#yes she is not entirely black and white and her motivations there may not have been wholly 'good' BUT THEY'RE NOT WHOLLY EVIL EITHER

[sinswithpleasure]

Eyes On Her

—------

I lost motivation towards the ending, but I'm posting this regardless. Enjoy Dubu.

—------

Your inability to keep calm in front of pretty girls has always been your downfall. You have countless stories about you embarrassing yourself in front of so many pretty girls saying stupid things that you wouldn't normally say once they winked at you, flashed a tiny smile, pushed their hair back, or some combination of these. 

However, this time was different. 

"Don't worry, you can look."

Dahyun's billion dollar smile eases your nerves a little—the girl in front of you just has that charm to her, to calm and to evoke joy in you. However, you still don't want to say anything stupid, especially not to a world-class idol such as her. 

"It's okay, don't worry. Just you and me here."

That line of reassurance is all you need to finally turn your eyes back to her. The megawatt smile of hers greets your vision when you finally look up, and you're instantly just as smitten as you were when you first laid eyes on her when she arrived for this year's Fashion Week. Your eyes start to roam, however, down to the milky white skin of her exposed shoulder, to the tight curve of the black dress over her chest. Dahyun just smiles as your eyes wander, and she begins a set of poses that look both goofy and sexy, true to her personality. You're the one who breaks first, giggling and laughing into your hand, then she does. Both of you have a small laughing fit in the empty back corridors, far from today's afterparty of the New York Fashion Week.

Trust Dahyun to keep the spirits up with you, even if the situation right now is sexually charged. Dahyun had pulled you aside discreetly after one too many stares over the day, with her first question being "You like me?" You'd answered yes almost immediately when she grinned, and here you were with her, trying not to ogle her and failing until she gave you permission to do so. 

"What time you off work?"

Dahyun's English is heavily accented and a little broken, sometimes slow, but you found it endearing. She had an interpreter with her the entire day for the event, but she would try to use English as much as she could. Perhaps it was business, perhaps otherwise, but you found it endearing. 

"11pm, Miss Kim."

"No, no, call me Dahyun. It's okay."

"Oh, um—11pm, Dahyun."

"Hmm…" The Korean girl hums. She rests her chin on her fingers as she thinks, and then she grins. 

"Paper and pen? Phone?"

You pull out your mobile phone and unlock it. She enters your Notepad app and leaves an address and a few numbers. 

"My hotel room. Come after work."

"Wha—?!"

"You hear me." Dahyun steps up close, close enough for you to smell the perfume on her. You gasp when her hand glides over your crotch, over your cock. 

"Idols can have fun too."

Dahyun leaves for the main party, but not without giving you a soft kiss on the cheek.

—-------

You knock on room 12-405 at midnight. The door opens almost immediately, and Kim Dahyun peeks out, her bright smile still just as dazzling. 

"Come in, quickly."

She pulls you in and closes the door, and now you're in Dahyun's hotel room. She's traded her heels for the hotel's slippers, and her long hair is now flowing down her back. You can't help but find amusement at the way she looks all sexy on top, but very informal below.

"I'm not wearing underwear any more."

Dahyun's voice drips with sex, and while her smile may seem largely innocent, you can see the lust in her eyes. Now that there are no cameras, just you and her, she can finally drop the pretense. 

"Oh, fuck…"

Dahyun grabs your hand, and you bite your lip when she leads it beneath the skirt of her dress. She moans when you come in contact with her crotch, and you gasp—she's soaked, and the warmth of her body is so comfortable against your cool hand. Without thinking, you begin to rub against her folds, and Dahyun staggers, falling into your chest. 

"Fuck…"

You'd never expected Dahyun to curse like that, and it's just so damned sexy. 

Your fingers slide over her clit, and Dahyun shudders. She's so sensitive and so reactive to every touch, and when she looks up at you, the sheer want in her eyes has your cock twitching in your pants. 

"More, please."

Two words, so simple, and it lights a fire in you to give her what she wants. You want to serve her, to watch her reactions as she has sex with you. You rub your palm along her slit, and the moan Dahyun releases goes straight to your cock. Precum leaks from the tip, and you have to muffle a curse at just how hot she sounds. Slick stains your palm—a testament to how wet Dahyun is. 

"I… I've been… waiting…"

Dahyun's English is made slower by the pleasure coursing through her system. She releases another sinful moan, and you curse again—this time, Dahyun's hand is over your bulge, her fingers gently brushing over your hard cock as she unzips your pants. 

"I want you to feel good too."

It is with those words that Dahyun reaches into your pants. You feel her pull the waistband of your briefs down and pull your cock out from the hole in your pants, and you hiss when she begins to stroke you softly. Her touch is delicate at first, but then she begins to stroke you just right. 

"Fuck, just like that."

"Really?" Dahyun's surprised but happy, and you can't help but fall a little in love at that moment. 

"Mm," you repeat, "Just like that."

Your motions slow a little with the pleasure she gives you, and Dahyun grabs your wrist to get your attention. 

"Faster, please. You can use your fingers too."

With her instructions given, you begin to tease Dahyun's opening with your middle and ring fingers, alternating that with rubbing her clit. Dahyun's moans only get sultrier, and she strokes your cock a little harder as she spreads the precum beading at the tip all over your shaft. When your fingers finally breach past her nether lips, Dahyun lets out a long, guttural moan as inch after inch of your digits slide into her. You begin to thrust softly, and each thrust has you going in deeper and deeper until you're all the way in. 

"You're so fucking wet, Dahyun."

The Korean girl blushes harder, somehow. She'd already been flushed from arousal, but she somehow gets redder at the wet sounds of your fingers thrusting into her pussy. She sighs, part in pleasure, part in embarrassment, and you chuckle. Dahyun was adorable, even in sex. 

"Kiss me, please?"

You see no reason to deny Dahyun her request. Her lips meet yours in a soft kiss, and two thoughts immediately plant themselves in your mind—Dahyun is a very good kisser, and kissing her helps you time your thrusts right. You find a steady rhythm with your fingers through the kisses you share with her, and Dahyun melts into you, every brush of your fingertips against her G-spot and palm against her clit drawing the sexiest moans out of her. 

"Dahyun, I can't wait any more."

You pull your fingers out from the Korean star and wipe them haphazardly on your pants. You seek the zipper on the side of her dress and you draw it down. 

"Wait, bed first."

Dahyun turns around, and you follow her to the bed. What keeps your eyes locked to her is that she undresses as she moves—she pulls the dress down to expose her upper back, and when she reaches the bed, she pulls it off her and steps out of it. You're greeted with the first sight of her shapely ass, and then Dahyun climbs onto the bed to get herself comfortable, which lets you admire the curves on her body, with short glimpses of her dripping pussy. When the girl turns around, you finally get to see the breasts you've craved for so long. 

Perky, soft, full. Those are the words that come to your mind first. Dahyun's chocolate brown nipples, hard with arousal, are a contrast to her skin. You let your eyes roam as you haphazardly tug open your own shirt, and when you take your eyes off her to pull your shirt off and remove your belt, the sight of Dahyun with her legs spread open, fingers rubbing circles on her clit greets you when you gaze upon her again. You almost trip in your haste to step out of your clothes, and Dahyun laughs, which leads you to as well. 

"Careful. I don't want you… pain."

"Okay."

Even when the situation is so lewd, it somehow remains so wholesome. 

You climb onto the bed slowly. Dahyun reaches out to you, and you lean into her, your tongue meeting Dahyun's in a soft, deep kiss. Both of you make out, hands roaming across bodies to increase each of your levels of pleasure. You knead Dahyun's breasts, she strokes your cock, you tease her clit, she teases your balls. Eventually, Dahyun's the one who breaks first.

"No more. Inside. Please."

You nod, and line yourself up with Dahyun's pussy. You tease her opening with the tip, and the girl frowns.

"Stop playing~."

"Oh, sorry."

She smiles—all is forgiven—and that smile morphs into the sexiest look of pleasure when you push into her cunt for the first time. The idol releases such exquisite moans of pleasure that goes straight to your cock—you're twitching deep inside her when you hilt, and Dahyun wraps her arms tightly around your body as she tries to get used to your cock in her. 

"Fuck, Dahyun, you're so tight."

"And you, so big."

Dahyun's nod a while later for you to move has you pulling out. You pull half your shaft out before thrusting back in, and soon enough, you're pumping steadily into Dahyun while making out with her. You knead her breasts as you kiss her, and the sinful moans that escape the Korean idol's lips echo around the room. When you break the kiss for air, you rise away from her, her hands in yours as you keep constant, short thrusts pumping away into her pussy. Dahyun's breasts jiggle with every movement, her hair fanned out like  a halo across her shoulders and the sheets. She is beautiful beneath you, almost divine, even. 

"So good, aah, ah, ssibal, ssibal…"

Dahyun reverts to her native Korean, muttering soft curses under her breath when you begin to pick up the pace. The claps of sex begin to get louder as you increase the strength of your thrusting, and soon enough, you're gently yet firmly fucking Kim Dahyun. 

"Fuck, so wet, so good, Dahyun, fuck!"

The Korean girl only moans in response—her hands have long since slid from yours to knead her chest and grip the sheets. You have one hand rubbing her clit, the other supporting you up as you piston into her soaked cunt coating your cock in her essence. The tension in you builds—you know it's only a matter of time before one of you snaps. 

"I'm… so close…"

"So am I, Dahyun, oh God!"

"Together?"

Dahyun pulls you in for another kiss. This time, she's desperate, her lips crashing into yours, tongue almost lashing against your own as you push yourself to thrust harder. You're at the end of this session with her, and the only priority is to chase your orgasms together with her. You rub her clit harder, faster, just as she kneads herself in time with the pace you're setting. The girl writhes beneath you as she gets closer and closer, and you can feel the coil in your stomach get tighter and tighter…

"Fuck, I'm so close, I'm so close, ugh!"

"Dahyun, Dahyun, Dahyun…"

"Inside me—"

You break half a second before Dahyun does—your hips stutter, and all you have time is for you to mutter a soft "I'm cumming" into her ear before your cock releases the first shot of semen deep into her cunt. Dahyun's body shudders in orgasmic bliss when that first shot of cum coats her walls, and her pussy squeezes your cock so deliciously as she cums, milking your cock for every bit of semen you can offer. Both of you enjoy the pleasures of orgasm together, her pussy coaxing shots of semen out of your shaft with every squeeze of her walls, your moans mingling with the other's as you enjoy hot, openmouthed kisses with her.

When you fall to the side, Dahyun moves closer to you. Her eyes ask one simple question, and you nod as you pull her in. Turns out both you and her are cuddlers after sex, and you bask in the warmth of the other body sharing the bed with you as you hold her in your embrace. 

As both of you catch your breath, you can't help but ask the question that's been nagging you since that evening. 

"Why me, Dahyun?"

The idol giggles. 

"You've been staring, whole day. I like it when guys stare, and even more if they cute, like you.

"Besides, like I said, I want to have fun too."

The smirk she gives you is downright sexy, and you can't help but feel a little turned on again despite your exhaustion. You don't act on it though, as Dahyun closes her eyes and starts to drift off. 

—-------

The next morning, you wake to the sound of Dahyun exiting the shower. You look around the room, and she's packed up, ready to leave. Your clothes are folded nicely on the table next to the bed.

"Good morning."

"Oh, good morning."

Dahyun towels her wet hair as she grins at you, her eyes roaming your body and stopping at your hard cock. You catch on to her gaze, and you start to get shy under her gaze. 

"It's okay, no need to be shy. All natural."

The idol pauses, and she sighs. 

"If only I had a little more time, I would do you one more time. Sorry."

You're not sure what else to say, but the burn of a missed opportunity stings your heart, along with the arousal stemming from the thought of having sex with Dahyun again causing your cock to twitch once. Dahyun giggles when her words sink into your brain.

"Check your phone. I leave my number inside."

She steps up to you and kisses you softly on the cheek. 

"Next time you come Seoul, call me."

She flashes her megawatt smile again.

"We have sex."

#kpop fanfic #kpop fanfiction #kpop smut #male reader #twice smut #male reader insert #dahyun smut #twice dahyun smut #kim dahyun smut

[super-lad]

So, I'm scrolling through my dashboard and I see this post:

This post has 1000+ notes.

Needless to say, the post is wrong. The woman in the video did say, "I went through hell" about her experiences as a hostage. It's not CNN propaganda. It's the truth.

Here is what the woman, Yocheved Lifschitz, additionally said in a fuller video:

"I went through hell something I didn't think human beings would do to one another. I have never gone through anything like it in my life… The young men beat me and hurt me and they took my watch and jewelry." (timestamp: 1:12 to 1:26)

This was translated by notable Palestine-friendly news network, Al Jazeera. They are funded by Qatar, who currently harbors Hamas leadership within their borders. Qatar also served as mediators between the US, Israel, and Hamas during hostage negotiations. So you could say, Al Jazeera has the least amount of motive to skew bias of their coverage towards Israel or the West.

OP's post is unequivocally wrong. Yes, war and propaganda often go hand in hand. For a genocide to happen, the aggressor will try to justify it. But in this post, specifically, OP backs these claims with evidence that is an outright lie.

Also, what exactly is OP trying to say?

If you read that CNN article, we see the entire dialogue where Lifschitz also praises her Hamas captors for being "kind" during captivity. OP is saying that CNN is spreading propaganda to justify genocide. I'm being generous here, but I guess the evidence for that is: "The headline did not mention how well Hamas treated the hostage."

Hm. I wonder why?

I think it's because she said the experience was hell.

Because. She. Was. A. Hostage.

Is that where we are now in the Tumblr discourse? Our thinking is so black-or-white to the point where someone could kidnap your grandma, beat her up, then bring her back and someone will respond with, "Well, why is no one talking about how they fed her?"

Yet, OP's post has 1000+ notes... 1000+ notes on a post that is omitting the words of a recent captive (whose husband is still with Hamas btw, whose life is very much at their whim) to support OP's agenda of saying: "israel bad, media = propaganda."

Contrary to what many Tumblr bloggers may have you believe, the news media is not inherently untrustworthy.

That is not to say they are omniscient beings. News networks can be wrong. They can be biased like everything in the world. This is why you diversify your sources. And I don't mean start reading joke publications like the New York Post or Democracy Now. You should still aim for something with a semblance of neutrality.

However, you, as the consumer, need to maintain healthy skepticism of what is being left out, glossed over, or ignored. Always get a bigger picture. To do that, get more vetted sources. Just don't fall into QAnon thinking and suspect all news organizations are targeting you with propaganda. There is an unhealthy degree of distrust towards competent news organizations on Tumblr these days.

Frankly, many of us should treat other bloggers with the same amount of distrust Tumblr users treat the Western news media with.

Otherwise, we risk a repeat of 2016's infamous Russian bots. Except this time, we're the bots spreading misinformation to fuel pointlessly divisive discourse. And whose to say we don't have paid bad actors sowing discontent on this site right now. Don't feed into it. Do your own research. Diversify your sources. Call out falsehoods.

Don't take the average Tumblr blog at their word when the topic is something as serious as the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. Otherwise, you run the risk of letting one person define an entire international crisis for you.

#im a fandom blog so sorry to my followers #but hey kara danvers is a journalist who values truth and justice right #israel #palestine #gaza

[shadowynn]

I honestly get that the guys are not supposed to be good guys, and there are yandere themes going on... But I do feel for joong (and the rest) in the beginning of the chapter. It won't be fair for us to judge them in the same fabric as how we would humans, no? So... Yes, they might not be the best, and this is very toxic, but I do get where and why joong is coming from. And one has to take into consideration that they are trying to give mc space, so yeah, they do skirt the line but ig that's that. Wooyoung on the other hand... Yeah again, I get why he wants to access her memories, but that's something that definitely crosses that line so I'm actually glad the others were against it 🥰🥰

OoOoO, who's acting after so many years? Seems like they have history with ot8~ I agree with mc, they don't seem to be human oop— I get that mc is... Scarred and has had history that makes her not trust them... But I do kind of find it unfair that she's like "who's the real them?" I mean, not everything has to be black and white right? They can be both, the bloodthirsty daemons on the battlefield and the way they are in front of mc. It's not like they wanted the war anyways, it was the humans who did not agree to peace in the first place.

