you can, because if not the look becomes very disjointed. one time work especially means the person will likely not be able to imitate her work compared to someone who has been working on it for longer. its not just about the pay (which should be higher IMHO) but also how incompetent the behind the scenes production actually is.

5. Rachel used to have such a beautiful, unique style of art! Hell, I believe she still does!! It just Does. Not. Translate. Well. Into. A. Comic.

6. Oh uh i just looked up how much 420$ is in Euros cause im from europe and 😥 i was gonna defend her but thats legit not worth the work in my opinion

it's 388 euros while most student jobs get AT LEAST 450 EUROS a month

thats 520 dollars

And from an artists perspective it will probably only take half an hour yes, the art we have seen in the past idk 30 updates looks awful tho so EITHER Rachel is lying about the sketches she sends her assistants and does much less than shown in her tweet so the assistants will have to do more work than we think and it'll be much more than half an hour OR she clearly doesn't care about the comics quality and just wants to make quick cash by putting out mediocre to bad art so she doesn't care if its done in half an hour and looks awful 🤷🏼‍♀️

#anti lo #anti lore olympus #lo critical #lore olympus critical

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frostsinth · 3 years

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Burdened by the Stars - Pt. 5

Part 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 - MasterList - Art

Holy Shit, it’s an update! A real update! For an existing story! Not a new project, not some random side quest.

Hey! I’m not dead! Whooo!

Welp. I hope you guys enjoy this! I’ve started writing the next chapter already, so hopefully it won’t be another four months for an update. Thank you for your patience! Lots of love.

Requested tags: @lightning-butterfly

“Auntie Gana!” Lorette squealed excitedly, launching herself onto my back and wrapping her arms around my neck. “I found you!”

I jumped nearly a foot, then laughed to dispel my jitteriness. Nearly toppling over entirely as her brother Corwin gave a shout upon the discovery of us both and jumped right on top. Our combined hot breath billowing like a cloud around us.

The afternoon with my nieces and nephews had certainly been refreshing. Though the mountain air of the goblin castle gardens was cold (colder even than the usual winter temperatures at lower altitudes), with all the running around we were doing, I hardly noticed. The six of them had been ecstatic to be pulled from their lessons early for the day, and had nearly bounced off the walls. Much to the disdain of their tutor, who gave me a dark glower as I pried the youngest off their chalkboard. But as I was the goblin Princess, and technically an adult, they had no recompense against my decision to dismiss them for the day to take over supervision of my nieces and nephews.

“It’s your turn to find us, Auntie!” Corwin informed me as Izaak and the twins skipped over. Likely alerted by the sounds of my hiding spot being uncovered.

I nodded my agreement, tossing Lorette over my shoulder as I stood up. She squealed and kicked, laughing so hard she was breathless. Her red braids slapping about her face as she wriggled. I glanced up at the sky, feeling the edge of anxiousness at the pestering thoughts of what Erramun might be doing. It was a thought that had often interrupted my afternoon. Leaving me more than a little distant and distracted, to the point where even my youngest charges were starting to notice. Hopefully he was still asleep, or at least resting quietly. Though with the sun sinking ever lower, I wasn’t sure how much longer I could assure myself of that.

“Alright, one more round.” I told them, placing Lorette back on her feet. “Then I’ve got to get you all back inside to wash up before dinner.”

I ignored the round of groans at my response. The twins, Yua and Hilal, each grabbed on to one of my legs and began to loudly proclaim I’d have to drag them inside if that’s what I wanted. Hilal even argued that she wasn’t hungry, and that dinner was going to be yucky anyway, so there was no point going in. Apparently Niko was currently on a healthy eating vendetta. Feeling that his family was far too indulgent in sweets and treats not indicative of a well-rounded diet for growing boys and girls. So he had taken a firm mindset and an iron grip on what was being cooked and served for their meals. A decision that I gathered was not sitting well with his offspring. Or his husband, evidently. I looked around four a moment as Lorette ducked under my elbow and tugged on it insistently.

“Where’s Viktor?” I asked Izaak, who was currently having a shoulder shoving match with Corwin, the closest to him in age with only a year between the two.

“Viktor?” Izaak took a step back, letting his brother topple to the ground at his feet as he turned his attention to me. Craning his neck back to look up at me with his soft, umber eyes. “He went to pick flowers I think.”

“Shut up, you ninny!” Cried Yua, jumping up from my leg and shoving her older (and much larger) brother to little effect. “He wanted to surprise Auntie Gana!”

Izaak gave the 6 year old a barely concealed scowl. “Well then he shouldn’t have taken so long.” The little prince squared his shoulders and tucked his hands behind his back. “He should have stayed with the rest of us, now it’s getting dark.”

“It is getting dark,” I agreed, reaching out to ruffle his messy blonde hair, “We should go find him.”

Izaak squealed in displeasure, pushing my hand away. “Auntie! Please don’t touch my hair! It took me forever to get it combed straight!”

Corwin, having scrambled back up, attempted to now launch himself at his sibling. Trying unsuccessfully to rangle Izaak to the ground. They may have been close in age, but Corwin was a full blooded goblin, leaving him smaller and lankier than his half-blooded older brother. Izaak was tall, even for a human child at his age, and while Corwin was by no means a runt, he would likely never quite manage to catch up. Still, he gave Izaak more than a little trouble, hanging off him as he was.

“Be careful not to get Crown Prince Izaak messy!” He mocked as he did, giving a sharp toothed smirk, “Papa is never messy, so Crown Prince Izaak can’t be messy either!”

“Get OFF, Cory!” Izaak howled back, beating a little fist into his brother’s back.

“Alright, that’s enough,” I told them, prying Corwin off and tucking him under one arm despite his wiggling and the fact that one twin was still latched to my leg, “Come on, we’ve got to find Viktor before it gets too dark.”

“He’ll get scared if it gets too dark,” Yua reminded the others busily.

“He can’t see in the dark like us,” Hilal finished, tugging on my skirts and offering me a traditional pointy toothed grin from her place still wrapped around my leg.

I glanced at her, returning her smile, then at Yua, now standing over her sister to tug at my skirts. The pair weren’t actually twins; Niko and Grier had adopted both of the goblin girls at the same time as chubby infants, and they had fast become inseparable. Now they championed the title of ‘twins’, rarely going anywhere without each other and making it a point to finish each other’s sentences. And thoughts, at times. It helped some that they didn’t look particularly dissimilar, though Yua had copper brown hair while Hilal’s was nearly pitch black. Other than that, they were the same age and height, and tended to prefer the same clothes and hairstyles. I brushed a few wild strands of Hilal’s hair out of her face as I finally put a kicking and wriggling Corwin back on his feet.

“But Auntie Gana,” Whined Lorette, “If we spend all that time looking for Viktor, we can’t play one last round!”

I thought about that for a second, tapping my fingertips dramatically against my lips as goblins did and leaving the children giggling excitedly. I had long ago adopted it as my signal to show them I had something fun planned for them. I could see them all bouncing on their toes eagerly as they waited. Even Izaak, trying so hard to be stoic and proper as he thought a Prince should be, had a glimmer of light dancing in his wide eyes.

