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capslocked · 8 months

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DIPLOMACY

male reader x kim minju

7k words

For those not paying attention - of which there seems to be an increasing number - it’s not that she doesn’t have the pedigree. But just shy of getting into that storied history or into the nitty-gritty of her curriculum vitae, the only thing that really matters is:

"This all seems a little beneath me."

It’s another day of this. Of you, of her, of trying to gather the mien of someone who isn’t utterly disarmed by Minju’s usual, beautiful, challenging self. Which, let’s be honest, is always an uphill battle.

Minju nearly pouts, flipping through a copy of the dossier idly from the other side of the desk in a gesture that reads both bored and dismissive and every little thing it needs to annoy you.

"Look," you offer up, graciously diplomatic all things considered, "it's about finding the right springboard, to something else more… substantial."

"Or to something else, you know, beneath me." Her red lips turn down ever so slightly. She doesn't seem so interested in playing ball on this one. And, for you, amounts to something of a huge problem.

See, Minju doesn't quite understand how the working world really, actually works. That the carrot that's dangled in front of her is your carrot just as much as it is hers - that you stand to lose out just as badly. That it's both of your asses on the line if things fall apart and Minju's shortsighted insistence to only work those certain roles befitting a name like hers puts that all at risk.

"Maybe you can tell me something,” you start, coming across more curt than you possibly intended - but not by much, “how many of your former cohorts have had their career aspirations line up with reality, Miss Kim?"

“I’m picky, not naive,” she sighs, not missing a beat, and you watch her dark hair cascade gently down her shoulder when she reaches a hand back to unfix her loose ponytail from its hair clip.

“You might see how I can get the two confused.”

“Then spare me the lecture,” says Minju.

Though she says nothing else, an unspoken you already get paid too much for that hangs in the air.

The tricky part is that no matter what else Minju does, her contract has some non-negotiable clauses to them that no talent has before, or will likely get afterwards. Things that cannot be broken. Like the requirement of her making x number of media appearances, and she gets to approve all of them.

Or that her agent's take home comes from a fixed fifteen percent of her gross earnings, with further incentives when her roles hit specific milestones. But with her refusing projects like the ones in the dossier before you, it leaves you in the unenviable position of losing out on your guaranteed fixed income or trying to convince your diva talent to do what it is she ought to be doing.

The truth is that there’s quite a long list of things no one has had the guts to say ‘no’ to yet.

And, well, it's rather simple and obvious when you look at her:

Minju is that particular blend of A-lister gorgeous. The special look that’s all kinds of mesmerizing and magnetizing, in full bloom - that makes you feel like you're suffocating in beauty. Like if she said come here, you would go; the type where a single look is all it takes and then - just like that - she's got your number forever.

Because everything about her is tailored - from her clothes to her perfect porcelain features. And they made her that way for a purpose: to sell records. (Which, that's exactly what they did.) You can hardly blame the people in power over there, wanting what's best, in a position where everyone would kill for a taste, or even just a glimmer of possibility.

"I don't suppose the part of the governor’s neglected wife is capturing your imagination.” You push the dossier closer, and she doesn’t so much as look at it. “It’s this year’s big budget political thriller, a shoo-in for awards.”

“You mean the one who ends up in a lot of very steamy shots on the apartment’s rooftop pool. Maybe I’m mistaken, but you can’t really unshow your tits.”

"This isn't about being above, Miss Kim, it's about being well regarded; it’s about proving you’re easy to work with,” you argue. “We could-"

"Find a better use of my time?" she cuts in, closing the dossier shut. There's a long moment in which she's looking you over, her gaze sizing up every little inch.

"Your big break won't happen just because you ask for it." You grimace a bit, hating to tell it like it is, but not really wanting to just coddle her either. "But listen - we work together, one project at a time - we can build up to it."

Minju crosses her arms with a loud hmph. "And what are you going to do if I decide not to accept these projects?"

There’s enough edge in her voice that it gives you pause.

"If," she says again pointedly, a teasing little grin tugging at her lips.

So - actually, another thing: when you start digging into the details, there’s more problems than just what can be seen at the surface. Which perhaps it’s too reductive, but essentially everything between you and the talent sitting on the other side of your desk is not quite so straightforward. It was never about Minju doing the best she could for either of your careers; it was about Minju making sure her needs were taken care of, no matter what.

Months ago, thanks in part to the way Minju filled out this tiny black excuse of a cocktail dress, and as a compromise of sorts, there’s an uncharacteristic mistake you ended up making. Or two or maybe a couple.

Because there’d been the perfect backdrop - an end of year party, beautiful dresses and suits, lots and lots of champagne, the kind of jovial mood that inspired one drink too many - and then you and her, taking off down one of the hallways, towards the exit.

Of course, you ended up exactly where neither of you should have ever been - where the snow was falling gracefully and melting into the pavement, behind a private accessway at the back of the venue, somewhere dark and dingy and dripping with a smell reminiscent of garbage; somewhere your hands had gripped firm fistfuls of Minju’s waist before you shoved her up against the back of the building.

In short:

You remember how she gasped when her palms hit the brickwork, how you figured you may as well give her everything she wants.

(So what, it was one time, you hear yourself explaining, mildly repentant, and to say that it’s complicated the matter is a massive fucking understatement.)

In the interest of full disclosure, you tell her, “what exactly did you have in mind?”

"That maybe," she hums, tongue flicking out over her lips before she purses them thoughtfully. "You should persuade me a little better."

"And let’s suppose, I don’t do any of that," you persist.

"It'd be a shame, wouldn't it, having such a promising future cut short so early? If word got out. From such a respectable agency too, of all places. Couldn't live with yourself," Minju remarks, leaning forward on her elbows until her eyes are level with your own. “Come to think of it, it’s the kind of thing that could totally, like, end your career.”

But as she sits there, arching that perfect brow again, you don't feel so good about the whole thing. You take another look at her - which, your mistakes start there, if nowhere else - at the girl that is somehow not the airheaded starlet she’s supposed to be. No, she’s calculating. A rarity, though you do know the type: here’s a girl who just happened to take her brains for granted in the years she was pampered by the industry - the same one that fattened on her only to later spit her out. And that thought, the look of cold intellect in her eyes and the slight upward curl at the corner of her mouth, has you frozen just a bit stiff.

She takes a key card from her clutch, and throws it onto the desk in front of you.

“Minju,” you caution, and there’s a taste of danger on each syllable of her name - more of a warning for yourself than you can conceive of it ever being for her.

"I'm only suggesting" - she’s watching you nearly fucking choke, amused - "what's best."

And when the lines get muddied between the two of you, that's exactly the issue. What's best. As though this was always Minju's aim. Maybe you've read it wrong, maybe you've gotten too lost in your own delusions, maybe - maybe, it doesn’t matter -

"For work," she adds, at which point her knee bumps yours playfully beneath the desk, leaving the suggestion open, and the implication unmistakable. "Whatever's required."

Here, you should definitely tell Minju no. Say no. Say: you're a professional, and getting involved with her, romantically, officially, personally - whatever - would lead to nothing but disaster. That’d be the responsible thing probably. It’d be generous to say you end up getting even halfway there:

"There's rules against this, you know."

Minju tips her head. “Why ever would there be rules in place against doing your job?”

She thinks that if she feigns being clueless, you'll bite, which -

“Against me folding you over this desk and fucking you until your forget your name.”

"My apologies," she practically coos, knowing that she’s not only made progress, but that she’s wrapping you around her finger. She is a bright girl after all. “You might see how I can get the two confused.”

At that, you figure, the only real move, to be perfectly blunt, is to play Minju at her own game -

To convince her to bend, just a little. To persuade her. So you lean closer, you start to promise, with your face just next to hers:

"You want me to show you how I might handle an uncooperative talent? Would that do it for you, huh?"

And now if that isn’t enough to earn you a whole look, one that’s equally a challenge and a triumph; you watch as she bites the inside of her cheek, not that she can help the smirk creeping across her pretty mouth, a grin full of want and need and all those dangerous, thrilling thoughts that're probably too predictable given your unique sliver of history you’ve already carved out.

She arches that perfect brow of hers once more, toying with the corner of her lip between her teeth.

You navigate around your desk to hand her your pen, with instructions that are perfectly clear: "then for once in your life, be useful, and sign on the fucking dotted line."

And her whole act falls apart just like that.

She’s humming almost pleasantly to herself as you settle in flush behind her, sinking into you just a little when your hand arrives at her waist, another carding through her hair. “Here,” you point out, watching her name materialize in ink on the document - pressing your lips to the nape of her neck each time she finishes penning out an exaggerated curl of a u.

“And here.”

“And here."

She signs again - and again - and that merits a reward; she’s good when she wants to be. Persuasive when she needs to be.

You can hear her murmur your name when your mouth slips just beneath her jaw, when you mark your next path across the bare skin of her shoulder and when she gets started on the last page of the documents, it happens just like this -

The pen drops from her fingers at some point, tumbling onto the desktop with a clack that might as well be a round leaving the chamber of a starting pistol. The office door isn't even locked and you have half a mind to check on the blinds, but the idea of some desperate executive running face first into this scene - where you’re smoothing your hands down the fabric of Minju’s top, down the rise of her jeans, fiddling slowly with the button at her waist - it holds an unfortunate sort of appeal; those blinds, they're mostly closed anyway. And at this hour of the afternoon, well - maybe it’s a little more clear why Minju asked to reschedule this meeting in the first place.

At first, it’s just a few of your fingers dipping under the waistband of her pants, following the curve of her hip, her thigh, then inward, and when you reach down to find her already burning up in anticipation, she inhales sharp, a noise that makes you groan in turn, low, right into the hollow behind her ear. Minju, to her credit, is absolutely willing, so very helpful and - as you pinch the soft, tender skin at her hip, she's saying something but you haven't quite paid it a moment's mind.

Her head turns, eyes looking up at you ever-so-slightly-more-vulnerable than their usual mischief and calculation, and there’s a hint of a demand dancing on her tongue, ready and waiting; she moves her leg upwards just a few inches, settling to rest her knee on top of the tabletop, a calculated little pose, angling her hips so you can sink your hand lower, closer, press your fingers into the lace over her hot cunt even deeper.

Here you figure you're probably ruining the fabric, drenching it in her own slick as you work two, then three fingertips in tight circles. You’ll ruin it, and you’ll ruin more - ruin everything and take what you're owed. As her breath hitches again, in some way that makes your senses come to life: you can feel her skin become taut and tense, gooseflesh rising when your hand untangles from her hair and slides up under her shirt, can hear the steady rush of blood in your ears, her pulse quickening, the heart in her chest beating rapid -

(She can pretend all she wants that this was an attempt at extortion. She can pretend she’s not an easy read; that she doesn’t like being easy for you, when she’s hot and whimpering and aching so wet, creaming on your fingers when you haven’t even gotten her pants off.)

- as if every part of her wasn't made for this, as you lay out your first real proposal:

“Do you remember what I asked you? The first time, right after you signed on, when you were so good for me up against the bricks in the alley?”

Minju chokes out an affirmative when you toy with her pussy where she’s craving the shape of anything, but, boy, are the rough pads of your fingers more than up to the task.

"I remember you almost couldn't answer, you didn't dare want to admit that it's what you needed - isn't that right?"

She moans with a voice thick as honey when a couple more fingers brush up against her wet lips and fuck, she does look breathtakingly good; she's exquisite, she's irresistible - the image of a living wet dream.

"Say it, baby," you croon, her voice beginning to melt a bit at the edges, her own heat burning her resolve up from the bottom up as you tug sharply at a string on her lace.

Minju sighs. Arches into your touch.

Because you’re settling into this torturous pattern, where you draw inwards, closer, so close to the little bundle of nerves, her cunt flexing and rippling hungrily when your fingers flick once or twice around it, only for her to wince just slightly as your fingers trace down towards her entrance to start all over again -

Minju steels herself, drawing in a heavy breath past her teeth. “You asked how rough you could be.”

There's something so painfully wicked, how her voice falters there - but then your own voice is rasping right back in a similar caliber of depravity.

“Hm. That’s pretty close to how I remember it.” After all, you are always taking care of Minju - her concerns, her contracts, her needs. So if she was interested, why the fuck would you hold back on providing exactly what she wants. “But help me out, what did you tell me?”

Another twist - another catch. Another push - another pull. She's going to break so sweetly if you're patient - and, ahh, patience - she's shuddering underneath your touch, squirming against you so nicely that you've already gotten away with a bit too much, this much, these fingers and you and Minju's breathy gasps.

"M-that you could be. That you could-" she stutters, all as you feel her folds start to swell, then quiver, as your thumb drags painfully over her clit again -

And in that moment Minju starts to consider if this were a good idea or not, but her back is already arching against your chest. She's gripping your arm to get you right where she wants you, and the reality of this hits her - a rush of cold clarity through her head just as everything else threatens to spiral into something else, something frantic, something hot and animal and making the muscles at her core begin to clench up.