Oop— we're seeing HJ's mother soon aren't we? I'm kind of excited for the ✨spice✨ that she'll bring to the story hehehe (*cough*k-hotchillipeppers*cough) honestly though, I wish mc was kinder to herself T^T I FEEL BAD FOR HER ASDFGHJKL... Loved the chapter as usual, especially the little moment mc had with Jongho hehe~ 🥺🥺🥺🥺

(*peeps from behind the wall and waves before returning to the abyss of assignments* ~Sky)

ajfkl;jdal;kfjdl;kajflk;jda

you have no idea how excited i am right now. literally made my entire weekend hearing from you!! i hope life has been easing up on you and your assignments haven't been treating you too badly. literally sending all my love and all the motivation i can summon your way!! you've got this!! <333

i am right there with you with feeling for the guys. whenever i first started this piece, i didn't have their backstory fully fleshed out yet, so while, hongjoong's father was always going to be a terrible person, his effect on the others wasn't something i had thought of until i was writing chapter eight. and now, man, i have such a soft spot for them, like legit, i couldn't complete that chapter without joong getting a hug at the end.

as for the attackers, well... they're actually characters i also didn't plan on in the beginning, but an idea that came later that i'm actually really excited about and something that i feel is going to be really fun writing. i love the main character i have planned and am excited to delve more into it all here later on. (i have such a hard time keeping things i'm excited for secret, so you have no idea literally how much i just want to gush/talk ideas with you and others. but i will stay strong, no matter how hard it can be at times)

i really like you're take on mc. one thing that i've been trying is to make sure mc also has their own faults because sometimes i'm really bad at making my characters too mary sue. as much as i want them to be perfect, i know they can't be and having faults in a character makes them them. mc may be a kind person at heart, but despite all she's done for the daemons, she still harbors prejudice against them because of her upbringing and the daemons in front of her are so different than everything she's had engrained into her her whole life, she struggles to make sense of it all. just as the humans have made her feel less than human, she also has a lesser view on the daemons, so seeing them as real, complicated people just like her is almost strange and she can't help but feel like it's all an act based on her upbringing and past. ( and yes, both sides tell a very different story as to how the war actually began and why it continued on (always blaming the other). both leaders on both sides (talking joong's father here) lied to their people about it. so, while the guys might now the true history of it, mc doesn't and it certainly plays into her feelings/thoughts about them.

and, you have no idea how excited i am for joong's mother. originally she was going to be dead and seoyun was going to be the one adding *spice* but then i had a better idea for seoyun and kind of gave her original personality to his mother and i think it'll be really fun to delve into it.

as always, thank you so much for your wonderful thoughts and feedback. i always love reading and discussing it all with you. once again, wishing you all the luck on your future endeavors! <33

#winnie speaks #mutuals

[synchlora]

ANOTHER SIX APOLOGIST WE GOT EM BOYS

#I CANNOT TELL YOU HOW ECSTATIC I AM THAT RANBOOS GOING IN DEPTH ABT SIXS MOTIVATIONS YEAHHHHH #HE UNDERSTANDS #HE FUCKIJ GETS IT #she dropped mono because she recognized he was the thin man #she dropped him because he hurt her #yes she is not entirely black and white and her motivations there may not have been wholly 'good' BUT THEY'RE NOT WHOLLY EVIL EITHER #im so fuckin happy that he is acknowledging how complex sixs character is #no one ive watched a playthrough of yet has made these points #MAN IM JUST FUCKIN HAPPY TO SEE HIM PLAY THIS AND ALSO UNDERSTAND SIXS MOTIVATIONS FUCK YEAH #but also ny god Fear hes gonna get so much lore inspiration for this and i am terrified and incredibly excited for it #dumbass thots #ranboo tag #caps cw #little nightmares spoilers

[thechangeling]

I've watched a lot of arcane analysis' videos and read a lot of peices on the show recently and I've seen a lot of incredibly well down and throught provoking essays with some great takes.

However, something that I've seen a lot of people misinterpreting is Silco's intentions and feelings towards Jinx. Yes I know I am not the first person to discuss this but I had a lot of feelings about this.

First of all, I'm not going to pretend that Silco is a perfect parent or even a remotely good one. I may be willing to defend his motivations but I cannot condone some of his behavior and certainly not the results.

But with that being said, I want to address the claims that Silco was manipulating Jinx into being his weapon for the sake of the cause, that he was stoking her trauma and trying to make her worse because a broken Jinx will keep committing atrocities for his approval. And skipping over the part where multiple times Jinx has actually been detrimental to Silco's cause, I can see why people would think that. I think it's definitely the end result we're all seeing, but I'm arguing that it wasn't actually Silco's intention.

The thing about being paranoid and experiencing black and white thinking is that you genuinely believe what you're saying regardless of how true it is. When he tells Jinx that everyone else betrays them, yes it because he's afraid of her leaving but he also genuinely believes it. He believes it because of Vander's betrayal and because he views Vi leaving Hinx as a betrayal.

Because remember, all he got from Jinx about Vi walking away is "she left me", or at least that's all we see them talking about it. But it makes sense that he would assume Vi abandoned her and betrayed her like Vander betrayed him. He didn't know that Marcus took her to Stillwater, that's why he was so upset when he found out that Vi was alive and Marcus knew where she was the whole time. So he wasn't delebrity lying to Jinx to make her believe her sister had abandoned her either.

A lot of people seem to be operating under the assumption that therapy exists in Zaun when we literally have no reason to believe that is does? Some of the takes on this website come across like people are expecting Silco to know what ptsd is and what you should and shouldn't do to treat it and that he's neglecting his daughters and his own mental health for the sake of getting his nation of Zaun. Which isn't entirely fair.

I think Silco and Jinx are an excellent example of how generational trauma works because Silco isn't actively trying to project his trauma onto her (even though that is what he's doing) he's trying to teach her what he genuinely believes are importent lessons about her emotions and experiences in order to make her stronger. He views what he went through when he almost drowned as a rebirth where a "weaker" version of him died so a stronger one could live. He views himself as stronger as many trauma victims do, but he is wrong. He has sealed himself from processing that moment and has crafted a narrative that suites his goal.

Silco lives in his pain, in his trauma. His first lare is literally underwater. He can't move on and move forward, and I don't blame him for this because without therapy and support it can be very difficult to move past your trauma. Silco is stuck and believes it has made him strong so he passes the same message onto Jinx. And so then she's stuck too.

When he baptizes her in the same waters he was drowned in, it's an attempt to help her cope but ultimately it's ineffective because obviously that's not going to magically cure ptsd. But Silco as I mentioned before, literally has no idea what he's doing when it comes to Jinx. He's just trying to do what he thinks will help her and also keep her with him.

I do genuinely believe that he is trying to act in her best interest although ultimately failing. He thinks he's protecting her from Vi because he sees her as the person who hurt and "betrayed" Jinx and as Vander. That automatically makes her a threat. And yes I think he is concerned with making sure Jinx doesn't leave him but I also think he's afraid that Vi will hurt Jinx again.

When he tells Jinx that Vi and Caitlyn are there for the crystal and not her, we actually have no reason to think that he doesn't believe what he's saying. For all Silvo knows that could be true. He honestly knows nothing about Vi or her and her sisters relationship. All he knows has been translated through a traumatized Powder. So that makes it even easier for him to project his feelings towards Vander onto Vi as well.

Now with that being said I don't want to completely let Silco off the hook here. He did have any interest in keeping Jinx from processing her past. Because if she had processed what happened the day she set off the monkey bomb then she could have realized that she wouldn't even have been that situation if it wasn't for Silco. He was the one trying to kill her family. He is the reason that they're dead and if she fully realized that then she could have decided to walk away. And losing her wasn't something he could have survived. So perhaps for him it's almost a mercy that he died before that could happen.

The funny thing is, Silco would have lived if he let Jinx go. If he had told her "go with your sister and leave, get as far away from this place as possible" then Jinx would have been safe from Piltover and Vi would have no reason to keep hunting Silco. But he couldn't let her go. Not because he loved her (although he did) but because he couldn't heal from his trauma and move on. And it's what leads to his death.

But he still loves her. Even bleeding out and tied up he still uses his final words to assure her that he was never going to abandon her "I would never have given you to them, not for anything" and make sure she doesn't blame herself and spiral into self hatred, "don't cry, you're perfect".

I've seen lots of people twist Silco's final words to Jinx into a selfish manipulation and it makes me pretty angry actually. I'm not exactly sure why. Maybe because people are always misinterpreting what I say and assuming the worst. I also relate to both Jinx and Silco a lot and have such a strong attachment to their relationship. Probably because the traumatized child in me wants to be loved so furiously like that and have someone think I'm perfect even after I've done horrible things. And maybe that's colouring my judgement but hey.

At the end of the day the sad thing is loving someone doesn't make you incapable of hurting them. No matter how good your intentions are.

#i realize this has no structure im sorry i have adhd #arcane #jinx #jinx and silco #silco #fae speaks #just some random thoughts

[lord-of-christmas-lights]

I swear I have normal Narnia headcanons. However, none of them are featured in this post.

So! If you've been following my series of posts about my Inhuman Narnia AU and the couple of oneshots I posted on ao3 under ASkyOfKai, you've probably noticed that in this little universe I've created, Narnia is sort of...sentient. And I've just realized that I've only actually gone into depth about this on Discord with my friends who are probably very tired of hearing about it. So I'm making y'all suffer through it instead. Welcome to Inhuman Narnia 101, please take your seats because this is going to take a while.

Warning for religious themes, theological discussion, and some dark fantasy/inhuman/body horror concepts that involve blood and physical changes.

BEFORE I SAY ANYTHING: Please keep in mind that an AU is meant to be an alternate universe that may not follow canon information. If anything in this post contradicts canon on the creation of Narnia (it undoubtedly will), pay it no mind, this is an AU. It doesn't have to follow canon.

First off, a little explanation of the Inhuman Narnia AU in general. Basically I came up with this AU after seeing some other people on tumblr post about the Pevensies being not quite human after their time in Narnia. Just eerie, cryptid, a bit of dark fantasy kinda stuff. And I was like, "I'm in love, sign me up, I have ideas." I did not sit down and develop this all at once. The worldbuilding I've done for it has come slowly over the past few weeks through posts, fanfics, and discord rambles. The idea of Narnia being a sentient earth deity of sorts is a recent one and there is already so much to it. (Also I call her Narnia because it's convenient, she has other names but I haven't bothered to like, actually make any up so Narnia is what she's called.)

The most important thing to note starting off is that Narnia is not supposed to be a replacement for Aslan, nor is she necessarily "the hero to his villain". Aslan and I have an interesting relationship, as he is literally God/Jesus/The Holy Spirit/etc and I no longer really identify as Christian. While there are times that Aslan definitely takes a more antagonistic route in my writings, I don't actually see him as a bad guy, nor as a good guy. As God, he literally removed from our concepts of good and evil (in my opinion). The same goes for Narnia being an earth deity. I am a Christian-raised pagan, and I definitely subscribe to the idea that gods and deities are not subject to humanity and our rules. Narnia is not a good goddess, she is not a bad goddess, she simply is a goddess. Plain and simple. The dichotomy that exists between Narnia and Aslan in my writing is generally that of opposing deities, but this isn't a hard and fast rule. There were and still are times when they're friends, working towards the same goals. There are times when Narnia's power is stronger than Aslan's and times when Aslan's power is stronger than hers. There is no simple 1:1 comparison between them.

So, getting into motivations and why Narnia as a deity even exists. Essentially, I asked the question, "How do the Pevensies become inhuman?" and voila earth deity Narnia was born. Now, the basic in-universe mythology I've worked out is that Narnia and Aslan are two deities from separate dimensions that came together to create a new world, the world of Narnia. Aslan is the one who oversees things, he's the one who comes up with the ideas, and he's a little less attached to the world as a whole because he's a Creator, not an earth deity. Narnia is, however, and she literally makes up the world, she sort of runs the entire thing on a physical level, and she is much more attached to it. So she's always kinda taken on this role of making the things in her world the way she wants them. For the most part, she and Aslan designed everything together and they're both happy with it blah blah blah. Well, Aslan then decides to bring a few humans from this other world he's created to Narnia. And she affects them a bit (I've got headcanons about Digory and Polly that I haven't posted anywhere yet but I might soon), but it isn't until Aslan brings the Pevensies over that she really gets to experiment. See, there are other deities in the world that kinda rule over the various lands on a surface level (patron gods for Telmar, the Archenlands, etc, they just have less power than Narnia and Aslan) so she has a little less power over the people in those places, but the country of Narnia is both her land and her so when the Pevensies become the Kings and Queens and live there for 15 years, she's very connected to them. And it's through this connection that she starts to affect them. Honestly, I'm not sure if Narnia even knows what she's doing when she starts stripping away their humanity. I think it's that she can feel they're not from her world and she doesn't like that. She wants them to be a part of her, she wants them to belong in her world just the same as everyone else. (Side note—I know Telmar and some other lands in canon are based on people finding portals and coming through and I'd like to say that she does affect them a bit, takes away a bit of their humanity, but it's not to the same extent as the Kings and Queens of her lands).

"So Kai," you might say, "You keep empathizing that she is literally the land and the land is her. What the hell do you mean by that?" Well, essentially, she is...the...land. Basically if you've read Percy Jackson Heroes of Olympus, there's this idea that Gaia and Tartarus are both physically their domains and able to take on a smaller, human shaped physical form because they're gods and not restricted by human ideas of only having one body. Narnia is the same. Her physical form is both the entire world and whatever smaller shape she might appear in to people. However, we have to acknowledge that their world is differently structurally from ours. There's magic, there's talking animals, and in my Inhuman AU, there is a literal Heart of Narnia at the center. Like a physical, beating, human-shaped heart. Except it's a lot bigger than a regular human heart. Also it's golden. And many many many miles underground. So anyways this is where she's centered. It's basically where her soul is. Probably under Cair Paravel because I just came up with that idea and I love it. And radiating out from it are veins of magic and blood, and these stretch all across the world. Now here is where we get into blood magic and some of those fun terrifying concepts I've come up with.

Narnia has her own blood, of course, but also whenever one of her Kings or Queens bleeds in battle, she kinda pulls it down through the earth into her own heart and veins. It doesn't really do anything to her or them in particular, it's just a fun side effect of them having a patron pagan god. Yes this includes Caspian after he becomes King. Also Peter's blood turns golden because he's the High King, and then later Caspian's does too because I just really like imagery of Ben Barnes bleeding gold. (Side note—when Peter returns to England, his blood goes back to red, but it does remain a brighter red than blood generally is).

Diverting for half a second here. Now, in both my regular Narnia writings and my Inhuman AU, Lucy is very very connected to magic. In my regular Narnia fanfic, she studies with the druids, who are sort of like BBC Merlin's druids. They're just like, chill dudes who run around in camps doing magic and making prophecies and shit. However, in the Inhuman AU, they are a lot darker. One of my favorite ideas with the Inhuman druids and Lucy is that they are so connected to Narnia's magic and her Heart that their hands become stained with blood. Is it their blood, is it Narnia's blood, is it someone else's blood? Idk, don't ask questions. But yea, their hands are permanently stained reddish-brown to almost black. In my regular Narnia stuff, I still like the idea of Lucy's hands being stained and go with just earth magic, dirt stuff for the reason why. But yea no, in the Inhuman AU her hands are stained with blood because of blood magic.

So getting a bit more into how Narnia affects the Pevensies now because I love talking about this lol. She doesn't consciously chose how to change them, though she does call them her creations. Generally the way her magic affects them is by connecting them to to the land in some way and bringing out certain traits they have. So for Peter it's his eyes flickering between regular blue and the amber of a lion's, feathers appearing on his back that grow into wings, having a strength greater than that of a giant's. His blood is golden and on clear nights, the Aurora Borealis in the sky is reflected across his skin. For Susan, her skin glints like glass in the sun and she can briefly glimpse the future. Her wounds are sewn shut with golden rays of light, her eyes are cracked but clear, and she seems to glow faintly in the night, a bit of the sun's radiance shining through her. Edmund has a bit of a star's power lodged in his throat, and can manipulate words, uses them to influence people and their actions. His skin is frostbitten in places, a side effect of ruling the Woods where the White Witch once held so much power, and in some spots his bones shine under the ice that spreads across his skin. Lucy has the stained skin from her stronger connection to magic, and when she speaks words from the Old Language (the one Aslan and Narnia used to shape the world itself), her voice echoes and rasps. Her teeth are too sharp, her smile too wide, and when she disappears underwater, she can stay for hours without surfacing. I want to get into Eustace and Caspian now too but this post is already extremely long and I've still got a bit to cover, so we're just sticking with the Pevensies for now. So yea, Narnia doesn't pick what she does to the Pevensies, she just connects herself to them and through that connection, they change. The magic that she is made of, that Narnia the world operates on, that's what changes them. However, as I stated already, she does call them her creations and feels extremely responsible for them.

Wrapping back around up to the beginning, this is the biggest source of conflict between her and Aslan as of the canon timeline. I like to believe that the lamppost incident was an accident, that Aslan didn't actually mean to send them back at the end of LWW and it was pure coincidence, wrong place wrong time stuff. That being said, it did happen and Narnia really didn't like it happening. The Pevensies did return to their (mostly) human selves in this AU in England, so when they came back in Prince Caspian, she felt disconnected from them again. She reacted to this by digging into them even harder on a spiritual level and essentially speedran them back to being inhuman throughout the timeline of PC, which generally takes place over a few months in my mind. I don't remember how long it was in the book, it's been quite a while since I read them, but it's only like a week in the movie and like eff that, overthrowing a kingdom takes a bit longer in my opinion. Now there are a few divergences here. 1. They all stay at the end of PC and yea that's it, they go back to being Kings and Queens and it's like a second Golden Age but with Caspian there as well. 2. Susan and Peter stay, Lucy and Edmund go back and it's a repeat of the human/inhumanity cycle for them + Eustace in VOTDT and then they stay. 3. Everything happens exactly as it does in canon and it's a constant cycle of humanity/inhumanity with the character's various trips and finally ends at The Last Battle. I like all versions and I tend to leave things a little open to the reader on what exactly happens, or I would if I could actually finish some of my drafts and post them. As you can imagine, Narnia likes 1 the best and 3 the least. She really wants her Kings and Queens to stay and rule her lands and like be awesome and stuff. However, Aslan prefers 3 the best and 1 the least. So again, neither of them is really good nor evil, they just have differing opinions on how the world should be run and what the Pevensie's fates should be. I do tend to side with Narnia, I really like exploring these concepts of inhumanity, but I also really like the concept of a cycle. That's very common in mythology.

So anyways, that's a bit of an overview on earth deity Narnia and her role in my Inhuman AU. If you made it this far, congratulations, and I give you explicit permission to use any of my ideas in your own writing/fanart/whatever, as long as you tag either my tumblr or my ao3 (lord-of-christmas-lights and ASkyOfKai) because I need more Narnia+Inhumanity content in my life. Thanks for reading all this and I'll probably be back very soon with elaboration on Eustace and Caspian's inhumanity!