“Well then, we’ll just have to make a game of it.” I told them. “First one to find Viktor… Gets dessert after dinner.”

I didn’t have to say it twice to have 4 of the five children screeching with delight and bounding off through the gardens. Certainly they must be deprived of sweets for such an incentive to work. I almost laughed at that, and almost being able to picture the tiniest of scowls at the corner of Niko’s lips when he found out. Soon their bobbing heads had disappeared among the hedges and paths. Izaak looked like he wanted to join them, his body slightly angled as if to launch into a full sprint. But he stopped, hesitating and looking up at me.

“Are you ok, Auntie Gana?” He asked me quietly, shuffling in place.

I looked at him in surprise. “Of course, Izaak! Why?”

He shrugged, bringing his hands around to rub at the palm of one. “I just thought you seemed a little quiet today… Are you and papa fighting?”

I almost groaned. “Did your inunu put you up to this? Or Niko himself?” I asked knowingly. Eying my oldest nephew suspiciously. Wondering if he had been spying on me this entire time. And also wondering if i had given anything away.

He gave me a sheepish grin. “Both. Inunu promised I could have three isiok if I asked, and papa said I could stay up a whole hour late with him.”

I would have laughed, shaking my head and putting my hands on my hips. “Is that why you aren’t racing off with your brother and sisters to find Viktor?” I reasoned, and he nodded.

“I already get dessert, even if someone else finds him.” He told me, sounding pleased with himself. “Papa doesn’t know inunu already asked, and inunu doesn’t know papa asked!”

I did laugh then, reaching out and giving his shoulder a gentle squeeze as we turned to make our way off the grass and walk along the main garden path. Mindful of his hair per his request. It hadn’t appeared particularly neat, but I was sure the messy locks were quite uncooperative. And I knew how much he tried. He slipped in a little closer, matching my stride with his and squaring his little shoulders again. I smiled to myself. He looked so much like Niko when he did that. A tiny little green-skinned, blonde-haired Niko, I corrected myself with amusement, but Niko-esque for certain.

“Two birds with one stone,” I mused aloud, wrapping my arm about his shoulders, “Very clever of you, Your Highness.”

He couldn’t seem to help grinning again, looking down at his shiny boots. “Yeah, but I think it only works if I have something to tell them.”

I shook my head once more, kicking up a little gravel as we went. “Not at all! The promise from both of them was just for you to ask me right? They didn’t say you had to get an answer.” I grinned back at him. “Or that you couldn’t tell me they asked you to.”

He seemed to think about that for a second, then nodded. “Yeah, Auntie, you’re right!” He looked up at me again, tilting his head to the side. “So you don’t have to tell me… unless you want to, that is.”

I sighed a little. “Alright, here’s what you can say. You tell Niko I said that he needs to stop treating me like a baby and pestering me all the time. And tell Grier I said you should get four isiok, because you are a very sweet and clever little Prince and you deserve all the extra dessert you want.”

Izaak chortled, nodding in bemusement. “Alright Auntie. I can do that.”

“And tell them Lorette gets dessert tonight too,” I proclaimed more loudly, as the rest of the gaggle returned, the half-goblin triumphantly holding a screeching Viktor over her shoulder, “As she is the best little brother wrangler of all time.”

That brought a round of giggles as Lorette passed her still kicking brother to me. Viktor stuck his tongue out at her, then quickly offered up a messy fistfull of half pulverized flowers to me.

“You’re not coming to dinner, Auntie?” Corwin asked, shoving Hilal out of the way to come and stand next to my leg.

“Not tonight.” I told him, reaching down to push his curly black hair out of his eyes after taking the flowers from Viktor with a pleasant thanks. “I’ve got… other stuff to do.”

“Lorette cheated!” Squealed Yua, stomping one foot angrily.

“She’s bigger than us! We can’t carry Viktor like she can!” Hilal agreed, pouting.

“Not forever,” I assured her, “Soon, I think Viktor will be taller than all of you!” I hoisted him up into the air over my head in illustration, which had him giggling with delight. “Besides, the deal was whoever found Viktor got dessert, not who carried him back.” I turned to the twins, who looked at each other for a moment before turning back to me. “And who found Viktor?”

“Lorette.” They admitted begrudgingly.

“So, the dessert award stands as it is.” I declared, putting the youngest back down on his feet to hold his hand instead. Not that I felt particularly bad. I knew my brother’s sense of fairness was indomitable, and having granted one child such permissions, I had likely granted it to them all. “Now, let’s get you all inside and washed up before your fathers take away my dessert.”

That brought a fresh round of laughter, and the six royal children of the goblin kingdom darted eagerly around my legs and up and down the halls as we made our way back up to our quarters. I spared the tower a final glance before we ducked into the castle, wondering not for the first time just what I would find when I went back to my own rooms.

.....

I was able to hand off my nieces and nephews to their caretakers after helping them all get washed up and changed for dinner without running into either Niko or Grier. Which I took as a small blessing, as I kept nervously glancing out the window to try and gauge just how long I had left until the Kings might just decide to pop in. I knew it was unlikely; usually they met their brood in the dining room at the end of each day. But I didn’t put it past either of them to attempt to catch me unawares. Especially as I was sure they had already heard I had liberated their children from their studies early to play with them in the gardens. Little went on in the castle that the two didn’t know about.

That thought made me smirk to myself in accomplishment as I hesitated outside my own door, having seen the Princes and Princesses off down the stairs with their attendants before heading back down the hall. Certainly I could think of no one else who would have been able to smuggle an orc of all things into the castle undetected. I had even managed to get his mare into the stables with no one batting an eye at her blood splattered coat before I had picked up my nieces and nephews. I glanced about briefly to make sure I was alone once more before I slipped back into my rooms. My heart in my throat and my nerves jumping on end.

The sitting room was quiet and dark, and I closed the door and latched it behind me. My eyes strained in the dimness, with only the barest hints of light coming from under the door to the hall. Perhaps I should get my eyes charmed like Niko’s, I thought to myself as I fumbled for the candle by the entrance. Placing the bundle of pulverized flowers from Viktor on the little table there for a moment as I did. It would certainly make living in a goblin castle half the year much easier. As the wick caught with a soft hiss, I heard the telltale creak of my bed in the other room.

Quickly I had to douse my nerves, straightening myself out with the reminder once more that these were my rooms. I was supposed to be here. Erramun was not. I felt another twitch of satisfaction at the corner of my mouth again, unable to resist feeling a little smug in that confidence. Even if he wanted to leave, he wouldn’t get anywhere without my help. It was a reassuring feeling to have the half-orc under my thumb. Though the reminder of my guest set my heart skipping again. Which I of course briskly ignored.

I used the light of the candle to find a vase amid my things, feeling each clutter and clank of my shuffling was louder than a thundering herd of cattle. Rather hoping the half-orc wasn’t sleeping. I had to move two small boxes and a stack of books out of my way. But I eventually found what I was looking for, and placed the small colorful vase on one end table. Gathering the messy bouquet up carefully from where I had left it by the door to set it into its new home. I ran my fingers over the pretty blooms, smiling to myself. I’d have to get them some water. But I should check on Erramun first.

