#you seem to have many fucks to give about this subject and that is wild to me
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The Last Time Pt3
Pairing: Paige Bueckers x Reader
Warnings: Brief Smut (Fingering), miscommunication
Summary: Paige’s teammates realize you might’ve been more then just casual.
You search for a way to see Paige again, reminiscing on a past night in the process.
A/n: I added some smut to make this filler a bit bearable. Next chap is the last!! It’s gonna be good!!
MINORS DNI BEYOND CUT
The UConn women’s basketball team was currently sprawled out on the gym floor, faces sweaty, water bottles in hand and shirts lifted in hopes of making contact with the cold floor. It had been a rough practice for everyone, but especially Paige. It had been almost a month since she had ended things with you and she felt out of balance, her mind would say one thing and her body would do the other. She was never uncoordinated, but her distraction had caused the team to do one too many laps across the gym as punishment.
“Paige, do you need pussy to function?” KK says out of the blue, causing the group to give each other looks.
“My guy, what??” Paige shoots up from her position on the floor and squirts water from her Gatorade bottle onto the freshmen.
KK laughs. “Hey, that’s actually refreshing! Plus I was just wondering, I mean you ghost one girl and suddenly you forget how to play ball.”
Now Nika shoots up. “Paige?? You ghosted that girl?”
“Who, the one who never texted first?” Aaliyah chimes in.
“I didn’t ghost her guys.” Paige sighs
“Did you tell her in person? Or did you text and never get a response back.” Azzi rolls her eyes.
“I actually um, went to her dorm.” Paige reluctantly says, rubbing the back of her neck.
“Oh my word, you met up to fuck and then ended it there? That’s wild.” KK tuts, sharing a look with Aaliyah.
Nika shakes her head in disappointment. “If it weren’t for the texting thing I would’ve expected you guys to get together already.”
“Why would they, weren’t they just having like, casual sex? Aaliyah asked.
Paige was now extremely uncomfortable with the girls knowing all her business, even though it was her fault for telling them all. She just wanted to stop hearing the word ‘sex’ coming out of everyone’s mouth.
“Aye, chill. You guys wanna head out orr..” She tries to change the subject.
“It didn’t seem THAT casual.” Nika shrugged, surprised at how nobody seemed aware about what she was about to say.
“I mean, did you guys not see Paige driving the girl around half the time after practice?
The group is silent.
“Or how Paige has been sleeping over at the same person’s dorm, like we don’t all have her location? Since when does she spend the night at the same girl’s dorm? Doesn’t seem casual.”
Paige can feel herself sweating. She hadn’t gone through great lengths to hide you from her teammates, in fact it seemed that she focused more energy on hiding her feelings from herself. It felt weird to no longer look forward to seeing you, to hearing your voice and anticipating your curiosity. Paige found you so enticing, constantly wanting to know more about her, to know her deeper than she knew herself. She understood why you were so smart, you had a thirst to know a topic like the back of your hand, and it felt good that at least once every week that topic was herself.
Still, she was not expecting Nika to catch on.
“They was bound to know at some point, P.” Azzi chuckles, clapping Paige’s back.
KK gives an incredulous look. “WHAT! Azzi you knew?”
“Of course I knew. I mean Paige never really tried to hide it, but it was a little obvious.” Azzi says, high-fiving Nika.
The group is quiet for a bit, all looking at Paige who’s rubbing her forehead and avoiding eye contact.
“So Paige actually likes this girl and now they’re for sure not talking.” Ines states.
“Basically.” Paige sighs.
“You’ll get her back, or you’ll get another.” Aaliyah shrugs, finally getting up. “In the meantime, try not to bring us down on the court with your pussy problems.” She smirks.
“Shut up!” Paige tries to let out a laugh, getting up as well. The girls all head to the change rooms, chatting with each other. Azzi keeps an eye on Paige, who’s lost in her own thoughts.
“Did you use the basketball excuse on her?” She asks.
“Huh?”
“Oh you know, the ‘I need to focus on ball right now.’ Type thing. Is that what you told her?”
“Not the first time I’ve used that one.” Paige grumbles. “But yeah, I did. You should’ve seen the look on her face Azz, she wasn’t even mad, shawty looked disappointed or sum.”
Azzi puts an arm around Paige.”Yeah, well with all that time you spend with her she prolly knows you better than that.”
She smiles. “Hopefully this’ll be the last time you have to use that excuse again.”
-
You’re rummaging through your room, peeking into all of your storage spaces, inside shoe boxes, looking for anything Paige might’ve left at your house during your five month hookup period.
Your friend is on FaceTime with you as you search. “I definitely wouldn’t text her now, but if you see her in person she can’t avoid it. Maybe she left something in your room that you can return to her?”
So here you are ripping your tiny room apart for any trace of Paige Bueckers. Hands and knees on the floor, feeling through your carpet, you bend your head down further to look under your bed, and there it is.
TWO MONTHS EARLIER
“Lemme put you on something real quick.” Paige said, taking out a pair of wired headphones from her pocket and placing a bud into your ear. You two had been laying on your bed, staring at the ceiling and talking about music. When her hand brushed against your face to put the earbud in, you almost melted.
The two of you laid together, side by side as Paige’s best R&B playlist played. Jhene Aiko, Drake, Jaquees, Bryson Tiller. Smooth voices floating in your brain, beautiful lyrics with dirty meanings and soul touching instrumentals in the background. Glancing at her phone to see a song, you noticed the title of the playlist was your name. You couldn’t help but climb on top of her and hungrily kiss her lips the moment you felt Paige’s bright blue eyes staring at you, waiting for your reaction to the playlist she made specifically for the time you two shared together.
“Didn’t think my music would make you this horny.” She chuckled in between kisses.
“There’s no way you just made me a playlist without the intentions of getting in my pants.” You smirked, lifting Paige’s shirt over her head and throwing it to the floor, leaving her in just a Nike sports bra and sweatshorts. You could’ve made out with her for hours, skin to skin. The feeling of Paige’s heart beating against your body drove you insane. You loved the way you could feel her breath speed up as you snuck your hand in her pants, and then into her boxers.
“I don’t have to make a playlist to get into your pa-oh.” Paige let out an almost pornographic moan when your fingers entered her, then immediately slapped her hand over her mouth.
Still slowly pumping into her with one hand, you use the other to remove her’s from her face. “I want to hear you for once.” You utter, suddenly embarrassed. Paige seemed to initiate almost everything sexual, and she was rarely beneath you like this. She wasn’t always very vocal, but hearing she was capable of a noise like that and watching as her face flushes at your touch excited you more then the playlist did.
You vividly remember hovering on top of her, earbuds still connected to her phone. You remember taunting her, your breath catching as her moans gradually got louder. The music probably covered the noise of her slick, because you know she was so wet for you, her eyes staring into yours with a rare, almost pouty expression, then clenching shut as she came all over your fingers. You slowly pulled your hand out of her shorts, then licked your fingers clean. Paige watched intently before switching positions with you in a flash.
It was a good night.
PRESENT TIME
Staring at the earbuds tangled up underneath your bed, you could practically feel her hands on you again, like you did that night.
“I found something.” You call out to your phone, gently taking the wired earbuds and untangling them.
“She has a game in a couple days. Maybe you can give it to her then.” Your friend suggests. You feel your stomach pang at the thought of her eyes on yours. You didn’t follow her on social media, and you hadn’t seen her in person since she last came over. If you don’t do this now, you won’t end up seeing her again.
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Graffiti: David Hale x Reader
Tagging: @kmc1989
The first time David Hale meets you, he arrests you for spray painting a dick on your ex’s house. You’ve just finished off the balls when he slaps the cuffs on your wrists and escorts you to the police car with a smile because truthfully he takes pleasure in seeing Jax Teller so pissed off.
“You have impressive attention to detail.” He tells you with an amused expression as he starts the engine. “You could probably make it as an artist if you applied yourself.”
You laugh because that’s exactly what you do when you’re not drawing dicks or writing expletives on someone’s front door.
“Did you love him?” He asks, glancing in the mirror as he takes the scenic view to the station. You’re a refreshing change from the crowd he’s usually arresting on a Friday night. You’re entirely sober to start with and a complete spitfire.
“No.” You say as you look out of the window and stare out at the passing trees. “I just don’t appreciate him telling the rest of the group how I like to get fucked and inviting them to take a ride.”
He feels his jaw clench just a little when he hears that. It isn’t a secret that the club shares their women, that they’re nothing more than a commodity. You don’t seem like a croweater, they wouldn’t risk their status by doing something like graffitiing a dick on the house of the Vice President. He thinks you just got caught up in the allure of Jax Teller, the same way so many other young women have.
It’s about a mile away from the station that he decides to let you go. He doesn’t think you’ll be returning to the club anytime soon, you’ve made your point by tagging Teller’s house, he doesn’t think he’ll see any more trouble from you. He lets the car idle for a second under a streetlight before he steps outside and opens your door for you.
“Stay away from Teller.” He warns you as he undoes the cuffs on your wrists. “I’m not going to jam you up tonight but if I catch you at it again, it’ll be a different story.”
The next time you see each other is at a bar out of town, he goes there sometimes when he wants to be anonymous. Charming is a small town, everyone knows his face. He can barely go two steps down Main Street without someone complaining about their neighbour feeding the squirrels. Being away from that, it gives him mental space, allows him to breathe.
You look different when you slip into the stool alongside of him, your hair’s a little shorter, your makeup a little lighter. He likes the look, it suits you.
“Hey, it’s the graffiti artist,” He greets you as he takes a sip from his beer. “Drawn anything obscene recently?”
“No.” You smile back as you order an Old Fashioned. “But I’ve been life modelling for a couple of art students recently so I’m probably the subject of some.”
He almost spits out his beer, because you…
Truly, you are something else entirely.
You spend the night together at that bar, shooting pool, sharing a few beers. It’s been a while since he’s felt so relaxed, that he’d been just David instead of Sheriff Hale. You make him laugh until his ribs hurt, until he’s drunk off more than just the booze at the bar.