- Kai

#inhuman/dark fantasy narnia #the chronicles of narnia #peter pevensie #susan pevensie #edmund pevensie #lucy pevensie #aslan #digory kirke #eustace scrubb #caspian x #narnia headcanons #rambles of a hyperfixating kai

[equestrianwritingsstuff]

Hero is an singer in her civilian identity and villain finds out

Thank you for this ask! May I present to you...

Rockstar

*not edited*

~

Hero took a few sips from her water bottle while her director stood over her, barking orders about how she should wave towards the crowd, smile at the paparazzi, fix her hair and blow some kisses.

"Yeah, yeah," Hero replied dismissively, taking one moment to glance at the burly man looming over her. She stood up straighter and set her water down on a neaby stool. "What time is it?" She asked.

"About 9:30, you have ten minutes till showtime Civilian," the director said, looking down at his leather watch. "Is your voice warmed up enough?"

Hero swallowed before singing in an almost frightening high voice, "Do-re-mi-fa-so-la-ti-do!"

The director smiled before herding Hero to the curtains waiting to be opened. "Listen dear," he said, giving his "mandatory" pep talk like he did every concert. "Deep breaths, you got this. Just don't freak out. I will be right there the entire time."

Hero shrugged him off, looking at him with a smirk. "I do this every week Director, of course I'll be fine." She rolled her blue eyes and started to hum to herself, warming up her vocals. Director nodded in approval before walking away to his seat- a good chair to watch his singer perform and to give her any motivation she needed.

"Let's give it for Ebonee Jakes! Wooooo!" The crowd broke into a series of hoots and hollers before a skinny, beautiful lady pranced onto the backstage.

"Now is the moment you've all been waiting for! Civilian and her band The Space," the announcer screamed. Hero could just imagine the short, well suited up, brown hair man trot across the stage. She smiled, this was her moment to shine.

"Civilian!"

Hero spun around to see her director running up to her with a panic stricken expression on his chubby cheeks.

"Yes?" Hero asked, pursing her lips. She had to get out there...

"The percussionist is sick. Threw up and nearly keeled over, probably a tad stressed from the tour, but he can't perform tonight," the director anxiously reported, nervously biting his lip.

"What?!" Hero squealed, heartbeat shooting up into her throat. "How, how... how can I perform without a drummer?"

"We have a spare from another band that is willing to sub," the director said, a bit more color replacing his previously paled skin. "He is pretty good, not as good as our's of course, but-"

"Where is he?" Hero growled, pushing past the director and looking around for a man that closely resembled a percussionist.

"Here," the director led her to a very handsome young man. His jaw was very pronounced, contemplating his sharp green eyes. He had dark brown hair, fluffy, and brushed slightly to the side. His bushy eyebrows needed to be brushed and trimmed, but he worked.

If he could play.

"Tell the announcer that I need five minutes," Hero told the director.

"What's your name?" Hero asked.

"Donovan," the man responded with a smile on his face.

"Okay Donovan." Hero gestured towards a pair of sticks. "Give me a beat."

The dark haired boy took the sticks and tapped against two stools. She was surprised how amazing it sounded even though they weren't even drums. This could work...

"Okay you're in. Hustle, hustle." She clapped to enunciate her point before grabbing him by his elbows and pulling him along. He was wearing a black suit and tie, not her band's dress code.

"I need you to change into this." Hero tossed Villain a white t-shirt and a red plaid flannel. He caught them and turned around before hiding behind a mirror to change.

"Those fit?" Hero asked when he walked out. Donovan smiled and nodded, straightening out the ripples in the shirt.

"Thanks," he said. Hero's face crinkled, she recognized that voice.

Director appeared again and gave Hero a series of thumbs-up and thumbs-down. Hero returned it with a thumbs-up and both singer and percussionist went to the curtains.

"Thank you," Hero whispered to Donovan. He smiled and nodded in return, averting her gaze. She ignored the sudden odd behavior and mentally prepared herself.

The curtains opened, revealing Hero to the screaming crowd below. Once she may have squirmed and retreated after being approached by all these people, but now? Now between being a famous singer and a hero on top of that, paparazzi and fans didn't bug her anymore.

"Ladies and gentlemen may I present to you the star of the evening... Civilian and The Space!"

"Woooo!" Hero screamed and skipped to the front of the stage, her hands up in the air. She knew that her sequenced skirt shined in the artificial lights illuminating the auditorium, she knew that her make-up made her look like a model.

She knew she was good and she knew that the audience knew this.

"How are you today!" Hero yelled out into the crowd.

A chorus of "Good" followed that. Hero twirled around.

"Ready for some music, ya'll?!" She asked.

The crowed replied with urgent pleas to perform, but Hero cupped her hand around her ear and called, "I can't hear you!"

"YES!"

Hero ran backwards and in a circle before finding the best spot. With one look at her director, and an approved nod from him, all the lights focused on Hero.

"Is this on?" Hero asked and tapped the microphone until a vibrating hum sounded throughout the auditorium. The crowd laughed.

"Well good," Hero murmured softly and began to sing.

And following that single note was the prettiest string of guitar string with a dashing flare of the snare drum.

Even with the new band member, the lack of communication between the band, the song came together better than before.

Hero couldn't help but steal a glance at Donovan.

At Donovan.

His eyes met her's and then a silent conversation passed between them.

She almost stopped singing.

Those eyes, that voice.

It was Villain.

Donovan narrowed his eyes and looked away. He knew it too.

#hero x villain #hero x villain community #heros and villains #heroine singer #writing #villain percussionist #ask fill #not whump #but this was a lot of fun to write #civilian x villain #fake identity

[malebodysuittf]

The Wrapping

In my last story, I wanted to write a dark thriller-ish story with a villainous protagonist, but I wanted this story to be a whole lot more wholesome (though still devious) for the holidays! It’s kind of silly and not as hot tbh, but hopefully it’s kind of fun for someone. It’s been one hell of a year, so here’s to a better 2021. Merry Christmas, and Happy Holidays y’all! Stay safe, and make sure no one you’re close to is plotting to suitify you! ;)

edit: Oh crap, I totally forgot to post this yesterday! Here it is though, my message stays the same! 

-----------------------------------------------------

I sighed as I listened to the mundane tapping of fingers on keyboards, nails hitting the desk, pens clicking. Over and over, my head rang with the same sounds throughout the morning. No one who was here wanted to be here. Except perhaps my boss. That piece of shit put us all to work instead of giving us the holidays off. Only reason he might be happy to be here is probably because, if his wife has been hearing any of the rumors regarding his interactions with the female employees of our company, I’m assuming their marriage is disastrous.

I thought I’d be able to relax at home, spend Christmas with my boyfriend, Craig. We’ve been together for a couple of years now, and this was our first year living together. Our first Christmas spent together. The last one, we had both flown home to see our parents, splitting up. 

But of course, my piece of shit boss had called me up. Told me to come in and work...subtly threatened unemployment if I objected. I wanted to quit right  then and there, but money was tight and I knew how much Craig and I could use the cash. I had to break the news to Craig, but he was understanding. He promised that we’d open up presents tonight, or we’d open them up tomorrow if I was too tired. It was heartwarming to hear the support loved one, but made the act of going to work the next day no less grueling. 

“Hey Lance, you get that call from boss too?” I jumped at the sound of my name being called and turned to see my coworker and one of the few friends I’ve made in the office, Trevor. He was a good lookin’ guy, though he only had a frustrated face at the moment. 

“Yeah. Fucking ridiculous.”

“Right? Sick of this fucking job. Frankly, I’m not even sure what I fucking do at this point,” he joked. A hint of a smile popped up on his face. He slapped me on the arm and got up, heading towards the bathroom. I closed my eyes and imagined what I’ll do with Craig. It was the only thing that could motivate me to keep up with my work. 

----------------------------

Hours later, the sun was setting and an orange hue painted the sky. It was a surprisingly beautiful sunset, considering it was Christmas. I finally finished my work. I watched the tired people around me cleaning up their desks, disgruntled and ready to go home. I glanced over at Trevor’s desk and noted he was still missing...weird. I hadn’t seen him the entire day ever since he left to go to the restroom. I guessed he had wisened up and just left. I sure as hell wish I could afford to...I know Trevor came from a pretty wealthy background. But at least I could finally find some respite with the end of the day approaching. 

Until I saw the secretary walking to my desk. 

She placed her hands on my desk and looked me in the eye, almost remorsefully. 

“Mr. Campbell would like to speak to you.”

My heart sunk as I realized I’ll be spending more time in this shithole instead of celebrating the holidays with my boyfriend. I slumped in my chair and nodded to the secretary. She left me and I cleaned my act up. Surely it must be something quick, right? I couldn’t imagine him calling me in at the end like this for any reason. 

Walking over to Mr. Campbell’s office, I opened the door and saw my dapper boss staring at me intimidatingly. 

“Hello, Lance. I’m sure this little meeting may come as a surprise. Take a seat, won’t you?” He motioned towards a chair opposite from his desk, while seating himself in a larger one. 

“I know you might be a little confused as to why I called you in. But let me assure it’s nothing bad.” He smiled at me, something I had never seen before on his face. He always looked menacing and unwelcoming. But right in this moment, something seemed different. 

“I just wanted to give you this for being an outstanding part of this office. You’ve always been productive and loyal to this business. You deserve proper compensation. Especially for coming in on Christmas.”

From behind his desk, he pulled out a fairly large box, wrapped in a snowman-covered paper, perhaps the size of my torso, and slid it across the desk. I cautiously took the box, wondering what the catch was. There was no way he decided to just randomly give me this out of kindness or gratefulness. Not Mr. Campbell. This is the abusive boss who makes people work on Christmas, threaten their jobs and their records, and, allegedly, numerous women have quit and spoken up on him firing them if they did not oblige to sexual favors. On top of that, why the hell is he only giving this to me? Still, he was my boss for now, and I had to appeal to him.

“...Er, thanks, Mr. Campbell. I appreciate the gift. I’ll make sure-”

“Why don’t you open it?”

“Right here? Right now?”

“Yes. Open it. I want you to see it.”

Confused, I still obeyed and started to rip the wrapping paper off. I glanced up to give the boss an acknowledging smile as I lifted the lid up. I found a folded up suit and tie, along with pants.

“Clothing, Mr. Campbell?” I tried to feign gratitude with a hesitant smile.

“Keep going.” 

I lifted the clothing and saw an ID on top of a peach colored object. On the ID, I saw a picture of...Trevor. A chill ran across my spine as I felt the peace colored object...it felt like skin. I pulled it out and lo and behold...it was Trevor in the form of a flimsy suit. 

“Is this some kind of...costume?” The thing gave me the creeps, but I couldn’t defy my curiosity. 

“You could say that.”

“Was that...you earlier then?”

A grim glare shot across Mr. Campbell’s face. “No.”

“Then...what did you do to Trevor?” My voice quivered as a ton of horrific scenes ran through my head. 

“It was just an injection. Don’t worry, he’ll be fine.” He pulled out what looked like pink stickers. “All you do is slap these magic tags on, and he’ll be restored within an hour. Sorry to alarm you.” 

A sigh of relief escaped my mouth, until Mr. Campbell said, “Why don’t you put him on right now?” 

“What? Right here? I don’t even know-”

“Take your clothes off. Stretch open the mouth. You can figure out the rest.” 

Something told me I didn’t have a choice. I laid the suit on the floor and started to pull out of my clothing, tossing it over the chair. I grabbed the Trevor suit and dipped my toes into the mouth. Surprisingly, it was soft and comfortable. I slipped into the legs and did a few test jumps. Mr. Campbell observed closely as the suit matched my form. I squeezed my way into the rest of the suit before pulling the face over my own, before a painful ache rushed through my body. Suddenly, a lifetime of memories flooded my mind. I recalled feeling a prick in the neck before everything went black...I wasn’t exactly sure what to say to Mr. Campbell.

“Is there something you would like me to do with this?” Trevor’s voice escaped my throat! It was like I was him entirely. But why did Mr. Campbell want me in this suit? I was confused on what to do now. I stood there awkwardly, naked with an admittedly sexier body. Mr. Campbell walked around his desk and came up to me.

“Why don’t you unwrap your second present?” He grabbed my crotch, though I immediately relented and backed up.

“I’m sorry Mr. Campbell, but I’ve got a boyfriend, and frankly, this is a little weird...”

“Don’t you want to provide for him?” I gulped, knowing my job was on the line. Craig would understand, he always does.

I started to unbutton Mr. Campbell’s jacket and slid it off of him. The white button-up was already partially open, displaying the man’s hairy chest. Despite how awful my boss was, I confessed I considered him an attractive man. I pulled off the shirt and was down to his pants. I looked at him, unsure if he wanted me to go all the way. He nodded, urging me to take it all off. I unbuckled his belt and slid it out, the pants visibly loosened and slipped down with ease. I looked up for another nod of approval before removing his shoes and socks, smelling the subtle rankness of his feet. Finally, i slipped his underwear down, and a lengthy member dropped in front of me. I examined the man in front of me, up and down. Were these the kind of sexual favors my boss wanted? Was he interested in men? 

“Why don’t you keep going?” 

I raised an eyebrow at him, dumbfounded. “What?” 

“Keep going.” He walked closer to me, sensually looking me in the eye. 

I couldn’t quite grasp what he meant, until he tugged at his cheek, revealing something else inside. I rubbed Mr. Campbell’s face and he closed his eyes, groaning in pleasure. Slowly tracing down his face, I hooked my fingers under his lips and started to stretch the mouth open. I could feel the scruffy facial hair move under my fingers as I tugged at his face, the face distorting as a familiar face was revealed under Mr. Campbell’s face.

“Craig?” I was absolutely speechless as I slipped off the entire face of my boss. The upper half of the face landed in a heap behind him, while the chin lay across his chest. I backed up in shock at the spectacle before me! 

Craig gave me a devious smile and started to rip the skin off of himself. Still using Mr. Campbell’s hands, he grabbed at the mouth around his neck and started to pull. As he did, the skin started to give, and he started to rip it off, like wrapping. Truly like a Christmas gift! The face split in half and he tugged towards his left arm. With a forceful motion, the arm sleeve ripped right off and he tossed it towards onto the desk, the fingers hanging over the side as they flopped around. He continued to rip the other side off as the suit seemingly got shredded. With the torso hanging over his hip, the torn up skinsuit hung onto the cock in pieces, the face hanging by the side while the right hand of the suit laying flatly on the ground. Craig heaved as he pulled the rest of it off violently, further shredding the skin until it lay as a mess on the floor. He picked up it and slung the mangled skinsuit onto the desk.

“Merry Christmas, babe!” He held me by my hips and kissed me.

“Craig, what the hell is this?” 

“I bought us some of these serums, and figured they would make a nice gift. I didn’t originally plan to use it on these guys in specific, but when you got that call and told me about your shitty boss...I figured we could get a bit of revenge. Plus, you’ve told me about Trevor being hot. So I figured, why the hell not?” 

“But what about Mr. Campbell? You ripped him up!”

“Don’t worry, trust me, some tape and those little sticker things he showed...he’ll be back. And he’ll be humbled.”

He went back behind the desk and pulled out a paper and slid it over to me. I skimmed through it...this was a document giving the company to me!

“Oh my God! What the fuck? This is...”

“Yep. I always said you’d make a great leader. And whenever your coworkers come by to hang out with us, you have no clue what they say about you. They’re gonna love you. And Mr. Campbell over here, signed the document. Hopefully, he takes the time off to reimagine himself as a better man. All you gotta do is sign it yourself.” He rolled a pen over and I held it within my hand. I scoured through Trevor’s thoughts, and he had said some of the sweetest things about me, and his conversations with our colleagues suggested that maybe I could be the one  to make this shithole better. I brought the pen to the paper and voila, my signature was on it.

“You get to be the boss now, Lance.” Craig got up and came to embrace me. I was too stunned at everything happening to give him much of a response. “You can make this place so much better next year. But for now, why don’t we enjoy that sexy suit you’re in?” He started to kiss me, and I returned the favor. I pulled back for a second and looked Craig in the eyes.

“This is the best Christmas ever...Why don’t I give you my present now?” I gave him a suggestive look, rubbing up against against him. I pushed him down across the desk and whispered into his ear, “I love you, babe. Merry Christmas.” 

#male skinsuit #male bodysuit #male transformation #christmas special #male tf #boss

[iamanartichoke]

Natalie Holt implying that Loki slept with Sif before cutting off her hair honestly makes my blood boil. The first Thor movie showed us a sympathetic character that was an outcast in Asgard, and a scapegoat in his family. Everything now just seems like Marvel trying to take all of that away. So many people are saying, "Well, now I know why Sif doesn't like him, lol!" And that is exactly as intended. We are supposed to see Loki as an ass and everyone else as a saint for putting up with him. :(

I'm just really baffled at how it's either a) supposed to make sense, or b) explain anything about their dynamic?

Like, okay, let's assume that they do hate each other bc they slept together. Why would that be? Even if you catch feelings and get rejected, that's not really justification to hate someone. Ideally you'd just go your own separate ways but since Loki and Sif shared a social circle, that probably wasn't an option, in which case the next best thing is to just be civil while you move on/get over the feelings. No hatred necessary, and certainly not for centuries.

I don't believe that either of them is stubborn enough to harbor a grudge over being rejected. Sif bc I wouldn't believe that she caught feelings for Loki anyway, and Loki bc while he would certainly be hurt, and his pride would be wounded, I just don't see him holding onto that for longer than it would take for him to move past it.

And where is the hair-cutting supposed to come in? Are we implying here that Loki is so childish and petty that he cut off Sif's hair in retaliation for her not returning his feelings? (Seeing it written down like that, I am guessing this is exactly the implication, bc of course it is, smh.) Was he 12 when they fucked, or ??