However, it was suspicious how quiet everything was. I paused for a minute by the door to the bedroom, listening to see if I could hear anything beyond. I had assumed such a behemoth would be a snorer, though I guess that was rather small minded of me to think so. It was also, I realized, possibly silly of me to assume he would even be asleep. I had been gone for hours, perhaps he had woken, if he had slept at all. I pushed aside the fearful thoughts of what he had been doing this entire time if he had not been sleeping.

I hesitated with my hand over the handle. If he was asleep, would my entering wake him? And if he wasn’t… My face felt hot with the sudden reminder of a pair of dimples at the base of his spine. Not to mention the rest of that scene permanently burned into the backs of my eyelids. I glanced around the foyer once more, still trying to decide. Working to calm my suddenly racing pulse. Then chided myself with the reminder yet again that these were my rooms. If he was naked again, well then, I’d just have to scold him better this time. And… maybe I could get a better look. I scoffed silently, pushing away that thought as wholly undesirable and the heavy blush that accompanied it. Giving the handle a solid downward yank and shoving the old bedroom door open with my shoulder.

I had barely started to draw in a breath for a proper greeting when I released it suddenly in a loud shout instead, my body jerking forward with a sudden intruding force acting upon it. My hands went up defensively, the candle abandoned to gravity, as I reached for the sudden weight dropping on my shoulder.

Muscle memory took over then, and it was a blur as my hands found purchase. I shifted my weight, dropping my shoulder down and bending at the knees to use the larger form’s already moving momentum to my advantage as it went to grab me and send its weight forward. Then, a quick twist and a sweep of my foot had it flipping the rest of the way with a abrupt and heavy THUD that even managed to shake the room a little.

I blinked rapidly in the dark left behind by the now doused candle that had clattered to the floor, trying to make out whatever I had just laid low on the ground. My heart racing in my chest, my blood pounding in my ears. A muffled groan broke through the adrenaline, and I nearly scoffed in exasperation. Remembering that there weren’t actually a lot of possibilities.

“Erramun!” I snapped at the large half-orc currently splayed out on my bedroom floor at my feet. “What in the nine HELLS do you think you are doing??”

“Gana!” He said in surprise, tugging at his hand still in my grip. “It’s you!”

“Of course it’s me!! Who else would it be??”

“I thought you were someone else!”

“In my personal rooms, you big idiot??” I retorted, then looked down, realizing I had twisted his arm back with his elbow facing out and his shoulder turned in the way Niko had shown me. Leaving the half-orc completely at my mercy. I was sorely tempted to twist it a little further in my ire. “Who do you think would be just randomly coming in here other than me??”

The dark shadow at my feet gave a growl, and I gave a startled yelp as suddenly I found my own feet swept out from under me. I landed heavily on my back with a gasp, too surprised to react properly. A meaty hand on one shoulder, and the rest of a big orc pining me down with his body crouched over mine.

“I dunno. Could’ve been anyone.” He grumbled, and I saw the glint of his eyes in the dark. “This place is very odd.”

His dark hair spilled like water around us, and I had to take a few moments to calm my swirling thoughts as the smell of him filled my nose. Not to mention the heat of his body, with his big thigh on my left and the other between my own legs. One hand was firmly planted on my shoulder, half-pining me to the floor, the other held one of my hands flattened to the ground by the wrist. I wriggled for half a second beneath him, then stopped dead as I heard him snort.

“Not many can get the jump on an orc.” He noted, sounding heavily amused. I thought I could see the flash of his teeth. “But nobody can best them in actual combat even if they do.”

My temper flared at that, and I twisted sharply. Reaching up with my free hand to catch the back of his neck and burying one knee straight up. Catching his inner thigh and with a sharp upward jerk at the same time as I yanked hard with my hand. Toppling him off balance just enough to use my own weight to flip the tides once more. Using his greater weight and size to roll myself with him.

Another breath later, and Erramun was back on his back, and I glared down at him with a small but satisfied scowl etched into my brow.

“Must not apply to half orcs.” I replied smugly.

I couldn’t see him well at first in the low light of the moon filtering in from the balcony window, but at least now my eyes were finally adjusting properly. I could make out the edge of his jaw, the breadth of his shoulders in the cream colored tunic. The side of his face closer to the window was also mostly visible. His black hair caught the moonlight with dazzling strands of silver, and I was pretty sure I saw his pronounced brow raise up. Thought I saw even a bit of the white in his eyes as he widened them. I could distinctly see them blink very slowly after that, and saw his wide nose flair. In fact, I could feel his entire chest rise and fall as he drew in a deep breath.

It was then my brain decided it fit to recall that I was currently sitting directly on top of the half-orc. My knees barely reached the ground on either side of him, my skirts bunched up at my thighs, and my hand was still cupped around the back of his neck. I had managed to free my other hand from his grip, and had his wrist now pinned above his head. Which brought me leaning perilously close. My own wild hair cascaded down like a net around my shoulders, and I realized my face was not all that far from his.

It seemed he had realized this same fact a that exact moment as well. We stared at each other for a long, quiet breath. Frozen in place. I found myself wondering distractedly how well Erramun could see in the dark. Was I just a shape bathed in a silver outline as he was? Or could he see the way I hovered over him, with the collar of my dress dangling a few inches from his shirt, baring the top of my chest to him? Could he see the expression on my face? And if he could, was he any better at reading it than I was at the moment? Could he see the flush of my cheeks, and hear the race of my pulse at his proximity?

I abruptly and quickly pushed away from him. Shoving him so hard in my retreat that he gave another soft grunt as I stood. My face was burning hot, despite my better judgement, and my head swirled as I tried to compose myself once more.

“You’re an idiot.” I grumbled defensively, smoothing my hands down my skirts as I took a few steps away.

“You’re impressive.” He returned, his voice a bit breathy. I saw him sit up, propping his knees and leaning on his elbows over them. “You fight better than some orcs I’ve met.”

“I thought no one could best an orc.” I chided him, carefully making my way over to the bedside table to find a fresh candle. “What are you even doing out of bed? I thought you were supposed to be resting.”

It took only a short minute of fumbling to light the candle, and when I turned to face him once more, he was still sitting on the ground. Looking up at me with emerald green eyes and his long locks spilling over his shoulders. He grinned a little sheepishly, and I had to force my heart to beat again in its wake.

“Some people can best an orc.” He said, as if deciding on it in that moment, then chewed at his thick lip thoughtfully. “Some people can beat some orcs.” He amended, and those lips split back into a wry, crooked grin. “And I got tired of resting. I’ve been resting for hours.”

“So you decided to tackle someone instead?”

His grin grew by a few molars, and I eyed him warily. “It was fun. At least for a moment.” He winced, and his hand went to his injured side. “I think I may have torn it open again.”