When he walks you home that night, he doesn’t expect you to kiss him, or undress him, or ride him like the beautiful, wild thing that you are.
When he wakes up the next morning he’s alone amongst your sheets, the scent of your perfume clinging to his skin. He raises his head to see you sitting in a chair across from the bed wearing his t-shirt from the night before with a sketchbook resting on your knees.
“I need this back.” He smiles, tugging at the hem when you raise to your feet and approach the bed.
“Take it off me.” You dare him, so he does and it starts all over again.
It isn’t until he’s tugging on his jeans an hour later that realises what you were drawing. It’s a picture of him, sleeping. He looks so peaceful in that moment, like he doesn’t carry the burdens of the world upon his shoulders.
“Is this how you see me?” He asks you, his throat tight with emotion.
You frown as if you don’t understand the question.
“That’s how you are.” You tell him as you tear the page out from your sketchbook and hand it to him. “Something to remember me by.”
“I don’t think I could ever forget you.” He tells you as he tucks it into his wallet.
It’s that night at the station when he’s sitting in his office that he takes it out again. His fingers trace over the pencil work and he can’t help but think that maybe this would be the man he could be if he was happier, if he didn’t hold onto everything so damn tightly. It isn’t until he folds it back up that he realises you’ve left your phone number on the back.
Call me the next time you want some fun, you’ve scrawled above it.
He pulls out his cell phone and dials.
Love David? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.
Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee
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Forever My Queen (Yandere Diavolo x Reader)
**Note: This is the first story in a collection of stories based on songs. All of the songs used as inspiration have lyrics that sound a bit “yandere-ish” to me. Each song was paired with a character that I personally think it suits the best.**
**Note 2: Features a female reader. Diavolo may seem a bit out of character here, but I figure that by this point, after having gone through the death loop for so long, his already unstable mind has snapped completely. So have fun with that, Reader. Be warned that I haven’t proofread this so it may contain mistakes. I’ll go back over this and fix any mistakes I find later. In the meantime I’ll go back to working on “Kinder Than Love”.
WARNING: Mentions of suicide, death, and other dark themes. Read at your own discretion. Remember that you alone are responsible for what you choose to read.
Inspiration: “Forever My Queen” by Pentagram
youtube
How much longer would he have to endure this? How many times would he have to endure the agony of death?
Over and over and over again…
Would he ever be allowed to die and just stay dead?!
Diavolo’s wild, green eyes darted around, making note of every little thing that could possibly kill him. He deemed it all dangerous. After all the times he died, he learned a very important lesson:
Death could come at any time, from anywhere, from anyone or anything.
From being stabbed, burned, shot, poisoned, strangled, electrocuted, drowned, starved, crushed, chopped to pieces, eaten alive, torn in half, beaten to death, he’d experienced nearly every way a human being could die. He couldn’t take it anymore.
How would it happen this time?
Would it be slow and agonizing or quick and painless?
He stared about, cringing in on himself and trembling. It had already been about ten minutes and he was still breathing. It offered him no comfort. He knew it was only a matter of time before the end came. Then he would end up somewhere else and die again… and again… and again…
“Please…” his voice came out in a trembling whisper.
“Please!”
A few people walking down the sidewalk glanced in his direction, shook their heads at the obvious madman, and kept walking.
“FOR FUCK’S SAKE! GET IT OVER WITH! JUST KILL ME ALREADY!” he screamed, glaring at the people that turned to give him strange looks.
How did the saying go? “Oh, how the mighty have fallen.” Diavolo, the man that had once held an entire country in the palm of his hand had been reduced to a cowering, trembling, paranoid lunatic that screamed obscenities in the streets while people looked on in shock, concern, and occasional amusement.
The King was king no more.
He had nothing.
He was nothing.
His subjects had all turned against him. His kingdom had been stolen from him. He was exiled into a never ending loop of death, defeated by a mere child. King Crimson was gone. Dear Doppio, his companion soul, was dead. And now, the only thing he had to look forward to was death.
He fell to his knees and tried to keep from bursting into tears like a pathetic child. Most of the people that had been distracted by his little outburst had already walked away, some more hurried than others, but all wanting nothing more than to be as far away from Diavolo as possible. He could keel over right there in front of all those people and none of them would care. They would just step over his corpse as if he were just a pile of trash. No one cared what happened to him.
He had nothing at all to live for.
Nothing to live for…
Diavolo chuckled at the realization. Of course. Why hadn’t he thought of it before? It all made sense now. It was the one death he hadn’t experienced yet!
Suicide.
He was supposed to kill himself this time.
He couldn’t help but laugh, elated at the idea. He could resist of course, but he knew that the death loop would increase his despair until he finally gave up and ended himself. But he wouldn’t resist. No. He wanted to die this time. And he would enjoy it, too. It would be the only time that the death loop allowed him to choose the nature of his elimination. What would he choose? He wanted so badly to savor his brief moment of control, but he felt that the death loop would grow impatient if he didn’t act soon. So he would have to work with what was around him. He looked around his immediate area hoping to find something that could end his life in an at least tolerable way. Eventually he lifted his gaze to the rooftop of a nearby apartment building. Why not go with the old standard? He would climb to the roof of that building and jump to his death.
Diavolo entered the building, feeling something akin to peacefulness in his soul. He didn’t know what future horrors the death loop would bestow upon him, so he would relish this single moment of mercy. He decided to take the stairs, forgoing the elevator completely. He just wanted to enjoy the moment as this had been the longest he’d ever been allowed to stay alive. He could safely say that this would be his favorite death.
The door to the rooftop was thankfully unlocked. He opened it and walked out into the late afternoon glow. The air was so clear up there and Diavolo took a moment to breathe it all in. He walked up to the edge of the roof and stared down at the city. It gave him a great sense of tranquility standing there, looking at the skyline and the setting sun. He had no idea where he was, but for a moment, he imagined that this city was his kingdom and he had just climbed up to the roof of his sprawling villa to survey his domain.
Just like old times.
The feelings of despair hit him hard then and he knew it was time. He looked back down at the streets below and took a deep breath. It wouldn’t be the first time he fell to his death. He’d done it at least five times before. He knew it would hurt, it would be extremely painful, having nearly every bone in your body crushed by the force of gravity and your flesh splitting open as your insides spilled out all over the pavement would always be excruciating, but at the very least it would only last for a moment. Painful but quick. Diavolo supposed he’d take that over slow and agonizing. He held his arms out wide and started to let himself fall forward.
Something grabbed a hold of the back of the mesh shirt he wore and yanked him back onto the roof. He spun around and locked eyes with you.
--------
You had come up to the roof to watch the sunset and have a little smoke. You didn’t smoke often, but sometimes the events of the day wore you down and having a little nicotine in your system helped you deal with it. You had just finished your cigarette when the door to the roof was suddenly thrown open, startling you. A man dressed like a mannequin in the window of a Hot Topic shuffled out onto the roof with a spaced out look on his face. You weren’t sure but, he might’ve been under the influence of something with the way he was acting. He lumbered past you as if he hadn’t even seen you. You watched, with growing concern, as he made his way to the edge of the roof. He stood there staring out at the horizon before throwing his hands out and leaning forward.
SHIT!
You had a terrible feeling that he was going to jump the moment you saw him heading for the edge of the roof. You moved with speed that you didn’t know you possessed and grabbed a fistful of the netting on the back of his “shirt”, if you could even call it that, and yanked him backwards. He almost fell backwards on top of you before pulling himself out of your grip and turning his manic green eyes on you. He seemed shocked, confused, and maybe a little bit angry.
“WHY THE HELL DID YOU STOP ME?!”
Okay, maybe very angry.
You didn’t know how to answer him.
“I-I just… you were going to…” was all you could say.
“What business is it of yours?” he asked, voice dropped to a quieter, but just as threatening growl. “What compelled you to interfere?!”
Again, you didn’t know how to answer. Frankly you thought it was obvious.
“I guess… I just didn’t want you to jump.” you said, wincing at the sound of your own voice.
The man sneered, painted lips pulling away from his teeth.
“You shouldn’t have stopped me! I was meant to die here! I was….”
He trailed off and a look of stunned realization came over him. His mouth dropped open and he stared at you as if you just gave him the answers to all of life’s problems.
-----
The gears in Diavolo’s head were turning. Something had changed. He could feel it. He felt it the moment he felt you grab him and yank him back before he could let himself fall to his predestined death. All throughout the death loop, not once had anyone bothered to come to his rescue. You did. Where had you even come from? He hadn’t seen you at all when he walked onto the roof. There was a moment where the paranoia rose within him again and he thought that maybe you were meant to be his death, but why would you save him only to kill him a moment later? At the very least, he could trust his deaths to make sense. The paranoia within him faded when he looked at you. No. You wouldn’t hurt him. You weren’t the type. He knew full well what the look of murderous intent looked like in a person’s eyes. The only thing he saw in your eyes was confusion, discomfort, and a little bit of fear.
He felt as if a chain around his neck had been broken. Gone was the ever present atmosphere of impending doom.
It was over.
He was free.
Somehow, when you pulled him back onto the roof, you managed to pull him out of the death loop as well.
Something stirred within him and he absently placed a hand over his chest. That presence that had always been with him since his birth had returned. Doppio. His dear Doppio was a part of him again, he could feel it! Not only that…
He stood up to his full height and took a few steps back.
“King Crimson!” he shouted, causing you even more confusion.
His ever grimacing Stand appeared beside him, looking as if he had never been lost. King Crimson cast one sideways glance in your direction before Diavolo mentally dismissed him.
He turned back to you.
“You fixed it.” he said, sounding completely wonderstruck. “I don’t know how, but you fixed it. You gave everything back to me!”
Well, almost everything. He was still a king without a kingdom, but now that he had Doppio and King Crimson back, it was a problem he could easily deal with.
“Um, sir…”
Your timid voice interrupted his thoughts. His crazed eyes met yours and you took a step back. No, he wasn’t high, but he was very clearly mentally ill or at the very least mentally distressed.