So here's the thing, though. You pointed out that the first Thor movie showed us a sympathetic character who was an outcast and a scapegoat but no, actually, it didn't. Thor 1 showed us a jealous, vindictive loner turned villain. That's the problem - the MCU isn't taking anything away as much as they're trying to re-establish the characterization they intended for him to have all along.

Thor 1 left things out that would provide more context to Loki's motivations. Thor 1 actively deleted scenes that showed Loki as sympathetic. Thor 1 set up a "good brother vs evil brother" black-and-white dichotomy between Thor and Loki, in which the narrative and the supporting characters all behaved as though Loki was innately the evil brother and there wasn't even a question about that. Thor 1 was Thor's movie, and while I obviously have no problem with that, it being Thor's movie means that to a lot of the audience, Loki was never going to be perceived as sympathetic. In order to make Thor the hero of his story, Loki has to be the villain and most people just accept that at face-value.

Is Loki sympathetic? Yes. Was he an outcast in his society and a scapegoat in his family? Yes. Was he evil at heart? No. Did he do bad things? Yes. Did he intend for them to turn out as terribly as they did? No. Etc.

These are all things that a lot of us know because we've taken the time to know them. One needs to be interested/invested enough in Loki to make the effort of interpreting his motivations and his characterization but, that said, having a vested enough interest in Loki to be an active fan doesn't necessarily mean interpreting him sympathetically. There's this weird divide and things that seem obvious in hindsight, such as Loki's sympathy as a character or the nuances of what he was really trying to achieve in Thor 1, are things that a lot of the audience + his fandom either don't pick up on or don't care to see.

There's a reason 2011-13 Loki isn't as popular as Ragnarok Loki. There's a reason there are so. many. posts. in this fandom that start off with "I love Loki, but -" and then proceed to drag him. There's a reason why a lot of his fans are like "lol I mean he did murder all those people though?" or why the "you just like Loki/apologize for Loki bc you want to fuck Tom" argument is so prevalent. There's a reason why headcanons like "Loki just fucked his way into the GM's inner circle" are treated as canon, or why nobody questions whether or not it actually made sense for Loki to randomly betray Thor right before the obedience disk scene.

The reason is that Thor 1 didn't show us who Loki really was, and because of his portrayal in that movie and in Avengers (subtext and word-of-god confirmation is clearly insufficient for the wider audience to realize that Loki wasn't acting of his own accord - no, he's just evil), there are very many fans who are just never going to see him as anything besides villainous at worst or "a fun but greasy little shit" at best, who causes trouble and does shitty things for the lulz.

"Loki cut Sif's hair for no other reason than to be a dick after they fucked" falls perfectly in line with that characterization, and the result is that you get tons of fans who are like "LOL that's SO Loki!" or "No wonder Sif hates him!" etc. And if, in 2021, ten years after Loki was introduced into the MCU, people are still coming away from his narrative arc + his own series believing that he is, or ever was, just a rotten little shit who caused trouble for the lulz? Then that is clearly the Loki that they see, that they stan, and that means whatever he means to them, and regardless of how our portion of the fandom may object and cry foul, there's honestly just nothing we can do about it.

So, I mean, there we are. People can feel however they want about Loki. It is what it is. And I think I'm just tired of getting upset about it. Re Loki/Sif, I will share my opinion that it's a trash headcanon and laugh at it, but I'm tired of allowing myself to get genuinely upset about how other people perceive this character, especially when there's nothing I can do about it and the only person who ends up suffering is me when my mental health spirals downward (bc I care way too much about fiction and I have no problem admitting it).

I didn't intend for this to be so long, and obviously this is not any kind of rebuttal against you or your ask personally, anon. It just gave me an opportunity to put into words what I've been feeling for quite awhile. It is what it is.

I also feel it's worth mentioning, again, that I think Natalie's soundtrack is absolute fire and I have nothing but respect for her as the composer in this series, but I do not think that earns her any merit in how she perceives these characters. Loki/Sif is her headcanon, and she also said that Loki looks at Sylvie the way he looks at his mother, which is like, and how do you think he's looking at his mother, Nat? Cause uh. I don't think they are the same. I know most people won't agree, but I feel like her words need to be taken with a grain of salt and not accepted as canon based on nothing more than her position of being someone who worked on the show.

I should put this behind a cut, but meh. Also, I know a lot of people reblogged/added onto my Loki/Sif post from last night and I was going to engage but I just don't have time, so please accept this as my general response + stance on the entire clusterfuck.

#asks #charlotte replies #a nonny mouse #this isn't really negativity i don't think #just my feels #loki pokey artichokey #if anyone feels i should add any tags they've blacklisted just let me know and i'll add them

[dirtyrick]

The Scientist

Wow. It's been almost 5 years since I last wrote fanfiction on here. With the new fantastic season 5 out, I decided it was time I made a comeback. This is an idea I've had since 2016, but I truthfully couldn't figure out how to weave this web. Now, I think I do. Please enjoy, this really is my baby.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Beth woke me up in my workroom at around 6am, just a little bit before heading off to school. She usually did this, as she had more motivation to cook us breakfast than I did. I was surprised to see a stack of pancakes sitting on the table when I came downstairs. She had set the table so perfectly, it never failed to make me smile. I rubbed my eyes and sat down, ready to dig in when she came back into the dining area from her room. She handed me some papers with a gleeful smile on her face.

“Dad, could you please sign these papers?” she asked me.

I raised an eyebrow as I looked at them, “volunteer work?”

She nodded, “yes, usually it’s a graduation requirement, but since I'm only a sophomore I need a parent’s permission to get it done early.”

Pulling a pen out of my pocket, I sighed, “Don’t you already have enough extracurriculars? Don’t spread yourself so thin, you’re only 14.”

She sat down on the chair across from me with a very stubborn look on her face. She wanted to be a surgeon so badly she was willing to waste so much of her youth on things that would look good on college applications.

“Dad, I'm about to be 15. I want to help people. Plus, if I volunteer for the hospital, they’ll know my face by the time I start medical school!” she seemed so excited for this opportunity. I put the pen to paper and signed. “just make sure your home enough to spend time with your old man.” I told her as I handed her the papers. She smiled at me, with a squeal of excitement escaping her lips. “thank you, dad!” she got up and hugged me.

I’d do anything to make my baby girl happy, even if it means I will see her just a little less.

Beth seemed to enjoy her time volunteering, coming home with a big smile every evening. She would tell me what she did in the day with a joyous look in her wide eyes. But as the weeks went by, those smiles turned to furrowed brows and worry in her eyes. She stopped telling me about her days. She would often shield me from her emotions, but I’ve never seen her this worked up about something.

“Beth, please. I-I know something is wrong.” I pleaded. We were seated at the kitchen table, after having a wordless dinner.

“Nothing is wrong, dad. I have a lot of homework,” she said, avoiding my gaze and my question. She began to gather the medical books she had placed on the table. I still pushed for an answer.

“Are you getting bullied? Are you concerned about your grades? Do you have too much on your plate?” I asked. My intention was to bombard her with questions to overwhelm her, to get her to spill. “is it a boy? It’s a boy, isn’t it? I could take care of him if you need me--”

“It’s not any of those,” Beth stated, her voice full of sorrow. She turned slowly and began heading up to her room.

I was at a loss for words. You could almost see how broken she was. It made me a bit insecure that she felt like she couldn’t talk to me about this issue that was clearly weighing heavy on her mind. Granted, since Diane passed away, I had thrown myself into my work, but I always thought I made enough time for Beth. Maybe not.

The next day I reached out to her teachers, and they shared the same concerns.

“Beth is an extremely good student. however, I have seen her slipping recently. I’m glad to see you’re reaching out, usually, I have to do all that.” her English teacher told me, then proceeded to complain about everything under the sun.

“She has seemed very depressed as of late. She’s been asking about sheet music for The Cure.” her band teacher informed me.

“She constantly carries a book about rare diseases and reads it during my lectures. We haven’t even reached that chapter yet!” her health teacher told me.

That last teacher made me raise an eyebrow. Rare diseases? Why would Beth need to know about rare diseases? I had a feeling and not a very good one.

The next day I took Beth to her volunteer hours, as she was about to get out of the car, I told her “I want to see what they got in store for you today. Mind if I tag along?”

She looked concerned, “I’m not sure if they’d let you…”

“I promise I won’t cause any suspicions," I said as I got out of the car, grunting a little. These bones sure aren’t what they used to be. As I followed her into the large beige building, the stale hospital smell hit my nostrils like a truck, as did the memories. This is the hospital Diane took her final breaths in. Beth may be too young to remember, but I sure as hell do. Some of the orderlies even look familiar, as they glance at us with what seem to be knowing eyes. They look at Beth’s dismal eyes, then look at mine—they just know something happened that shook our family.

We turned a maze of several corners which lead to a large orange elevator with the words ‘elevate your health!’ printed in big white letters. I rolled my eyes. Hospitals aren’t really places for much healing when it’s really needed. When we got in the spacious elevator, I got my first good look at Beth since we got out of the car. Worry as written all over her, she was desperately avoiding my gaze. Her small fingers twisting themselves in knots as she fidgeted. It was something here, it became blatantly clear. Her worry was contagious, as I suddenly felt a sharp stab of thoughts hit me.

The elevator dinged, I followed Beth toward a nurse’s station. The woman behind there smiled at us as we approached. Her red curls bounced as she got up from her rolling chair. Beth mustered a brave face, “Hello Nurse Bernice, this is my father, he wanted to see what I do here.”

The nurse looked at me, her deep amber eyes complimented her dark complexation, her smile lines very pronounced. She was probably late 30s, early 40s at the most. I almost forgot to introduce myself, “I’m Rick Sanchez. I just wanted to see what itinerary you have laid out for my daughter. She’s been coming home stressed recently.”

“Well, Mr. Sanchez, I don’t think we have too much on her sweet little shoulders,” she said as she grabbed a clipboard and handed it to Beth, who was smiling sheepishly. “Now Beth, you’re going to be checking in on your regulars this afternoon. Mr. Opiman got discharged this morning, so it’ll only be Mr. Marion and Ms. Doe.” Beth’s smile slowly faded, she nodded as she put on her badge. She looked up at me and motioned for me to follow her.

Her first ‘patient’, Mr. Marion, was fast asleep. “His chart mentions they upped his dosage of morphine as his surgical site had to be reopened today,” she said in a quiet voice, as not to wake him. She checked his vitals on the monitor next to his bed, and it suddenly became clear to me that she knew exactly what she was doing. She knew what all these terms and numbers meant. I stood there almost slack-jawed because I never realized how much of a genius my daughter was. I also realized Mr. Marion was probably not what has gotten her so worked up. She made notes on her clipboard and even gently checked on his surgery site, which was on his right foot. The blood had appeared to seep through his bandages earlier, leaving a stain on his sheets. The bandage on his foot was now clean. We left the room without waking her patient up.

We headed to the next patient room, and I could see that Beth was walking much slower. She opened the door, and the sunlight hit our faces hard. The woman was sitting up on the edge of her bed, staring out the window at the bright orange and purple sunset. Upon hearing us enter, she peered over her shoulder. Once she saw Beth, she turned toward us and beamed a big smile.

“Oh Beth, I’m so happy to see you!” Ms. Doe said cheerfully. Her voice was slightly deep and seemed very strained as though she had been screaming for hours. She had bruises all over her, including a black eye and what looked like handprints on her neck. She looked up at me and her mouth closed but kept a smile. Upon looking over at Beth, I was surprised. All those worries melted away, she seemed remarkably happy. “You must be Beth’s father. I’m Jane Doe, or at least that’s what they call me around here.”

I stood there entirely confused about what was going on.

#rick and morty #rick and morty fanfiction #rick sanchez fanfic #young rick sanchez #rick sanchez #dirtyrick #rick sanchez fanfiction #fanfic #rickfic #beth smith

[lilbabycee]

shame on you (blame on me) // ransom drysdale

↳ summary: you find out some shocking information about your fiancé that makes you question who’s to blame.

↳ request: for the prompt: i really need some angst in my life so maybe a super angsty cheating fic with ransom? - anon

↳ relationship: ransom drysdale x reader

↳ word count: 4.7k (oops)

↳ warnings: angst angst angst!, explicit smut, cheating

↳ author’s note: i love ransom and this actually made me sad - please enjoy! x

You’ve always considered yourself a fair person.

Throughout your life, you’ve been taught that you should take a step back, assess the situation you’re in, and look at it from a different angle. But as you’ve had to learn over the years, looking at too many angles can make you dizzy and as hard as you try, those scales of justice have a mind of their own and can easily tip one way or another when your back is turned to face another perspective. It’s a tedious game to play and you can’t win all the time, but for you, it’s always been enough to just try. 

And try as you might, there will always be people interfering with the balance: people with ulterior motives and nefarious agendas, people who will do anything to see themselves in first place, people who want so desperately to be able to do it all. Life is an exchange, a give-and-take that you must navigate with the precision and confidence of a synchronized swimmer trying to keep up with the shadow of themselves in an ocean of doubt and self-loathing, and you find that those who only want to take and take without giving are those who, more often than not, end up alone when it’s all said and done. 

But you’ve always gone out of your way to make an attempt to steer people away from going down that path, encouraging them to give more of themselves to people who deserve it and open up their hearts up to people who may change their lives. All of your friends like to joke that you have a god complex and you can’t help but agree that maybe you do.

It’s inexplicable why you feel so responsible for the lives of others; strangers, friends, family alike, you bear the weight of their choices on your back. You chalk it up to extreme empathy and your parents insist that it’s because you’re just inherently good. Maybe it’s because you feel as if since the minute you were born, the scales have been tipped in your favor. Perhaps you’re compensating for all of the privileges that you were handed because of who your parents are and what your socio-economic class is, the silver spoon that you’ve been trying to spit out of your mouth for your whole life. All you know is that you so deeply crave justice that it makes your head ache some days. 

So yes, you would - modestly - consider yourself fair.

That’s why it shocked so many when you fell in love with Ransom Drysdale. 

You met him at a charity fundraiser that you were hosting to build schools in less economically developed countries all over the world, an initiative that you’d been working on for years and held so dear to your heart. Your mother has been close to Joni for her entire life and knew the Thrombeys and Drysdales because of business, so when she told you that they’d be attending, you didn’t think much of it.

“Darling,” your mother calls and beckons you over, pulling you into her side with a bright smile on her face as she stands next to a group of well-dressed patrons. 

When you’re standing next to her, you must be mindful of the way that the emerald green satin of your gown sweeps the floor. With a slim diamond choker wrapped around your neck and rings that cost five-figures adorning your fingers, you usually prefer to indulge in simpler pleasures but for events like these, you give into hedonism and allow your mother and stylist to spoil you. You press a barely-there kiss to your mother’s cheek as she gently holds onto you, running her nails up and down your arm comfortingly.

“Honey, these are the Drysdales. This is Linda, her husband Richard, and their son Hugh.”

You smile politely at both Linda and Richard and are about to give their son the same treatment when you feel the heat of blue flames licking up the exposed skin of your leg that peeks through the thigh-high slit in your dress. But the fire doesn’t stop there; it spreads up your stomach and lands in the valley of your breasts. A part of you wants to be angry that this man is ogling you as if you’re a piece of meat, the prey that his predator has been waiting to pounce on, but a part of you revels in it. You know that you look good - it’s no secret to anybody at this event - but to have someone unabashedly appreciate that makes your heartbeat speed up.

Since he can’t tear his eyes off of your cleavage, you take the opportunity to give Hugh a once-over of your own. 

His black loafers are designer - you can tell by the way all of the little golden g’s on the velvet of his shoes are linked together - and so are his black socks, something which makes you have to physically prevent yourself from rolling your eyes. The black, grey, and white checkered pants he’s wearing hug his thighs just enough to see the shape of the muscles in his legs and the outline of his sizable length - you don’t let yourself look at that for too long. The letters on his belt match his shoes and you’re momentarily astounded at how narrow his waist is. Under a waistcoat and suit jacket that are both printed with the same pattern as his pants, he’s wearing a burgundy turtleneck that clings to his torso like a second skin. From what you’ve seen, you can assume that he’s heavily muscled underneath his clothes, and when you see his broad shoulders and big arms, you’re proven right.

Luxury virtually seeps out of his pores and it nauseates you.

But you’re intrigued nonetheless. His eyes lock on yours and you find yourself drowning, trying to swim through a choppy sea of grey and blue. It knocks the breath out of your lungs and a shy smile lifts your lips when he extends a hand out towards you.

“Nice to meet you,” his voice is deep and his jaw is squared as if he’s biting back his words. You delicately place your hand in his and marvel at the way his palm swallows yours. His skin is warm and soft and you’re close enough that you can smell notes of bergamot and cedarwood that make your usually poised stance melt. 

“Likewise, Hugh,” you manage to say, overwhelmed by the charm and class of the man before you.

“Call me Ransom, sweetness; only the help calls me Hugh.”

And just like that, your rose-tinted glasses shatter and you blink hard, rescinding your hand from Ransom’s and nodding at him briefly. You can’t help but wonder how much more pretentious this son of a bitch can get, but your mother hasn’t failed to notice the way that the two of you sized each other up. So when you’re eventually walking away from the family of three, she gives you a knowing look that you’re all too familiar with, a look that makes you scoff and avoid her eyes.

“So,” she draws out the word and nudges your shoulder with hers, “he’s cute, no?”

“Mom,” you groan quietly.

“Come on now, darling, he was a very handsome boy. And I saw the way he was looking at you-”

“Sure, Mom, but did you hear him? ‘Only the help calls me Hugh’ - he’s so far up his own ass...and what kind of name is Ransom anyway?”

Your mom shrugs, the corners of her lips twitching up into a cheeky grin.

“Doesn’t matter, love - I think he’s cute and you should go speak to him. And if you don’t, who knows? He might snatch you up in that auction later tonight.”