“Serves you right.” I grumbled, walking around to light a few more candles around the room. “Perhaps you should just stay on the floor all night then. Seeing as you seem to like being there. At least I’d get my bed back.”

He chuckled, and I heard him give a soft huff as he pulled himself back to his feet. When I shot him a glance over my shoulder, he was using the bedpost to steady himself. I watched him blink a few times, then shake his head stubbornly. I scoffed with a click of my tongue, putting down the candle in my hand and bustling over to him.

“Let me see.” I ordered him, reaching for the edge of his shirt.

He grunted, but didn’t argue, pulling up the hem over his navel. Exposing the wrappings to my critical eye. There was a spotting bloom of pink at the center, and I ran my fingers lightly around the edge thoughtfully.

“Well, the good news is I don’t think you made it worse.” I commended him, unable to resist the urge to skim my fingers over his skin a little. Checking to see if it was hot with infection, I assured myself. “The bad news is you’re still an idiot.”

He laughed again, and I felt it in my fingers currently pressed against his flesh. I straightened slightly, reluctantly removing my hand and trying to ignore the fresh flush that rose to my own face. Perhaps I was the one coming down with an infection instead, I reasoned distractedly.

I almost jumped as his hand came around, catching mine as it retreated. My eyes jumped to his face, and he tilted his head to the side slightly as he peered down at me. Those thick lips of his twisted into a fresh smirk, one side higher than the other. I resisted the urge to quiver at the sight.

“Lucky then that I have you, Gana.” He mused. “You have brains enough for the both of us.”

“And brawn.” I quipped, which only had his grin growing. I shuffled in place, glancing down at our hands before carefully pulling mine back. “Still. No more tackling people in the dark, agreed? Damjan won’t be happy if I return his tunic with blood stains all over it.”

Erramun nodded, slowly pulling his borrowed shirt back down. “Who is Damjan?”

I hesitated only a brief moment, turning to walk over to sit at the edge of the bed. “He’s the General of the goblin forces. Retired, supposedly. But that’s his wardrobe you’re wearing.”

That had a small flash of surprise rolling across his features. “He is large for a goblin then. Or is he human?”

I shook my head, then gave him a small grin of my own. “He’s goblin. Half-goblin at least. And half-orc.”

“Orc?” He echoed, and I wasn’t sure if it was nervousness or excitement that laced his voice. His smile had quickly faded.

I nodded, considering him. “Yes. He grew up here though. I don’t know if he’s ever met another orc. Though I suppose he must have at some point.”

Erramun nodded as well, chewing on his lip as he stared at the ground. I could almost see the thoughts swirling behind his eyes. I couldn’t help but notice that he looked a little relieved. I leaned forward on my hands currently propped at the edge of the bed.

“You avoiding all orcs at the moment?” I poked, curious despite myself.

His gaze darted up to me, then he shrugged his big shoulders, coming around to the edge of the bed slowly. “Just most.”

I tried not to stiffen as he sat next to me, the mattress depressing almost to the frame with his added weight. “Any particular reason why?” I asked warily. “You aren’t on the run, are you?”

The soft chuckle in his chest rumbled like distant thunder, and I felt goosebumps skitter across my flesh at the sound. He glanced at me again, then down at the floor.

“I worry they might try to stop me. If they found out.”

I waited for him to go on, to explain that further. When I was answered with nothing but silence, I shifted in my seat. Debating only for a moment whether or not I cared enough to pry further. But the curiosity proved too much, and I even leaned a little closer to him.

“Found out about what?”

He glanced at me again, and I froze as his eyes ran over my face. Especially the way he seemed equally distracted for a moment as his gaze met mine. I wasn’t sure how much time passed before he finally spoke. But found myself releasing a breath I hadn’t known I was holding when he did.

“Let’s just say I’ve got something to prove to my family.” He mumbled, then his eyes finally dropped away and he shifted. “We should leave it at that. I don’t want you to think I’m stupid.”

His voice was strangely soft again. The way it had been when he had first mentioned the plight of his people at the border. With that same look I had seen a hundred times before on my brother’s faces. The weight of a thousand weights, I called it. I didn’t quite like his face in that shape. It made him seem older, more tired. It hurt me a little to see that look on him, when usually his eyes were filled with such vigor and bravado. I leaned a little closer, nudging his shoulder with mine until he looked up at me again.

“... I already think you’re stupid.” I assured him lightly, and my teasing tones had a smile flicking across his lips again. “But you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

He nodded, and I saw his eyes shift between mine for a moment. “Thank you, Gana… You have been very kind to me. And I have given you nothing but trouble.” He leaned a little closer, and my breath caught in my throat. “I would like to give you something else. To repay you.”

It took me far too long to respond with his breath splashing across my face. With his eyes locked in mind. Heat swelled in my chest, and my heart fluttered behind it. I swallowed slowly, trapped in those emerald eyes of his.

“... Oh yeah?” I fumbled my lips around the soft words. “What would you give?”

He paused a moment, and I felt the bed shift beneath us as he adjusted his weight. Somehow managing to shift even closer to me.

“What would you like? What can I give you, that would make you happy?”

I laughed shyly, glancing down. Away from those entrancing eyes. “I don’t want for much here.” I assured him, my heart thrumming in my ears.

“Surely there must be something you don’t have. Something you want?” He pressed, his voice still whisper soft.

My hands twitched, and I brought them together to cup in my lap. Thumbing at one as I stared down at them. So aware of his proximity I couldn’t seem to draw in a deep enough breath for fear of pulling it from his lungs.

“Freedom.” I admitted quietly. “... To go where I want. To see the world.”

“I can give you that.”

I scoffed, shaking my head. “No one can give me that.”

“But I can take you with me.” He pressed. “I can bring you back to my home. It is wild and untamed. That is a start at least.”

I glanced up at him again, and found him closer than I had left him previously. He was leaning on one hand, twisted at the waist. Almost at my eye level with the gentle bow of his broad shoulders and the relaxed curve of his spine. If I moved too quickly our noses might brush together. I kept my breath trapped in my throat. I saw his eyes move, and my face suddenly blazed hot.

Abruptly, I stood, putting a few steps between us. Squeezing at my palm for a moment and feeling horribly, horribly foolish. It took a breath to steady myself, but I turned back for him.

“... You are not here to promise adventures to silly girls in castle towers.” I reminded him bitterly.

He started for a moment at that, staring at me a little wide eyed. The candlelight danced in those eyes, and I had to look away. I made the pretense of picking up the broken candle from the floor where I had dropped it earlier. I ran my thumb over the smooth wax, trying to calm my racing heart.

“No, I’m not.” He admitted, and my efforts were demolished by the skip of my heart at the regret in his tone. “... But if you help me win the Princess, then I can still give you want you want.”

I almost laughed, shaking my head and feeling the sinking weight of his words deep in my chest. Reminding myself why this man was even here in the first place, and chiding myself silently for forgetting. Trying to swallow the sudden disappointment in my throat.

“I can’t help you do that.”