“...is there someone that I can call for you?”
He answered you by suddenly sweeping you into his arms and pressing his lips to yours in a much too passionate kiss to be shared between strangers. You tried to pry yourself from his hold but his grip was like iron. He deepened the kiss in a way that had you both panicking and swooning at the same time. You didn’t know who this guy was, but he kissed like he was trying to suck the life out of you. You were getting dizzy and your vision was filling up with black splotches. You were on the verge of passing out when he finally pried his lips away from yours and set you back on your feet.
You lost your balance instantly, and fell over on your rear. Your head was spinning and you took a moment to catch your breath. You could feel the heat in your face and you were certain that it was roughly the color of a tomato. Your dazzled mind was at war with itself. One part of your mind was screaming that you needed to pick yourself off the ground and get the hell out of there before that psycho did something worse to you, while the other side of your mind was nervously dismissing the whole thing, saying that he was just showing his gratitude at you saving his life. Once your head began to clear, you scooted backwards on your ass until you felt you were out of his immediate reach. You weren’t going to let him touch you again.
“I will repay you. You have my word on that. I know you don’t fully understand what you’ve done for me today, but I will repay you for it.” he said.
He turned away from you, his eyes filled with a frightening kind of determination, and left the rooftop looking like a man with a mission.
You lay there on the roof, desperately trying to comprehend what just happened to you.
-----
Several months later…
You shook your head as you read the morning news.
“Man, this city’s gone to shit.” you murmured and took a sip of your coffee.
Almost overnight, your city’s crime rate skyrocketed. Murders, assaults, beatings, robberies, gang wars… there didn’t seem to be any end to it. Sure all of that stuff existed before, but not to the extreme level that it had reached in only a few months time. Something was definitely going on with the local criminal organizations and you wanted NO part of it. You glanced over at the pile of real estate brochures that rested on the kitchen counter. You had already been wanting to move for a while now, and the way things were going, you may have to move for your own safety. Young woman living alone? Yeah, you were a prime target. Luckily your apartment building was the only one in the neighborhood that hadn’t been broken into yet. Keyword being “yet”. It was only a matter of time. If there was ever a time to move out to the country, now was it. You quite frankly hated living in the city anyway. It was too noisy, too hectic, and lately, too dangerous.
A crashing sound caused you to look up from your paper. That came from just outside your door. You set the paper aside and cautiously approached the door. You reached out and put one ready hand on the handle of the baseball bat you kept next to the door and looked through the peephole. You didn’t see anything right away so you slowly opened the door. Sprawled on the floor was a little guy with pink hair who was pinned underneath a rather heavy looking box. He struggled to push the box off of himself but it wouldn’t budge. You let go of the baseball bat and threw the door open.
“Need some help?” you asked, stepping out into the hallway.
The little guy looked over at you and immediately blushed with embarrassment.
“N-no! I’m okay!” he said, rather unconvincingly. “I can handle it.”
He grunted as he tried to push the box off of himself again. It just wouldn’t budge no matter what he did. He looked back over to you, giving you a sheepish grin.
“Uh, actually… I could probably use a little bit of help… if you don’t mind…”
You couldn’t help but smile. Whoever he was, he was oddly charming. He seemed a little dense though, but hey, nobody’s perfect. You went over and knelt down next to where he lay. You pushed the box off of him and he sat up, sighing with relief.
“Thanks!” he said.
He got to his feet and looked up at you. His face flushed again, and he looked around himself, seemingly trying to avoid looking directly at your face.
Aw, he’s shy! You thought.
“I guess I overestimated my own strength…” he said and chuckled nervously.
You glanced over at all the other boxes sitting just outside of the open door to an apartment room.
“Guess this means you’re my new neighbor, huh?” you observed.
“Yep!” he said with a nod.
Getting over his shyness a bit, he offered a hand for you to shake. You smiled and shook his hand. His grip on your hand seemed to linger slightly longer than necessary before he finally let go.
“My name’s Doppio. Vinegar Doppio.” He said.
-----
Diavolo was overjoyed to have both his Stand and his second soul back. Not only that but he was slowly rebuilding his empire. The best part of it all was that he was no longer stuck in that infernal death loop.
He had you to thank for that.
And thank you he would.
He already made sure that you were the most protected being in the entire city. All of those under his rule knew that you were off limits. Your apartment was a safe zone and any of his underlings that passed it by wouldn’t even look at the building for fear of his wrath. Only one upstart thief thought that he would try his luck and attempt to break into your apartment. Doppio, who had been observing from the building across the street, quickly put a stop to it. Diavolo allowed his other half to deal with the disobedient worm however he desired. His dear Doppio was very thorough in his punishment. The thief's brutalized body was hung by its entrails from the ceiling of the local thieves' den. The message was very clear. Any slight towards you would be met with swift and horrific punishment. There would be no forgiveness, no chance at redemption, and NO MERCY.
Diavolo didn’t know what strange parallel world the death loop had taken him to, but what he did know is that you were destined to rule it alongside him. You hadn’t just saved his life that day you kept him from jumping from the roof, you gave him back everything that had been taken from him. You were special to him. You were clearly meant to be his. His Queen. With you by his side, he would bring this new world to its knees.
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forty days and forty nights (day eight!) (part one!)
(wow this is long. there’s a part two too😳😳)
(read them all here!)
the next time those happy little bells rang at 4:56, bakugo came, but so did someone else. it was another man, dressed more casually than bakugo, and a few inches shorter, maybe two or three. he exuded an air of bright happiness, somewhat like a ray of sunshine in human form.
he had hair like bakugo’s, wild and sticking out in many places. however, it seemed more purposeful; you could see the gel that kept his hair that way. he had red eyes, but they were much softer than bakugo’s, and weren’t stuck in a constant state of glaring. he was smiling, looking curiously around the store. he had a snaggletooth.
“you brought a friend, bakugo?” you smile as the two approach the counter.
“he’s a dumbass.” bakugo replied bluntly.
“i’m kirishima.” the red-haired man laughed. “so you’re the barista i’ve heard about?”
“you’ve heard of me?” you raise an eyebrow.
“yup, bakugo’s told me all about you.” kirishima chuckled.
“did not.” bakugo snapped. “i said she’s the annoying-ass extra who makes my goddamn coffee.”
“you said more than that.” kirishima countered. bakugo scowled.
“shut the fuck up, shitty hair.”
“your hair’s just like mine, y’know.” kirishima raised an eyebrow.
“can i get you guys any drinks? medium black coffee for bakugo, i assume?” you smile, stifling your own laughter.
“yeah.” bakugo grunted.
“i’ll have a coffee, too, but with cream and sugar, please.” kirishima said politely.
“of course.” you hum, ringing them up. “coming right up.” you give them their total— they pay separately— and bakugo walks to his seat. kirishima follows. it’s clear from the way they interact that kirishima’s known him for awhile. yet, you can’t shake the feeling that you’ve seen him before.
“so, are you a pro hero too?” you ask kirishima as you give them their coffees. bakugo sips his as kirishima answers.
“yup. red riot. i’m number 5 on the hero rankings right now.” kirishima smiled. that explained it. you’d seen him in interviews with bakugo.
“ah, i see. i don’t follow heroes much, so i’m sorry i didn’t recognize you.” you apologize. kirishima waves it off.
“no worries. bakugo already told me about that.”
“he did?”
“yeah!” kirishima grinned. “he said that—“
“shut your fucking mouth.” bakugo’s eye twitched as his hands sparked.
“alright, man.” kirishima held his hands up in surrender.
“no explosions in the store.” you chide, half kidding but also half worrying for the general well-being of your precious workplace and praying it doesn’t go up in flames.
“yeah, yeah, i know.” bakugo rolled his eyes. “i’m not that damn reckless.”
“if you say so.” you hum teasingly.
“fuck you.” bakugo spat.
“refill, kirishima?” you change the subject. “on the house.”
“oh! yeah, sure.” kirishima smiled, passing his empty mug to you, which you then took and proceeded to refill. “are you sure, though? i’m totally down to pay for it.”
“it’s your first time here, don’t worry about it.” you wave a hand dismissively.
“thanks!” kirishima beamed.
“no problem.” you hummed. “bakugo? do you need a refill?”
“no.” bakugo took another sip.
“you’re quiet today.” you remark. “how was work?”
“shit.” bakugo replied bluntly.
“the usual shit or especially shitty?” you hum.
“the usual.” bakugo clicked his tongue. “shitty sidekicks and pathetic villains.”
“i see.” you hum. “kirishima? how was work for you?”
“i saved a lot of people, so i’d consider it pretty good.” kirishima beamed.
“that’s fantastic.” you smile back at him.
“yeah. the coffee’s great, by the way.” kirishima said.
“thank you.” that kirishima. he was so different from bakugo. he was incredibly sweet and polite; definitely someone who attracts people, kind of like a magnet. you’d love to be friends with him and bakugo— though, technically, you thought of bakugo as a sort-of friend already, although you weren’t sure what his stance on it was. you resolved to make an effort to befriend these men.
“so, do you have an agency, too?” you ask curiously. “i understand bakugo has one of his own.” bakugo’s lips twitched into a smug smirk, his agency clearly a source of pride for him.
“yup.” kirishima grinned. “we just got a new building, actually. we’re renovating it right now.”
“that’s so cool!” you exclaim. “where is it?”
“a couple blocks from bakugo’s, actually.” kirishima glanced around. “y’know, i’m surprised you don’t get more business, given how close this place is to bakugo’s agency.”
“there’s a bigger one that’s right next to it,” you explain. “so people usually go there instead.”
“right, i forgot about that.” kirishima chuckled good-naturedly. “but you’ve got bakugo now, huh?”
“shut it, shitty hair.” bakugo glared at kirishima.
“and you, if you like the coffee enough.” you joke. kirishima laughed.