But you just ease out of her completely, a whine coming out from the back of Minju's throat - her thighs parting further in desperation.

And oh, the disappointment, the sound, it’s incredible - a high pitch - almost a sob -

You slide your other hand in her hair to make sure she's got an earful of your words:

"What was it you said, hm?" you whisper, nipping at the skin on her neck, the side of her jaw - she's shuddering with it when your mouth lingers so close -

“As rough as you fucking want.”

God, the little things that her voice does to you. “Exactly, sweetheart.”

And how's that boundary supposed to hold up and remain uncrossed then, really, if you just give her whatever the fuck she asks for - especially if you have your mouth working it's way around her pulse-point, toying with her as she starts to tense and soften all at once.

In fact, Minju can only stutter out an okay or two as you grind forward, the hard suggestion of your cock nestling up against her rear, just shy of the perfect spot between her legs, and even with still a few layers of clothes between you, the feeling - fuck, the friction, the sight - it’s enough to get you grinning.

Enough to form this near-half-coherent thought: that it’s what's always had you on edge with this girl. She is absolutely every bit your type. Everything about her, right down to the way that she was put together.

All her hard edges and soft curves that should've never really been yours to covet and now, somehow, have become exactly that. Oh, she's the kind of temptation that's better suited for the life of glitz and glamor and the time it requires for indulging in it. You never thought that you would actually ever get here, even as the years have begun to stack up and time starts to grind everything in the back of your head and turn it all over into something like resentment.

If only Minju weren't so good at making you a sucker for those pouty lips and big doe eyes.

Particularly when she's turned around - face to face now - she's the epitome of gorgeous, equal parts aphrodite and adonis; a fucking knockout, her body sculpted and lithe and athletic. Those lines curving out and away like they might tell time, like her thighs could count the minutes and seconds until she's straddling you in your lap with her ankles locked in at the small of your back and you're rutting up into her without reservation, without doubt.

(So what, really, is your goddamned excuse? Your pride? The nature of the beast in you that demands that you must have some degree of control over yourself? The power that your position, here, now, provides? But you can hardly be blamed, even when it's wrong and filthy and so fucking good.)

"You’re stalling." Minju’s leaning back against the desk, tilting her chin up, blinking lazily, and there’s a bit of bite in her voice again.

It takes a minute for it to dawn on you that it must be intentional, trying to get a further rise out of you, the same way your hands have risen up to trace the dips and elevations of her spine, her every vertebra, your fingertips mapping the hollows and rounds of her back. To learn the geography of her shoulders and where, and when, and how to get her breath catching in her lungs, each labored intake of air a little harsher, hastier, hotter than the last.

"You know," you start, spreading your palm across a soft plane of denim, fingers pulling onto the cheek of her ass, dragging her even tighter against you, "I always figured your reputation was a little overdramatized. Most everyone's bound to have a story or two."

She laughs, full of mirth. When the mood strikes, she's the picture of perfection, and she knows it. "Well? Were you disappointed?"

As she coils an arm around your waist to slide your shirt free from the confines of your pants, and as a deft hand slips its way in, you stop asking yourself about right or wrong, good or bad, or about the kisses that land playfully at the corner of your mouth - until you hold her tight and seize her lips, hard, like you mean it - it isn't long before she's fumbling and scrambling with the zipper at your waist.

"That depends," you’re pulling yourself away long enough to say.

"I think I know the answer."

And by the way she shivers a little when you shove up the bottom of her top, the way she's melting into your mouth and demanding more and more and more, Minju does. You think she probably has since the first night that your threads got all tangled up. Especially when she slides off her top - her bra - her jeans - leaving them in a pile that lasts barely a second where it started once you sweep everything off of your desk in one broad, efficient gesture -

There's a thud when a pair of binders and a couple of books hit the floor. Someone exclaiming in recognition, the muffled noise drifting through the office door, and, oh, this would probably be the best moment to remember how painfully thin the walls are; you consider whether to walk over and lock the office door, and when Minju’s fingers run up your sides, you decide you won’t.

Too little too late, you figure.

And before you can take a second to give it the more congruent thought it deserves, Minju opens her mouth: "which, in your professional opinion," a hum and a slur as her nails find their way to your collar, "is well, that the thing I should take," she gets out, unbuttoning you at the cuffs, loosening the last of your shirt, "really," her hands palming over the fabric on either side of the lapels, working their way downwards, "how - how do you think this goes?"

“Oh, Minju.” She’s all but begging you to fuck her and still has the wherewithal to be asking for terms.

Like her fingers aren’t completely down your pants, locking around your hard cock - pumping you with soft, lazy strokes - not too different from how you have her chewing on her lip every time your fingers circle over the entrance to her cunt, tenting the last of her lace all slow and careful.

It’s driving her crazy. She just bites into the edge of her thumb in response.

"Fine. Alright. Let me explain it clearly." You dip a finger into her cunt; the whimper is short-lived when she tightens around you and it hits home, the pressure so delicious that she can barely stutter to keep up.

“A negotiation, of sorts-”

“Yeah, sure, we can call it that.”

The mental picture you have of your length outlined against Minju's tiny fist - as she works it into her hand, steady - it's all almost more than you can possibly bear: the way her long legs stretch out so pretty in front of you, the way her wrist twists with each pass and every bump at the veins of her forearm that is such a damn perfect shade of porcelain white in the dim glow of the desk lamp.

This girl with her pert pink mouth and those lips, the ones that aren't quite touching yours but rather smirking the whole time. (If only you were to make her scream loud enough, because you know she could be so much prettier.)

The thought flits through your brain, unbidden and treacherous -

"Think, fuck - think of this, as a one-way track into your career. Think of me, a guiding hand - if you want to. The key to all this," you continue, spacing the words carefully so you don't falter under the pace Minju is picking up, "is that you're going to need to be compliant. Easy."

"Mm. And in exchange?" she bites, choking down an embarrassing moan.

"Here's the basics." And there, there's no fucking reason for you not to dip the tips of your fingers right on downwards, tap into her soft heat until her hips are arching away from the flat of the desk, searching for more. “Whenever you need me to take care of you, I’m there, however you need it: on my fingers, my tongue, my cock - I’ll make you fucking cum over and over.”

"That sounds," she gasps, losing track of the end of her sentence, rolling herself along the pads of your fingers, taking them deeper into her, "very-very-oh fuck-”

Her grip around your cock releases, arms throwing themselves around your shoulders, holding on tight as she starts to trust you implicitly - to give her exactly what she wants, what she needs - and give herself over to you, to your fingers, circling and circling and circling.

“See, tomorrow,” you start, “there’s an audition,” and when you pull your finger out of her cunt, Minju lets out this sound that’s between a whimper and a whine. Her pretty mouth has dropped open, like she's all out of words, lost somewhere, chasing this. Getting dire.

“It’s this teen soap; they need someone young, someone pretty, do you think you can do that for me?”

She doesn’t answer so much as grab and tug and pull you even closer as the heel of your hand pushes and presses over her clit, just about enough force behind it that, eventually, you begin to feel a certain rigidity through her limbs, how the lines of her face and her faultless features grow more and more focused, fixed and concentrated; her voice reduced to the high-pitched huffs and half-formed syllables of pure and utter desperation.

I can, I can - she’s murmuring - please, yes, I will - putting herself right into your capable hands.

When you feel Minju tightening, flexing around nothing, then seizing and shivering, her pussy throbbing hot and wet and clenching around your finger as it again works deeper inside her, an anguished groan finds its way out from her throat.

And from yours, well -

"Show up," you command, giving her another knuckle, curling it just right - watching as her expression contorts and twists up for all her worth. "Make a good impression. Don't make me fucking beg. Show up, Unreserved. Understood?"

And if her body wasn't making her pleas utterly transparent, she's screaming in agreement. It takes you barely a couple seconds, working up inside her cunt until she's all full-body, fully, blissfully spent. She starts to nod, needy, eyes screwing shut.

“And let’s say, something else pops up. A little racy, a little more gravure, just the right amount scandalous, I need you to keep an open mind.”

When it sinks in what you've said, Minju gives this wail, low and perfect - her cunt throbbing over the pulse at your palm - inches away from cumming and shaking and creaming on your hand. You could ask for anything, you think, and she’d give it to you -

“My PR team,” she gasps out, the consonants of her words fraying at the seams, “it’s up to my PR team.”

“Minju,” you say, priming a loaded question and a half. “Do you trust me?”

She nods, expression readable and open like a book. It starts to set in just about then, how you’re going to fucking ruin this girl.

Your breath runs hot, right against her temple, and you whisper the slightest affirmation, “good girl, I’ll take care of it.”

Because to be fair, you’ve not made it this long in your career without learning how to pull a string - how you might pull up on the sensitive skin straddling Minju’s clit and get her reeling; her pussy flutters in the tight, wet heat, muscles clamping, demanding as you work yourself in deeper and then, when the timing's right, pull out to slide a second finger past the slip of lace she has covering her cunt.

She's this tight, dripping, overwhelming fit - even more than you have yet to discover, to tease and then take, the heel of your wrist landing on her clit in a heavy pattern, circles - circles - circles -

- so you figure: fuck the PR team.

If only they knew how well and thorough you were going to fuck the rules right out of Minju.

That you were going to remind her who's the one in the driver’s seat of her life, of her career, that you would make sure she stays in her lane - the proper lane - that this, you think to yourself, might become a recurring sort of negotiation, the kind she's so shockingly eager to accept.

You'd be doing her a favor, fucking a couple good lines into her head, into her skin, into her cunt.

And soon, before long -

She's gritting her teeth around the shape of your name and giving one last heave against the hard wood of the desk underneath her. It's almost beautiful to watch how Minju crumbles into herself; the way she grinds back onto the digits in her cunt. How you’re dragging her underwear down her thigh, pulling your cock into your fist and twisting her leg around your waist until finally, you press yourself right up against the heat radiating from her cunt.

“I’m going to take good care of you, Minju, don’t worry, I’ll fuck this pussy of yours just right. I'm going to make you shake and cum all over me.”

“Please.” Fuck, she looks at you sincerely - no games, no bullshit - pupils so very blown out with want, with need. You watch her adorable mouth uptick into this faint lazy smile as she tilts her head into your collarbone, lips parting slightly to remind you: “as rough as you fucking want-”

And you sink right in.

It’s all skin-on-skin as Minju practically collapses in your arms; pushing deep past her soaking entrance - your hips slotting together just so, cock engulfed by her tight heat. Minju fucking wails when you drag back from her cunt, slow - so, so agonizingly slow.

You let her recover just a bit, watching her breathing quicken and shallow.

And the word on her lips becomes something reverent, the most indecent prayer, pleading please, please, please let me have it, please fuck me with your cock-

You brace yourself, thrusting back in, and she doesn't wince this time, holding fast to you like you aren’t the one fucking her open and taking her apart.

“God, I - look, this perfect little fucking cunt, look at how you’re stretching around me, Minju,” you’re telling her - promising her really - all of which doesn't count for shit when, once, and then again, and a couple more times after that, your hips meet hers and she starts to break just so slightly around you. “I can’t believe - it’s like you were fucking made for my cock, baby, you’re taking me so fucking well.”

"Now, show me why - why the fuck everyone wants you - wants you to be their-" she's trying, in a fashion all to her credit and her fault. She should probably care more about that raw, unhinged noise you’re making right into the crook of her neck when you bury yourself deeper into her pussy. But in the next moment, with another wild crash of your hips, the tables start to turn.

Slowly at first, and then all at once.

Because the sound you’re ripping from her chest when you start fucking her - truly fucking her - becomes far, far filthier than anything you've ever heard a girl like her make. All of it coaxed out from you working the edge of her pussy open, stretching her, hitting each and every sensitive spot inside her.

Minju tips her head back to stare at the popcorn ceiling and fluorescent lights, brow creasing in the middle, mouth gaping open. You find you might have missed something, when she moves to hold you down, hold you in place with an insistent leg, the back of her heel digging into your ass. As though there were somewhere you might possibly want to go.

It all comes down to something she's murmuring, quietly, harboring this smug lilt like you aren’t fucking her raw and senseless: how maybe the key to unlocking the rest of her potential isn’t all that dissimilar, not as off-brand as you may have been initially worried about. And the notion that both of you might actually be profiting off of this - how it shouldn’t sound as incredible as it does - is doing absolutely fucking nothing to slow the brutal pace you fall into.

"Fuck, just like that," and she's smiling, grinning really, nails biting into your nape - your name and curses and a fuck you or two falling out of her mouth as you pound each short breath right out of her chest.