“You’re the only one who can.” He pleaded. “I don’t know this world. I don’t know these people, but I need to. I need to be better, to be bigger than I am. It’s the only way to help my own people. I see that now. My plan was foolish, and I cannot do it alone.”

I was already shaking my head before he had finished speaking. “I cannot help you win the Princess.” I told him firmly, stubbornness lacing my breath. Still refusing to look up at him.

“Fine. Not the Princess.” He agreed, and I heard the creak of the bedframe as he stood. “Then help me learn to be someone worthy of her. Of this court. Teach me how to impress the Kings. How to talk without saying anything. How to dress, how to speak. How to be… human. And goblin, if needed.”

I did laugh now, and turned to toss the candle to a pile of rubbish to be taken out later. “That’s ridiculous. You don’t know what you’re asking.”

“So teach me.” He insisted, and his voice was closer. Somewhere only a few steps behind me. “Teach me to be better than I am, to be human enough to be at this court, to pass for one of the goblins, and I will take you far away from this place when I leave. I’ll even tell you stories of all the places I’ve been and the things I’ve seen in the meantime.”

I jumped as his hand grazed my elbow, and spun to face him once more. He peered down at me quietly for a long moment. Then his lopsided smile returned, and I felt my heart skip.

“I can’t give you your freedom, Gana.” His eyes sparkled with determination. “But I can give you the chance to take it.”

Excitement surged in my chest, and I felt the heat of my blood rushing through my veins. I felt the familiar itch; to run. To just go, to leave this place and never look back. To be out there, in the world where I so longed to be. I couldn’t quell the intensity of my desire, and felt it seep throughout my entire core. I saw his grin grow, and wondered if he could see it in my eyes. I chewed it over, trying to keep a level head. Trying to think it through.

“... No Princess? Just-”

“Just teaching.” He assured me. “Even if it doesn’t work, and the goblin Princess doesn’t like me and I go home, I’ll still take you with me.” His head cocked to the side. “If you want to go.”

It would never work. I had managed to smuggle him in, but I was only here for a month or two. Could I even smuggle him back to Geriveria? Or could I leave with him at the end, like he promised? Niko would never allow it. He’d send half of the Kingdom after me, and Val wouldn’t be far behind. Even Grier would think this was crazy. I didn’t know this man! I had no idea where he had come from, or what kind of person he was. And how was I supposed to keep him from figuring out who I really was? Once he found out that he couldn’t even use anything I’d taught him, surely he’d be mad. He would not keep his promise. Besides, how was I supposed to keep him hidden from my brother, the goblin King, my nosy nieces and nephews, my ladies-in-waiting, and everyone else in the entire castle? It was insane! It was dangerous! If I was caught, if Niko found out, if anyone saw him, who knows what they would do! And even if I could manage all that, two months was hardly enough time to train some wildling everything it had taken me a lifetime to learn. It was impossible. The odds were far too high, and the chances of success so slim I couldn’t even see them.

I felt a grin sliding across my face at the challenge raised, and felt my heart skip excitedly in my breast.

“You’ve got yourself a deal.”

To be continued ...

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adaru32 · 2 years

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The Red Devil’s Chronicles’ Devil May Cry January 2022 News Updates: Crypto Trouble, Anniversaries, Merch, etc.

Hey, how's it going? Hope everyone's 2022 year has started off all right. Here are all of January 2022's Devil May Cry related news updates I've found:

1. There's going to be another Devil May Cry V pachislot game.

2. CAPCOM is looking for content creators from USA.

3. January marks Johnny Bosch (Nero)'s and Morikawa Toshiyuki (Dante)'s birth dates.

4. The Deluxe version of Asmus Toys' DMCV Vergil figure comes with spiral swords. b) Speaking of figures, I came across this really nice-looking Trish one on Ebay from H3ll.

5. January marks the anniversaries of Devil May Cry 2, Devil May Cry 3 Special Edition, and Devil May Cry 4.

6. Prime1Studio celebrates Devil May Cry's 20th anniversary by selling certain merch that can only be found in the Shinjuku Marui Annex, in the Prime 1 Studio Gallery of Japan. b) Another thing you can find there.

7. Speaking of merch, the CAPCOM Cafe's holding another Devil May Cry V event this month with these cute little things available. b) And Dante's feature on the CAPCOM store's new art promo. c) And the CAPCOM store has these Devil May Cry V themed manicure sets. d) And more.

8. Crypto/NFT groups are stealing Casey Edwards' Devil May Cry V sound tracks. 9. The Visions of V manga got more updates.

My Thoughts On These Updates:

1. It's too bad that these pachislot/pachinko titles are exclusive to Japan, but we can thank Youtube for some of the wacky footage produced (these are from the previous pachislot title).

2. If I lived in USA and knew what to share from my own content I've created over the years, I would've loved to participate in the Capcom Creators program.

3. A happy (belated) birthday to Johnny and Toshiyuki. Great voice actors for sure.

4. I need more money....to have whatever figures Asmus toys creates. They definitely have improved on their figure building. I'm not much into female character usually, but that Trish figure looks really nice.

5. Happy anniversary to the 3 Devil May Cry games that came out January many years ago. I remember after playing the 1st Devil May Cry how excited I was to play DMC2. Even though I've played games since my preschool/kindergarten years, I still didn't understand gaming at first, I thought DMC2 was better than DMC1 due to the visuals, and stuff. But as the years went by, I understood more and can definitely see the reasons for the backlash with this game. But without it, there wouldn't have been a DMC3 to make up for the mistakes. And it had some pretty great concepts with it, too. Speaking of DMC3...Ahh, Special Edition. After playing the original 3rd, I got hyped when I found out that you can play as Vergil (my 2nd favourite character), fight Jester as a mini boss, and unlock more bonus content. Despite the lack of extra levels, I still enjoyed it. DMC4 on the other hand, I was so hyped about this game until I saw how repetitive and unfinished it was. Don't get me wrong, I still enjoy the cinematics, characters, and gameplay mechanics, but this game definitely needed more stuff happening.

6 and 7. That's awesome what CAPCOM features on their promo art for their store, and those acrylic stands in the next cafe event look so adorable. Japan really has better things when it comes to video game stuff. I got curious and looked up Devil May Cry stuff on Ebay, and I found out that you can get quite a bit of the CAPCOM store items on there, especially the Prime1Studio statues. Thing is, I'm not sure if Japan ships to Canada. Even if they did, it's very costly (according to the prices displayed). It's interesting that they have a manicure set 'cause I happen to be an aesthetician (someone who does nails and skincare stuff), so these would be interesting to have for my own enjoyment when taking care of my nails, especially the fact that they come with oils that are supposed to smell like the character fragrances.

8. If there's one thing I can't freaking stand, it's art thieves. Always get permission from artists if you want to share or sell something from them, even if they're credited properly. I've had to deal with a few Devil May Cry Facebook groups (and I got kicked out of 3 of them for this reason) for sharing fan art without the artists' permissions. Yes, giving proper credit like profile links and such is great, but please...please...PLEASE ask permission from them before sharing their stuff? If anything, you're just a clout chaser that’s stealing their clout and motivation of wanting to continue making any more content more than helping them out. I admit that I made these mistakes on my Facebook pages in the past, but I've removed all of them since 2020 and don't plan on reposting fan content anymore (except mod links) , unless I get permission which I will show proof of. I really hope that Casey gets his songs back. 9. I've been seeing some image previews and fan reactions on Twitter often of the Visions of V manga's continuation, but I still need to catch up. Glad it's still ongoing compared to the DMC1 comics and DMC3 mangas.