“i wish i could. but i’m usually on patrol when bakugo comes in. i took today off, though, because mina— pinky— is having a party tonight as her place.” kirishima explained. his face lit up as he got an idea. “hey, you should come!” bakugo looked up from his coffee, startled.
“me?” you blink, taken aback by the sudden invitation. “oh, that’s okay, i wouldn’t want to intrude..”
“she said ‘invite anyone and everyone.’” kirishima pulled out his phone, showing you the texts between him and who you assumed was mina. it did indeed say “invite anyone and everyone, ei. people u saved. people on the street. sweet old ladies. waiters at restaurants. everyone.”
“are you sure?” you ask, still hesitant.
“yeah!” kirishima smiled. “mina’s wanted to meet you anyway.”
“i feel famous now.” you chuckle. kirishima laughed with you as bakugo glared at kirishima furiously.
“who the fuck did you tell?!” he demanded. kirishima only smiled.
“just the squad.”
“quit calling it the squad.”
“that’s what the group chat’s called, man. the bakusquad.”
“the- the bakusquad?” you sputter out, nearly choking on your laughter.
“our friends,” kirishima explained. “it’s okay, though. mina would’ve found out anyway, bakugo knows that. so, are you in?” bakugo looked pissed, but not in the way that he’d take action over it.
“only if you’re sure i won’t be intruding.” you sigh with a smile.
“positive.”
“what time is it? and where? and how do i dress for it?” you ramble, to which kirishima chuckled.
“it’s at 8,” kirishima began. “and you can dress however—“
“gimme your phone.” bakugo grunted, holding his hand out unexpectedly. you blink.
“huh?”
“hand it over.” bakugo snapped. “so i can put my number in your phone to send you the damn address.”
“woah, man, i thought you weren’t g-“ bakugo interrupted kirishima.
“shut up.” the blond snapped as you pulled your phone out of your apron, unlocked it, opened the messenger app, and handed it to bakugo as per his request. bakugo grumbled as he typed his number in. his contact name was GREAT EXPLOSION MURDER GOD DYNAMIGHT. all caps. you stifled a snicker as bakugo sent you the address from his own phone.
“thanks.” you smile as kirishima watched the interaction, seemingly amused by something.
“whatever.”
“we can pick you up if you want.” kirishima offered.
“oh, that would be great,” you reply, thankful that getting lost wouldn’t be on the agenda for tonight.
“alright. where do you live?” kirishima asked, listening closely as you told him. “okay, so that’s only ten minutes from mina’s. we’ll get you at 7:45ish, sound good?”
“sounds good.”
“woah, man, i thought you weren’t g-“
“shut up.”
<- previous next->
(feel free to comment + leave ur thoughts :)
tags: @k0z3me
#bakugo x reader#bakugou katsuki#katsuki bakugo#bakugo katsuki#katsuki bakugo oneshot#katsuki bakugo x reader#bakugo x y/n#bakugou#bakugou x reader#boku no hero academia#my hero academia#bnha#mha#coffee shop au#pro hero bakugo x reader
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Rough | Joel Miller/f!Reader
Joel is a big ‘ol softie about you and your bad pain days and as much as you love his gentleness, sometimes you crave something a little more rough.
rating: explicit, minors DNI
warnings: one shot, established relationship, vaginal fingering, spanking, slight praise kink, joel calls reader a good girl, no y/n or reader descriptions besides references to experiencing reoccurring flare ups of pain. setting is purposefully vague but definitely post-outbreak.
a/n: i genuinely didn’t have ANY plans to write joel anytime soon - i was actually gonna write a marcus pike fic instead - but then the other day i was having a pain flare up and started to think about joel to cheer myself up and things got…self indulgent. i don’t know if it’ll resonate with many other people here but i thought i’d share it anyway :-) this has been my first time ever writing a reader fic, first time writing joel or any pedro character AND my first time writing hetero sex in a very long while so…please bear all of that in mind 🥲
📌 can now also be read on ao3!
“I just don’t like it,” Joel says. It’s about the third time he’s repeated the phrase since you broached the subject this evening, pacing back and forth in your tiny shared room like an agitated wild animal trapped in a cage. His footfalls are heavy, old work boots thudding rhythmically on old floorboards, and you wish the stubborn man would relax for just a second because this is getting ridiculous.
“Joel,“ you try, but he shakes his head.
“Wouldn’t feel right.”
“Joel-“
“Too much risk.”
“Joel!” You grab him by the arm to stop him in his tracks and he immediately stills, finally looking you in the eyes. “I’m asking you to fuck me rough, not perform open heart surgery on me.”
Unamused, he rolls his eyes at your joke. “Might as well be, with all the stress you’re puttin’ me through.” Noticing your face fall, he immediately softens, “I just don’t wanna cause any more hurt than necessary, sweetheart.”
It’s sweet, the way Joel is careful and so, so achingly gentle with you. He knows the pain you’ve been through - still go through - and he always goes the extra mile to make sure you’re comfortable.
You learned quickly it’s Joel’s love language - his actions speaking for him rather than words - and it’s downright romantic, in an honest, simple, Joel Miller kinda way. He trades anything he can give to make sure you have painkillers that actually work, always somehow gets his hands on fresh, clean, soft blankets just for you to burrow into when you need rest days in bed and he always seems to know when to give you either the space or the company you need depending on your mood.
And when he takes you to bed, he treats you with such tender care and gentle reverence it makes your chest hurt.
You love it, love him for it and you know it’s one of his ways to show he cares for you too but…God, you want more. You want the man Joel is clearly putting a herculean effort into holding back when he slowly and gently takes you apart. You want him to fuck you, selfishly take his pleasure from you, make you feel every single inch of him with every step you take the next day.
“You won’t hurt me,” you reassure him, “not in a way that’s bad, anyway. I want it. I want you.” You cup his face in your hands, stroking his bearded cheeks with your thumbs. Joel tilts his head just a fraction and leans into your touch with a soft exhale. “Do you trust me?”
“‘Course,” he replies, and you resist the urge to laugh fondly and kiss the frowny crease between his brows because it comes out a touch sulky. You don’t wanna risk wounding the man’s pride at this juncture — not when you feel so close to getting what you want.
“Good,” you lean in to kiss him, both hands splaying on his broad chest, “so trust me when I say,” a nip at his full bottom lip, “I want you to ruin me.”
You pull away slowly and feel victorious when you see Joel’s dark eyes looking back into yours, pupils so dilated they��re almost pitch black. Knowing you’ve just about already won this argument, you decide to stoke the flames further by nuzzling into the thick tendons of his neck and letting your teeth catch on the sensitive skin there. You feel rather than hear the soft groan this pulls from him, the way it rumbles in his chest, and your hands tighten their grip on the soft fabric of his wash-worn shirt.
“What you’re askin’ me for is…I won’t be gentle,” Joel warns.
“Is that a promise?” You tease.
Finally, finally, he starts touching you back, reaching for your hips to pull you in closer and kiss you properly. You moan into his mouth needily and that’s when Joel’s resolve snaps like the string of a bow drawn too far beyond its limits. His hands tighten on your hips before moving down to grab your ass and use it as leverage to press you against his chest and the strain of his cock against his jeans.
“I’m just givin’ you one last chance to back out, sweetheart, that’s all.” His chest is rising and falling heavily, his nostrils flaring and his eyes are darker than you’ve ever seen pointed in your direction. He looks half wild and it really shouldn’t turn you on but it does, fuck, so much that you’re delirious with it.
Maintaining eye contact, you grind yourself insistently against him and it’s the final answer Joel seems to need. He curses under his breath, muttering something about you being the death of him before guiding you backwards against the wall and kissing you with such heated fervor your head spins and your pussy pulses with need.
He brackets you in with his arms, bracing himself with hands either side of you on the wall and you gasp when he presses a thigh between your legs for you to shamelessly grind down on through your sleep shorts. The rough denim is only barely the right amount of friction you need and you whine as you grind down harder, trying to relieve the deep ache of arousal in your cunt.
“That’s it,” Joel murmurs between kisses, lips brushing yours. “I got you, baby. Use me just like that.”
You tug him back in for a needy kiss, hands running up his chest to cling to his shoulders, then up again to run through his hair, before back down again to paw uselessly at his shirt. Joel pulls away and huffs with amusement, disentangling from you to undo the buttons so you can hungrily pull it off his broad frame and discard it. Feeling confident — and perhaps a little heated and possessive in the moment — you run your nails down his bare chest, leaving little white lines that turn pink and then red in their wake. Joel inhales sharply, watching you with hooded eyes and you shiver at how nakedly hungry he looks.
He reaches for his belt to unbuckle it, but pauses for half a moment. Seemingly changing his mind, he decides to undress you instead, pulling your t-shirt up and over your head and unhooking your bra. Your head falls backwards against the peeling wallpaper with a soft thunk when Joel harshly pinches at your nipples with rough hands, rolling them between calliused fingers until they’re peaked and swollen. You squirm, sensitive, the sensations going straight to your already soaking wet cunt.
“Please, Joel. Please.” You’re not even sure what it is you’re pleading for, and you whine almost pitifully when Joel stops touching you and takes a step back.
“Turn around and brace yourself against the wall.” His voice is firm and you obey immediately. “Good girl.”
The praise makes your heart and your cunt flutter and you barely have time to catch your breath before Joel abruptly pulls down your shorts and his hand comes smacking down on your ass. You gasp at the sharp shock of it, the sting that immediately warms and blooms into hot pleasure.
Joel chuckles. “This what you wanted?”
“Yes, please, again, please,” you babble, sweaty palms slipping a little against the wall.
“Good girl.” Another smack, a little harder this time, and your hips buckle forwards, trying in vain to seek friction. Joel notices the desperate wiggling of your hips and reaches round you to cup your mound, his other hand running over your reddening ass cheek. “So wet for me already, just from gettin’ spanked like this,” he says, voice rough but hushed as if in awe of your response to him.
All you can do is nod frantically in reply and press yourself greedily against his fingers and he clicks his tongue at your eagerness. Two thick fingers sink inside of you easily and when you try to fuck yourself on them Joel uses his free hand to land another hard smack on your ass.