And he did. Every year at the benefit, you auction yourself off for a night out which you only continue to do because it proves to be an extremely valuable source of income for your charity. You’re standing up in the center of that stage, the host for the night yelling out the bids for the auction, and through the blinding lights, you’re able to see white signs flying up with ridiculously high amounts of money printed on them. You’re sure that this is almost over when you see fifty-thousand dollars stuck up in the air, but then the host says:

“One-hundred-thousand dollars to the gentleman in the checkered suit right over there!”

You can’t believe what you’re hearing and a part of you hopes that it’s not Hugh Ransom Drysdale, but you haven’t seen anybody else wearing such a distinctive suit; your heart threatens to beat out of your chest. Even in the relative darkness, you meet the blazing blue of his eyes with an inaudible gasp and the sly smirk on his lips makes you bite the inside of your cheek, trying to stop a smile of your own from spreading on your face. 

So when he wins a night of your time for one-hundred-thousand dollars and he leads you off the stage with a large hand on the small of your back, you can’t even bring yourself to be a little irritated at the way he leans into your body to whisper “gotcha” teasingly in your ear because he does have you. 

Fair and square. 

---

But you don’t know how you’ve ended up here. Over three years and one marriage proposal later, you’re sitting here pitifully with your head in your hands because you can’t believe that this is what it’s come to. You’ve tried many times over the past few hours to cease the incessant shaking of your hands but it’s relentless, your anxiety and distress running through your veins and seeping through your bones. 

The last four hours of your life have uprooted everything that you’ve ever believed in, everything you thought you knew about fate and order and love because it’s all a fucking mess. When Harlan handed you the flash drive, he warned you that you should only look at it if you think that you’re ready to accept that your reality will be flipped on its head and the expectations that you’ve allowed yourself to build up so carefully like tiny little brick towers will not only be knocked over, but destroyed beyond repair. 

You brushed him off jovially, thinking he was just being overly dramatic like he usually is, because you and Ransom had just gotten back from tasting wedding cakes and you were in your own little bubble of serenity. With a brief kiss on his cheek, you floated out of the room on cloud nine as he watched you leave with deep despair in his eyes that you were too distracted to notice.

In hindsight, you shouldn’t have just thrown caution to the wind and plugged the memory stick into your laptop without really thinking about it first; you don’t think you’ll ever forget the way that your heart plummeted into your stomach at the images of your fiancé with his arms wrapped around a slew of different women. 

Something inside of you immediately wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt. Maybe they caught him from a bad angle, maybe the other women were the ones who initiated it. But you backtracked because who are you to blame anybody else except for Ransom? That wouldn’t be fair and a part of your brain knows that you have to come to terms with the fact that he’s more like his father than he would like to admit. 

You still don’t know why you kept looking, continued to scroll through the pictures even though looking at your soon-to-be-husband’s lips on other women made you feel as if you were going to throw up your breakfast all over your laptop. The more that you stared at the candid photos, the more you realized that the actual infidelity in itself hurt, but what’s even more painful is the cold look in his eyes when he’s with them. 

They didn’t mean anything to him yet he still did it, and that’s what gets you. 

Maybe you deserve this: maybe it was always meant to end up like this. It’s hard not to think that this could be the way that this relationship was always meant to pan out, that maybe this is fate balancing out those scales. You knew from the moment you met him that you’d have your work cut out for you with Ransom, but you were never one to back away from a challenge. And it wasn’t as if you were actively trying to change him but sooner or later, Linda came to you with praises spilling from her lips because she couldn’t believe who her son had become within the first year of meeting you. He’d transformed right in front of your eyes, and it filled you with a glowing sense of pride to see how much more caring and open and honest he was. 

Early in the relationship, you’d wanted to establish that you wouldn’t treat him like a charity case. Everyone is flawed to some extent, sure, but there are behaviors that you will always find inexcusable, and the two of you had sat down and laid them out. You had a feeling that you would need to set some ground rules with Ransom and he was surprisingly lenient, establishing his own terms and conditions in return. 

The two of you had laughed hard about it later on because it all sounded like some kind of business deal or contract. 

You could laugh about it now too, especially since the number one most important item on both of your lists was to remain faithful. As a couple, you think that you have a very direct form of communication. Ransom is not one to hold back his discontent and frankly, neither are you. Neither of you is afraid to argue and you do it often, but it’s never grown into anything more intense than a few hours of painful silence and is always resolved before you fall asleep. 

You’d always thought that if you ever found yourself in a situation like this one, you wouldn’t be able to forgive your significant other. But never in your life have you felt such an intense connection to another human; your souls have intertwined so intricately that you don’t know whether or not you’re willing to jeopardize that.

“Princess?”

His voice echoes through your shared house and you can hear him hang up his coat, cursing as he kicks his shoes off and pads up the stairs. He stops outside the open door to your bedroom, spying the back of your open laptop and your still body lying on your stomach with your face turned away from him.

“Babe, you’re gonna flip your shit when I show you what I found today,” he drops the bags in his hand and walks around the king-size to press a kiss to the top of your head. You can pinpoint the exact moment when he realizes that something’s wrong. He freezes in place, feet seemingly rooted to the ground when he gets a good look at your face. The puffiness of your eyes, your wet lashes, and the tear streaks down your cheeks all alert him that something’s not quite right. 

That’s when he sees it. 

The last picture that you looked at was by far the worst. It shows him balls deep in a woman who you actually know fairly well because she’s worked closely with both you and Ransom for years on a number of your projects. She was initially hired as his assistant but soon evolved into something more like a friend to your family and his alike. You decide that it’s definitely worse when it’s someone you know.

The room goes entirely silent because the universe has pressed pause on this moment, all so he can fully realize the gravity of the situation. 

“Baby, let me explain-”

“I actually don’t think I want you to, Ransom,” you respond tiredly, your voice raspy from lack of use and your head heavy as you sit up in your bed. You pull your knees into your chest as you run a hand over your face to wipe away any leftover tears. 

Ransom flinches and you know it’s because you’ve called him by his name. With you, it’s usually baby or sweetheart or honey but not this time. He wants so badly to be your love again but the light in your eyes has gone out and he doesn’t know whether or not that’s even possible anymore.

You’re exhausted more than anything else. You’ve cried all your tears and are ready to never think about this ever again, but he’s sitting in front of you looking like a kicked puppy and you know that you need to be fair and give him a chance to explain himself. That’s what you’d want.

“Please, sweetheart, let me,” he begs, eyes searching yours and hand cautiously hovering right over your jaw, not quite touching but the heat emanating from his palm is enough to make you tear up again. It’s a small comfort that you know you’re going to miss.

Nodding, you hastily place your hand over his, pressing it to your face while a sob escapes your lips. He wraps both his arms around your waist as you curl in on yourself and sink into his body, taking deep breaths even though your nose is being assaulted with the familiar scent of oak and vanilla that makes you long for a simpler time. 

There’s a drawn-out pause before he starts speaking, his chin resting on the top of your head as he mulls over his words. 

“I’m sorry.”

It’s all he says for about a minute, letting the words hang in the air while the only sound in the room is that of your loud sniffles. 

“I’m so, so sorry, sweetness.”

He’s always called you that: sweetness. He once told you that you’re like honey, soft and sweeter than anything he’s ever had the pleasure of loving, and then laughed when you returned from work that night with a bag of those pastries you like from the bakery up the street. He could never stomach them no matter how hard he tried, but you always thought that was hilarious because he inhales those biscoff cookies like air. 

But you don’t feel very sweet right now as he spews apologies and excuses, spinning you sugar-coated lies and candied falsehoods with the confidence of a practiced storyteller. There’s a bitter taste on your tongue that you want so badly to spit out, tell him what you really think of him in this moment and how he’s not the man that you came to know. It was foolish of you to think he’d changed.

And when once again, quiet falls over your room in the light of the mid-afternoon, you only nod again, choosing to reserve your words for when you have something to say. Because as of right now, that sour taste still lingers on your tongue but you have no desire to rid yourself of it any longer. You’ll let it stay, allow it to fester as a reminder that you’ve been blind and naive but never again.

It ends here.

Ransom starts to stir noticeably when you don’t say anything, playing with the cotton of your shirt and your limp fingers. When you hear him speak next, something’s changed in his tone and you can feel the bass in his voice through his chest. 

“Y/N, baby, please say something- anything. Scream, yell at me, just fucking do something, babe: you’re killing me here.”

You scoff at the notion of you killing him because the irony of it is too funny to resist. But you decide to put him out of his misery, finally blinking up at him and meeting his eyes. They’re filled to the brim with cold rain that sends a chill down your back, dark and stormy and wet like the English countryside and you can almost smell the petrichor. 

“Can we just go back to before?” 

Your voice is cracking and your request is simple, but it’s enough for the few tears brimming in Ransom’s eyes to spill over onto his cheeks. You’ve only seen him cry twice before and it tugs at your heartstrings to see him like this, so open and more vulnerable than he’s allowed himself to be with anyone else. He’s already nodding rapidly but you’re not done.

“Can we go back, just for a little while? I just-”

You have to pause because the claws of despair are raking your skin as it crawls up your throat. 

“I just want it to be like before. I love you so much that it hurts and I just want it to be like before.”

He’s nodding eagerly now and his lips are already on yours, anchoring you to him because your love’s not enough to do so anymore. You push yourself up onto your knees so that you can grab his face between your hands, the face that you love so hard that it’s suffocating you. He steals your breath when he slips his tongue into your mouth and you feel lightheaded when his big hands slide underneath your shirt. Guilt plagues your thoughts but you push that aside for now: perhaps because it’s time for you to be selfish and you’ll allow yourself this, perhaps because you’d rather focus on the way that he tastes like cinnamon and the salt of your combined tears and he feels like home. 

The moment he wraps his arms around you to push you onto your back, you lean further into him because you want him as close to you as possible, trying desperately to become a part of him once more. The kisses he plants on you are like sugar and you want to inject them so that maybe you can be his sweetness again. The way your lips move in tandem makes your heart soar because it’s always been so easy - except when it’s not. 

Your shirt is thrown across the room, leaving you in only your panties and almost completely bare underneath his gaze. He stares at you reverently, silently worshipping you like a Madonna as rivers of tears pour from your eyes. His lips wrap around one of your peaked buds earnestly, his fingers rolling the other gently between them. The shock of pleasure that shoots through you almost makes you cry harder but you just bury your fingers in his hair, his tears hot on your soft skin. After he goes to give your other nipple the same attention, you pull him back to your lips. Without hesitation, he strips himself of his cable knit and shirt together, tossing them off the bed while you help him undo his belt. No words are exchanged when he kicks his pants off and your hand slips into his boxer briefs to stroke his hard length heavy in your hand because there’s nothing to say.

He pulls his underwear off too and after he does, he hooks his thumbs in the waistband of yours and strips you entirely. You take a beat just to admire each other, chests heaving and eyes glassy. Ransom’s face is flushed and you’re sure that your eyes are red but you’re still as beautiful to each other as you’ve always been.

He buries his face in your neck and you shiver at the feeling of his warm breath. Your nipples are pressed against his muscled chest as you just lay there, legs wrapped tightly around his waist. When he slips himself into your wet heat, the stretch of his thick cock lights your body on fire and you cry out. He rocks back and forth until he’s fully sheathed, and his entire body shakes with a sob when the two of you are completely joined together. 

Your souls have fallen out of step but in this moment, they’re dancing again.

The rolling of his hips against yours is slow as he takes his time tearing you apart, molding you to his body because he doesn’t want to let you go either. He drinks in the sound of your whimpers like ice water while his body overheats with passion and when your hand tightly grips the hair at the nape of his neck, he picks up the pace, rutting into you with unbridled ardor and whispering your name like a prayer. With his lips buried in your skin, you can’t quite make out the muffled sounds of his cries until he moves them right next to your ear. 

“I love you, I’m sorry, I love you.”

And he says it over and over again and each time he does, it becomes more broken and you can feel the agony weighing down his voice. You’re so close to the edge and you can feel he is too, his thrusts becoming increasingly sloppy as he reaches down to rub at your clit so that you can finish at the same time. 

Broken pleas fall from your lips, a litany of “please, please, please” as he gives you exactly what he knows you need. Your nails rake up and down his back as he moves and his breath hitches. What you don’t expect is for him to pull away from your shoulder and prop himself up on his forearms to stare you dead in the eyes. You can’t handle the intensity so you try to avert your gaze, but he whines deep in his throat.

“Please, baby, please look at me - I love you, please,” he urges you tearfully, trying to catch your darting eyes.

Once your stare reluctantly locks back onto his, he laughs wetly, his quivering lips curving into a weak smile as he kisses your cheek sweetly. The sentimentality of it all is what pushes you over the edge, your entire body shaking with the aftershocks of your release and the sobs that continue to wrack your chest. A second later, Ransom stills his movements, moaning quietly as he spills into you. 

The two of you stay like that for a while, crying and breathing each other’s air as the dance of your souls starts to come to an end. You wonder what it’d be like if this was different, if you were weeping with happiness instead of sorrow. 

To halt that train of thought in its tracks, you extricate yourself from your fiancé and lock yourself in the ensuite.

When you come back out, Ransom is underneath the covers, eyes trained on you. You don’t say anything but you do crawl back into bed next to him, allowing him to smother you with kisses that usually make you giggle and pull you deep into his chest. 

Ransom takes a breath before he speaks. “Stay. Please, sweetness. Don’t go - I want you to be here when I wake up.”

You just nod, combing your fingers through his hair as you can see his eyes start to get heavy. 

“Sleep, baby. I’ll be here.”

---

It’s 1:22 a.m and you know you can’t stay. 

Ransom’s always been a deep sleeper and you’re lucky to have woken up in a moment when he’s not holding you in a vice-like grip. You flip back the covers and head to your closet, grabbing the nearest articles of clothing that you realize too late belong to the snoring man in your bed. 

It doesn’t even matter anymore. After putting them on, you grab a duffle bag from the bottom of your closet and start pulling clothes from your side of the wardrobe off of hangers, stuffing as much as you can into the bag before sliding the zipper across. 

You’re on your way out but you can’t resist peeking over your shoulder to ensure that Ransom’s still asleep,  and you can’t help the small smile on your lips when you see that he’s still knocked out, mouth wide open with an arm hanging off the bed. Your head pounds from all the crying you’ve been doing but a burst of glee numbs the pain at the sight of the man-child in front of you. You’re a breath away from dropping your bag and slipping back into bed with him, your baby, your honey, your sweetheart.

But you don’t because he doesn’t deserve that and you deserve some time for you. And as the door clicks behind you, you can’t help but think that this is only fair. 

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[verytiredblob]

My reviews on Manhwas

Alright so, recently I've began to fall into the great Manhwa hell, as if I didn't have enough fandoms.

But I neither have friends to chat about this with, nor a Discord chat where I can fanby about it, so I just decided to throw it in here.

These are both Manhwas I recommend and my opinions on them. If there are any spoilers, They will be striked through and in blue for anyone that wishes to avoid them (if anyone even reads this lol).

1. The Villainess Reverses the Hourglass (악녀는 모래시계를 되돌린다)

Premise: Aria was a terrible person and was sentenced to dead by being beheaded. In her final moments, she discovers her step sister, Mielle, actually manipulated her during her entire life just so she could get Aria killed. She then is beheaded, and wakes up in the past, in her child body. So now, she must work to both survive and get her revenge on her sister.

Lovely story, and my first Manhwa. The art is simply stunning, and all the characters are very flashed out and developed. Aria (MC) is the pettiest person alive and I'm here for that.

Also, I noticed a trend where, even though the manhwa has "Villainess" in the title, the MC is usually a total angel. Well, not here. Aria is egotistical and a total Diva, she has her goals and one of them is her revenge and by all that is sacred she'll get it.

Mielle is a great villain, she has grown a lot in her own pettiness and tactics since she was a child, and I really like that. Also, watching her suffer for being a terrible person is delightful.

The Male Lead (Asher) is also really cool, I like how he's both witty and friendly, and how much he truly admires Aria and her achievements.

The side characters are also pretty good, and they get a lot of focus because of their interactions with the main cast.

Again, The art is S T U N N I N G. Look at this:

Literally all panels are drawn like this or better, I'm in love.

All in all, an awesome read, 10/10, I love this a lot.

2. The Monster Duchess And Contract Princess (괴물 공작가의 계약 공녀)

Premise: Leslie's life was terrible, and always centered on her big sister, Eli. After a failed attempt of her family to grant Eli her sister's skills and knowledge, Leslie searches for the feared "Monster Duchess" in an attempt to survive.

Another one with incredible art AND incredible characters. Leslie is an absolute angel, and seeing her grow as a person is awesome.

The gender envy I feel with the Duchess is unbearable, she's utterly perfect. And the entire family is so dotting and loving and sweet, my little grinch heart can't take it.

She's perfection, really.

The plot keeps getting more and more mysterious, and I'm here for it!

I love each of the main characters a lot, and even the villains are well done and fuel your hatred.

Also, Eli Sperado and her Dad can choke on those black flames for all eternity.

Another 10/10, although I must warn anyone that wishes to read this that the translations sometimes are very spotty and messy, so it can be a bit annoying.

3. I'll be the Matriarch in this Life (이번 생은 가주가 되겠습니)

Premise: Firentia was a girl that died in Korea in her past life, and was reborn into an influential family as the illegitimate daughter of the third son. Her life was pretty terrible, with in the end, her family ending up in poverty and disgrace because of her uncles and cousins, while she was exiled from the family. After another accident, she wakes up in her past, now with a goal: Become the Lombardi matriarch and stop the other family heirs from bringing it to ruin.

Awesome art and Awesome plot number 3! This is so good, genuinely. Firentia is such an awesome plotter, and her goals and actions are very well developed.