"The only talent I'm gonna need to show," she manages, dizzy, and with one arm hooking around your waist, she pulls the two of you close, right up against each other. The sound your skin makes, clapping against hers - her cunt tight, pulsing, quivering around you - "is my, my, my-"

Your thumb should have never left her clit, you realize, pressing down on where your cock is disappearing between her legs, pushing up against that bundle of nerves that can get her screaming. That’s how you’ll punctuate your end of the bargain, how you’ll make her cum and cum and cum -

"-talent for being such a-"

There's something ungovernable in you, something fumbling, as you find yourself drawn to her lips like a magnet - claiming them in a kiss that has you both growling with all the intensity you can muster, groaning as her jaw goes slack, surrendering to the fucking. To this hard, solid snap of your hips, a raw fuck forward that pushes Minju against the edge of the tabletop.

It doesn’t matter what she had wanted to say, though it must be evident how easy she can wind you up, and you do your best not to be too gentle. Pushing into her so rough that her breasts, oh-so-delicate, bounce up and down along her chest, nipples tight and rosy, begging to be tasted and played with.

You’re pressing your mouth on hers hard, fucking her harder - fingers digging into the flesh around her thighs and leaving marks and memories, all these reminders you’ll be sure to come back to.

But the fact is that this is your girl in so many ways: needy and a dream in all her curves, and how her waist rocks back, her body fitting so perfectly against yours - you're hooked on all of it. On her - she is temptation made real, in blood and bone and soft, supple skin, so exquisitely touchable, just like the sound that she makes, high and tittering when your thumb starts to work her clit over; each swirl and figure eight sending a jolt through her nerves and straight back into your own spine. It's difficult - hard to focus, you find - when all her exposed skin has these drops of sweat standing in saltwater relief, how it rolls down the plane of her chest and disappears where her waist flares wide.

Minju turns her cheek, mouthing falling open, and asks with a certain helpless pleading, “yes, can you-”

she sighs,

“right there,”

she hiccups,

“please, again,”

she begs,

“again, harder, i’m so close-”

Not before long, the desk is scraping loudly across the carpet, moving right into the next office over, all from where you have your hand trapping her voice back in her throat, palm over where she’s practically sobbing for you to let her cum.

From where you’ve got her locked in tight, lifting her up into your arms, into some perverse, unspoken promise to carry her the rest of the way. To do with her whatever you want.

"I'm going to show you," you're gritting out, "exactly how a professional handles their star, the girl at the center of it all, their top draw - and it's so easy, isn't it? This is - fuck, sweetheart - you're nothing more than a - just a desperate little cockslut who's aching to cum, and it's good - oh so, fucking-"

When that next shiver courses down the length of her perfect form, it's entirely because of you, when her legs are still locked and clamped over you like this, as she sputters and babbles, totally cock-addled and barely managing a coherent thought. “Please, sir, please, fuck-”

And then a keening, sounding low, lost.

“Sir. Please, sir, please just - I just wanna-" Her lips are shaping all these words that never quite materialize - because her cunt is slick, the whole of it hotter and softer than anything else in this goddamn room. Maybe anything else in this whole building. Or in the entire world. It makes her whimper and ache, her voice rising and rising, belting out, need it, need it, please let me cum -

Which -

Minju, oh god, Minju cums, and you are fucked sideways to hell and beyond when her whole body convulses, shakes, every single part of her contracting, contracting - all at once - the way her hands claw desperately onto the blades of your shoulders as the room gets taken up with the scent of her; the sounds she's making are fucked and filthy. She starts to become undone as you double your pace, aiming true - thrusting, pounding, nailing Minju right into the finish.

“Minju, sweetheart, I’m going to cum in you,” you tell her, and it’s not even a question, or a concern. You’re dictating, not negotiating when you say it to her again, when you tell her you’re going to fill her perfect pussy so full with your cum, she'll be hung up on it for weeks.

One long, stretched out moan is all it could ever take; a split second, where everything runs blindingly hot, and you bury yourself as deep into her pussy as you possibly can.

Cumming so much, spilling out deep inside - this heavy flood of cum that pools warmly at the back of her cunt and fills every corner of Minju - she whines and sobs and tells you it's too much, please, all this hot and thick white cum pumping right into her -

As you throb into her, she's having a hard time saying anything beyond your name, actually, because if anyone can, if anyone would, if Minju can trust anyone and anything in this world more, it would be you.

Her chest shudders and shudders, and she kisses you in a vain effort to quiet her own body, to quiet yours. She has all this faith she's pouring right down your throat as you rock the last of your orgasm into her twitching heat, spilling and spilling and spilling, not caring about the wetness leaking onto the carpet. Not bothering to mask the obscene slickness, how everything gets completely fucking sopping between the two of you.

When she's practically drooling over you, eyelids growing heavy and fluttering, Minju sags heavily into the bend of your arms. In that shallow heaving and gasping for air that bathes the both of you - blissed the hell out, a lazy tangle of limbs - and without warning she turns to speak into your neck, her breath cooling, like a whisper of a dream:

“Okay, and already… I guess this isn’t entirely-”

“Completely terrible,” you offer after you swallow the dryness in your mouth.

Minju smiles into your shoulder. “And sir, in the spirit of honesty and transparency, I think I - I think I really did want - this - you - the entire thing…”

You stop her there, right in the middle of that particular train wreck. A drop in your voice, and the message is clear, when your mouth works its way to hers.

(No more of her talking like that.

Besides, she looks even better on your lips like this, and fuck, doesn’t Minju taste like you will have to remember, like a little bit like desperation, but only in the way that it has you both completely hopeless, hanging on to every whimper as your cock slides lazily about her well-fucked pussy, a bit deeper, a bit further.)

Like there is something far beyond professionalism guiding the hand with which you hold her hip and let her ass spill through the gaps of your fingers.

It’s all mixed up, how in this exact moment you figure this is a terrible, terrible idea, the worst kind of agreement, this pact - because no one could look at you, could look at either of you and have any doubts in mind now. But you can see it, how you’ll both wear this little agreement like the most beautiful stain in your histories. Even though it might, conceivably, cost one or both of you dearly at some point in time.

And yet, still.

"Will you - can I - can you..."

She's clinging onto you with all her remaining energy, like she wants to see it through.

But her eyes - the poor thing - her expression is melting into this haze, her face contorted in something like pain and something else entirely: a different kind of satisfied glimmer. It's almost unreadable how that sharp mouth softens at the edges as her cunt gives this small flutter over the head of your cock, as you pump her so full, threatening to overflow.

And in your ear, you catch this little whisper. It says, “please, let me show you,” she's practically purring, “let me, let me - I'm gonna clean you up now, lick my cum right off you.”

It's true. Minju can act and perform and pose and make faces, for a shit ton of people - but she’ll play-act any facade you might ask her to, and she'll do it for you - because, this time around, all you ask her is this:

To be yours.

To be a good girl for you, an obedient little thing, in your private audience, away from the cameras and the lights, away from everyone.

When her knees hit the carpet, she is perfectly between your legs, palms on your hips and fingers splaying out against you.

And when she tries her damnedest like this, no one should bother ever pretending to think differently - least of all, you - and certainly, not while your cock is hardening again in the wet heat of her mouth, under the curl of her tongue, the gentle touches of her fingers -

How can anyone ever bring themselves to tell her that she isn't completely, indisputably the greatest.

(The very, fucking best.

And in every other way: the woman of your dreams. A woman, you realize, you ought to endeavor to keep, in all manners, and forever.

Minju, who could probably do anything, and you, who just might be able to give it to her.)

#minju smut #izone smut #kpop smut #male reader #kpop fanfic #male reader smut #izone minju smut

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ot3 · 1 year

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What Is ORV?

The number one question I get asked on this blog, now answered better than ever. Today I am going to formally introduce you to Omniscient Reader's Viewpoint

To start off this recommendation: ORV might very well be my favorite thing I've read. Ever. If I could only reread one thing for the rest of my life it'd be this webnovel.

My elevator pitch is this: something with the cosmic-scale goofy video game nonsense and intricate setting comparable to Homestuck in its prime, paired with the deft emotional poignancy and emotionally-driven fights of Mob Psycho 100, topped off with the sort of compassionate and heartwrenching metanarrative of Undertale.

ORV is a love letter to it's own readers. ORV revels in the joy of losing yourself in fiction, even when it's the kind of fiction that tends to be considered lowbrow or worthless. It's something that dances the delicate line between recognizing the difficult nature of using media as escapism without condemning it. I've rarely seen anything else that accomplishes everything it sets out to do in its narrative with such remarkable precision. Frankly if you're reading a tumblr media recommendation post in 2023, I can almost guarantee ORV has the kind of meat you're looking for in a narrative, whatever that may be.

The story follow the antics of protagonist Kim Dokja, a 28 year old office worker on an expiring contract, whose only real joy in life is reading his favorite massively long and massively boring webnovel. One day, the novel’s events - worldwide deathmatches aired for the entertainment of mysterious higher beings called ‘constellations’ - begin playing out in reality in a sort of reverse-isekai. Kim Dokja, the only longterm reader of this webnovel, finds himself uniquely poised to succeed based on the advantages given to him by his knowledge of future events, but the webnovel’s actual protagonist, Yoo Jonghyuk, is a violent monster who will stop at absolutely nothing to complete his goals, no matter the cost to anyone else. Kim Dokja finds himself in a delicate dance of guiding the events of the story to play out more favorably than the version he read while trying to avoid being massacred in the fallout, all while trying to see it through to the story’s end.

Below the cut I'll go into a more in-depth (but non-spoilery) explanation of what exactly makes ORV so unique and worthwhile, and what you're in for if you choose to read it.

Clocking in at 550 chapters, and over 1.3 million words in English, ORV may seem incredibly daunting to dip your toes into, but I assure you it's worth every moment. I would read 1.3 million more words if they had them for me. Here are some things about ORV I consider to be selling points, not necessarily in any particular order:

The tone. Its funny, for starters. It is extremely funny, which is very high up on my media priority list. In ORV, there will be incredibly grim things that make you laugh, and incredibly cringe and silly anime bullshit that will hurt you as heavily as any other media you’ve seen. I always love this kind of tonal whiplash when it's well executed, and ORV probably executes it better than anything else I've seen to date.

It’s got fun and fascinating worldbuilding mechanics. the core concept being ‘reality now operates on the rules of a shitty novel’ means that the worldbuilding doesn’t have to function logically, it functions thematically. It’s explicitly stated in ORV canon that some of the internal rules governing this new reality are objectively really stupid and illogical, but they just have to roll with it because that’s what was in the book, and i think it’s a really enjoyable way to do it. This may at first sound like a copout to excuse bad worldbuilding, but I promise it isn’t. The worldbuilding is actually incredibly deeply thought out, but it doesn’t exist for the sake of rational function, it exists for the sake of furthering orv’s thematic arcs. The rules by which this universe operate do a magnificent job of strengthening the core concepts the authors are exploring.

It plays with the trappings of isekai/litrpg in a really thoughtful way. These are genres I'm not super familiar with, so I can't comment on this point too heavily, but with my limited knowledge ORV feels a lot less of a deconstruction of it's genre and more of a celebration/interrogation of it. Despite that, it's still accessible to readers such as myself who are not super familiar with these genre conventions.

It deals with morality in a really wonderful and nuanced way. there are almost no characters in ORV’s extremely large cast who are just explicitly morally condemnable, and almost every conflict allows you to understand exactly why the antagonists believe they’re in the right by opposing the actions of our protagonists. The central conflicts are never pure right and pure wrong; they’re always about contrasting goals, conflicting worldviews, and different priorities between ends and means. this makes the conflicts all feel so much more dynamic and engaging than those where the only stakes are physical harm.

The characters interpersonal relationships are some of the most interesting I've ever seen. ORV is very slow burn and it takes a long time for a lot of these to come out of the woodwork, by design, but by god once they do they fucking hit. Similar to the plot conflicts, the interpersonal conflicts also almost never occur where there’s one side clearly in the wrong. The characters are almost all genuinely attempting to do their best by each other, and the tension comes from the ways in which human communication is fundamentally imperfect and part of our feelings and intentions get lost in translation. it’s very heartwrenching and heartwarming to see unfold, in equal measure.

Following from that, it’s a narrative that really meaningfully prioritizes non-romantic relationships over romantic ones as the central focus. Orv is about love, but not about romance. Obviously there’s shipbait and the ot3 is real and good and my friend but if you’re looking for deep complex platonic, (found or otherwise) familial, and antagonistic relationships that never get ruined with forced romantic arcs, we got em baby!

The pacing is unlike anything i’ve ever seen before. from a purely technical standpoint, it is genuinely a fascinating case study in how to execute a narrative that is almost constantly escalating without exception. there is very little downtime or breathing room in orv, which is insane for something that clocks in at over a million words, and somehow, it still works. i’ve never felt more like a frog in a pot of slowly boiling water than i did when i was reading orv and i can’t believe they pulled it off. it’s so interesting to read something like that.