“Greedy,” he admonishes, “you just can’t wait, can you?” He crooks his fingers, pressing them up against the perfect spot inside of you and lands another hard smack and you moan so loud you’d be embarrassed if you didn’t feel so fucking good.
With a murmur of praise and lips pressed hotly to your ear Joel adds a third finger and the tight stretch around him burns and knocks the air out your lungs in a ragged gasp.
“Fuck, Joel,” you whimper, and it spurs him on, his fingers pumping in and out of you at a relentless pace. Your back arches, hands scrabbling for purchase and you fall forwards slightly to press your forehead against the wall, eyes screwing shut. The wet sound of your slick as Joel fucks you with his fingers and the smack of skin on skin as he spanks you in time with his thrusts fill the room and it’s so obscene your face flushes, heart pounding in your ears.
“Fuck,” Joel moans, “you gonna come for me like this? Pressed up against the wall and all over my fingers?”
“Yes,” you breathe, “please.”
Joel presses his thumb to your clit, rubbing tight, demanding circles until you buck against him uncontrollably and tighten around him with a cry. He buries his face into your shoulder as your hips shake, fingers still working in and out of you as you ride out your intense orgasm.
Boneless, you slump back against him with a sigh and Joel catches you, wrapping his free arm around your middle. Your cunt is still sporadically pulsing around the fingers still inside and you hold back a whimper when Joel eventually eases them out of you.
“How’re you feeling?” He asks you, pressing soft, fluttery kisses down the side of your neck. The brush of his moustache against your sensitive skin makes you giggle.
“Fucking sublime,” you reply, grinning. In truth, your body is aching and you can feel dull pain starting to thrum in your joints and muscles, but you’re used to that by now and you know you can handle it. Besides, it was definitely worth it. You tilt your head back to look Joel in the eye. “Thank you — for trusting me, I mean. But also the really great orgasm.”
Joel’s lips curl upwards into a fond smile and when his arms tighten affectionately around you his hard cock presses up against your ass. You start to move back against him and he groans low in his throat, but before things can get heated again he turns you around so you’re standing in front of him at arm’s length.
“Not now. Next time,” he promises, bending with a grunt to pick up your clothes and handing them to you. “I don’t wanna push you too hard tonight.”
You can’t hide your pout of disappointment, but when your body protests with twinges of pain when you move to get dressed you concede to yourself that Joel’s right, so you let him gently guide you into bed. You watch surreptitiously from under your cocoon of blankets as Joel undresses down to his boxers and when he catches you looking he rolls his eyes playfully.
“Insatiable creature,” he scolds before settling into bed next to you. You curl yourself around him, tangling your legs with his and pressing your face against his broad shoulder.
“Wake me up if you start hurtin’ any, are we clear?” Joel grumbles into the pillow.
You smile fondly against his warm skin. The rough, slightly wild Joel you got to finally experience tonight was definitely everything you’d been hoping for, but this version of him now, soft around the edges, soft bare skin, sharing a bed with you, this version of himself he’s worked so hard on rediscovering in order to take care of you will always be your favourite.
“I promise.”
#joel miller#the last of us#joel miller/reader#joel miller x reader#pedro pascal#i am so NERVOUS 😵💫😵💫😵💫#my fic
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A review of:
The Origins of Ireland's Holy Wells by Celeste Ray
Celeste Ray, a professor of anthropology for the University of the South, USA wrote this book after extensive research, both desk and foot into Irelands Holy Wells. I would honestly recommend anyone with any interest in Irish religious practices, culture, paganism, or mythology to pick it up. An amazing book. I'll be giving my thoughts and what I liked and didn't like about it here.
What I liked:
A very well researched book that shows the authors dedication not just to anthropology but to the living practices she is documenting
The passion of the author is clear and they Mince no words when discussing other researchers and their work, pointing out the flaws, misconceptions and biases (some of which were wild I can't believe some of these people are taken as authorities on the subject when their conclusion was that wells are a toilet metaphor?)
Uses a wider pre roman European context for the evidence. As we are so often reminded, to treat Ireland as some how separate from Western Europe is ridiculous and is a disservice to the interconnection of the people of old.
The reframing of this idea, which is normally used as a strong force against nativist views into a supportive one was quite interesting.
Examines roman writings in a very balanced way that acknowledges the inherent propaganda but does not dismiss it outright.
There's a whole section of people including academics who seems desperate for a roman invasion of ireland, despite there being basically no evidence of it. Like people are fully making things up to try and force one, the author gives these people a sound dismissal in their restating of the evidence of raiding and trade over large-scale roman conquest. (Genuine question can someone explain why people are so mad for Romans in ireland?)
I thus learned more about pre roman Western European practices and archeology than I ever really had the desire to. I am now much more educated on the subject.
The framing of sites as important locations adopted and readopted based on shifting circumstances of the time rather than a "secret unbroken line" which is much more realistic.
The explanation of Holy Wells as archaeologically challenging sites was well explained.
Using etymology in the connection of wells to supernatural beings. Love etymology so this was amazing
The use of early irish literature to support existing claims. Which I know claiming that there are pagan elements in the literature basically gets you spat and jeered at but nevertheless is really compelling.
While this blog has been thoroughly against the lumping together of celtic cultures, this book makes a great case as to when it is appropriate to use the term celtic and that the rush to replace this term has very much resulted in the baby being thrown out with the bath water.
Actually engages with living culture and treats folklore and living sources/practices as evidence to be considered rather than "silly little irish peasants" but also does not take every tale as completely accurate literal history.
Plenty of examples and pictures of well in practice today.
Supports a general pre Christian, pre roman use of wells and springs as sacred sites but also acknowledges the influence of both (especially Christian) on the practice.
Acknowledges the diverse origins of holy wells, from one's that have have votive offerings since the bronze age to ones that were made sacred in the modern age.
Does not buy into any sort of "Christians are thieves" narrative.
Honestly this seems like the definitive book on irish holy wells.
What I didn't like:
While I loved the book there was definitely things I took issue with.
The assertive nature of the tone was entertaining, it did sort of feel like the author was this close to calling other researchers "fucking idiots", though humanities papers seem to have a much more aggressive tone than I am used to from my field of study.
The author makes many an interesting and compelling hypothesis in the book, but they are just that. These theories are then presented as the fact of the matter when really they are no more or less substantiated than the other theories.
Could have done without some of the "identity politics" on the celtic question section. Like I get that's a huge part of this authors work but I didn't feel it was all necessary to include.
Some of the mythological comparisons seem like a little bit of a stretch Low-key.
Either way this is a fantastic work and I urge everyone even remotely interested to buy it, it's a little pricey but well worth it. It can be purchased online on Google books(link). Now obviously this is all from my lay perspective, if anyone with actual qualifications wants to correct or argue feel free. This is just my perspective.
#irish mythology#celtic mythology#irish paganism#gaelic paganism#holy wells#celtic Christianity#ireland#resources#review#mine#anthropology#irish catholic#magic#féile#lúnasa#holy well
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The blood thing is confusing, so they aren't related cause blood transfusions don't make the receptor and donor related but it's presented on the play as a bloodline/family tree thing? And do you still think el and Henry can be related outside of the blood transfusions?
It's presented very ambiguously!
Brenner says that Henry's as much a father to the children as he is in relation to the blood transfusions. I know in earlier showings they specified that Henry met the woman who was pregnant with 002, and that the mothers had been receiving transfusions. However, in the showings I saw, Brenner only says that 10 children had survived the transfusions. He never mentions mothers (the mentions of pregnant women only show up in one newspaper scrolling past at like. light-speed).
Which...You truly are preaching to the science choir here, Nonnie (and I say that lovingly). The blood thing has been fucking with me for a hot minute because, well...it straight up doesn't work like that, unless you start majorly stretching biology.
Brenner says Henry has a totally unique blood type, the same blood type Brenner Sr. had after his time in Dimension X in 1943. It caused Brenner Sr. to reject all blood types for transfusions. Which...this could make Henry a universal donor, I won't write that off entirely, but it's unlikely, imo, given that Brenner mentions survival rate. This means some of the babies rejected the blood transfusions and died (whether they received it via their mother or otherwise).
So it becomes more likely that they'd be looking for kids who have a predisposition to surviving the transfusions of the unique blood.
And that, my dearest Nonnie, is genetic.
So while there may be some wild-caught kids like Kali, it's likely there are also direct descendants.
On that note:
I feel like there's definitely still some confusion about the purpose of the transfusions, specifically in the way of correlation vs causation irt powers...so I thought I'd toss my 2¢ in.
Based on TFS canon so far, Brenner is intent on exploring Dimension X to further his father's work. But in order to do that, he needs subjects that can survive it. Imo, he's looking for what made Henry able to survive whatever happened to him.
From what I've gathered, the transfusions seem to be less about giving children psionic powers and more about either collecting children who are predisposed to survival in Dimension X (akin to antibiotic resistance in microbes), or predisposing them to it (like a particularly harsh vaccine that only a select few survive, which is still a genetic/selective trait...just with an extra step: do they survive the vaccination?).
The fact that these children survived the blood transfusions and have psionic powers, many of which are shared abilities, makes me think there's some specific trait in these children's biological makeup that makes them predisposed to both characteristics. The children that survived the blood also have powers, in what seems to be all cases. Children who present these powers are more likely to tolerate transfusions, and vice versa. Correlation, not causation.
Thus, I firmly don't believe the blood transfusions gave the children abilities. I think it acts as a screening process, and the psionic abilities are a correlative marker of that ability to survive Henry's blood.
We do the same thing in microbiology all the time. Selective media. Grow the culture on a medium that's deadly to anything that doesn't have the desired trait, and whatever grows is the desired microbe (see: mannitol salt agar for pathogenic staphylococci). The medium didn't cause the microbe to change in order to survive, the microbe was just predisposed to surviving exposure to the selective agent. Correlation, not causation.
tl;dr: I think the transfusions are a selection technique, a screening process, to ensure Brenner gets the most important trait: Survival in Dimension X.