The Male Lead is my baby and I shall protect him, and the side characters? Utterly stunning.

The twins are the cutest fucking shit, seriously. Like, look at these two?? I'm dead. Although, all the children are very, veeery cute.

I like how Firentia subtly manipulates things around her to get what she wants. It's similar to Aria, but she's much more mature and knowledgeable, and has a much less petty goal.

Guess what? 10/10. Yeah, I know, I'm terrible at grading, sue me.

4. The Twins Siblings' New Life (쌍둥이 남매의 뉴라이프)

Premise: Arien and Arjen were a pair of twins that died in Korea, and were reborn again as twins and as the Emperor's illegitimate children. Now, with only each other to trust, they must do their best to survive.

My current obsession. I really like this one. The art is not on the same level of pure Awesome like the ones before, but it's pretty good nonetheless.

The plot is pretty nice, but I must warn you: DO NOT expect them to act like adults. Honestly, just forget they're meant to be reborn in this world. They're just normal children and that's it. They act like children, and they think like children. Honestly, I think the author just wanted to make this story about them as children and their producer went and said to make them reincarnates because that Isekai shit is popular nowadays (And to justify they having memories of their newborn days). Seriously, just ignore it, the experience reading will be much better.

Other than that, the story develops nicely. The characters are all very good and the plot is very mysterious. I am holding myself back to not spoil anything, aaaaa.

There is also only one another thing that disappoints me: Arien is very clearly the MC. The story is told by her eyes and we only know what Arjen thinks or feels when he says it 9 or by subtext). I really wish it was more balanced, because they're both different people and have different perspectives, and also I really like Arjen.

I have absolutely no idea where this plot is gonna go, and honestly? I like it. It's very rare when I don't know how things are gonna develop because of other stories, so it feels very fresh.

The brothers are freaking awesome. I was so scared they were going to hate the twins and be petty, because of other manhwas that are like that, but they're so loving and sweet?? All hail these idiots. Also, Daddy is the biggest dumbass of all, this poor clueless man.

An 8/10, because of the complaints above. Still a good read, and I really like it, even with it's defects.

4. I'm A Stepmother, But My Daughter Is Just Too Cute! (계모인데 딸이 너무 귀여워)

Premise: A seamstress dies of overwork in Korea, and wakes up in the body of Abigail, the vain Queen, and the evil stepmother to the princess Blanche. Yes, It's like she stepped into the world of Snow White, and she must now do her best to live and.. Dote on Blanche with toys and dresses as much as possible?

Again with the awesome art and nice plot. Why are there so many manga with awesome art?? I'm so envious.

May all hail this crispy, delicious art.

Abigail is a whole mood, and I enjoy how she is inserted into the life of someone who had already lived and had a reputation. Her actions baffle a lot of the characters, as do her motivations, and I'm here for it.

The King has also an amazing backstory that's very tragic and yikes. I enjoy it, really. Not something you see in men's backstories that much.

Also, I'm kinda saddened by the fact the MC and the king are bound to become an actual couple. They would be such good platonic friends stuck in a political marriage. I was robbed, y'all.

Abigail greatest ambition is to get to design a dress for Blanche and have her wear it, and you know what? Good for her! Sometimes, it's good to have an MC that is not plotting against world at large.

Also, her mirror? Verite is simply perfect, I love this guy. I non-jokingly ship him with Abigail more than her with the King.

Blanche is a sweetheart, she deserves to be in my "adopted children" wall.

For now it's more of a Slice of Life than anything? But I also don't know what happens in the novels, so I'm just going to wait.

For the current lack of a grater plot, this gets a 7/10. Still pretty good and entertaining, especially for when you just don't feel like trying to understand deep plots with lots of elements.

5. Beware of the Brothers! (그 오빠들을 조심해!)

Premise: Another one of those "I lived my life and then wake up in the past." Hari was adopted by this family after the death of their only daughter, and although her parents love her, her 3 older siblings very much don't. She lives a miserable life in their hands, and when it's the night before she is to get married and finally escape her brothers, she wakes up in the past, and has to deal with them all over again.

Another nice art one, and the background characters are very nice, as is the MC.

But for me, it has a big problem. And that problem is the main ship. It's Hari with her eldest brother, Eugene. Even though they are not related and yadda yadda yadda, they were raised as such, and thus it bothers me. Also, Eugene is as plain as white bread and just as generic when seen as the Male Lead.

I ship Hari with Johan, even though I know it's not gonna happen, Ugh, the pain..

For me, the main point in this is Hari's relationship with her other siblings and the other background characters. I'm here for that wholesome sibling interaction. Her relationship with Erich, specially, is awesome. I love these two so much

It also kinda lacks a plot? Other than the relationship development and their story as a family, but again, I have no idea how they will develop this.

Also, pet peeve? Why do they keep using Oppa instead of translating it properly as brother? I get honorifics and stuff, but it's so annoying.

I give it a 6/10. Good characters and good relationships outside of the bloody incest thing, and it's a good enough way to pass the time.

There are two more that I've read, buut it's like 4am and I'm sleepy as all hell, so I'll just add it in a reblog or attached post later, and I plan on doing this for other future manhwas as well.

Do you have any recommendations or comments or just wanna talk about any of these manhwas? Hit me up!

#The villainess reverses the hourglass #the monster duchess and contract princess #i'll be the matriarch in this life #I'm a stepmother but my daughter is just too cute! #Beware of the brothers! #manhwa #webtoon #manhwa recommendation #isekai

[yee-fxcking-haw]

•The Grey Area•

Part One: •Fallen Angel•

Summary: You're Enji Todoroki's prized possession, his Angel. Given this name because of your pure, white wings. Your quirk is truly unique, until you come face to face with Enji's new friend and hit man, Hawks. His presence shakes you, his abilities intimidate you. The roll he plays in your life? That's up in the air.

Pairing: Keigo Takami x FemReader, Endeavor x FemReader

Warnings: Violence, mentions of death, descriptions of death, sexual themes and implications, mentions of harassment, (Eventual smut, as well as other warnings- they will be at the beginning of each chapter.)

Word Count: 4,471

A/N: I'm gonna write this shit til I get sick of writing it. Not to suck my own dick but I am in love with this story idea so we're just gonna keep rolling til it feels right to end it lmao.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Silk may be the worst material ever invented. It slips and slides and hides absolutely nothing. Your lungs deflate as you slide your hands down the front of the horrid thing you've been asked to wear. It was laid out on your bed for you, with a small note that said, "Get dolled up for me." It isn't signed, it doesn't need to be.

It's a note from the man that more or less owns you. He likes to say he takes care of you, you like to say he holds your leash. At the end of the day, coming to him was what you needed to do to survive, so you did it. You shake the thoughts of how you came to be here from your head, ignoring the dreadful remnants of a time when you were desperate enough to turn to him for protection.

Enji Todoroki lives one of the most complex double lives in existence. He’s a magnificent hero, topping the charts and staying there. He saves lives, lets his flames shine bright, he's a beacon of hope.

He’s also an incredibly feared underground crime lord. When the flames are off, he's no longer heroic, he's no longer honorable. He's bloodthirsty, his friends are few and his enemies are many.

Keeping these two realms separate is quite the task, but he pulls it off with his vast wealth and by calling in the seemingly limitless favors from those he’s helped out of sticky situations.

The supposedly heroic faces you’ve seen slinking around his estate were jarring at first. The mighty do indeed fall, and they tumble right into his lap. They’re always after something, a loan, various narcotics, maybe some illegal steroids to increase their performances.

Enji loves a bargain, he loves to string those poor saps along until they’re too confused to agree to anything that’s reasonable. It’s horribly entertaining, as backwards as it all is, you’ve grown fond of the way he befuddles every hopeless individual that finds themselves desperate enough to seek out his help.

Usually, you’re there by his side. You block out the conversation as you serve drinks, laugh at the bad jokes, and most of all, look pretty. Your job is to be his greatest manipulation tactic. Give the suckers something to drool at, get them drunk, stay out of the way so Enji can lock in whatever deal he’s making.

You ruffle your hair, straighten your dress, and take one final glance in your mirror.

There’s a familiar tightness in your chest when you acknowledge the real reason you’re used as something to gawk at.

Your wings.

Two broad, unruly, attention grabbing, white wings emerging from your shoulder blades. Little speckles of brown and black exist among the sea of white feathers that fall all the way to the floor. The feathers at the tips always look pitiful, since their entire existence is spent dragging the floor.

They’re useless things, heavy and cumbersome and completely nonfunctional. You could probably fly if you wanted to, if somebody would teach you. You never stood a chance at that though, your parents couldn’t even begin to do so, and Enji certainly won’t waste energy on it. No, he likes having you on the ground. Safe and sound, much more convenient to keep you without a cage.

The bones of them often ache, obviously needing to be used, desperate to do their job. They most resemble the wings of a Barn Owl. Along with the wings, your quirk provides you with exceptional vision and hearing. Sometimes it feels like a sixth sense, like you can tell when things are going to happen before they actually do.

This, of course, makes you invaluable to Enji during his meetings. You’re able to pick up on nervous ticks, listen to the whispers, and tip him off. He does love keeping you around for that, you’ve assisted him innumerable times, and he always rewards so generously. He keeps you comfortable, spoiled even, anything for his Angel.

Enji’s Angel.

It was never very official, he just started calling you by it, and you started answering to it. In your younger years it was almost affectionate, slightly comforting. Now, it’s a scarlet letter, a stage name, belonging to somebody who doesn’t quite exist.

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

The meeting is absolute torture. Some schmuck is sitting across from you and Enji, blubbering his way through some bullshit about how he’ll have the money next week. You’re perched on Enji’s lap, reclining against his chest with your chin up high.

You’re all sitting around a large oak coffee table in Enji’s office, drinks in hands, guns in holsters.

“I swear, the guy I know, he owes me, he says he’ll have the money by this weekend, maybe even sooner!” The sniffling client begs. He’s a pitiful little man, all short and greasy looking, with bulbous eyes that sit above a large aquiline nose.

“Oh, how reassuring, my money is in the hands of a friend of a liar,” Enji sneers, voice low and menacing, “Doesn’t that put you at ease, Angel?” His hand snakes around your waist, making his claim on you evident to everyone in the room.

The client brought two goons with him, both sit on the lavish loveseat, watching with putrid envy as Enji’s hands roam across your middle.

You run your hand up his massive chest, making a show of adjusting your hips in his lap. You flash your eyes up to his and roll your shoulders, wings rippling as you do. The room is taken over by a heavy, consuming silence.

You survey Enji’s face, void of flames for such a serious event. You hear hearts beat faster, breathing quicken, idiots, every one of them.

“No, I don’t think it does, sir.” You purr, hand playing with the collar of his grey dress shirt.

This whole charade used to make your skin crawl, feeling eyes burn into your flesh, knowing that if Enji weren’t here you’d be laid out on the table while the pigs around you took turns.

You expressed this once, crying and shaking as you begged Enji to stop bringing you into them. His only response was to demand that you tell him whenever somebody was making you uncomfortable, and he would gladly take care of it.

It only took one client, one dense motherfucker who put his hand on your thigh. The second his hand was on you, Enji put a bullet in his head. You watched the blood splatter, and the body hit the floor, but ripped your eyes away after that. You turned into Enji’s chest, clutching him as you realised it was all your doing, Enji had killed for you.

Since then, you vowed to maintain a facade of confidence in these meetings. If Enji were to kill, it would be because of his own corrupted motives, not for you, never again.

You no longer let the bile rise in your throat, you don’t look away from any perverse gaze. You keep your nerves steady, and you stare the bastards down.

One of the goons shifts in their seat, making Enji shoot him a warning glance as you continue to fiddle with his shirt.

“I don’t think it’s wise to leave so much money up to ‘maybe’ and ‘this guy’.” You sigh as you slide off Enji’s lap, keeping your hand on his chest as you slink around to stand behind him. He gives you a knowing look, full of admiration and pride, he does love watching you perform.

Show time.

You flutter your wings out to the sides, stretching them, making a spectacle of them. All three of the men watch with comically amazed expressions. Their jaws may as well be on the floor, you slide your hands onto Enji’s broad shoulders so you can rub small circles into his muscles.

“I agree, I don’t like all this ‘maybe’ bullshit.” the energy in the room thickens as he speaks, falling into heavy silence in reverence of the power his voice exudes.

"Angel, will you grab us some more drinks?" You draw yourself up tall, ignoring the eyes that gorge on your decolletage.

"Yes Sir." You lean down to place a sweet kiss on Enji's cheek, flashing a little too much skin for his guests.

"Isn't she lovely, gentlemen?" He wonders out loud, looking up at you fondly.

No, not fondly, possessively, greedily. There's no loving tenderness that comes with fondness.

The men nod quietly, all afraid to cross a line, none willing to speak out of turn.

"Do a spin for them, sweetheart." He grabs your wrist and pulls you around to his side.

Your cheeks and ears run hot as he lifts your arm for you to spin, leaving space for your wings. You give a smooth twirl, feathers and dress flowing around you with a subtle woosh.

"Men would kill for her, don't you think?" Another round of silent nods, another wave of tense energy.

"I have." It's a warning, loud and clear.

He waves his hand in your direction, dismissive and bored.

"Go on, Angel. I have to have a private word with our guests." You glide out of the room gracefully, walking slowly enough so they can all watch you leave.

You swallow the terrible feelings rising in your gut, knowing damn well how rarely people leave that room alive after a "private word". You find your way to the kitchen easily, a tray of drinks already prepared on the fine granite countertop.

Enji's estate is nothing short of magnificent, all expensive foreign materials, gold fixtures and crystal chandeliers. All supplied by his mass of illegally acquired wealth.

One of the sweet little maids nods at you, gawking at your wings as always. You have a strange relationship with the staff at the house, they always treat you like some skittish animal. Afraid that you're unpredictable, even dangerous.

It's always seemed odd to you, but you've grown to understand it. None of them know where you came from, nor how you ended up in Enji's good graces, let alone a cherished prize to him.

On your way back down the hall, you hear the shouting of men, not an usual occurrence, but this time it makes your blood run cold. It sounds much more… painful, then usual. Cries for help mixed with curses and strangled yells. You freeze when the door rattles with such force, the only explanation can be that a body was thrown against it.

Then, there's silence. Silence, followed by sick laughter. You know Enji's voice too well, his rich tone fills your ears, but there's one other. Did he have an accomplice? It's not uncommon for Enji to have all his bases covered, so it's possible one of the goons was a double agent.

Your feet find their function again and you pad quietly towards the door. You take a second to breathe deeply, preparing yourself for the inevitable bloodshed you're about to witness.

You rap your knuckles on the door very quietly, wouldn't want to disturb the dead.

"Angel? Is that you?" Enji's voice calls as his laughter settles, the other man went silent as soon as your hand met the wood of the door.

"Yes sir." You say, trying to keep your voice soft but still wanting to be heard.

"Oh shit, get this out of the way."

A body.

You hear something slide then drop, and your chest squeezes with guilt. One day you won't have these feelings, one day seeing someone drop dead will evoke no more feeling than watching dead hair fall to the ground after it's trimmed. At least, that's what Enji tells you.

The door cracks open, a wall of a human standing on the other side of it. Enji beams down at you, the smallest amount of blood decorates his gray collar.

"Why do you always get so messy when I leave?" You tease, despite the sick feeling in your gut.

"It's a messy business." He counters, holding the door for you to step into the room. You expect the slit throats, the smell of blood, and the horrid joy in Enji's face. What you don't expect, is the creature poised in the corner of the room.

A creature with wings. No, not a creature, a man. With menacing, vibrant, crimson wings. His face is nothing but sharp serious lines, highlights of gold with intense shadows. He's covered in slim fitting black clothing, giving him a tactical and militant look.

He looks so powerful, and so beautiful. The only thing you can think to compare him to is a fallen angel, heavenly, but haunting.

In his hands, he holds a… sword? Then he steps further into view, and you see the blade shift. A feather. With a smooth, deadly twitch of his wrist, he flicks the rigid feather. It sends blood splattering across the floor where he stands.

His glowing eyes watch you, waiting for you to react, maybe waiting for you to scream, run away and hide. You can't, though, you're entranced. He has wings. Your own twitch behind your back, suddenly feeling even more cumbersome and useless after seeing how athletic and beautiful his own are.

As gruesome as the scene is, he's magnificent, stunning in such an overwhelming way. His eyes rake over your body, but it doesn't feel perverse, it feels like he's sizing you up, estimating your abilities.

Because he is.

"Angel, this is Hawks, he's a very good friend of mine." Enji explains, relaxing back into his chair as you and Hawks continue to watch each other.

You would never know it, but his breath hitched the second he saw you. Enji had told him about his Angel, but his description did you no justice. To Hawks, at least, you look capable, intimidating even. Your wings are equal in size to his, but compared to your smaller frame they look so fierce.

Neither of you has seen or heard of someone with a quirk like yours, or even remotely similar. So you stand there, amazed, in fear, sizing each other up.

"Isn't she something?" Enji's voice pulls you out of your trance, your eyes finally breaking from his friend's.

Hawks just hums, eyes still locked on your form as you set the tray of drinks down in front of Enji. He pours one for himself, then one for you, and one for Hawks. You take a glance around at the gore surrounding you, and shake your head at the drink.

"Not tonight, I'm tired." You try to sell it as best you can, but Enji sees right through you.

"Her stomach isn't very strong yet, sensitive little thing." He says to Hawks.

When you glance over to him, his reaction unsettles you. He grins, a broad, breathtaking thing. He's amused, embarrassed for you. How silly of you to be so bothered by a fucking murder scene.