#devil may cry #dmc #the red devil's chronicles #trdc #news #updates

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bioodorange · 3 years

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||How I See The Pastas||

This was originally supposed to be how they looked but I decided to go for mental aspect and explain why as well PLEASE like, reblog and share your thoughts on this in the comments or inbox

Below the desciptions are images i’ve compiled and some art (if you know the creator please tell me so i can credit them) for a visual

dont forget to like reblog and share your thoughts with me, I spent a few days on this so i’d appreciate this

Jeff the Killer

So lets start with the obvious- jeffs pasty white toothpaste lookin skin

But realistically he wouldn’t be completely covered in scars

It would be blotchy, with pink fleshy patches among the burns

He most likely has contracture scars, third degree burns that turn the skin a pale white and tighten the skin

This explains his gaunt features and skin color

Now we have to take into account the vodka that was splashed on him, he’d probably have worse burns there with exposed flesh and damaged nerves

This would result in gnarly exposed skin, a damaged scalp and maybe damage to his teeth and eyes

Realistically, Jeff wouldnt have burned off his eyelids that alone would have resulted in blindness and death

Than his smile, his signatuure mark would probably be more of a gangly bloody scar mess

Pastas heal faster and aren’t really human, he’d have to recut his smile pretty frequently making it pretty jacket up because ltes be honest hes far from clean

ANd than his hait being chard black is very unlikely because as nasty as he is he s h o w e r s

not very frequnetly given his living situation and untreated burns but people can figure out how to wash hait and not much else

also i think its funny he’d shower with a plastic bag on his face to avoid getting soap in his nasty infected scars-

His hair would probably be dry and cut unevenly, more of a dark brown color with blonde undertones

Not to mention his burned scalp, hair probably wouldn’t grow there so he’d have a cool unintentional side shave

Jeff would also be a tall individual, he cant really eat, snacking on things from his victims homes giving him a more skeletal build

His personality and mindest is about as pretty as his face- but he most likely has a very screwed up headspace

Lacking in self care, maturity and sanity its fair to say he’d be a brash and violent person

Fun Fact: While researching this I learned that some versions of the joker had facial scars in the shape of a smile

Ticci Toby

So tobys age, unlike a lot of pastas, is pretty well agreed on, 19

So unlike when he was first a proxy toby most likely has stronger facial features and facial hair

Because shaving and hygiene isn’t first priority for pastas (gross-)

He stands around 5′7 and has grayish skin

Toby i feel is picky about foods, not only is it hard for him to eat its hard for him to keep food down

He’s malnourished explaining his thin figure and grayish skin

His hait is dark brown and a curlish mess, unkempt but short so it doesn’t get in his way

I’ve always seen him with a small gap in his teeth, because I can

And since toby can’t feel shit I wouldn’t be surprised if he tried to eat rocks simply because he fuckin could

So some chipped teeth that are a bit uneven

Along with his CIPA and not eating enough Toby would bruise easily and have lots of scars, from things like cutting his finger on accident or getting mauled by a racoon

I wouldn’t be surpised if some of his joints were a bit screwed up, because whenever theyd beak or fracture he wouldn’t notice, this would probably happen a lot causing them to not heal correctly

One of tobys habits is nailbiting but he cant te;; when too far is too far

His fingers may be abit odd looking, knobby and discolored nails because of how exetreme his habit is

Would most likely have bandages around his fingers frequently to prevent the habit

So theres a lot of debate about tobys cheek was it the CIPA or the car accident, I beileve the accident because his other cheek is completely fine, theres damage from the OUTSIDE to inside and considering his sister died in the accident its unlikely he survived unscathed

Fun Fact: only a small handful of people have ever been diagnosed with CIPA, less than 500 (documented) cases around the world

Bloody Painter

So Helen is often seen as quiet emo painter boy

but uh no <3

Personaly i beileve he suffers from narcisistic personality disorder, exetreme importance and that he is always victorious and gets what he wants

This sporuts from the constant heavy invalidation from classmates, toxic friends and neglect from his parents

He doesn’t hang out with people because he doesn’’t lie them its because they never let him in the past and he beileves he’s better than them

But this also links to deep rooted insecurity and social anxiety/being inept completely

Him being nice is basically so you like him, he wants validation amd admiration not love

Unlike the other pastas he’d be a more clean well kept one a helthy figure and some tattoos bevause he can

I beileve he lives in socity, finding hus victims in girls and men alike who fall for his charm

he uses hhis skill and ordinary appearance to blend in on the streets

From his behavior helen most likely keeps his hair a bit shorter and clean

He always looks his best

Has chapped, and picked at lips because of his anxieties

Aswell as his breakdowns- his identity is completely in his head, he is very unsure of who he is and takes the delusions in his mind as reality

Unrelated but paino fingers-

And finally in order for his art to be as perfect and amazing as him, he has to be apart of it

Thus using his own blood in his pieces and the body parts of those he admires

Covers his scars with clean bandgaes

But his paintings turn brown and dry out, he’s always in need of a new medium

Is most likely anemic from all the blood he looses and has a paler skintone

Clockwork

ahh yes finally someone who knows what self care is-

helen, i love you buddy but you need to stop

But anyway natalie has a stronger, athletic build

She often chases her victims and gets in altercations, relying on strength most of the time

on that same note, this would defintelty cause many scars on natalie

Wether it was a bite mark or scars from a kitchen knife, shes got lots of scars

A few even on her face

Now, for the clock in her eye that thing is like holding her skull together at this point, realistically

She is probably delicate and cares for it becaise 1) it hurts 2) if it gets screwed up that could cause a lot of problems

natalie would be a smart person, I wouldn’t be surprused if she had a few other stray stitches or bandgaes wrapped around a fresh wound

For more visual-ish things uh m u l l e t (credit: @cum-looking-sock-mf in a chat like 4 months ago)

She has one, fight me on it

but also thick and curlish hair so I also riase you

Undershave

just y e s

I can also see her getting tattoos over certain scars on her arm, just to make them look not so ugly

I feel like clockwork wishes things worked out better

Wishes for another chance but knows she’ll never get one

Thus her taking goof care of herself

Natalie throws herseld into her “work”, keeping her body in shape and killing people

Its a way to avoid her life and that it is- a huge, sad mess

Shes an outgoing impulsive individual, confident but questions her actions

She’s also unstable- protective and loyal but explosive and strong

Jane the Killer

Jane is the final one, im sorry I couldn’t do more theres a photo limit and I wanna bash my head into the wall

Now a main different between her and jeff is she had surgery and lie treatment

Janes skin is still greatly scarred but it is greatly healed

She takes care of it and had skin grafts

Her face is disfigured, a scarred smile and burns around

But unlike Jeff she doesn’t recarve the cut so its a cleaner line and a lot healthier

Janes hair took a rather long time to grow back, but it did!