The children are all genetically similar in that trait, which leads to "you're a father to them irt your blood". It's a shared genetic trait between Henry and the children, whether it came from him via sex cells or if it evolved wild-caught. They all have his blood...blood like his. And what's the most efficient way to select for a genetic trait? A breeding program. So yes, I do still think some version of Henry and El are related.
(This isn't even getting into the music choices, with Henry singing TYBTM to baby El, which is the same song his blood-parent mother sang to him as a child, or the casting choices irt: Jamie and Millie. There's the blood stuff, and then there's the Everything Else about Henry and El.)
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Can you write a snippet of Quaritch following through with his version of “an old school ass whipping”
Nothing too serious because I don’t think he’d abuse Spider but I do think he’d be the type of parent to resort to physical discipline if pushed enough.
In the exchange between him and Spider, Spider does not seemed alarmed with fear and is actually a little cheeky. I think he’s used to adults just letting him get away with things.
I think it’s be interesting to read Spider’s reaction to an adult/authority figure disciplining him (whether physical or some other punishment) for not following instructions rather than just checking to see if he has not been harmed.
It doesn’t have to relate to him running off which is where Quaritch uses the threat. It could be anything.
Oh dear...I can certainly try. SOOOO many times it came close in my Silent As Shadows fanfic but I intentionally diverted it because writing it makes me feel...off? Something like that...not to say I haven't touched on the subject in other stories because it can be a defining piece of a character's personality. For better or worse...
That said I DO NOT condone the actions I am about write...abuse is abuse; my mind will not be changed.
I agree with you, Quaritch does seem like the type who would resort to physical discipline. One of those people who would be like 'I went through it and I turned out fine' when they, in fact, did not turn out fine...
It's also hard for me to write when it's a recom and a human versus a human and a human like an AU scenario. Just really doesn't seem like a fair fight when it's like someone three times as big as the other person...
Please listen to My Heart's Grave by Faouzia if you'd like to know my mindset writing this because I had it on repeat. Now I will sip wine, feel bad about myself, and prepare to write the fluffiest chapter of Weaving the Web to recover... 🥺🥺🥺
TW: Physical Discipline of a Teenager; Corporal Punishment; Please DO NOT read if this is a triggering subject for you.
"Yea, I got him." Quaritch relayed into his comm as he pulled the struggling teenage translator back towards the recom's camp easily by one arm. Spider was a feisty one, the colonel had to give him that. Definitely the son of his genetic predecessor.
"Let me the fuck go!" Spider snarled, trying to pry the tight fingers off his bicep. It was sad the recom's hand could easily engulf his whole upper arm.
"Oh, boy, the mouth on you." Quaritch said with a disappointed shake of his head as he continued through the underbrush, "And don't forget the balls. You actually ran. Where'd you think you were gonna go, kid?"
"Don't fucking care! Anywhere away from you assholes!" Spider answered angrily, growing increasingly frustrated with being dragged like a toddler being taken to their room for a time out.
Quaritch let out some mix of a sigh and a growl, more of the latter, at the boy's foul language and continued resistance as he commented, "My old man would have my ass black and blue if I ever spoke to him like that."
"That's nice..." Spider huffed out with an angry smirk, "I don't have a dad. Because he was a genocidal, sociopath prick who picked a fight with the wrong people!"
Quaritch felt something deep inside burn angrily. Perhaps it was the recovered footage showing the human Miles Quaritch's demise or the deep loyalty to the RDA being insulted by a wild child raised by the enemy, he stopped abruptly and shoved Spider towards a fern with woody, reed-like stalks.
"Pick your switch." Quaritch commanded, crossing his arms and glaring at the boy like he was new recruit about to get a little taste of what offending the commanding officer was like.
"Pick my what?" Spider asked, utter confusion on his face as he looked at the plant he almost face planted in then back to Quaritch.
"My old man used to let me choose how I got it. I'll give you the same courtesy." Quaritch said as he appraised the boy. He wasn't going to let the boy's naivety of how royally he screwed up lessen the blow. The colonel made it very clear if he ran, he would get that old school ass whippin' and Quaritch was a man of his word.
"Ok, I'll do it." Quaritch said after about a minute of just blank stares from the boy and brushed passed the boy. He ripped a decently thick stalk from the ground and clenched it in one hand as he swept his hand back to tear off the leaves to leave onto what Spider could assume was now the 'switch'. He glowered at the boy and ordered quietly, "Turn around."
Spider wasn't familiar with being hit when he was in trouble but he also wasn't stupid. His eyes widened as he stared up at the monster of a man and said almost silently, "You can't be fucking serious..."
"I'll spare you the humiliation of bending you over and literally beating your backside." Quaritch explained like he wasn't about to administer some corporal punishment to someone more than half his size. He'd be careful. He had no intention of putting the kid in the hospital but a lesson needed to be learned. He repeated slowly, "Turn. Around."
"What if I don't?" Spider said with far more courage than he felt. It was clear he couldn't outrun the recoms with the tracker in his mask, clearly that hadn't been a bluff. And he sure as hell couldn't hold his own against a genetically manufactured meathead. He could feel the sweat making his palms slick as his throat dried out.
"Then I will throw you over my knee and, after you've literally been spanked like a brat throwing a tantrum, you go back to Bridgehead and you never see me again. As nice as that might seem, think about who's waitin' for you back at HQ." Quaritch answered, giving his head a little tilt as he narrowed his eyes when he referenced the general. Ardmore hadn't been a fan of Spider joining the recoms but Quaritch had enough loyalty points to be given the chance...he did literally die for the RDA.
Spider stared at Quaritch, knowing full well if he was willing to follow through with this threat then he would with the second option. His humiliation would only start a chain of events of even worse things to come when he was back in the RDA's clutches without Quaritch's protection. He hated to think of it that way. Like he OWED Quaritch anything for pulling strings and getting him out of Bridgehead in the first place.
"So you're gonna hit me...", the teen's eyes darted to the switch then back up to the colonel towering over him as he spoke with a shaky breath, "...how many times?"
Quaritch smirked in a way Spider didn't like, obvious by how he narrowed his eyes suspiciously on the recom. It's not that he wanted to hurt the boy. If anything, he wanted to spare him that type of suffering as evident by stopping the interrogation. But damn! The boy's stubbornness and disrespect was not going to be a liability for the mission if Quaritch could stop it.
"You're sixteen?" Quaritch said thoughtfully.
"...yea..." Spider reluctantly answer.
"One for each year then, tough guy." Quaritch said as he lowered the rod at his side, "Turn around. Might want to brace yourself against somethin'. No shame in it."
"No shame...bullshit..." Spider said as his system flooded with prickles of fear of how bad this was going to hurt. He'd gotten hurt PLENTY of times but it wasn't usually intentional. Maybe his bastard of his foster father had but Spider was too young to remember. And his friends were always overly apologetic if they ever seriously hurt Spider while playing.
The teen let out a slow sigh and turned around, not bothering to use a fallen tree to hold himself up. He clenched his fists at his sides when the colonel let out an impressed whistle. Spider wasn't about to give him the satisfaction of saying he could knock him down...no matter how much Quaritch or anyone else tried.
Spider managed not to physically shutter as a large hand brushed his locs aside to get full access to his back and broad shoulders. He was halfway through taking in a breath to brace for the first hit when the switch lashed across his back with a loud SNAP! It hit below his shoulder blades and caused his breath to hitch as he was not prepared for the hit.
"Fuck...!" Spider breathed out through tight teeth as he felt the quick impact start to burn.
"Yea, hurts...don't it?" Quaritch asked rhetorically as he listened to the boy hiss through his teeth as he breathed. He'd tempered his strength down significantly for the first lash, unsure how easy it would be to leave permanent damage. And that was NOT what he wanted. Spider wanted to paint himself with blue stripes? That was his business...but Quaritch was not going to leave him with stripes he couldn't be rid of.
SNAP!
The second lash had a little more power behind it, creating a thin welt across Spider's upper back without breaking the skin again. And here the colonel thought the boy's thick skin was just metaphorical. Quaritch wound his arm back to the side before striking the bare back of the kid for the third time. SNAP! He wasn't sure if he heard a muffled moan or Na'vi curse words escape the boy but the punishment wasn't over yet.
SNAP! SNAP! SNAP!
By the tenth lash, Spider couldn't hold back and let out a sharp cry of pain and panted in the suffocating heat of his mask. His eyes were glassy just from his body's natural response to the sharp and consistent pain, but he'd refused to let any tears fall from sheer willpower. He'd tried to stay silent, not even letting out the occasional swear to verbalize how pissed off he was for fear it would come out as pathetic whimper instead.
Spider hissed in through his teeth in pain when a hand gently landed on his shoulder. Was Quaritch taking pity on him...? He wasn't sure what was more humiliating: being punished or not being able to take.
"Lean against the tree." Quaritch said coolly. The boy had started to sway and wasn't able to knock the recom's hand away as he gently pushed him towards a fallen tree covered in brightly lit moss and fungi. Spider tripped on a root, completely unbalanced from the pain pulsating from the lashes through his body but caught himself by planting his hands against the fallen tree like he was told.
"Good boy." Quaritch said, eyes moving over the boy's form as he continued to keep the tears at bay and bear the consequences. He was impressed and proud the boy was taking it as well as he was. But something...else...
Something hidden beneath the admiration for the boy taking the hits felt a lot like guilt. That his actions were wrong...that the boy didn't deserve this. But Quaritch was a man of his word.
SNAP!
Spider had started biting his lower lip and, if he wasn't imaging it, the strikes from the switch felt harder now that they were in the latter half of the sixteen lashes. He couldn't see how red and agitated his back was but goddamn it, he could feel it! He couldn't see the tiny red droplets forming where the welts overlapped when the rod crossed over an already abused strip of skin. As the discipline carried on, it was becoming more and more difficult for the colonel to avoid already punished skin.
SNAP!!!