Aside from the dead bodies, you can't stand another second under the predatory gaze of Enji's new friend. The whole scene makes you more uncomfortable than anything has in a long while. It's very apparent by Enji's lack of weapons, and by Hawks' feral appearance, that Hawks is some kind of hit man.

"Get some rest, then." Enji says dismissively.

You kiss him on the cheek, earning a rare smile from his usual straight lips. There's no affection behind your kiss, but there is loyalty, and he knows that.

Doing your best not to seem like you're in a rush, you keep your head down and walk steadily towards the door.

"Nice to meet you, Angel." His voice is like caramel syrup, dripping over you and heating you up.

You hate it.

You give him nothing but a turse nod then duck out the door, trying to keep your heart in it's cage, trying to keep your hands from shaking. What the hell was that?

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

You spend some time in the library before heading to bed. The fireplace crackles and pops, casting beautiful, dancing lights on the dark oak bookshelves. It's not a massive library, but it's decent. Full of books that have been collected by Enji, but not read. You do the reading, he does the acquiring.

Not tonight, though. Tonight you just sit, you sit and overthink. You can't seem to shake the uneasy feeling this "Hawks" character gave you. He was so primal looking, so unhinged, so… beastly.

The contrast of his beauty is what keeps punching you in the gut. He was nothing short of stunning, like a marble statue brought to life by an enchantress. That's even without his wings. God, his wings. He must look spectacular in the air, so majestic.

You stuff the thought down, deep down. The longing in your chest is enough to make your eyes sting with tears. Flying. A feeling you've never known, but the instinct burns beneath your skin. You wonder if even knows how lucky he is…

You grab onto those thoughts before they run away, standing to your feet with a stretch and a ruffle of your own wings.

You just need sleep, you need to shake this off. Enji has plenty of "friends", plenty of lowlifes and murderers that he keeps close. Hawks is no different, he'll linger for a bit, then disappear under mysterious circumstances, and you'll never hear his name again.

The thought should bring your comfort as you travel to your bedroom, but as you wander through the halls, your chest aches. Somehow, the idea of not knowing all you can about this stranger makes you itch. Which in turn, makes you detest his presence even more. There's no reason for such a fascination… aside from your resemblance to him.

The sound of your bedroom door latching behind you does bring you some piece, lifting some of the weight off of your lungs. Until you hear the slightest ruffle echo from the direction of your window.

The hair on your neck stands on end as you draw your wings up to their full size. Your shoulders are rigid, fists clenched as you whip your head around to identify the sound.

"Do you always sleep with the door unlocked?" That sugary voice falls on your ears once again, raising goosebumps all over your body.

You don't answer, you only watch, inching backwards towards the door. There could be only one reason one of Enji's friends would corner you like this, the thought makes your heart beat to the point of nearly breaking through your chest.

He's perched on your windowsill, feet dangling into the room, wings relaxed behind him as the wind catches his scarlet feathers. The curtains away around him as they catch the cool breeze, the whole scene gives him an almost ghostly look, especially with the pale light of the moon as the only illumination in your bedroom.

"Easy, kid." He slides off lazily, arms crossed as he saunters towards you, "I just wanted to talk."

His lips quirk up into an easy smirk, something that makes your insides stir.

"Talk quick, then get out." You snap, pressing your back against the door, drawing your wings in around yourself protectively as your arms wrap around your chest. He stops nearly a foot from you, his own wings spread wide, almost like he's showing off.

The energy is thick, pressing on your lungs as you watch his face. He looks down his nose at you, not judging, but observing. His eyes are lit with a patient look, something soft but relatively unreadable. His proximity overwhelms you, even up close, you're hard pressed to find a single flaw.

There you stand, shrouded in scarlet, him in white. Both waiting for the other to speak, or move, or even breathe. Desperate for some evidence that you were both real and not some apparition sent to mock your poor mortal brain with an image of unparalleled perfection.

Wild, dazzling, gilded eyes search your face. Predatory pupils slit as he takes in every detail he can. His chest rises, and he speaks. He utters a simple, "They're beautiful." and everything shatters.

A cadence of feelings builds within your chest, tuning up like an orchestra. All unorganized noise, arching and mixing, impossible to focus on anything in particular.

Then the most beautiful part, the settling of the chaos. All of the instruments find their notes as they fade out. The anticipatory silence settles within you, preparing you for the moment when they all roll into the first cord of their symphony.

You don't feel right taking the name Angel, not after this, not after you've seen one. Your reverence for his beauty is short lived, though. As soon as you remember the way his eyes were wild with bloodlust, the way he had taken lives with his own feathers.

Admiration is replaced with apprehension. However, the strongest feeling is curiosity, morbid, forbidden curiosity.

You shove the compliment to the far corners of your brain, ignoring the fire it stokes in your heart.

"Talk or leave." You say shortly.

"Not a fan of flattery?" He asks, quirking a thick eyebrow.

"Not a fan of coercion." You reply, arms drawing tighter around your chest.

Hawks pauses for a moment, considering your answer.

"What are you a fan of?" His smile grows a bit more as he turns away from you on his heels, looking almost bored. You stay glued to your door, wrapped around yourself, completely frozen.

"Well, I'm usually a fan of not having my room invaded by murderers." You sneer, attempting to ignore the way his body moves so elegantly as he investigates your room with fabricated intrigue.

He scoffs a bit at your feisty retort, looking over his shoulder to give you quick up and down with his eyes. He wanders back to the window, back to you as he takes a look out.

"A murderer. That's a bold accusation, sweetheart." He turns around again, backlit by the moonlight.

"Can you use em'?" He asks, nodding behind you.

The question bites at your insides, it twists your guts up onto angry knots.

You shake your head, you can't say it out loud, you can't admit it.

His face falls the slightest bit, less amused, more aware. Perhaps he feels sympathy, imagining a life without the freedom of flight.

"I see." He says quietly, "A dove?" He wonders out loud.

His prying starts to eat at your patience, you already feel intruded upon by him sneaking into your bedroom, and now he wants to dissect your anatomy? Yet, you still find yourself drawn to the conversation, hanging on his words, hoping to gain information about him in exchange for information about yourself.

"Owl." You say simply, easing off the door a little so you can spread your wings some, "The markings give it away."

He nods, taking in the messy brown and black speckles at the tips.

"How did you do that with your feather?" You ask, works spilling out a little too fast.

Both of his eyebrows shoot up, surprised by your sudden engagement in the conversation.

His only reply is by drawing himself up by his shoulders. Then, miraculously, one of his feathers flies from his wing, darting straight for you until it pauses in front of your face. You flinch slightly before it pauses, then you stand transfixed, watching the small crimson blade levitate before you.

You want to reach out and grab it, find the string that's holding it up, find the answer to this magic trick.

"Pretty cool, huh?" He says, full of confidence as he sways back over to you, "You can touch it." He says gently.

So you do, you take it into your hand gently. The texture is shocking, it's soft and silky, much more pleasant than your coarse and textured feathers.

"How?" You ask, amazed by his abilities.

He shrugs and turns around again, pacing back to the window. You take a mental note of his inability to stand still for longer than a few seconds.

"I just… can." He says it so matter of fact, like it's the obvious answer.

Now that he's more relaxed, not holding a feather dripping with blood, he seems almost... Friendly? He certainly seems less frightening, less aggressive and formidable.

You hold the feather in your palms, waiting for the next trick.

"Keep it." He says as he settles back down onto the windowsill, sitting like he was when you first found him.

He stretches an arm around to brace on the outside of the window frame, leaning back into the open air of the night. For a brief moment you panic, knowing you're on the third floor, but then you just feel stupid for being concerned for a person with functioning wings.

"Why?" You ask, closing in your hands as you look up at him.

His smile is devilish, he rolls his shoulders back and lifts himself up to his feet. He crowds the large window, filling it with his lean body and those powerful wings.

"In case you need me." He winks and gives you a lazy, two finger salute before letting himself fall away into the sky.

Your chest lurches as you dart to the window, desperate to see him in action, desperate to see someone fly.

By the time you reach the window, though, he's nowhere to be seen. Evaporated into the stars, not even the sound of beating wings left as evidence.

You glance down at the feather in your hands, and notice it twitch to life before it floats up to hover in front of your face again. Your chest fills with an absolute mess of unorganized, chaotic feelings that you can't even begin to pull apart and make sense of.

The feather flicks under your chin, tickling the skin there with its pointed tip. You snatch it roughly, irritated with the teasing, perturbed by his nonchalance. You slam the window shut before huffing over to your dresser, you rip a drawer open and shove the feather between your clothes.

You slam it shut as the raging sea of emotions beats against your chest, drowning your lungs as well as any cognitive brain function.

You can't make sense of any of this shit, you can't imagine how anyone could have ever made it up to your room without Enji's knowledge. Unless… he was let up… but that doesn't make any sense. None of it does. It's all so cloudy, you feel thousands of questions swarm your brain, and you don't possess a single answer.

The only thing you know for sure, is that you have to find out more about this fallen angel, you have to find out more about Hawks.

#takami keigo #my hero academia #hawks #hawks au #my hero au #my hero smut #hawks angst #mha hawks #my hero hawks #keigo takami #Keigo #keigo x you #hawks x you #hawks series #keigo takami smut #hawks smut

[moved-to-void-kissed]

What Can and Cannot Return

In a quiet moment shared while Pavo is healing Ardea’s combat injuries, the two share a nervous exchange about Ardea’s loss of her Celestrian powers in the face of the fact that Pavo still retains hers. (1091 words)

tag list: @thatslikesometaldude | @garchompp | @beeon | @tex-treasures | @catake | @tartaglialovemail | @catcao | @vilehusband | @dragonsmooch | @childrenofmeyneth | @lilacslovers | @blackbirdcrime | @kalliopi-ships | @strawberryshipz (to be tagged in what I make, please click here!)

Here is my piece for the twenty-sixth day of sapphic September - I was originally going to portray the scene as a render using MMD, but the models just were not cooperating nicely, so I spat out this little bit of writing instead. I hope it's still alright, even if it may or may not have been slightly rushed, haha!~

Comments on and reblogs of my work are always okay, and appreciated, but are by no means required! If the link to the document doesn't work properly, then there is also a transcript of it under the readmore.

“..Do you mean it, when you say it does not faze you?”

It was a quiet and peaceful night as the two young women sat next to the flickering campfire. Although the party had been too tired from fighting to travel any further that day, the faint glow of torches - and with them, people - could be seen on the edge of the horizon; they would be able to properly rest in an inn soon, but for the moment, they had to make do in the open air for another night. A short distance away from the pair, a girl with bright teal hair was curled up in sleep with her extravagant dress blanketing her in a thousand colours, while a much taller individual was resting with their back to a tree stump, and even now their spear and knife still lay within easy reach.

The question was not an accusatory one, instead settling quietly into the scene, but it still made the blonde-haired girl look away and out into the darkness for a moment. She was dressed in the textbook attire of a martial artist, with a red and gold top emblazoned with the logo of a dragon over a fitted black shirt and slick slacks. Her hands were wrapped with black fabric, and the kite’s claws they usually carried were tucked away safely in her equipment bag. Her left arm was raised and in the grasp of the other girl, whose short white hair fell over her face slightly as a glow of teal magic emanated from her palms.

“What do you mean by that?” asked the martial artist, whose gaze had now flickered back to her partner.

“I believe you know what I refer to, Ardea.” she replied, still focusing on healing the wound on Ardea’s arm. It was not a serious injury, and even now was healing rapidly thanks to her spells, but it was nevertheless something that required attention. “The fact that we once shared the same abilities, and now, you have lost what you once wielded as second nature.”

“Mmm..” was all that Ardea said in response, glancing over to check that the other two were definitely asleep before continuing. “Well, it’s true that it was difficult to adapt to at the beginning, but.. We’ve come quite far now, haven’t we? So I’ve had time to adjust to the situation.”

This brought a smile to Pavo’s face, but there was still a sense of unease in her expression. “So, it is not true that you are.. jealous of me, or- anything of the sort?”

“What?” At this, Ardea turned around with a start, causing Pavo to lose hold of her arm. “Ah- My apologies!”

“Do not worry - I had already dealt with your injuries.”

“Ah, yes, I realise that now.. Thank you kindly..” Ardea muttered, moving her now woundless arm without difficulty. Then she returned to the matter at hand. “But, Pavo, whatever do you mean?”

The Celestrian looked away at this, and her wings instinctively curled closer to her body in a large sheet of white feathers. “It is just that.. You have lost the ability to use any of the magic of Celestrians, as well as both your wings and your halo, and the boons that they bestow upon you. When we happened across the carriage of the Starflight Express in that forest, it did not even react to your presence at first. Thankfully, the benevolessence we have acquired by you offering our assistance to those in peril has restored that final aspect, but.. not any of your other abilities."

She paused for a moment to gather her thoughts, then continued before Ardea could interject.

"As for myself, on the other hand.. Though the long time I have spent upon the Protectorate has weakened my connection to the Observatory, and rendered my presence visible to mortals, all other characteristics that Celestrians bear, I have retained. The story we tell that I am a mortal sage appears satisfactory to explain my powers, at least to our adventuring companions-” - she glanced over at the sleeping pair upon saying this - “-it nevertheless does not change the fact that I wield my powers on a regular basis in combat, as I have always done since my teacher imparted these skills to me, while you have had to take on an entirely unfamiliar vocation in order to maintain appearances. So, at times, I have feared that you having to witness me freely use the selfsame powers you once shared, yet no longer can use, would perhaps be unfair.."

An expression of surprise mixed with confusion clouded Ardea’s face. "Pavo, I- I don't understand.. How long have you felt this way?"

"..It was not a recent fear." she admitted.

"Oh, in the name of the Almighty-“ In one movement, Ardea had shifted her position and launched herself with considerable vigour into the unsuspecting arms of her girlfriend. Pavo’s brief sounds of uncertainly were quickly dulled, and she instinctively clung to Ardea in return.

“Angel, listen to me for a moment, please. That is not at all how I feel, and it never has been, either - if anything, seeing you use your Celestrian abilities is part of what motivates me to find a way to get mine back. Besides, I haven't lost everything - my reflexes and agility are still leagues above those of the mortals, regardless of not having wings anymore. Isn't that right?"

"..Yes, I suppose that is very true."

"And, anyway," she continued, "I still think of myself as a Celestrian, because I am. That's what I have always been, and that will never change, regardless of what happens to me. The same is true for you, too - even after we ascend to the Realm of the Almighty, we will still be Celestrians, no matter what becomes of us. And we will still be together, too, no matter what becomes of us. Does that help?"

"Ah, that.. That does bring some relief, I admit." She turned to face the campfire with a soft and grateful smile. "Thank you, Ardea, my love. I truly appreciate your words.."

"It's never a problem, angel. I'm just sorry I didn't realise you felt that way, so I could help sort things out earlier on."

"Please, do not worry. I apologise for not confiding in you before now." she replied.

"There's no need to worry about that now, Pavo. Come on, let's get some rest."

And as the moon shone overhead, the pair settled comfortably into each other's embrace to rest by the fire.

#a call from the void #creations from the void #dragon quest selfshipping #this post is okay to reblog! #sapphicseptember2021 #selfship #selfshipping #love: winged watcher (pavo) #selfship: a celestial rapport (pavo/ardea) #self‑insert: clawed heron (ardea) #plus also #friend: starlit luminary (iris) #friend: shattered light (avalon) #DQIX!avalon #platonic F/Os #OC F/Os #this is a solid 95% dialogue but that’s alright right? #also I had to switch back and forth between my computer and my phone since the internet here is slightly appalling so hopefully it’s okay #fire mention #ask to tag

[lostysworld]

My dar(k) ling – The Darkling × reader

Part 13

Masterlist

Pairing: The Darkling x reader

Warnings: none?

Summary: Another fete, another challenge for you and Aleksander. Another person between you and the man you love.

– What the hell is that?

You step on the training ground that you usually keep during archery trainings with young grisha. But seems this time your today's training started without you. Instead of empty space on your usual place a tall young woman is standing next to the line of targets with children not far from them.

Unfortunately, Baghra is here too.

– I found a replacement for you for this day, - the old woman waves her hand and a dark-haired woman sends a suspicious glance towards your side.

– Once it's for a day, and then for a life.

Baghra only rolls her eyes on your barely audible mumbling. When she brings you closer to that woman, you realize you've seen her before during trainings.

– It's Zoya, one of the best grisha in the Second Army.

You trace her slim figure in navy blue kefta with critical glance, waiting patiently for her any reaction. Not that you are against new people, but definitely not today, the day after your latest conversation with the general.

– Zoya Nazyalensky. A Squaller, - she extends her arm for a handshake, and you notice familiar pattern on her sleeve and smirk.

– Yes, I can see that.

Nevertheless, you extend yours in response, with a blank expression.

– She will train them, - Baghra nods towards kids. – While I am dealing with you, young lady.

– What else? - you grit your teeth in annoyance. You still have some lessons with Baghra, but usually they are about one and the same.

– I'm not done abusing you. Not yet.

– I am done.

– What? - the woman raises her brow and stops, turning to you.

– I don't need your lessons anymore. Though I'm grateful for the things you taught me, Baghra.

– Did my son brainwashed you with his teary puppy eyes-

– He has nothing to do with it. I just learned everything I wanted.

You already turn to leave her on the gardens' line, but the old witch doesn't intend to let you go.

– Your ancestors could do incredible things, and you only learned how to summon two elements and think, that you can outdo those grisha, who are here from the childhood.

You freeze on one spot, slowly exhaling and inhaling to calm yourself down. With one swift movement you are standing in front of her again.

– Air I can summon is still in your lungs, so be careful with your words, Baghra.

The corner of her lips twitches, as if she's waiting for a reaction like this. When the first wave of rage passes you relax a bit and you step back.

–And I still think that you are wasting your time here.