It is a tragedy without resorting to cynicism and a very adult narrative that’s really steeped in childlike wonder. I’m a big fan of cartoons made for children. Cartoons made for children are some of my favorite things to watch, but of course children’s media will always be simplified and not very relatable to an adult audience. ORV is very much a serious and heavy adult narrative, and a deeply tragic one at that, but it never delves into torture porn. It’s a very compassionate piece of media overall, that holds a lot of reverence and sympathy for the ‘naive’ optimism of children that gets stripped down over time. if you, like me, feel more like a grown up child than an adult some days, I think it’ll hit for you.

It is extremely cathartic and meaningful. I am not exaggerating at all when I say that reading it gave me the closest thing I have ever felt to any sort of spiritual breakthrough. It helped unfuck my head a ton during some very grim times and i think the perspective it offers on the value of human life and our relationship to storytelling is a really really good one.

And if my word isn't enough, here's some reviews from satisfied customers. With that, I'll leave the rest to you, and hope you one day reach the end of the story.

#media recs #orv

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rhysdarbinizedarby · 7 months

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Our Flag Means Death season 2 shot a crucial scene in the Avatar 2 tank

A behind-the-scenes look at how Taika Waititi and Rhys Darby shot their big merman moment

[Warning: The below contains MAJOR spoilers for Our Flag Means Death, Season 2, Episodes 3]

Season 2 of David Jenkins’ pirate comedy-romance-drama Our Flag Means Death has finally premiered on Max, with an opening three-episode arc that’s guaranteed to get the series’ fandom buzzing. The third episode in particular ends with a sequence that feels like it was intentionally crafted to inspire the crowds of fan artists who have turned the series into an obsession. Polygon talked to the series’ VFX supervisor, David Van Dyke, about what went into shooting that sequence — and how James Cameron’s Avatar: The Way of Water helped out.

At the end of episode 3, Ed “Blackbeard” Teach (Taika Waititi) is in limbo after being assaulted and nearly killed by his crew. There, he meets his former captain Benjamin Hornigold (another of the series’ historical pirate characters, played by Mark Mitchinson), who tries to help him through his emotional crisis over being abandoned by Stede Bonnet (Rhys Darby). Except Hornigold mostly helps by pointing out Blackbeard’s failings, then tying a stone to his waist and throwing him off a cliff into the sea — where he sees a vision of Stede as a fish-tailed merman, coming to save him.

“Just so you know, Rhys and Taika did very well underwater,” Van Dyke told Polygon about shooting the scene. “Rhys is not an Olympic synchronized swimmer, but he’s a strong swimmer. They were both very comfortable underwater. They both did a really good job of being mermen.”

Van Dyke says he was originally asked whether he could do the scene with CG versions of the two men, for safety reasons. He explained that it was possible, “but that’ll cost millions and millions of dollars, and we don’t really have that.”

Instead, he ended up shooting the scene practically. Season 1 of Our Flag Means Death was shot on a soundstage in Los Angeles, but for season 2, production moved to New Zealand. That gave Van Dyke a lot of advantages in terms of shooting natural backdrops to use on the production’s giant virtual environment screen, and in using experienced crews from past special-effects-heavy productions, from Peter Jackson’s Lord of the Rings movies to James Cameron’s Avatar movies.

“There were definitely a few pieces that were serendipitously to our advantage,” Van Dyke says. “New Zealand was where they shot a lot of Avatar stuff, and there just so happens to be an enormous tank on the lot. There are a bunch of Avatar crew who are SCUBA certified, because they’ve been shooting in that tank forever. This was not something we had to figure out — we didn’t have to send a bunch of grips and lighting technicians off to SCUBA school. So they were there, they had really amazing underwater photography teams, and obviously a really good stunt team that was able to train up Taika and Rhys to make sure the scene was working.”

Van Dyke points to New Zealand’s thriving mermaid freediving community as a boon when it came to designing Darby’s merman outfit. “There are a lot of incredible mer-tails out there,” he said. “We were able to take those, and [costume designer Gypsy Taylor] and her team brought them together to make these beautiful physical pieces, so Rhys was able to actually sell it and do the performance underwater.”

For Van Dyke, the sequence really started with the cliff-jump sequence, which actually used considerably more CG than the underwater shots. “That cliff sequence was a great culmination of effects, merging physical photography and our LED wall, because you can’t really put those two guys on a thousand-foot cliff,” he said. “The insurance alone would be out of control. Also, we’re not really in the business of having people fall to their deaths.”

The cliff sequence began with sequences shot off New Zealand’s Bethells Beach, using drones to capture images looking inward from the ocean and photogrammetry of a specific ledge for production designer Ra Vincent and the art department to reproduce in the studio.

“The wide shots use production plates of those cliffs, and the tighter shots use photography we shot specifically to build out the stitching of the cliff sequence,” Van Dyke said. “Hornigold and Blackbeard are standing on a cliff set. We tied in drone plates of the actual cliffs so we can see the ocean and really set up how terrifying [the drop would be]. Then he falls into the ocean, falls into our tank.”

Once Waititi was in the tank, the next step was the shot where the stone tied to a rope around his waist pulls him deep underwater. That part of the scene required more conventional, practical production trickery than the rest of the sequence.

“The tank is massive, but it’s not 300 feet deep. It’s pretty darn big, but it’s never big enough, as they say,” Van Dyke says. “So when Taika is being tugged by the rock, we actually shot that sideways. By turning the camera sideways, you get more length to the shot. The problem is the bubbles — they should be streaming off him and then rising to the surface, but if you’re going sideways, they’re going to come off him and then go up, perpendicular to him. So we took over with CG to make sure our bubbles were traveling toward where the surface was supposed to be.”

The CG in the underwater sequence was mostly used to hide the lighting and rigging necessary to shoot it, Van Dyke says. “Anytime you’re shooting anything underwater, there’s gonna be a lot of gear. There’s no way you can get around that. So we’re making sure we have [convincing deep-sea] lighting and the bubbles. And then there’s his performance — that’s a real performance.”

For Van Dyke, the real complication was the costuming and makeup for both Darby and Waititi. “Taika’s wig — I was amazed that thing stayed on so long. It’s a long shoot. He was shooting all day, all weekend. But things stayed on. It’s a heavy weight. And Rhys is really working underwater, so his tail has to be working, so it all feels seamless.”

The shot in the underwater sequence that seems most likely to be a CG creation has both men just floating deep in the sea, facing each other above a seemingly endless abyss. Again, Van Dyke says, he used very little CG for that shot, and it was mostly to hide the tank walls.

“In that case, we were not shooting sideways,” he said. “It’s essentially a locked shot. It was about getting them at the right depth underwater, and making sure the shafts of light above them were working properly. We don’t have to track as much, we don’t have all these moving elements, we don’t have to worry about where the bubbles are going. That one was really just about cleaning up the tank, doctoring out the sides of the shot, where we can see the water receding into blackness, then giving the base of the tank true depth, so it really feels like they’re suspended a hundred feet below the surface.

“Obviously, a fair amount of CGI and visual effects had to go into it. But at the same time, it was a moment where we really needed to let the story take over, and have the visual effects just get out of the way, man.”

The first three episodes of Our Flag Means Death season 2 are now streaming on Max.

Source: Polygon

#rhys darby #taika waititi #behind the scenes #ofmd #our flag means death #ofmd s2 spoilers #ofmd bts

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chrolloluvr · 2 months

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May I request Mammon angst HCs please? Like the reader is possibly breaking up with him or something? (i love your HCs for mammon<3)

Mammon Breaking Up Hcs

note: Thank you i'm so glad you like them pookie!! also yes i love this idea ❤️❤️

warnings: Cursing, creepy behavior, unbalanced power dynamic, killing. Not proofread!

Female!Reader, (no specific gender, so can be GenderNeutral!Reader)

It would be best to tell him over text, since he is guaranteed to throw a toddler like temper tantrum if you ever told him in person.

So you text him over text, what happens? He 100% thinks you're joking at first. He thinks you aren't being serious at all, and that wow babe, you might even be a bigger clown than I am.

But when he realized that you were being serious, he gets angry. How dare you? Why would you ever break up with him? He is the king of greed, he has trillions of dollars in the bank, so why don't you want to stay by his side? Did he do something? Did he hurt you? What happened? Baby, we can sort this out-

In a way, still doesn't think you are being serious, which is what he tries to tell himself. So he will let you leave, and will act like he doesn't need you.

Another author said this already, but he will 100% go through the stages of grief, (he will never go through acceptance, because in his mind, you will always come crawling back to him.)

He will be in denial for a very long time. Let's say you move out, and even start residing in another ring. He will send you texts. All. The. Time.

Your phone will mods likely have 103 Missed Calls, 986 Messages, and 37 Voicemails. He is crazy, and especially crazy for you. So when you don't respond to him, he does not understand why. He likes to think that you were just going on vacation for a while. He genuinely thinks you two are still together.

Anger- Once he sees that you have indeed moved on, and that he is no longer living in fantasy land, he gets extremely angry. His general mood spikes, he lashes out (wayyy more than he used to), and a-lot of his servants are scared to talk to him. Will absolutely keep bombarding you with texts every day. He will even get his servants to start texting you on his 100's of extra HellPhones.

Mamm 🕸️💚 11:34

Come hone ygu little cungt

Mamm 🕸️💚 11:35

ANSWERF ME.

Mamm 🕸️💚 11:35

Do ygu knoe how easily i can replaece yu

Mamm🕸️💚 11:36

Fine go shack uo with sorm dirty hoboes you little slut

Mamm 🕸️💚 11:36

I dont kneed u and youir mediocar holes

So yeah... thats just one example. He has so many spelling mistakes because he is typing so fast, and practically brekaing his phone from how angry he is.

But in reality he does need you. You are. the one thing that keeps him running. However he will never, over his dead body, ever admit that.

Bargaining- He will send things to your... new home... in gift baskets. Fizzarolli plushies, flowers, tickets to his live events, expensive jewelry, the list goes on. It gets to a point where (if you live in an apartment complex) People start stealing his gifts and start putting them up online to sell. (And they go for 10s of thousands of dollars.)

He send these to you so that you can hopefully come crawling back into his life, so that he can control you again.

At this point, you have most likely made it public about your distance between you and the sin. Your relationship was extremely public, and known by everybody.

He refuses to speak publicly, because he wants people to think he still controls you. And when i say your relationship was big, it was definitely the most talked about relationship in all of Hell. People will go nuts about you two breaking up. Another author said this as well, but people will go crazy with the comments.

"L Mammon fumbled so bad its actually wild."

"Bros got plenty other options 💀"

"Why tf would she/they break up w/ HIM???🤰"

"Now that hes single I call dibs 🙌"

You try your best to ignore the comments, but eventually you cant, its not just online, but in real life you feel cornered as well. You might even start to reconsider your departure with him. Which is exactly where he wants you.

Depression- He spirals into somewhat of an insecure man. He strives to be better. He ups his game for his big pageants, soon to be bigger, just to impress you.

He maaaay or may not have killed people in your favor. This is known, obviously, but his obsession along with his newfound insecurity has left him no choice but to show that if you dont want to come home, he will show you its safer than anywhere else.

Overall, if you do end up coming back to him, he is overjoyed with happiness, and will take extra precautions to ensure you wont ever walk out on him and his warm embrace again.

However if you end up never wanting anything to do with him, he will be devastated, but he will force himself to get over it. He is Mammon, he truly does not need you. In reality, you were somebody he felt an unexplainable feeling to protect. He absolutely can live without you, but for some reason, he feels like he cant. If somebody were to ever bring you up, he would lash out, and make his anger everybody's problem. He may get over you after a while, but he will never fully accept the fact that you left him.

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starcurtain · 2 months

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The Kinda Unhinged Ratiorine Fic I Want to Read

In an (admittedly very contrived) AU situation, Dr. Ratio finds out he's about to be cut out of his (mostly estranged) family's inheritance forever because of his complete lack of interest in continuing the family line. Which, all factors considered, does make perfectly logical sense. Investment of capital should go to the branch of the lineage most likely to benefit from it, and Cousin Tiberius has five sons and daughters already. Let the house and the trust fund go to them.

But the library.

There's absolutely no way Veritas could bear to be permanently parted from the staggering assemblage of paper volumes under his collected family's auspices. Not only would being separated from tomes so full of memories be heart-wrenching, but think of the devastating blow to his research! There are records in those archives that no other mortal eyes have ever gazed upon!

So there's only one solution for it: He needs to pass on his family name, immediately.

(Andddd the rest is under a read more because what is brevity?)

Problem 1: Veritas Ratio is very gay.

Problem 2: Statistically, single men have the lowest chance of being selected for adoption placement, and this Child Welfare Agent is looking at his alabaster head very, very strangely.

Think, Ratio, think. What is the most efficient way to solve such a tedious quandary?

The obvious first step is to increase his likelihood of being selected by the adoption agency, and the quickest way to do that is... Eureka! How elegant a design! He just needs to enter into a (temporary) committed and stable partnership to demonstrate a degree of domestic dedication and home-building prowess!