Spider let out a sharp cry then bit his tongue when he snapped his mouth back shut when the last hit finally came down. The motherfucker did that on purpose. The last lash was much stronger and hurt A LOT more than the others. He'd dropped down to his knees and panted against the stinging in his back and eerily cool feeling in certain spots of his back where enough blood had escaped at the horrendous crossroads of the switch's path.
He clenched tightly at the moss in his hands and rested his forehead against the spongy rotting bark of tree as he tried to slow his panting into something less noticeable. He felt like a nantang had used his back as a scratching post except without the courtesy of the nantang putting him out of his misery for a nice meal of human meat.
"Goddamn good boy." Quaritch said as he reached down to pull Spider's hair back from hiding his face. The boy turned his head away quickly. No surprise. The colonel had a hard time looking his old man in the eye after an old-fashioned whooping. But by supper time, it would be like nothing happened. The boy would get over it...
But something in his mind asked if he would? Quaritch was a man of his word but was it worth it to see Spider barely holding it together like this?
"Fuck you..." Spider spat out as his body trembled against his will. He heard Quaritch sigh, sounding disappointed.
CRACK!
Spider instantly regretted his choice of words as he let out a borderline shriek at the impact of the rod coming down hard on the bottoms of his feet that had become exposed when he dropped to his knees. The pain jolted up his whole body then back down the point of contact in the middles and insteps of his feet. By Eywa, that one was the worst!
"What the fuck was that for?!" Spider snapped as he whipped his head back to Quaritch. He was taken aback by the slightly raised brows and flat ears of the recom. What the hell was this? Why did he look like he felt bad? Like he was sorry...?!
"Either the cussin' or the runnin'...your choice, boy." he said. Clearly neither option was appealing by the glare he got in return.
Quaritch sighed as he stood and tossed the switch into the brush now that its purpose had been served. He stared at the angry, rebellious brown eyes the teenager had inherited from his mother. If he could read minds, Quaritch could only imagine what Spider was saying or thinking of doing to him. He tried to take a hold under the boy's arm to help him stand when he struggled at first.
"DON'T TOUCH ME!" Spider screamed as he knocked Quaritch's hand away and scrambled to stand on his own now that his poor feet were screaming in agony. Fuck, it hurt to stand. He took his first step away from the recom and stumbled with how badly his feet hurt. A large blue hand attempted to stabilize him, which Spider responded with a cracking voice as he screamed again, "DON'T TOUCH ME!!! DON'T FUCKING TOUCH ME EVER AGAIN!"
Quaritch stood back up straight and watched the boy take his first steps. It was clear the boy was in serious pain. He'd gone too far...
Spider felt aching in his ankles, like all the bones had been rattled loose from the strike. He breathed in through his nose and let it out slowly through his mouth as he took the first real step. He closed his eyes tightly, ignoring the trickle of tears that escaped the corners of his eyes and walked on. Spider wouldn't be running again any time soon...but he would get away from Quaritch if it was the last thing he did...
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So... Episode 65 was released on Fast Pass today.
Spoilers for Episode 65-67 and some parts of the webnovel
Intriguing how one or two readers were able to correctly guess that Dodolea had assaulted Theo. I had to bumble around Naver, earn cookies one pair at a time and be rewarded by having my heart ripped out of my chest when I read what happened to him.
(”Watak, the signs were so obvious, how could you not tell?” I dunno man, I thought this was going to be supernatural magic and curses, not actual literal sexual assault). The screaming and gnashing of teeth in the next chapter is going to be wild.
How far Dodolea went is left vague-ish on purpose, I expect, though the drugging is in itself already enough to condemn her. I don’t know what sort of explanation (not endorsement) will be given for her actions considering that when Theo bolted out of there, her expression is LITERALLY “o.o”
What the fuck is going on with her? Is she going to be, as the webnovel proceeded to explain, possessed by some witch that’s obsessed with a past reincarnation of Theo? Is this witch so ancient that sexual assault is not in her vocabulary? Is the real Dodolea already dead? Is this going to take some other less supernatural turn? seungu what are you planning?? I have so many questions???
Theo’s soft-hearted nature is going to be the death of him. And I’m going to strangle this palace aide - who was only doing his job - but nonetheless. If I were Gloria/Phineas/Saoirse and found out about this conversation, I would chuck him into a sewer and leave him there for a day.
“Think about what she had to go through in society after you refused to marry her”??
Listen here, you absurd little 7:3 hair ratio man.
The woman is a princess of the blood, significantly above his station as grand duke. The only reputation she’s gained is the misfortune to be besotted by this man who’s married, and perhaps an embarrassing way of showing it. The worst thing the nobles could have said was “well, that was very gauche of the princess, what an unfortunate choice, she has no taste in men, why does she keep trying” Clearly, she still can move about in polite society without censure coz she keeps fucking showing up to mess with Perry, make vaguely threatening remarks and just generally be creepy. Like, all of that has been on her. A princess of Castor, with such a powerful family, cannot possibly be taken down so easily in social circles.
His reputation, on the other hand, despite all the admiration from the average citizen, is way worse than hers, and always has been. He’s the one whose first wife moved out after two months, claiming he was the worst husband AND he’s a supposed war fiend, bloodthirsty and vicious. I get that gossip can be fatal but Dodolea is not about to be further humiliated by him walking out. He’s already built up a reputation for being cold and rude and giving people the cut direct so why should this be any different?
Yes, yes, princess of Castor bla bla bla - but what’s your point??
But NO, he had to think of her despite himself, despite the emperor’s shitty behaviour and what she did to him. The LOOK on his face when the servant asked him not to sUbJeCt hEr To MoRe HuMiLiAtIoN (I still find this the most efficient orthographic way to convey sarcasm; my apologies if you find this offputting).
He sat there, subjecting himself to a panic attack and PTSD because he, at the heart of everything, actually seems to care about people. Even the reason he took the drugged drink from Dodolea’s servant in the past was because that man told him how much he admired the grand duke, and seemed to sincerely want his approval. So Theo took the drink to be polite. And suffered for it.
No wonder Daniel’s smoking by episode 66. I’d pick up a cigarillo/cigar too if I had to work under these conditions.
At least Episode 67 has Theo on... some kind of mend. And we get to see Phineas yell at him for being An Absolute Idiot. You can just about tell which panel involves him wondering why he went to all that trouble of going to med school (or its equivalent in this universe) when his own nephew insists on being Stupid.
(In case it’s not clear, I love Phineas with my whole heart and each time he looks like he wants to quit and become a humble radish farmer in the country, my love for him grows three times larger.)
I'll also have to be patient and wait to see what sort of hobby Theo apparently indulges in and is thoroughly embarrassed to be found out about (interior design/architecture wasn’t what I’d expected but y’know what, go off your grace). I don’t think I have it in me to download more random apps to earn free cookies for Naver. Then again, considering the medium lengths I’ve already gone to for this manhwa, who can say really?
Pictured: the relationship I have with this manhwa apparently
#MILAOWM#my in laws are obsessed with me#my in-laws are obsessed with me#spoilers#so many spoilers#so very many spoilers#Theo Lapileon#someone save this man#someone save Phineas also while they're at it#let him retire early#let Molton retire also#we need some HR intervention#this series is making me ramble as if I can earn free coins and cookies for it#MILAOWM episode reactions#MILAOWM spoilers
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Fated Rantings: Genderbent Silliness
This won't be the same as my well thought Fate posts but I felt the need to make it. One of the things I've learned about Fate is that it's genderbends range from marketing, trolling, and "fuck it" reasons.
So let's go over some of the ones I've learned since I started this journey.
Artoria & Shirou
The iconic duo, the mainstays, and the first ones to be genderbend in the Type-Moon meta franchise.
What drew me to Fate and this duo initially was just how accurate Artoria's backstory is to the actual Arthurian legend in real life. In fact, you'll see that a lot of Fate characters stay remarkably true to their legends even if the gender is altered.
And I'm sure you expect me to give this big breakdown on how this affected Shirou and Artoria but there isn't one. No no.
Shirou and Artoria had their genders altered from the initial draft of Fate Stay Night for marketing reasons.
No joke, they swapped their genders to sell the initial release of Fate Stay Night better...which was likely a good call since the original release of FSN had hentai scenes.
The scenes were relevant to the Sakura route and the rest was just service. So to appeal to the japan market way back when they made the lead (Shirou) male and his servant (Arthur) female.
The phenomenon that is Saber exploded afterward. Saber's design is so iconic and beloved by the series artists that they actively reuse it whether the reasons be jokes or serious.
This is the trend fans refer to as "saber face".
Proto Merlin & King Arthur
Since we're on the subject of King Arthur allow me to tell you about Fate/Prototype.
You see, even though the final draft became Fate/Stay Night, the initial draft was reused later to become Fate Prototype.
What makes Fate/Prototype unique to me is that many characters who had their genders bent in FSN do not in Prototype. Arthur is as you'd expect him to be, a young man of handsome build. Same for several characters.
Well, except for Merlin. Within the Prototype universe Merlin is female. The dynamic and backstory of both king and mage are the same as they are IRl or even in FSN.
I only point this out because I find Fate/Prototype fascinating (I hope it gets a show one day) but also because the voice actors for Merlin and Arthur swap roles.
The voice for male Merlin in most Fate works voices Arthur in Prototype. While the voice for Saber in FSN voices female Merlin in Prototype.
Even here they have a bit of fun with the concept.
Nero fucking Claudius
Of all the "saberfaces" and overall genderbends in Fate I consider this one the funniest I've discovered.
The true name of Red Saber from Fate Extra is Nero Claudius Caesar Augustus Germanicus. Yes that one emperor, you know the one.
The sole reason Nero is female, let alone a near identical clone of Artoria, is a troll. When making Fate Extra they decided to design Nero like this solely to trick people into thinking the Saber they love was in the game.
There is no grander reason and I personally find it hilarious. I've yet to watch Extra since I'd rather play the remake when it launches but I know Nero has her own following.
I can't help but respect a troll like this.