– What should I do? - you throw a glance to her, throwing arms to the sides in grim surprise. – To destroy the Fold with my hands?

– It's time for youto decide whose side you are on, girl. Are you with Aleksander, or you are helping to destroy him from the inside.

Your blood turns cold. No wonder, Aleksander became so impulsive with a mother like that.

– As far as I know, the boy still trusts you, Y/N.

– It is the perfect reason for me not to trust you.

The woman shakes her head, seeing the girl in front of her as a lost one for her to save. Worse that her son's influence is her own stubbornness and youth.

– What was Aleksander like? - you draw her attention. – Before the Fold.

– He laughed... A lot.

– Well, he seemed to do this with me either.

– That's what I am talking about, - she comes closer to you making you flinch. – You may bring some light to his life, but you won't change him.

Nonsense. You shake your head. Every new conversation with Baghra leads both of you to her attempts to turn you against the general. Every time. Always.

– I would never ask him to change-

– But it doesn't mean you won't want him to, Y/N. He is used to ruin people who are dear to him.

You lower your gaze, observing the ground. Loud noises from the training ground reach your hearing. Seems Zoya entertains young grisha more than you.

– Well, - you take a step back to show the woman, that your conversation is over. – Seems, my life has been already ruined before I met Aleksander.

The woman scans you with a mixture of judgment and motherly adoration in her eyes.

– There will be no happiness between you, if you are so alike on this point.

– Be that as it may, - with only one sentence Baghra gets to set your mood up and down.

As soon as she nods towards your side, you turn away, heading to the palace, passing by the training ground. Your head is full of useless information and whirlwind of emotions, so you at least can be used as a bad example of a trainer now.

When you get closer to your room, where Genya should meet you to try the fete dress on, you notice a familiar figure behind you. Even not turning your head, you know who it is.

– That's what the general meant, when was talking about constant pressure.

Ivan smirks smugly to himself.

– Oh, shut up, please! - you reach the door and halt to face the intrusive heartrender behind you.

– I am not a little girl, I can cope with it.

– And I am glad to hear it, - his face just perfectly shows how he enjoys himself at the moment.

– Shouldn't you look after your husband, hm?

– He is not my husband-

– Well, he should be.

With that you slam the door in front of Ivan's face, making him drop this mean smile from his face. If you two go on with communicating like this, you will become besties for sure.

You have never felt yourself so stupid and uncomfortable in your entire life like right at the moment, standing near the wall of the ballroom.

Genya abandoned you about a half an hour ago, and you are standing looking at the only one person here, that may draw your attention.

Aleksander spends his time discussing something with lieutenants on the opposite side of the room. Seems he is not interested in the fete or, what's most important, in you.

Not this gorgeous dress you are wearing, not your hairstyle, nothing can make the man turn his glance on your. After your last conversation none of you dared to speak with each other or look at.

Most of dates to the dance are already preoccupied with their partners, and you have only to throw sympathetic glances to Fedyor and Ivan, where one of them sometimes salutes you with a champagne glass by turns.

Not that you are just standing alone, some of familiar grisha join you from time to time having a small talk. And you may even easily escape from this party, but the chance that Genya will catch you somewhere in the corridors is pretty high and unpleasant.

But one small detail doesn't go unnoticed for you. Only couple of seconds ago the music becomes quieter, and you casts a quick glance towards the orchestra. There from their side, Aleksander is looking straight at you.

But it is not a problem at all. This detail doesn't seem to you; as soon as you follow others' glances with yours you notice a person coming to you.

The one you don't expect to see next to ever.

White coat with golden epaulettes, blond short hair and unusual charming smile instead of dull glassy glance.

Vasily Lantsov is walking straight to your side.

People around are not used to see the part of the royal family dancing with someone at parties like this one, so even musicians slow down a bit.

You are not nervous, but the whole scene is like not happening with you, so you just watch.

– Miss Y/L/N, may I have the pleasure of the dance?

His voice pitch is not high, not low, but something in the middle, although not unpleasant to hear.

You hesitate, but feeling of the general's burning glance on your figure makes you smirk slightly and nod, laying your hand in prince's one.

The music halts, but when the young man leads you to the center of the ballroom, it starts again with new force. The constant thoughts, that you are the only couple now and everybody is looking at both of you vanish as soon as Vasily's hand lays on your waistline, pressing you closer to him.

He doesn't talk, but the man is always looking at you, attentively, with the hidden interest, and you unconsciously compare this dance to your first one with general. It is stupid, because, honestly, it's nothing compared to the first fete.

You were kind of in love, charmed by a handsome stately man, who you trust with your life, and what's now?

Lost, without direction, still in love, but more love than in love, you are dancing with the prince, but not enjoying it. Though the dress is charming. With long waves it waltzes with your every movement, black and red.

Your lips touches a one sided smirk and you can only imagine what an impression this dance has on Aleksander. Surely, his subordinates will have a hard day tomorrow.

Fortunately for you, the music stops soon and the man, as a perfect gentleman, lets go of your palm and smiles in the end. You curtsy and step towards another wall, closer to the exit. One dance is pretty enough for tonight.

But when you intend to leave the room, someone's hand wraps around your wrist, slightly squeezing it, and you turn around immediately.

Lantsov doesn't go away, but stands still peering at you.

– Would you like to join me this evening, miss Y/L/N? - your eyes narrow in suspicion. Carefully you try to take your hand away from him.

– Don't think me to be rude, your Highness, but you are not known for spending time with ladies.

The young man smirks to you and you literally feel that burning gaze from another side of the room.

– I am not, but you will rescue me, if do that, - you clearly don't understand his intentions and wince.

– Otherwise, I will be sentenced to never-ending grumbling of my mother about searching for a bride.

– Oh...

– "Oh" indeed.

You barely hold yourself from chuckling, but the the prince steps closer to you, and suddenly you think that this scene can be used as a motivation. Of course, not for you.

– What do I get out of it? - you take his hand, that Vasily gladly offers to you.

– A way out of your difficult situation.

His words lit a sparkle inside of your mind, your thoughts find a common point, and you switch your interested gaze on him.

He waits for a second and casts a glance on that side where the general should be, but you decide not to test your luck, and keep staring right at the blond man in front of you.

Suddenly you remember that the ring Aleksander gave you with the letter is left in your room, on a night stand.

A nasty rotten feeling crawls inside you and all your previous thoughts vanish away.

When you turn to the direction where Kirigan stood, you see no one. There is definitely not a good sign, and you quickly look around to sneak out of the hall without Genya noticing you.

You excuse yourself and runs out of the ballroom. All this evening leaves your head full of conflicting thoughts and feelings, so you just need more fresh air.

Usually it's Aleksander who comes to your room either to make up or to take his time alone while your sleeping. But something is telling you that this day is not one of them. You need to talk to him first.

The door behind general's back slams loudly, he can even hear some of the pictures on the walls shaking. Everything in the war room is left like it was before he left for the fete. But the man isn't the same.

He ruffles his hair, exhaling tensely, marching from one corner to another in strange mix of helpless rage and jealousy.

He doesn't know, what is going on with him. All these day it was not so hard not to pay attention to this girl, and now, when Lantsov shared a dance with her, the Darkling is furious.

He unconsciously registers his own shadows crawling to his figure from the darkest sides of the room. If he goes on like this, he will surely have troubles with controlling his powers in future, leaving it to his anger.

The full moon is in the night skies and millions of glittering stars are shining radiating a slight pale light. The sudden thought of leaving the palace and having a night stroll dies with a barely audible knock.

Not many people afford themselves a luxury of disturbing the general so late at night, but anyway he heads to the door.

He opens the door rapidly and he blesses himself for wearing a usual cold mask, the general doesn't give his surprise away.

– Zoya? To what do I owe your esteemed company?

The girl's hesitating, but determined expression almost makes him smile, but he holds himself back.

– You left the fete so soon, I was afraid something happened.

Aleksander steps aside inviting her in. Honesty, he may even use this night visit to forget his predicament, but something holds him back. Something is telling him, it is not his way out.

Unconsciously his hand slips into the pocket of his kefta, fingers find the ring of black metal and green stones. He knows the similar one is somewhere here, in Y/N's room.

But when the squaller walks in further into the room, straight to the table, both of them hear one more knock. Loud, clear one. Aleksander will never mistake him for any other.

– Come in!

He doesn't busy himself opening the door, and when it's opened by the woman he is afraid to see, Kirigan finds himself enjoying the moment.

– Am I interrupting? - the witch's cold voice rings in the tense silence of the place, as she cocks her head to the side. Zoya straightens her shoulders.

– I was just keeping company with the general Kirigan, - the man follows Y/N arching a brow without any other visible signs of displeasure. – People tell it helps when you are alone. Isn't it convenient? You should know about it.

Venom in Zoya's voice is clear, but it's not enough for freaking the young woman out.

– Yes, I'm forgetting all my troubles the moment someone breaks into my chambers in the middle of the night.

Kirigan presses his lips in thin line, trying not to smile or smirk. Despite this difficult situation and visible intentions of Zoya towards him, he can't not to admire his forest witch. The little girl turns into his queen. It's just her character, that doesn't let her admit it.

– Zoya is already leaving, - Aleksander pushes himself from the wall, attentively looking at the squaller.

The dark-haired woman passes by you, not even sharing a last glance, and when the door behind her closes, you feel like finally relaxing.

– Don't like the company of the royal family?

The general locks the door and comes back to you, eyeing your figure with a silky arrogant gaze.

You, in turn, don't leave his eyes too, but with completely different expression. The man, who adored you so much, when we first met and developed your feelings towards each other, who worried about your opinion about him, now only pushes you away as hard as possible and even harder.

You indeed are not recognizing the same man you loved. But maybe you should learn to love him again.

– What was that? - your quiet voice seems to shake him to the ground. This strange calm power on the bottom on your eyes frightens him.

– What was what?

– What made you what you are? - you come closer to the man knowing that he won't go away. There are no more places where he can hide from you. – Tell me, Aleksander, what have burnt the heart out of you?

His glance is a mix of shame and disgust. He can't just not look at you and solve his problems with that. With the woman who sees through him.

– You don't want to know, Y/N.

– Well, I'm here..., - you throws your arms to the side.

Kirigan turns away and comes up to the table with maps leaning on his hands. His glance is slipping to the documents and plans, but he feels you're coming with his back.

You can't wait anymore, come closer to your lover. Lean with your hip on the table to face Aleksander, desperately staring into sharp lines of his features, trying to find that very young man he was once, so long time ago, beyond all the darkness that surrounds him.

– What do you want to hear? I was killing people in their backs all these years. I have terrified them, terrorized using my shadows, I was Ravkan punisher. Fouler than death itself.

– I understand, - you say quietly, wondering if there is still soul inside of this man. Burnt down black desert. That is all he has instead of it.

– Do you regret?

You flinch, when low voice rings in complete silence after a pause. Instead of answering you just shake your head.

– Not a minute of it...well, - Kirigan's gaze switches to yours, when you highlights last words.

– Aside from the moments when you tried to send me away.

One-sided light grin touches his face.

– Don't tell me later, that I didn't warn you.

– Even if I ever regret about my decisions, I will never blame you, Aleksander.

Something in him clicks and he straightens turning his head to you. Need in the glance only softens you more.

– Call me that again, - everything inside you clenches, as you hear his broken voice.

– Aleksander-

– No, not like that.

On a short moment you don't understand his words, but then you are finally lighted up with an idea. His hand that lays not far from you appears under your gentle touch.

– Sasha.

The walls he was building for so long are crushing down at this very moment. You make a quick move to embrace him tenderly and tightly. The man immediately hides his head in the crook of your neck.

– Has the darkness in me won over the light, Y/N? - you feel these words as he touches your skin with his lips while speaking.

– I don't know, darling. I don't know.

– Maybe they are right, - he raises his head, and you see these two burning pools of pure madness in his eyes. – Maybe the beast should stay with his own kind-

– Shut up!

Kirigan blinks and fever in his glance vanishes. He definitely doesn't expect this outburst from you.

Your hands laying on his shoulders and chest before, now are cupping his face, making the man look you in the eyes.

– Stop talking nonsense, - his eyes are searching for something on your face, something that gives up your true feelings. – I love you, Aleksander. And you are not even close to a monster. Don't you dare taking about it again.

You bring his head a bit down so your foreheads touch. Only a moment before you notice tears gathering in his eyes.

– I thought I had lost you, Y/N. My dearest love.

You move closer to finally connect your lips, savouring the perfect moment of peace. Your name sounds like a lament from his lips.

– How can you still stand me after knowing who I am?

Kirigan steals one last kiss from you touching the tip of your nose with his. This tension he felt before slowly leaves him.

– I choose to love you for the things you have control over. Yes, I may not approve your methods, but I know that you want the best for your people. That's enough for me.

– If I knew that you become the only thing I needed, I would not come into that forest.

You chuckle and this turns into light laughter, that Aleksander catches too.

– I'm taking it as a compliment, dear.

When you two stop, you realize that it is pretty late already. You won't forget yourself tomorrow's morning for the lack of sleep.

– May I stay with you? - you are searching for the answer on his face.

– Come.

Aleksander leads you to his bedroom where you stayed a couple of times, laying his broad palm on your back.

He gets rid of his own closer and changes it, handing a new clean shirt for you to change as well.

Honestly you have a small collection of his shirts in your wardrobe now, and the whole palace will probably know about it, if you ever done wrong with Genya.

When you take you places on the bed you notice, that the man is still restless.

– Just try to fall asleep, - his hand twitches under your soft touch. – Don't think about anything else, okay?

He is silent, and you go on.

– I see how you talk to your people, Aleksander, I know that you are trying for them. Grisha are dedicated to you, because they know you care about them, - your fingers start brushing circles on the back of his hand. – Though, as I said, your methods are questionable for me.

– I want grisha not to be afraid anymore. Anyone.

– I know. But I can't advise you anything. I'm sorry.

He shakes his head, covering your hand with his.

– It's okay. I'm grateful, that you are here at all, and...

Emotions overwhelm him, and the general falls silent. Suddenly you move closer and hug him tightly, placing a chaste kiss on his brow.

– Shh, sleep. We will think about this in the morning

@aleksanderwh0r3 @all-art-is-quite-useless @carlywhomever @cynthianokamaria

#shadow and bone #shadow and bone imagine #shadow and bone x reader #shadow and bone fanfic #shadow and bone fanfiction #shadow and bone x you #grisha trilogy #the darkling #the darkling fanfic #the darkling fanfiction #the darkling x reader #the darkling imagine #the darkling x you

[wifiwuxians]

I have also received hate from those people when I said Madam Yu sort of parents exist in my culture , of course abuse is always wrong what she did to wwx by whipping him and jc by comparing him to wwx is definitely wrong , it's not like I am condoning her wrong actions , they brutally attacked me. What I just said was that parents in my culture compare their children with other children who are more brighter than them , of course what they do is wrong , those children develop mental issues but those parents think that what they're doing is right , they think they are just in a strict manner motivating their children to perform better , they definitely care about them though ,they care about them and that's why they want them to do better,they don't realise what they're doing is wrong, madam Yu was similar to those parents in my culture ,I just wanted to say that even if she said harsh things she definitely cared about her children ,I even think that she cared and both hated wwx at the same time , I said that there exists a grey line between tough love and abuse , but those people with not even a little bit of sympathy think that she's evil and malicious all the time , she just abused her authority , and whatever hate they can spout yadda yadda ...

They have blogs centred around hating on jc , jgy , madam Yu and xy and hating on the people who just share an opinion about them which is not related with hatred.

Some of them hate jc so much that they even hate on the younger jc , who was 8 to 10 years old , saying that he was an abusive little kid , who had malicious intents towards wwx from the beginning , yeah he got angry with wwx and didn't let him in his room and threw him out , but little kids get angry easily on impulse , he had to let go of his dogs and he was quite jealous of wwx due to jfm paying more attention to him , but kids get angry on impulse and sometimes do hurtful things on impulse , he even realised his mistake that he had done wrong to wwx and definitely got worried about him, I don't know what those people read ?

Hating on a little kid , they're dumb and crazy and pathetic , don't pay attention to those people , they have already ruined some parts of the fandom to me ( I am new in the fandom , I didn't knew these sort of people existed )

It doesn't matter if you don't reply , I just wanted to share my similar experience and wanted to encourage you .

I also never knew people didn't cried when yzy and jfm died in cql , I remember crying . My eyes got red from crying especially in the donghua , even though we never see them how they died , it still was painful seeing the aftermath. I also remember crying in the novel.

Anyways , more courage to you !!

i'm really so sorry you had to go through that. people don't know how to behave and refuse to acknowledge any perspectives that aren't their own. nobody had the right to talk to you like that and make you feel so bad just for having an opinion (which i share).

i've said this before, but it is ludicrous how a fandom for a story where nuance and gray morality and "there is more than black or white" is a core focus can be so obsessed with either condemning characters entirely or defending their every action. like these people can't be bothered to spare them a second thought; they've decided they're horrible and that's it, no desire to examine why, and while i guess that's fine, what isn't fine is assuming that people who DO enjoy examining characters are somehow equally horrible by extension.

like yes, i dislike apologists too, but there's a difference between being an apologist and taking the time to try and understand characters a little better. MXTX is an excellent writer who manages to give most of her characters just enough depth to suggest there's more than meets the eye, no matter how minor they may be, and these people just throw it all away. maybe they shouldn't be reading her works if they're just gonna discredit her like that lmao

again, it's okay to hate characters. but attacking people and treating your opinion as fact when that very well may not be the case is dumb.

i really am sorry they treated you so poorly. honestly i feel like people who dedicate their whole online presence to hating on characters and starting beef over them are pathetic

#people just speak over others who have these experiences by trying to act like they know better #hating on a child character lol... imagine