Problem 3: ...Where in the universe is he going to find a stable and committed man willing to marry him?

Ratio does not exactly possess the world's most endearing personality. He might... never have had any form of romantic relationship lasting past a one-night stand even, because it turns out most people don't like being scored a 2/10 on their technique during intercourse.

So he's probably not going to find a stable and committed man.

But... He might at least find someone willing--for the right price.

Enter Aventurine (stage left). He's as expensive as they come, the greatest reward saved for the highest bidder, but despite his festering ambitions, he's still trapped as nothing more than a high-class escort, owned by a company the IPC has on the books as selling everything but what they actually trade in: Avgin slaves.

Sigonians... The reputation--and sleazy men's curiosity--precedes him, and though he only has to get on his knees for the truly bold nowadays, he hasn't yet been able to make the ultimate gamble, pull the last string needed to finally gain his freedom: the freedom to live his life as he pleases--and to enact every ounce of vengeance he's been storing for decades like cards up his sleeves.

Until now.

Until an absolute madman shows up at the underground headquarters waving around an offer that no average person would possibly make: He wants to buy Aventurine and wed him.

(Because marrying a Sigonian thrall is a safe and sane thing that safe and sane people do.)

The offer is far too good to be trusted: A real marriage certificate but a perfectly fake marriage, a no-fault divorce once an adoption is finalized, and a guaranteed sponsor for his citizenship documents. A year or two of fake homemaking, this Veritas Ratio claims, and then Aventurine can walk away a completely free man, no strings--no chains--attached.

Well, Aventurine of the Myriad Stratagems has always held one skill dearer to his heart than any other: a crystal clear knowledge of when to fold--and when to go all in.

(...Problem 4: Amber Lord help him, Aventurine's new husband is the most irritating man in the entire universe.)

Alas, if only that was their biggest problem. Somewhere between learning to navigate the citizenship process, the adoption process, a truly unacceptable level of systemic racism, and also, increasingly, each other, Ratio and Aventurine discover that the circumstances of their lives might be far more entangled than they ever could have imagined from the beginning, and the same shadowy parties that profited off Aventurine's existence might have a vested interest in parting Ratio from valuable research secrets--permanently.

While struggling to maintain a charming and loving facade and struggling not to kill each other behind the scenes, Aventurine and Ratio also end up having to out-roll and out-plan a particularly dangerous enemy; something they can really only do together.

Or, tl;dr: Dr. Ratio chooses the most efficient but most unhinged method of finding a husband that intelligence could possibly contrive, only to determine that marrying a guy whose track record for unexplained deaths matches his track record for card counting really is the encyclopedic opposite of "committed and stable." Ridiculously enough, the trouble they get into is almost entirely Ratio's fault, the only one who is remotely convincing in front of the Child Welfare Agency is Aventurine, and sometimes it turns out the guy you married for the library ends up being the guy you married for life.

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canmom · 6 months

Text

Hypothetical Decentralised Social Media Protocol Stack

if we were to dream up the Next Social Media from first principles we face three problems. one is scaling hosting, the second is discovery/aggregation, the third is moderation.

hosting

hosting for millions of users is very very expensive. you have to have a network of datacentres around the world and mechanisms to sync the data between them. you probably use something like AWS, and they will charge you an eye-watering amount of money for it. since it's so expensive, there's no way to break even except by either charging users to access your service (which people generally hate to do) or selling ads, the ability to intrude on their attention to the highest bidder (which people also hate, and go out of their way to filter out). unless you have a lot of money to burn, this is a major barrier.

the traditional internet hosts everything on different servers, and you use addresses that point you to that server. the problem with this is that it responds poorly to sudden spikes in attention. if you self-host your blog, you can get DDOSed entirely by accident. you can use a service like cloudflare to protect you but that's $$$. you can host a blog on a service like wordpress, or a static site on a service like Github Pages or Neocities, often for free, but that broadly limits interaction to people leaving comments on your blog and doesn't have the off-the-cuff passing-thought sort of interaction that social media does.

the middle ground is forums, which used to be the primary form of social interaction before social media eclipsed them, typically running on one or a few servers with a database + frontend. these are viable enough, often they can be run with fairly minimal ads or by user subscriptions (the SomethingAwful model), but they can't scale indefinitely, and each one is a separate bubble. mastodon is a semi-return to this model, with the addition of a means to use your account on one bubble to interact with another ('federation').

the issue with everything so far is that it's an all-eggs-in-one-basket approach. you depend on the forum, instance, or service paying its bills to stay up. if it goes down, it's just gone. and database-backend models often interact poorly with the internet archive's scraping, so huge chunks won't be preserved.

scaling hosting could theoretically be solved by a model like torrents or IPFS, in which every user becomes a 'server' for all the posts they download, and you look up files using hashes of the content. if a post gets popular, it also gets better seeded! an issue with that design is archival: there is no guarantee that stuff will stay on the network, so if nobody is downloading a post, it is likely to get flushed out by newer stuff. it's like link rot, but it happens automatically.

IPFS solves this by 'pinning': you order an IPFS node (e.g. your server) not to flush a certain file so it will always be available from at least one source. they've sadly mixed this up in cryptocurrency, with 'pinning services' which will take payment in crypto to pin your data. my distaste for a technology designed around red queen races aside, I don't know how pinning costs compare to regular hosting costs.

theoretically you could build a social network on a backbone of content-based addressing. it would come with some drawbacks (posts would be immutable, unless you use some indirection to a traditional address-based hosting) but i think you could make it work (a mix of location-based addressing for low-bandwidth stuff like text, and content-based addressing for inline media). in fact, IPFS has the ability to mix in a bit of address-based lookup into its content-based approach, used for hosting blogs and the like.

as for videos - well, BitTorrent is great for distributing video files. though I don't know how well that scales to something like Youtube. you'd need a lot of hard drive space to handle the amount of Youtube that people typically watch and continue seeding it.

aggregation/discovery

the next problem is aggregation/discovery. social media sites approach this problem in various ways. early social media sites like LiveJournal had a somewhat newsgroup-like approach, you'd join a 'community' and people would post stuff to that community. this got replaced by the subscription model of sites like Twitter and Tumblr, where every user is simultaneously an author and a curator, and you subscribe to someone to see what posts they want to share.

this in turn got replaced by neural network-driven algorithms which attempt to guess what you'll want to see and show you stuff that's popular with whatever it thinks your demographic is. that's gotta go, or at least not be an intrinsic part of the social network anymore.

it would be easy enough to replicate the 'subscribe to see someone's recommended stuff' model, you just need a protocol for pointing people at stuff. (getting analytics such as like/reblog counts would be more difficult!) it would probably look similar to RSS feeds: you upload a list of suitably formatted data, and programs which speak that protocol can download it.

the problem of discovery - ways to find strangers who are interested in the same stuff you are - is more tricky. if we're trying to design this as a fully decentralised, censorship-resistant network, we face the spam problem. any means you use to broadcast 'hi, i exist and i like to talk about this thing, come interact with me' can be subverted by spammers. either you restrict yourself entirely to spreading across a network of curated recommendations, or you have to have moderation.

moderation

moderation is one of the hardest problems of social networks as they currently exist. it's both a problem of spam (the posts that users want to see getting swamped by porn bots or whatever) and legality (they're obliged to remove child porn, beheading videos and the like). the usual solution is a combination of AI shit - does the robot think this looks like a naked person - and outsourcing it to poorly paid workers in (typically) African countries, whose job is to look at reports of the most traumatic shit humans can come up with all day and confirm whether it's bad or not.

for our purposes, the hypothetical decentralised network is a protocol to help computers find stuff, not a platform. we can't control how people use it, and if we're not hosting any of the bad shit, it's not on us. but spam moderation is a problem any time that people can insert content you did not request into your feed.

possibly this is where you could have something like Mastodon instances, with their own moderation rules, but crucially, which don't host the content they aggregate. so instead of having 'an account on an instance', you have a stable address on the network, and you submit it to various directories so people can find you. by keeping each one limited in scale, it makes moderation more feasible. this is basically Reddit's model: you have topic-based hubs which people can subscribe to, and submit stuff to.

the other moderation issue is that there is no mechanism in this design to protect from mass harassment. if someone put you on the K*w*f*rms List of Degenerate Trannies To Suicidebait, there'd be fuck all you can do except refuse to receive contact from strangers. though... that's kind of already true of the internet as it stands. nobody has solved this problem.

to sum up

primarily static sites 'hosted' partly or fully on IPFS and BitTorrent

a protocol for sharing content you want to promote, similar to RSS, that you can aggregate into a 'feed'

directories you can submit posts to which handle their own moderation

no ads, nobody makes money off this

honestly, the biggest problem with all this is mostly just... getting it going in the first place. because let's be real, who but tech nerds is going to use a system that requires you to understand fuckin IPFS? until it's already up and running, this idea's got about as much hope as getting people to sign each others' GPG keys. it would have to have the sharp edges sanded down, so it's as easy to get on the Hypothetical Decentralised Social Network Protocol Stack as it is to register an account on tumblr.

but running over it like this... I don't think it's actually impossible in principle. a lot of the technical hurdles have already been solved. and that's what I want the Next Place to look like.

#i'm gonna hurry up and get my website on ipfs i think #tumblr

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kanmom51 · 6 months

Text

JM's Production diary Documentary

And Live 23 October 2023

So, I don't know how to do this.

Write about JM's documentary separate from his live.

Write about the two without being all over the place.

Because not too much happened, and yet so much did.

So, where do I start? How do I get through this?

At this point I have so many ideas running through my head for posts, so much so that I'm not sure just yet how this post will work out, given that everything intertwines.

I still have JM's previous live to work on as well. Yeah, kind of overwhelmed at the moment.

I guess I will just get on with it, but I do think that more than likely there will be things I will either save for another post or two or three, or forget something (that I can guarantee) or just post on repeat, cause some things we just cannot get enough of.

Let's talk about the documentary a bit.

We got to see the process of JM creating his songs. How they would start with the idea, the narrative. Then the melody, instruments and the vocals and then the actual lyrics.

JM's musicality, his talent, his creativity all showcased.

We also got to see just how nice Pdogg is. How much he loves JM, how respectful he is to him, not to mention how talented he is himself. As a matter of fact, the whole team that worked with JM were super nice and talented and they just all seemed to be having a good time, even while working to the bone.

Oh, and how none of them actually knew English, lmao.

In the documentary we were shown how JM and Pdogg chose the quote from the movie to use in the song. Only that it wasn't the one they actually used in the song itself. And that is because, as JM revealed to us in the live, they picked it without knowing what the characters were talking about, picking a convo between the characters that sounded nice to them at the time, something that would suit the song. All while the two characters were actually talking about a visa, lol. And JM, well, he found that super funny (which truthfully, it really is), so he repeated it a couple of times.

We also saw RM in the documentary sitting down with them talking about writing lyrics. Only for JM to share with us that:

Which JM found to be very funny. I guess now it is, but back then... not sure he shared that same sentiment, lol.

He kept on laughing about him being an idea bank, lol. It's ok to acknowledge your genius, man!!!

Hobi and then Jin show up in the comments while JM is watching the documentary. And I was surprised at that point, given that I really did think JM wouldn't be doing this live, that it would have been pre-recorded. But it wasn't, and thank god for that, cause we all know what happened later on. Less than 1.30 minutes out of an almost 2 hour live, but gosh, what a 1.30 minutes they were, lol.

Anyways, Hobi shows up and JM goes all shy and even stops playing the documentary telling him to leave, that he won't continue playing until he does.

Guess who won that fight, lol. Hobi, of course. JM gives in and continues, once in a while saying they will go away at 9 pm (Jin came in to say that there is some kind of something military related, lol).

Letter

Yes, let's actually start with the name of the song.

Cause for some reason, although they all talk about the song using the word pyeonji (Letter), all while the translation is Dear.Army. Like what the actual fuck? Why would they do that?

Well, we kind of know, don't we?

Someone (cough Hybe cough) is working super hard to cement the song is for the fans.

Please tell me, if this was a song completely meant for the fans, why this incessant need of the company to sell this to us? Why change the name of it in the fucking documentary, while JM and the others are literally saying the word "letter" translating it to "Dear.Army"? There is only one answer I can think of here. And you know exactly what that answer is.

I'm not going to go back to all the reasoning as to why this is way more than a song for fans, I feel like we've discussed this ad nauseam. I will only say that NOTHING we saw in the documentary contradicts what we think about Letter.

You can see, throughout the process how emotionally tasking the song is for JM. And yes, a song for ARMY could be emotional, I mean both JM and JK have immense love for ARMY, and we've seen JK burst into tears talking to army or about army, JM getting very emotional himself. But this, this was more. There are moments there when you can see the anxiety just bursting out of JM.

This song was just MORE.