She has a slightly long pixie cut a bit choppy but she doesn’t mind

Her wife definetely cuts it for her and you can fight me over that

I can see Jane having a lot of facial trauma, scars around her nose and cheeks

She was young when she started killing and went for the over the person, pin them down kill which didn’t work out

She switched to a silenced pistol after awhile, you know like a smart person

Janes arms and legs are in alright condition where most of the burn trauma is on her back

She has a leaner but healthy figure but like boobs-

Like clockwork and Helen she takes care of herself

She doesn’t kill as frequently, going after a few of jeffs victims before him and is of course, actively hunting him down

Her eyes are a pale green and she wears makeip to fill in her eyebrows because those bitches take a long time to grow back

fun fact: jeff has no eyebrows, fight me

#jeff the Killer #creepypasta #creepypasta headcanons #slenderverse #slenderverse headcanons #jeff the killer head canons #ticci toby headcanons #ticci toby #bloodypainter #bloodypainter headcanons #clockwork headcanons #clockwork #jane the everlasting head canons #jane the everlasting #jane the killer #jane the killer headcanons

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fricklefracklefloof · 2 years

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tag game!! ty @pocketsizedquasar for tagging me :))

1- Why did you choose your url

my url is just the same un i use for other sites that i post art on (instagram, deviantart, etc) BUT the original idea came from when i was in... shudders... middle school... there was a short period of time where i kept saying "FRICKLE FRACKLE" as a substitute for fuck or something and then i just tacked on floof because i'm a furry

i've been wanting to change my url for like a month now i'm just too scared of change lol </3

2- Any side blogs?

not... really? except for @jesperofficial but that's a joke soc roleplay blog i don't use anymore

3- How long have you been on tumblr?

since 2019 i think? it's been over a year

4- Do you have a queue tag?

no because i rarely queue you get my posts when you get them

5- Why did you start your blog in the first place?

i started this blog as a throwaway account because i wanted to join the grishaverse big bang. i didn't even want to join tumblr at the time but i wanted to be a part of the event more so i made it just so they'd have something to link back to LMAO. but then i started like... yknow talking to people who only used this site... and then i started lurking when i was really really bored... and then my friends convinced me to check the site like every day... and then i started posting only my fanart and then i downloaded the app on my phone and it was just downhill from there. sigh.

6- Why did you choose your icon/pfp?

i just like guillermo i just really like how his face came out in that drawing he looks cute <3

7- Why did you choose your header?

umm i like using my own art for stuff like this bc it makes me feel better about using images that i've created myself instead of possibly stealing from someone else and i think that drawing was cute it makes me happy :) it's kinda old though i might change it plus the fact that i added like 2394587394587 filters to it to make it fit the pink aesthetic is showing painfully

8-What’s your post with the most notes?

this jon + the admiral comic i made a while ago :) it's cute i think it's a bit cheesy and also kinda old but i'm very very proud of how i drew the admiral in that one so i'm happy that this one ended up being my top post lmao

9- How many mutuals do you have?

shit idk i don't really like the whole "mutual" thing i think we should just be friends instead of pretending that we are

10- How many followers do you have?

405 :o i didn't know that

11- How many people do you follow?

368! i don't even remember who i follow sometimes lmao

12- Have you ever made a shitpost?

probably

13- How often do you use Tumblr each day?

at least once a day </3 used to hate myself for it but now i just embrace it

14- Did you have a fight/argument with another blog once?

ummm i mean i GUESS you could call them fights i've gotten anon hate for stupid shit and have had um. Discussions with people about racism in the grishaverse but most of them were pretty one-sided i've never had full on reblog chains or Tumblr User Fricklefracklefloof Vs Other Tumblr User fights it's just. someone saying something and then me replying. i try to be civil.

although i did have a friend once (or ig we were just "mutuals") who flat out blocked me with no response after i said something mildly accusatory and i still haven't recovered from that </3 just communicate with me please goddamn

15- How do you feel about “you need to reblog this” posts?

i get the point they're trying to make but they're guilt trippy and ultimately don't end up solving the issue they think they're solving. (i'm assuming we're talking about the human rights posts that are all like "if you don't reblog this you're a monster!!" etc etc.) yes it's important to speak up about issues but by telling people they Have To Reblog This Or Else it just... scares people into supporting something without going through the critical thinking about it. at least that's how i see it. you can't truly support something if you don't understand wtf you're talking about. reblogging something like that for the sake of reblogging it is just... well it's performative.

16- Do you like tag games?

yes :)

17- Do you like ask games?

YEA THEY SEEM FUN i've never done one before bc idk i'm scared no one's gonna wanna do it with me but yes i think i would enjoy them

18-Which of your mutuals do you think is Tumblr famous?

oh i know who is tumblr famous but i don't wanna out them like that

19- Do you have a crush on a mutual?

ahaha! ahahahaha! that's funny i'm not sharing that

tagging @souleatering (or whatever blog you wanna use wybie idk) @jawbonemage and whoever else wants to :)

#tag game

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catboycafe · 3 years

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I Will Now Express Every Thought I Have About Pacific Rim: The Black

⚠️ spoilers for the whole thing baby

I actually forgot Pacific Rim: The Black was premiering today until I saw it in an article this morning! When I first heard about it months ago, I was decidedly not sold on a Pacific Rim anime. Uprising burnt me the fuck out and I don’t have a lot of trust left in me for new entries to the franchise. But I had heard rumblings of Raleigh and Herc being referenced after going into #pacificrim and I decided I may as well check out to see what was up! I binged it in 4 hours and it sure was a whirlwind, I’ll tell ya

The Plot

I really enjoy the setting and initial concept! We’re so use to seeing Kaiju/Jaegar shenanigans play out within these major cities with helpless civilians everywhere that spending so much time in a lonesome desert and these destroyed civilizations was really cool and indicative of the changes Pacific Rim has undergone in the last few years. I also looooved the Desert Settlement from the beginning!! It seemed really homey and picturesque; I wish we’d spent more time with the other survivors and got to see more of their day to day aside from farming and sitting.

I also found the first episode set up to be really tight and well written! I was hooked during the initial flashback, Hayley and Taylor’s fight was really poignant and well acted, and the reveal of Atlas Destroyer felt really huge and epic!!

But once we left the Desert Settlement and the plot started actually moving along, the pacing becomes suuuper rough. We spent way too long in Bogan with Shane and Mei; there’s only 7 episodes and we spent, like, 3? 4? within the confines of that camp and I felt it weighed the plot down. Boy is introduced in the 2nd episode and, because the narrative spends so much time on Shane’s evil machinations and Mei’s back story, we still don’t know anything concrete about his origins or purpose 3 episodes later! That felt frustrating to me

The story beats overall were very predictable. I was able to pick up on Mei’s backstory via her dynamic with Shane in their introductions, so her memories felt too built up and too hollow once they were revealed. The same with the reveal of Boy’s Kaiju form; he was in a big green test tube in a PPDC base - I assumed immediately he was a part-kaiju experiment and again his reveal felt hollow, especially after the glacial pace of it’s development.