Especially when you take everything you see in the documentary, JM's state of mind, his words, his behaviour, and add it all up with the lyrics, even more so the missing lyrics. Would be hard to explain how "dongsaeng" fits into "this is a song for army"... Add it to the hidden track. But not only it being a hidden track, it's a hidden track only on the physical CD. Not the digital CD. So, no streaming. A track for Army, for his fans, that not all of his fans get to hear freely? A track for Army that, hmm... maybe wasn't supposed to even be in the album?

We got more than 2 seconds of JK. That's worth a mention too, no?

When I saw this I was: fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.

Cause, no way under the sun, yes, pun intended, that this was about ARMY.

Army was NEVER REFERENCED AS THE SUN BY ANY OF THEM.

NEVER.

You know who was?

The level of emotion we see from the two of them throughout the process... this was so personal.

I rewatched it again today before writing these lines. It's JK's body language, it's JM's body language, it's JM going in to cup JK's face when telling him he wrote a fan song, and JK's reaction.

Dare I remind you that "Still with you" was classified by JK as a "fan song". Dare I remind you what our sentiments about that song are? Yeah, a fans song.

And I will remind you, not that you need the reminder, who happened to state for all of us to see that he was JM's fan. Happening to do so during JM's promotions of Face and before JM's Face Live, which I do not think was a coincidence AT ALL.

They are just precious. What else can I say?

There is this as well.

Also, I don't think I'm the only one seeing this. JK at the end going in for a hug, but JM, reaches out for a hand shake and a bow.

He bows.

Twice.

Now, the not going in for a hug could be one of two with JM. The first could be that it was too emotionally charged and that hug, in front of the cameras, will just be too hard. Too hard not to show the emotions. Too hard to break off.

Or, the second could be that by doing this, bowing the way he did do JK, he was showing us, the spectators, just how profoundly thankful he was for JK, and for his participating in the song.

Now that I think of it there could be a third reason. Which would be the combination of the two.

You know what I also noticed there?

That JK didn't bow back.

So, that's more or less what happened with them in the documentary. Not too much talking, when there is it's subdued, understandably so, given this is all done in front of the cameras. But, there is an undertone of emotions there.

Oh, and did I mention we see JM wearing the very important, at the time, necklace throughout the documentary? On that day of recording as well.

And happy little coincidence them wearing the black and white bucket hats? Lol.

Ok then. By now we all know that JK joined the live. And he does it exactly when they started letter. Quelle surprise. Quelle coincidence. Or was it?

Observations:

JK is too skinny. JM thought so too all while grabbing his tiddy.

JK is really tired. Said he was practicing. Eyes red. He needs to eat and sleep.

JM was genuinely surprised by JK's appearance. Th way he lights up, he was surprised and giddy and excited, his whole body movement, practically dancing in his seat with glee.

JK walks in holding his right hand in place. At first I thought maybe it was injured or hurt or unable to move, a cramp maybe, like the ones JM suffers from at times. But later on it looked like there was nothing wrong with his arm. So was that his way of holding himself back? Restraining himself? Containing himself?

JM signals for JK to talk into his mic,

Pulls the mic up forward away from his chest, and as JK comes closer he lets it go and leans back for JK to move in.

And JK, well why? The mic is right there. Why does he lean in lower? To say hello to Army? Talking to JM's what? Not the mic, that's for sure...

There did not seem to be a chair there next to JM when the live started, and when JK was leaving JM had him take a chair with him. So, as JK came into frame were the staff assuming he's going to be joining JM for the rest of the live? Also making sure to hand him a mic?

And then, JM asks JK "why did you lose so much weight?", all while reaching out his arm, and JK moves forward towards him, and you can see JK's eyes moving down to JM's arm all while JM just goes for JK's chest. Just going straight for the grab.

And JK, he loses it for just a second.

Sniff, gulp, giggle...

And we are back.

JK laughingly tells us he just practiced. But kind of still dumbfounded I guess.

And then I think JM came to as well (you know, awakening from the aftershock of his own actions, lol) and tells JK "time to go", or more so "get the fuck out of here as fast as you can and take that chair with you while you're at it, cause if you don't leave now I'm going to jump your bones right here right now".

Ok, so maybe he didn't say those words exactly, but that was the sentiment, lol.

JM apologises. Thrice.

For sending JK on his way.

And we get the hug. One of those Jikook in front of the camera hugs.

And again JM rushes JK to leave, smacking his butt while he's at it.

JK grabs the chair, tells JM to enjoy watching with Army and tells us he loves us on the way out. And JM sitting there watching JK, giggling, smile plastered on his face, waving by. But that isn't the end of it.

Because as JK leaves JM follows him with his gaze, until he waves him goodbye and only then gets back to the documentary.

And this is when we lost JM for a few minutes there during that part of the documentary, and even more so when JK was on screen singing or during their interactions.

And we also got this reaction to their hug.

What was going through your mind at that moment JM?

After JK leaves there is not too much left until the end of the documentary. And then we have a JM giggles attack. And the man is telling us he's laughing about balloon placements, but seriously, do we really think that's it?

And yes, JM was as always his own shy self while going it alone, and yes, he was finding it hard where to go with the live once the video was over, but this was just more than just plain embarrassment or shyness.

Could there have been someone there waiting for him? Someone that has that kind of effect on JM perhaps?

I don't think JK was there the whole time. He really did leave when JM was waving him goodbye (if he hadn't have left JM wouldn't have been able to get back to the documentary the way he did). But possibly, very possibly, lover boy went to shower and came back in time for JM's ending.

JM tells us during that giggle attack that he will post a pic of the funny balloons only to later post a pic of 19 balloons, the ones in the front shaped like an S. And why do I feel like that was JK's doing? The S shaped balloons...

Clearly the balloons were not placed that way at first.

Someone did this. Question is which one of them. The S, the 19, not a coincidence.

I guess that's it for this post.

Like I mentioned, I know I probably forgot stuff, and there will probably several posts to follow.

But I just needed to get this one out there for you guys. And I guess we'll add on as we go (especially seeing that I've reached my image limit here, as usual).

To sum this up.

WOW!!!

#Jimin #JM #JM's Production diary #JM's documentary #Jikook #kookmin #Minkook #Jungkook #JK #Jikook Letter

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ryan-sometimes · 4 days

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hi! you're the only biochemist i know so i have to ask this

my aunt recently got really into this holistic-sounding thing called healing immunity by transfer factors, tied to a very fishy company, 4life. in my understanding, they're preying on the lack of scientific proof that something /doesnt/ work to convince people that it /does/, based on reports of 'clients' that miraculously healed from various conditions from minor allergies to literally cancer, as well as preventing/curing >autism< 💀 problem is, she totally believes this bulshit and is giving them tons of money and trying to get the whole family to try it too

as a biochemist, I was wondering if you ever stumbled across transfer factors, know about any recent research on this field, or know the scientific explanation for why this is a load of baloney

thank you!

I’m familiar with transfer factors. A transfer factor is a chemical compound (often a protein) that is taken from an organism after it develops immunity against a disease. It’s part of immune cell signaling- it’s how your immune cells talk to each other.

But that’s the issue with pseudoscience. Oftentimes, they take something that has a small fraction of truth to it and then completely invent the rest.

Here’s the rest: transfer factors are often incredibly specific. So specific, in fact, that just two strains of the exact same bacteria could lead to two completely different factors being generated in response to them. Also, two different people infected by the exact same illness could generate different antibodies/transfer factors in response. Your immune system is as unique as your fingerprints.

Even if you took the antibodies/transfer factors from one person immune to a disease and injected them into someone currently afflicted by the disease, there’s no guarantee that it’ll make them immune as well. Cell signaling compounds are essentially words in the language your body uses to communicate with itself- and who knows if other people’s cells speak the same language?

For all you know, that transfer factor is telling your body something it might misunderstand completely. What if it “mishears” what that factor is trying to say? You could trigger an unwanted immune response! And that could potentially be even worse than just developing immunity naturally through exposure.

The field of transfer factors is still rudimentary- all of the real (actually scientific) research on injecting people with transfer factors to boost immunity is still very much in its experimental phase. Any company alleging to sell transfer factors to boost immunity is scamming you. Not even real medical companies are doing that yet, and if they could, they would. You know how money hungry pharmaceutical companies are.

Here’s one thing that’s certain: transfer factors cannot cure non immunity/infection related issues. Autism isn’t caused by a pathogen, how can your body develop an immune response to it when there’s nothing to fight? And regarding cancer, there’s already an existing field to treat cancer using your immune system: it’s called immunotherapy. And that will be given to you by a doctor, not some random company trying to sell glorified supplements. And for allergies? Get some antihistamines and an EpiPen.

The best way to boost your immune system is already available: vaccines. Vaccines prompt your body to make ITS OWN transfer factors and antibodies, which guarantees your cells will understand what those factors mean. And the transfer factors your body makes for itself will always be safer and more effective.

Real science beats pseudoscience.

#I love it when you guys ask me scientific questions please ask me more of them #long post #biochemistry #pseudoscience #science #biology

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sytokun · 2 months

Text

A lengthy thought wall about the recent RT shutdown and DillonGoo Studios' interest in acquiring RWBY - I speculate and entertain some hopium about the pros that could come with it and why all in all, impossible it may be, it's probably the best shot we have for RWBY.

Some rwde cause it mentions Shane's letter and nobody likes that.

I've been reading a lot, a lot of the various discussions around RWBY's fate and Dillon Goo Studio's (henceforth shortened to DGS) interest in acquiring it. Here's my overall evaluation everything so far:

This goes without saying but this is obviously an optimistic take on the matter, I wanna talk moreso about the pros rather than the logistics of whether DGS can afford it, whether you think it's just clout-chasing, etc.

Dillon's a former RWBY animator and a fan of Monty's work. No matter what you think of Monty's style of action, in the greater public sphere, RWBY is known and liked precisely for that and largely that alone, period. Only RWBY fans who are already invested in the show will mention story or characters - for the majority of people, i.e. future RWBY fans, the action is the main selling point, and DGS clearly can deliver on this.

Dillon himself is at least amicable with most of CRWBY and likely open to negotiate with them given prior work history. For any other media corporation, consulting the old IP holders of a defunct company is a minor formality at best or even a laughable waste of time. And if you want to bring up a certain almost 10-year-old letter and the person working with Dillon who wrote it, there are plenty in the comments section who would agree with me that it's not as big a dealbreaker as one might think, given the company the letter largely condemned is well dead and buried. I won't go further into that matter.

DGS is very community-oriented - they're very intimately familiar with 3D animation and produces creator-friendly content like the Goo Engine which helps future animators inspired by RWBY to make similar anime-style 3D content. Every single RWBY fan animator whose work we enjoyed benefits from this acquisition - all of whom can grow into future animators for the series, intimately familiar with its trademark action style.

DGS is probably the only genuine fan of RWBY that has a remote chance of acquiring the IP with the express motivation of using the IP creatively. This can be clearly seen in the steady improvement of their animation content over the years and desire to push the medium. All other candidates are corporations whose motivations with RWBY are, more likely than not, going to be entirely financial (not necessarily a bad or unhealthy thing, but it's a factor).

If RWBY stays under WB or given off to Crunchyroll? They have no stake in RWBY beyond pure business. They have no interest in what's best for RWBY or its growth, only how it will be most profitable or recoup the losses from RT. The only companies I can see being more creatively invested in RWBY are ArcSystem Works who implemented RWBY in Blazblue Cross Tag Battle, or Shaft that animated Ice Queendom, but those are both Japanese companies unlikely to go all-in on a foreign IP - especially given that these studios usually adapt other IPs, not buy them outright.

DGS is invested in RWBY. Their entire studio's style is built on RWBY-esque action animation. Acquiring RWBY more or less guarantees it'll become their main flagship series and their main investment, whereas with WB, Crunchyroll or other big platform, RWBY is nowhere near prolific enough to be much more than another shelf-filler in their library. At worst, Warner archives RWBY for eternity and at best, they only bring RWBY out for tie-ins and crossovers to prop up their larger DC properties. Why give RWBY the spotlight when they own the likes of Justice League and Looney Tunes?

DGS may not be the most plausible choice, but it's clear that unless some big company like ArcSystem Works or something throws their hat in the RWBY ring, DGS is far and away the people's favourite, even gaining approval from JJ Grelle (Tyrian's VA), who quite notably refused to reprise their role for Rooster Teeth.

DGS is still very much an indie studio which IMO RWBY has flourished the most under, the time period where it retained a certain unpolished energy that made you invested in watching it improve and grow. I don't want to watch a RWBY that uses its precious time under a new studio to just go by the numbers and coast by on its existing fanbase. I want to watch a RWBY that grows, innovates and takes risks, that impresses and draws new and old fans in the way it does for every single person that has watched the Red Trailer for the first time.

I think a lot of folks have a preconceived notion that RWBY has to continue on the exact same production value as V9 left off, but that never had to be the case. I think a return to a much more subdued production with smaller teams focusing on strong individual episodes over large overarching narratives will be healthy for RWBY and more easily invite new fans, which it sorely needs if it wants to stay afloat this time around.

Whether this means a continuation to V10 or a reboot I don't know, but I know I'd rather take a RWBY that a new studio respects and will produce in a way that fits their strengths and limits, over trying and overreaching themselves to make something work that even Rooster Teeth failed to, or over no RWBY at all.

That's the crux of it: the worse alternative is no RWBY at all. CRWBY and especially us as a fandom are in no position to be picky when that's the alternative. There's no such thing as a perfect deal, but this is about as sweet as they come. If the only hurdle is WB's refusal to sell, then that's on Warner. If the only hurdle is affording the IP, I, many others and no doubt other associates Dillon Goo Studios knows are likely to help them meet that price.

I do wanna stress, despite my optimism, I'm not asking to stake all our hopes on DGS as the saviour of RWBY, god no - the last thing I want is a weirdo Monty 2.0 cult and I doubt Dillon would want that either. I'm not saying the RWBY they'd make will be perfect or be equitable for everyone either - some compromises must be made and professionally speaking, whoever owns RWBY next has no legal obligation to make V10 or bring back anyone from CRWBY. Any such action is solely on the graces of the new IP holder and at the end of the day, I think whatever creates a healthier, longer-lasting future for RWBY should take priority over our sentiment or attachment.

But as things stand right now, if DGS isn't just farming Twitter likes and is honest-to-god serious about acquiring RWBY, and no better candidate presents themselves, this is about the best option we have right now, and I myself will be ready to help and contribute in whatever little way I can. Because I know the very real alternative is either a complete gamble on yet another faceless media subsidiary, or watching RWBY rot behind a vault for the next decade or more.

#rwby #rwde #dillon goo #rooster teeth #crwby

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shankss-magnificent-ass · 1 year

Text

Imagine the beast pirates learning you are a criminal mastermind

Kaido: *going over a cargo manifest* we will sell these in Port Chugal, prepare them for shipment.

King: Port Chugal won't buy pirate goods anymore, the world government found out they've been trading with us, so they replaced the king there.

Kaido: That's the third distribution market I've had to change in the last month. First the Bourgeois Kingdom, then Ballywood, and now Port Chugal. How are they finding my warehouses?

Queen: we don't know at the moment, but we're working on it

You: *King's assistant* I would like to point out something that all three have in common.

King: Silence.

Kaido: let em talk, I want to hear what they have to say.

You: they were all common stops on Captain Rondow's transport route, who was captured almost three months ago by the world government.

Kaido: You think the poor bastard broke under torture?

You: It appears so, and from the other reports we're getting I'm guessing they have figured out how you conduct your exportation operation. *Hands King the reports*

King: *Skims them* we spent years building this system.

You: which means building another will be faster this time. I'm guessing how they're locating our goods is by the fact that while it's labeled under a company that doesn't have any paperwork officially filed in countries we claim it's from.

Kaido: what are we supposed to do, get a business permit?

You: yes, but actually no. Now any new businesses from any nations in your territory will come under scrutiny by the world government. So I think we should find any failing, but long-established companies, and bail them out in exchange for slipping our illicit cargo into their product distribution.

King: that... might actually work, but there's no way we can guarantee their loyalty.

You: that's why you give them a small percentage of the profits and gather blackmail material. Most rich people are sick fucks will have skeletons in their closet, you just have to look for it.

Kaido: I'll entrust the task to you, and in the meantime we'll have Yamato fill in for you with King.

King: what! No! Your son is... not great at paperwork.

Kaido: Sorry bud, but I'd like to see what they can do on their own, so I'm setting them loose.

Returns from setting up the new network seven months later

Kaido: I just got the finance report for the last quarter

You: *literally just got off the boat* Sir?

King: Your network is more efficient than what we had set up.

Kaido: you're getting promoted, so you can manage it from here.

You: But I was really looking forward to working with King again.

Kaido: then you'll work under him not me.

You: I'm keeping my desk in your office.

King: For someone who ruthlessly castrated a man to get him to do what they wanted, you are very clingy and sentimental.

You: I was well within my rights to revoke that man's dick privilege, you had no idea how man people he's assaulted. I did that town a fucking favor by pickling that man's junk

Kaido: you pickled it!

You: Yes I did, how else, so you think I got an entire town to look the other way about our ships coming into the harbor?

Kaido: I never would have thought of that... You know when I met you I never would have guessed you'd be an asset to my operations. You seemed too soft and naive, too kind.

You: *shrugs* Well thank you for thinking I'm kind, but I just so happen to hate you less than the world government, and you have more money than the revolutionary army. And Lin Lin and her family freaks me out.

King: don't forget Akagami and Whitebeard won't hire you since you've worked with us.

You: *clicks your tongue* and I regret it every day.

Coming Soon

#one piece #one piece x reader #one piece imagine #one piece scenario #beast pirates #animal kingdom pirates #kaido #kaidou #king the conflagration #king the conflagration x reader #king the wildfire x reader #from the depths of the dragons hoard #tma original #4/2/23 #no beta we die like men

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clavissionary-position · 25 days

Text

Full Translation of Azel's LINE Chat

Ikepri's official LINE account here Kagari's chat ✦ Matias' chat Azel's keyword: ちゃりん (*clink of coins*)

*Accuracy is not guaranteed italics = Rude Azel

> *clink of coins*

Thank you for making an offering to God. How may I help you?

Choices 1) Would you like to go on a date together? 2) Would you like to tour Tanzanite's attractions together?

> Would you like to go on a date together?

I humbly refuse. I don't sell myself too readily as a matter of principle.

Oh, but there would be room for consideration if you were to sign a promissory note. It would be you selling your body to me, though. How about it?

Choices 1) I'll sign it 2) Please have mercy

> I'll sign it

Are you stupid?

My apologies, that text just now was sent by mistake. So a date, was it? I shall happily oblige. I'll draft up a promissory note to send over, so please wait without making any attempts to stiff me.

Oh, and don't worry; I already know your whereabouts even without you divulging it. I am God, after all. While we're at it, I'll go ahead and throw in a free oracle as a bonus.

[voiced clip] "Something good will happen if you stay with me all day today." On what basis...? There's no such thing. Take a guess.

> Please have mercy

It was a mercy that I didn't just ignore you.

Ah, what I mean is, you are a devout follower of mine… In which case, fine, very well; I don't mind going out with you just this once.

I don't know what it is you expect of me, and I don't wish to know, but I also hate the thought of being needlessly hounded any more than this.

[voiced clip] Of course I'm not planning anything. For I am a benevolent god. What are you saying—that I'm going to force a bill on you after? I would never!

> Would you like to tour Tanzanite's attractions together?

Why me?

Aren't you confusing me for some kind of handy local guide or something? There's no way I'd resort to doing menial work on my day off, no matter how greedy they say I am, but I'll at least humor you.

Choices 1) I want to go see your statue in the market 2) I want to go to your most-recommended spot

> I want to go see your statue in the market

...Not another word.

Can you even comprehend the abject horror that grips me whenever I walk through the market—you can't, can you?

Your payment just now was mere compensation money. Come to the temple right this instant and make an offering. Then we'll talk.

[voiced clip] Wait... I don't get myself. Why am I calling you over here for no reason?

> I want to go to your most-recommended spot

Do NOT come here. You're a pain.

My temple is my paradise. No prying eyes from the public, and I can spend my time in self-indulgence.

Then again, if you were to come by with worship money, I wouldn't exactly turn you away. But we'd pass the time as I see fit.

[voiced clip] I limit myself to doing nothing on my days off. I try not to think too much, and I don't meet with anyone either. You're just special.

-------- Notes

The Nice Azel chat segments end with him saying "If you have any further concerns, I'll gladly hear them out. For a fee." The Rude Azel segments end with "Is there anything else? You're such a tiresome follower."

This is the word he uses when he talks about selling himself, if you want some different interpretations:

(from Jisho.org)

I'm relieved he seems to be a tsundere. And I refuse to believe he doesn't walk around his temple completely naked when he's alone. It's his Mancave of Wonders 😭 He really feels like Silvio Part Deux (affectionate) but his theatricality seems very Clavis (affectionate).

Disclaimer + Sources

I'm not a translator. I just throw lines into various different translators and dictionaries and make a lot of guesses in-between. Take everything with a huge grain of salt.

I use Capcut's auto-caption feature to extract subs for the voice clips.

Sources for specific phrases: (if you care about that sort of thing)

#azel radwan #ikemen prince #ikepri azel #ikepri spoilers #ikepri jp spoilers #ikepri translation folder

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mixelation · 10 months

Text

more reborn au chunin exams ->

so i'm trying to backtrack from my "mission goes wrong" post, which is actually a horrible way to construct a plot, but here we are. anyway this post is therefore about the tournament section of the exam, but to recap: team 4's main goal is to extract a captive from iwa, but the iwa-konoha tensions are still pretty high so it has to look like a legit attempt at pushing a team through the exam. the tournament is the day when they can guarantee basically everyone in the village is distracted, so that's the day they pick to do the actual extraction. it's also a day when the entire team has to be seen publically

tori: well i'm not a combat shinobi, so i'll just get out on my first match

kushina: NO >:( you can totally be a combat kunoichi if you try!!!

tori: why are you like this

so i think part of tori's character arc for this section is that she's like. significantly more badass than she thinks she is. it's not that she's a particularly gifted fighter-- it's that my goal for late-plasticity tori is that through wit, creativity, a few minutes of prep time and lot of experimental fuinjutsu, she can actually take out an experienced ninja. she's just having a very hard time integrating "while in the heat of battle!!" into her sense of self.

tori about to wander into unknown circumstances where she can pretend to be a cute little civilian girl: yeah no i got this. idk i'll just make something up. it'll be fine.

tori facing a carefully set up fight: wait no i'll die

both itachi and deidara are both like "aren't you fighting some dweeb? you can't THROW your match people will notice" meanwhile tori is like. no i think there's a very high chance i will try and then just fail

B U T itachi has the match right after her, so if she wins, she'll be up against him next. (we just assume itachi will win, obviously.) i was thinking about how canon made sasuke vs gaara a first round match and how that seems like bad seeding to me if that was the match most people wanted to see..... like i know it was decided "randomly," but..... c'mon. so i decided they made it a first round match because that's how they could GUARANTEE this high-profile match.

so i decided first round for this should be itachi vs kurotsuchi 0:)

the OTHER part of tori's character arc is that despite coming off as "the nice one," she is phenomenally bad about thinking about her teammates as people she should be looking out for and actively protecting. tori understand the benefits of teamwork in theory, obviously-- she's just used to having to actively fight whoever she's working with the entire way, and also maybe one day they will just kill her for no reason.

so tori's chunin exam plan is thus: win her fight with minimal effort so she's fresh as possible to fight itachi, and also fuck up itachi's match as much as she can. so instead of extended training montage or whatever, she buddies up with kurotsuchi tells her how to fight itachi. not like, treasonous amounts of info-- but she warns her he favors genjutsu and stuff like that. also i'm not 100% on how she wins her first match yet, but i'm thinking it involved lies to make the other guy panic and give up, possibly with a low-effort assist from kurotsuchi? (think nibe's fight in homemade dynamite)

anyway kushina is like "nooooo D; tori what are you DOING" because yeah kunoichi are tricky people but WHY DID YOU SELL YOUR TEAMMATE OUT TO THE TSUCHIKAGE'S GRANDDAUGHTER ARE YOU INSANE

tori: ??? itachi? he'll be fine. look, he won

and then i want the tori vs itachi fight to be like. good. like she's not going to win, but she does make him work for it*

*part of it is that itachi doesn't want to seriously injure her, and tori looked deep inside her heart and decided she would beat itachi to a bloody paste if given the opportunity

tori limps out of her fight, and taking her to medical is kushina's excuse for why they both dip out of the tournament early.

EDIT: iwa does not pass any of them for petty bullshit reasons they just make up.

minato, reading the report they send a month after they've blown up 80% of the demolition corps: hilarious. anyway you're all still genin

#reborn au

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shadowbriar · 1 year

Text

Fred Weasley - Outgrown

Pairing : (F/M) || Fred Weasley x Reader Word Count : 2.9k Warning : Arguments. Fred being a dick. Prompts : “I’d ask but judging by the look on your eyes, I can already tell that you’ve closed our chapter.” Notes : I’m sorry it took forever for me to post it. It’s a rather challenging request, I have to admit. If you like this story and would like to support me, please visit my kofi page and perhaps get me a coffee?☕

Time is a thorny thing to understand. One minute she’d wish to freeze it, pack it in a box and keep it under her bed to visit every once in a while. The other time she wished it would pass faster than the beat of her heart, unable to stand and watch as the situation unpacks right before her eyes. But most of the time, she wished that she could go back and relive the moments where things felt perfectly in place.