Even when events weren’t predictable, they lacked weight. The appearance of several Kaiju Breaches in “Boneyard” felt very cheap for some reason; I wasn’t scared and I didn’t feel tense about these odds mounting against the protagonists. This was just happening and I was just watching.

The Art Direction and Animation

I’m very obsessed with all the new Kaiju we got from this; I love how Copperhead is rendered, they’re a joy to see on screen!! The Rippers are also very cute and deserve little plushies...i love these neat little dogs. Boy’s Kaiju Form is very intimidating with an interesting color palette and I loved seeing him next to Copperhead’s highly saturated design!

That’s unfortunately all that I liked however; All the human character design is unmemorable to me. Every character looks exactly like another easily identifiable anime character from a different property (Hayley looks exactly like Zero Suit Samus to me, for example. And Mei kept reminding me of both Bernadetta Fire Emblem and Motoko Kusanagi from GitS. The list goes on).

I can sort of understand why they’re so bland? A franchise going from Live Action to something as heavily stylized as anime is probably a really difficult transition and these designs are probably meant to be more lowkey than more unique anime designs in order to help that transition. But realistically stylized designs can still be recognizable and unique! These feel uninspired and bare bones.

I have no problem with the switch to CGI animation that modern anime is doing because I know it’s a lot cheaper to produce and it can still be really unique and striking! But The Black’s model animation felt very stilted and inconsistent. I don’t have a lot of knowledge about animating so I don’t think I can accurately describe what I disliked? Wooden is probably the best term. Character movements felt wooden and things like hair and clothes felt plastic.

Impacts also had very little weight. The fight between Tayler/Mei and Copperhead reminded me of when you’re in a dream and trying to punch something, but you can’t punch hard. It was simply too floaty and too soft. The final showdown in “Showdown” was better, but not by much. It was very immersion breaking seeing these Giant Robots and Giant Monsters unable to throw a real solid hit!

Characters

My favorite character was unequivocally Joel Wyrick. We love Joel Wyrick in this house! Joel’s character has real charisma and charm. I love his flirtations with Loa, how his cocky disposition is juxtaposed with his drinking problem and later insecurities over his lost memories, and his genuine kindness shown to Mei, Taylor, and Boy. No one ever plays with Boy, they just run after him and drag him around...but Joel has this moment in “Escape from Bogan” where he kneels down to Boy and helps him collect rocks. It was sweet!

So of course, when Joel dies for absolutely no reason 5 minutes later - pissed! I was pissed! I yelled “COME ON” aloud in my studio apartment! I was genuinely so excited to see him interact more with the rest of cast then, poof. No More Joel.

His death felt like it was for shock value to me rather than actual narrative development. Why kill him when we still don’t fully understand his and Mei’s relationship? Why were they so close? Were they childhood friends, or just coworkers that happen to become friends? Why did he specifically know all the details of Shane’s abuse towards Mei before she did?

What did his death accomplish? It made Mei sad...ok? She was already...very sad. Her running away from Shane already had consequences - the consequences of Shane coming after them for revenge in the future. Why did Joel have to become a causality?

His death is ultimately tied to Mei’s character arc which is, unfortunately, my least favorite :c I find Mei to be a really one dimensional character with a personality, backstory, outlook, and motivation that I’ve seen done a million times before with a million other characters. She feels very out of place in the franchise as a whole - Pacific Rim is, at it’s core, a story about connecting with others. Her self-centric arc and lack of desire to connect outside of drifting really alienates her from the story at large and it frustrates me how long The Black’s narrative spends on her.

Hayley and Taylor were otherwise very interesting in the pilot episode, but become similarly one dimensional at the story chugs on. Taylor’s unflinching (bordering on unhealthy) faith in their parents was really interesting next to Hayley’s complete acceptance of their parents’ death. But once the two of them make up their differences, they lack an interesting dynamic and become very passive protagonists.

Taylor especially has no personality - how would you describe Taylor? He’s...brave. He’s the older brother. He’s a leader? He’s nice? There is nothing noteworthy about him at all, which is sad considering I think he has the potential to be a really interesting way to explore the original movie’s influence on The Black’s story.

Hayley’s grief and self-blame are more interesting than Taylor’s...nothingness, but she still falls into this one-note trope of being the naive, excitable little sister. I guess I feel abnormally frustrated about this flat character writing because Pacific Rim’s incredibly unique cast has always been an inspiration to me! It feels sad that this new iteration into the series is full of what feel like stock characters.

Then we get to Boy. How come Boy can’t have a person name? It’s specifically written in a dialogue between Taylor and Hayley: “I’m not going to call him Chad or Barnaby or one of those names for a baby brother you wanted as a kid,”

Why?

He’s by all accounts a human child when they find him. Yes, he was found in a big green test tube - but he walks and acts just like a human child. The only difference, seemingly, is that he is non-verbal and engages in strange/annoying behavior (running off, eating bugs, etc). So he isn’t deserving of a name?? I don’t know why that makes me so mad, it just does. it’s like they refuse to treat him as a human even before they find out he’s a Kaiju - it’s super weird! How can the story sell me on the three of them becoming found family (like they’re seemingly trying to do) if the protagonists won’t even treat this kid like a kid??

Misc. Thoughts

The callbacks to Stacker, Herc, and Raleigh were cool! I also like that Herc is a major plot point! We love Herc Hanson and it’s what he deserves. I also find Loa’s connection to Horizon Bravo very interesting...and the fact we’re getting Kaiju cultist lore! Love that! Love that!

Fucked up that the only two dark skinned characters were: 1) removed from the story 10 minutes in with no call back yet, 2) Killed after having 1 line of dialogue and fridged for the character development of the blonde white girl. I really need to know what the deal with those 4 characters leaving in the beginning was about - I absolutely thought we’d see them again by now, but no dice

I don’t know how to feel about Ajax and have no clue what their purpose in the story is. They’re cool, but whats the point?

If Mei and Taylor are paired up together romantically, I’m putting Craig Kyle and Greg Johnson in the time out box. Very tired of seeing random hetero romance B plots in stories that can’t even get their A plots together

Overall, it’s kind of subpar! It has the foundations of a really interesting story, but the pacing and characters really took me out of it. I’m interested in Season 2! I know season 2 is already ordered and I’d love to see how things continue to develop, see if the character writing gets any better - but I’m not too hopeful unfortunately. I really really love Pacific Rim after all these years and I’m happy to still be getting content and world building! There’s just sooo much I would change about this however. At least fanfiction’s free!

Thanks for reading all this, I have ADHD and just go on and on if u let me. hmu if You Too have thoughts about Pacific Rim: The Black and have no one to talk abt them with

#pacific rim #pacific rim: the black #pacific rim the black #taylor travis #hayley travis #long post #sorry this is thousands of words. i contain multitudes

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