She’s spent every ticking of the clock each night to figure out when things started to crumble. When was the last time his hands felt perfect in hers? When was the last time his words sent blissful jolts to her spine? When was the last time his smile and laughter fueled her heart with delight? But those questions slowly turn into what. What happened? What made them strain this way? What did she do? What did he do?

His side of the bed has long been cold. As cold as the forced smiles he mercifully showed her in the mornings. There were never giggles and playful teasing by the kitchen anymore, no cuddles on the weekends as they watch some muggle movies they try so hard to understand. It was as if every blissful memory they had was a mere imagination.

And now she has her eyes glued on him, hands busy trying to refill the stock of Nosebleed Nougat. The sight of him flirting with a customer no longer hurts her, only made her wonder more on what exactly happened between them. He was leaning on the wall, hands folded to his chest as he made the girl giggles and blushes. She wonders if he told her the same compliments and jokes he once did to her back in their school year.

“Excuse me, Miss?” Someone called, tapping on her shoulder lightly “I can’t seem to find the Bruise Removal Paste. Could you please show me where it’s stored?”

She smiles, putting away the box of Nosebleed Nougat, “Of course, Sir. Please follow me.”

Walking the young gentleman to the other aisle, she warmly shows the new placed stock of said paste. The man took his time to look for the right product, as there were plenty of varieties to choose from. She studies him quietly, reckoning that he’s not much older than her.

He takes two different kinds of pastes and shows it to her, “Which do you suppose would be best for quidditch bruises?”

“Either would work just fine.” She answers and takes one of the potions from the shelf “But if you want the fastest result I suggest you get one of these potions, too. Guaranteed healings within the hour.”

The man takes the potion on her hand and blushes when their skin makes contact.

She notices the flustered gesture the man made and quickly takes a step back, not wanting to give any wrong impressions. Clearing her throat, she flashes a faint smile, “Would that be all, Sir?”

“Unless you sell bludgers and other quidditch equipment too now, then I suppose that would be all.”

“Right,” She says with a smile “Let me help you check out, then.”

She walks to the cashier with the man trailing her from behind. She quickly scans his shopping bag, noticing the nervous gesture the man was radiating. His eyes were glued on her, she could tell. It wasn’t that he was making her uncomfortable, he was kind really, yet getting the attention of another man than Fred felt like a very strange thing to feel.

“Love, I think George called for you.” Fred says, appearing out of nowhere as he slides a hand to her waist “I can continue this gentleman’s purchase. Why don’t you go and see what it is that George needs.”

She raised an eyebrow, knowing full well that George was still in his lunch break, “That’s alright, I’m about to finish. I’ll see what George needs right after.”

“Love,” Fred calls once more, this time with a firm tone as if he’s trying to maintain his anger “I think it would be best if you go and see him now.”

She stares at Fred with an irritated look before turning to the customer and flashes him an apologetic smile. She walked away from the cashier, letting Fred to continue the purchase. This would be the very first time she’s ever seen him get jealous. Sure the man was trying to hit on her, but she was only showing mere hospitality as what other shopkeepers would do. She wasn’t the one flirting and whispering rubbish to the customers just so they would giggle and buy one of their love potions.

The change in Fred’s attitude baffles her. It was as if he’d turned into a completely different person. Someone he knows for certain that she wouldn’t like, let alone love. As if he adopted all the traits she hates in a guy and dumped it as his new personality.

Exactly what happened to him?

—-

She turns off the stove as the kettle whistles, pouring the hot water to the teapot as she waits for the teabags to seep in. It has been a long day, physically and emotionally draining her. Fred had never asked her to come and help with the joke shop during the weekends, but with her tight schedule at the Ministry and him being so occupied with running and inventing new products, she really didn’t have much choice on the ways they could spend their time with.

At first helping at the joke shop was fun. George would always sulk and make commentaries on how their romantic display wouldn’t be good for business, making them rub their romance harder on his face. Yet for the past few months, her presence has been neglected as nothing but a mere extra hand. Even George was starting to show his concern about their relationship, something she always brushes off with white lies.

The closing of the front door was heard as Fred walked in, hand busy trying to set loose his tie. His hair was dishevelled, looking tired and stressed as he’s always been for the past few weeks. She wasn’t sure what it is that’s frustrating him as the shop seems to be skyrocketing. Perhaps another thing is occupying his mind.

“Would you like some tea?” She asks, making her presence known “I just brewed some.”

Fred shakes his head, “No, I’m alright.”

She nods, not uttering another word.

He proceeds to get inside their room, perhaps about to get a hot shower to wash away his tiredness. She taps her fingers on her mug, thinking of the stark contrast of the condition of their relationship now to how it once was. There were no kisses, no pet names called, and certainly no “I love you”s echoing through the flat each time he returns from work. It was as if there was nothing of their relationship left.

Before she could take a sip of her tea, Fred came back out of the bedroom, brows furrows and hands folded in front of his chest, “What were you doing?”

She knits her brows, “What do you mean?”

“Earlier, at the shop.” He says, tone laced with accusation “You were flirting with that man.”

“I was not.”

“Yes, you were, and don’t deny it because I saw it with my own eyes.” Fred hisses, taking steps closer to the kitchen table now “You were acting all shy, blushing and all as you talk to that man. What, is he your new boyfriend now?”

“What- Are you drunk, right now? You’re talking nonsense!” She argues, feeling anger boiling up her veins from the accusation “I was just being nice. Isn’t that what shopkeepers are supposed to do? Being nice?”

Fred chuckles mockingly, “You were much more than being nice, Love. You’re practically begging for him to take you home.”

Her jaw dropped, surprised and hurt from his commentary. A hint of regret was visible on his face right after he uttered the words but it’s obvious that his head was red raw. Fred was angry and jealous. A combination she has never seen before.

“I’m not going to fight you over nonsense like this.” She says short, trying her best to keep a cold head and walks away from her seat.

“Yeah? Go on and walk away. See if I have any care for whatever this is we have.”

“You know what, fine, let’s talk!” She yells back “You don’t get to act all jealous and be angry at me when you’ve been such a flirt yourself, alright! You want to talk about today? Sure, let’s talk about today. You don’t get to stand there and act all saintlike when you’ve flirted with girls all day, Fred Weasley. The only reason you stopped was because your ego was hurt that someone actually tried to come and talk to me.”

Fred’s face was red, “I was not flirting with anyone.”

“Yeah? Then what do you call whispering rubbish to some random girls and making them blush on the corners of the shop?”

“The same thing you said to me earlier, I was just being nice to a customer.”

“Don’t give me that bull, Fred. You know there’s a stark difference between our customer care.” She spat, eyes starting to get glassy "Those girls were flirting with you and you entertain them still. How is it that I helped a man checkout their bag and I'm suddenly the villain?"

A tear fell from her eyes, making Fred to wince a little at the severity of their fight right now.

"I'm only doing my job. Unlike you who happen to be more engrossed in humouring our customers than to actually make them pay for our products." She continues, wiping her tears away with her jumper sleeve “You know, Fred. I try so hard to make it work for us, to have as much time as possible around you. I spend my weekends at the shop, hoping to be closer with my boyfriend yet all I’ve been getting is the sight of him being comfortable with strangers.”

"Nobody asked you to work here, alright. Nobody asked for your help!" Fred yells, his volume getting louder and louder “Maybe if you would just stop being so clingy and live your own god damn life, I wouldn’t have to try so hard to flee out of your grasp.”

She gasps at Fred’s venomous words. His sentences felt like blaring thunder, deafening her eardrums and making her head ring in pain. Her tears are now flowing hard, soaking her cheeks. Never had Fred raised his words before, let alone spat the words that felt like whips to her trembling heart.

Her loud sob seems to have awakened him from his rage. Facial features softened as he tried to reach her hands, “Love, I’m sorry. I didn’t-”

She didn’t let him finish his words. She walks fast to their bedroom, taking her wand and her purse. She can’t be with him right now. She needs to be alone.

“Love, what are you doing?” Fred asks, his tone laced with fear as he watches her pack a few of her clothes “Where are you going?”

She didn’t answer. The only noise echoing in their room was her little sniffles, still trying her best to stop the tears from flowing. Her fingertips were shaking from the heartbreak but she had to continue, she needed to get out of that place before more hurtful words spilled and heard. There’s only so much a girl could take in one night.

Before she could walk past him, Fred took her hand and looked at her with pleading eyes, “Where are you going?”

“I swear to Merlin Fred, if you don’t let me go now we both are going to suffer and regret the night for the rest of our lives.” She says with a voice cracking in sadness “Let me go.”

With reluctance he finally let go of her hands. He watches as she leaves their flat, front door closing ever so slowly and blocking his sight of her. The silence of the apartment now becomes haunting, the sound of his heart beating fast inside his chest seems to be the only thing gripping him to reality.

What has he done?

—-

She takes a deep breath as she opens the front door, taking a step inside the flat she once called home. Everything was slightly out of place. Shoes scattered on the floor, dirty dishes by the sink, and laundry piled up by the corner. It looks like he hasn’t got the time to take care of himself.

It’s been a few weeks since she left. She hasn’t heard a word nor seen him since. A part of her was grateful that he’s giving her the time and space to retreat yet a bigger part of her is still hurt over the fact that Fred might not even care about her at all. Perhaps her absence was something he rejoices. He did say that she was being too clingy.

Now she walks to what once was their bedroom and finds her suitcase. She flicks her wand, making her clothes to find their spot in the luggage. She walks to the bedside table and packs her other belongings. Makeup, jewelleries, and other trinkets that were hers are now placed into her other bag. Packing up her possessions clean as if they were never there in the first place.

Before her things were neatly tucked into her bags, she could hear the front door being opened and closed. She lets out a sharp breath, not expecting him to have returned that early. Fred has never come back to his flat during his lunch break, so why would he be here now?

“Love?”

She heard his voice echoing, noticing that someone was inside the flat. His footsteps were followed not long after, appearing by the bedroom door. The smile that was growing on his face turns into a tight line within seconds as he sees her packing her belongings. He takes a gulp from the fear washing over him.

“Fred,” She calls softly, tone unsure on how to address the situation “You’re home early.”

He nods lightly, not saying a word and looking like he’s trying to digest the situation happening before his eyes.

“Would you like some tea?”

She wanted to facepalm herself. Tea? Is that the best she could come up with?

Fred smiles lightly, nodding, “Sure.”

And so she walks to the kitchen, Fred following from behind like a lost puppy. She could see from the short glimpse of him that he too has been miserable. He doesn’t dress as neat and scholarly as he loved to dress for the shop. He was only wearing a shirt that looks like it hasn’t been ironed, an unmatched tie and a coat that she knew was his least favourite. She wonders if George nags him for not following their agreed upon twinning dress code.

The wait for the kettle to boil seems to be forever. She didn’t dare to turn and look at Fred, afraid that she might break the fortress she so hard tried to build over the last few days. She didn’t even expect to see him in person today. What exactly could she do but to look away from him?

“I’d ask but judging by the look on your eyes, I can already tell that you’ve closed our chapter.”

She lets out a pitiful chuckle, looking down to her palms, “Haven’t you been the one that closed it first, Fred?”

Fred didn’t answer. She could hear his shuddering exhale, seemingly accepting the farewell that’s bound to happen any second now. She wanted to go and hug him, tell him that everything will be alright and that this storm will pass with ease, but moving her feet felt like an impossible task to do. She too needed an assurance.

“I’m sorry.” He says weakly, voice trembling as he tries his best to not cry “I hope you can forgive me one day.”

She turns to face him, fighting her tears, “What happened with us, Fred?”

“I don’t know.” He says sadly, eyes glued on her “Perhaps we’ve outgrown each other.”

She nods, letting out a sigh.

“I still love you.” Fred confessed genuinely, his features softened “I just don’t know why I haven’t shown it the way I should have. There’s just so many things I have to do, so many things I have to think about, and I’m sorry that you have to be the one I put least in my priority.”

“I love you too, Fred.” She sighs, coming closer to him and resting her hand to his cheek “But perhaps it’s time for us to figure things out on our own. Maybe one day, when we’ve found what we’re looking for, if the universe permits, we will cross paths again and love each other better.”

A tear finally left his eyes. Fred begins to sob, nodding at the mutual agreement of their parting. He pulled her close, resting his face into the crook of her neck. He would miss her embrace, her comforting scent and the warmth of her words that he once called home. Never had he imagined a time when he would have to say goodbye to her, where he has to live in a reality where she’s not by his side. Yet the milk’s spoiled and hurtful words have been uttered. Now all that is left for Fred to do is find the good in goodbye.

#fred weasley #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley scenario #fred weasley angst #fred weasley oneshot #fred weasley fanfiction #fred weasley fanfic #fred weasley x you #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x y/n #fred weasley x oc

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