The Genderless
Next is Enkidu. I'll admit upfront that I do not know what the logic was behind Enkidu however given how he is is written I believe it's done to be within character.
In the IRl epic of gilgamesh Enkidu is a big burly hairy wild man that is of equal strength to king Gilgamesh. He was created by the gods to reign the tyrannical king in.
Within Fate, that backstory is the same, but Enkidu is nowhere near burly nor hairy. I only refer to Enkidu as "he" for writing convenience and because Enkidu doesn't seem to care either way.
You see, Enkidu sees themselves as a tool regardless of how much Gilgamesh or the residents of Uruk say otherwise. Enkidu is also modeled from clay and is not actually human or even god at all.
The appearance Enkidu uses is modeled after the harlot sent to teach him. In the IRL myth she slept with Enkidu but given how Fate Enkidu is made it's more ambiguous.
Their feminine appearance is a way to honor this person though.
This bend is neither marketing nor funny, it's more akin to a reflection of Enkidu's character and how they view themselves and thus worth noting.
"Francis Drake"
This is one I learned quite recently. Apparently the servant that presents itself as Francis Drake is actually a play on an old rumor.
See, it was rumored back in the day that Francis Drake would let Queen Elizabeth masquerade as himself and use his ship. The scar on her face is also possibly a hint at the small pox scars that Queen Elizabeth had. Both Elizabeth and this servant also have red hair.
Of course, FGO does throw out there that she was written as male in the history books because her crew could not see her as a woman.
I wouldn't even be surprised if that is the answer Nasu would give.
But the parallels to queen Elizabeth and the rumors about Francis Drake letting her sail are just too funny not to bring up.
Saber of Red
I've talked a lot about Mordred before but I'm adding her here because I just find her to be a good complex character.
I also won't delve into the whole debate around here since that already took two full posts dedicated to Mordred to do.
The whole reason Mordred has the physique she does is due to Mordred and Merlin's magics at work. Mordred is, in the simplest way I can explain, a homunculus/clone of Artoria and is thus female like Artoria.
BUT I do know there was concepts for a male Mordred at one point:
And a part of me kind of wishes they had stuck to this concept or reused it for one of the Fate timelines.
It would make the whole desire for the throne all the more compounded because, unlike their "father", this version of Mordred would be male and have even less reason to hide behind magics and lies like Artoria did.
It would also be interesting to see how this Mordred justifies themselves or reacts to the truth of their "father".
Though given the harsh upbringing, their idolization of Arthur, and their short lifespan, this Mordred may have been nearly identical to the one we have regardless.
Nagao Kagetora
I know next to nothing about this character both in Fate or IRL but I am adding them as my final gender bend of notice because it's oddly historical.
From what I've come to learn Nagao Kagetora was suspected to be a woman. Whether that was truth or just rumors to discredit a political rival is unknown but the Fate servant itself takes that rumor and uses it.
It's one of the few servants I know of where the altered gender may very well be a truth IRL. It's made me curious about how many there are in Type-Moon that I just do not know about due to my lacking knowledge of Japanese figures.
It also goes to show that not every servant it changed for a joke, marketing or just the writer/artists whims. Sometimes there's actual historical backing which makes that particular servant all the more interesting to research.
Yes, Francis Drake is technically similar but FGO offers an explanation. The whole Queen Elizabeth thing is just a fun parallel that might be true. Plus, both Elizabeth and Drake exist in Fate as two people.
Where as this servant possibly was a woman. Maybe they weren't, no way to know now and that makes it unique.
Finale
And that's all I got for now. There are plenty of other examples but these are the ones that have stuck out to me the most since I began watching/reading Fate.
Some servants were also just to convoluted for me to squeeze into this one post. Not for the gender swapping but their origins as demi-gods and the like. It kind of goes hand in hand.
Some servants are only a gender thanks to the body they're borrowing for example. Mash Kyrielight is an example of this because she's a demi-servant possessed by Galahad. Meaning she's a female version of Galahad in a loose sense.
Other servants may be from the "GUDA GUDA" side of Type-Moon which doesn't even bother to explain. If a figure is genderbend in a "GUDA GUDA" world story then that's just how that world's history unfolded.
Sakura Saber and female Nobunaga are two key examples of a "GUDA GUDA" genderbend.
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Hopefully you enjoyed this regardless. For my other experiences with Fate go here: https://derekscorner.tumblr.com/tagged/fated-rantings
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What’s this? Two things in front of Kanon’s door: a large package big enough to fit a human and nearby it, a strange-looking microwave oven that from its many modifications, couldn’t even be called a microwave anymore; its leg lightly pushing said box to be followed by it taking out a box of chocolates from its interior to put on top of the larger package.
The large box opens to the sight of an unconscious man with mossy green hair in awfully gaudy clothing, his body laid on top of a bunch of roses, his own blood seeping onto them from a fatal blow on his head. Stuck upon his right ankle are three glittery tranquilizer darts.
And about that chocolate box, there was a note, or rather series of notes…
To: Kanon-san
Happy Valentines, if you even celebrate that shit, I barely do.
My guild and I caught a good-for-nothing pimp in the wild, do whatever with the body.
I’d have more things to say but I’d rather tell them in person, y’know?
P.s, it could regain consciousness by the time it gets there. —⚡️
yeah uhh thats his way of saying he wants to be your next test subject LOL — Ψ
That’s bullshit. ⬆️
When Kanon was notified that something was on her doorstep, she was annoyed. Reika and Sakura were already there at her “home” with Reika trying her damn hardest to get her to sing at her Gala tonight, and Kanon didn't have the patience to deal with any more visitors. Kanon raised her eyebrow at the sight of the moving microwave, giving her a box of chocolate. She had to admit that it was a new one.
However, the sight of the unconscious male made a deranged smile spread across Kanon's face. Her eyes flickering alight with pure madness. When suddenly, much to her displeasure, Reika snatched the note out of her hands to read with Sakura looking over her shoulder.
“Oh my God…oh my God!” Reika shouted, losing her mind. “Someone sent you a Valentine’s! You of all people!”
“I…I can't right now…” Sakura sputtered, not wanting to believe this. “Who the hell would send you of all people a fucking Valentine’s!”
“I know, right? Like out of all people to ask to be your Valentine, you pick Kanon of all people? The psychotic bitch who's known for cutting people open?”
“I have to worry about this person's mental stability if they wanna get Kanon's dead black heart. Are they okay? Do they need mental counseling?”
“In case you two have forgotten, I'm still here.”
Ignoring the mad scientist, Reika and Sakura continued to scream about the fact that someone sent Kanon a Valentine’s. Rolling her eyes at their dramatics, Kanon bit into one of the chocolates she received. She didn't care for this damned holiday besides all the chocolate she got on a discount when it was all over. Still, at least her sender had the decency to get her gifts she would like.
Speaking of gifts, Kanon noticed that the man was starting to move more than before. Ah, it seemed like the tranquilizers were beginning to wear off. Well, it would be rude of her to waste the specimen someone had gifted her. Perhaps today wouldn’t be so goddamn awful. At least she got a “bloody Valentine’s” out of it.
“Well, I suppose I must thank whoever sent me this. Hahahaha! Fine, let's meet one day. I wonder if you're brave enough.”
#hypnosis microphone#hypnosis mic#hypmic#hypmic oc#hypnosis mic oc#shizuoka division#silent tragedy#kanon hojo#reika aichi#sakura kito#snowberry raspberry#happy valentine's day#valentine’s day 2024#valentine's event 2024
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I’m trying to envision Halore “social interactions are not my strongpoint” Travye navigating drone season - especially immediately after his breakup with Kurloz - and I cannot for the life of me see how it would happen unless there’s a cultural mechanism or tradition of playing drone season matchmaker for socially awkward, anxious, and depressed trolls - like, “sorry your relationship with Makara didn’t work out, but like, since you’re available . . . you wanna partner with my moirail whose matesprit died last sweep?”
Also also, since it is kind of a variant of the fuck-or-die trope, I can see so many troll dramas incorporating drone season as some major plot point. Although, maybe not with too much angst? Since I guess if a movie made you feel sad or angry enough about the whole situation, it would technically be seditious?
This is true, it's not his proudest season. But as with every other challenge he ends up facing, he stoically puts up with it lol. Present day as of PoF I'd imagine he mostly just kind of gets by in flush with somebody he finds tolerably attractive, and manages pitch by way of being very blunt baseline and then also a snarky bitch.
Right after he broke up with Kurloz he presumably was even less happy about it! But "hot, young, strong troll who's transparently broken up about losing somebody they cared about" seems like pretty good pity bait, so I could imagine that he managed to limp along on that until he started to get his feet back under him and got back his classic "Well Giving Up Isn't An Option So Let's Do The Damn Thing" personality lol.
RE: drone season in media, and seditious presentation of it, I've been going back and forth! I made mention real early on of drones and drone season and have never delivered on it because I've been percolating how I want to approach it sociologically, so here are I guess some drone thoughts.
As brutal and wild a system as it is to be like "there are drones that come and demand that you fuck", I am intrigued by the concept that those are just like, a natural part of the troll life-cycle. That the Mother Grub and her drones and the trolls are just all parts of the same species, who like insects can have wildly differing appearances and biological functions! And that in that way, drone season is actually like, outside the empire's control, and tbh super inconvenient for a powerful space-faring empire, since I'm of the assumption that the drones head out to trolls throughout the galaxy and continue to gather genetic material fairly regularly, showing up whenever they show up and triggering every troll in the area to contribute. Which means that like, sometimes the drones show up and if your soldiers don't have mates, they die? That could be real bad for your military!
Ofc it's possible and in fact almost inevitable for it to be politicized, and I'm sure there's some amount of spin RE: when you fuck you fuck for the empire, etc etc. But also if it's not actually the empire's doing, this is just how trolls work as a species (even on Beforus! a fascinating thought) the options for media rep of drone season get wider, I feel like.
If your characters don't want to contribute because "wahh, but contributing slurry to the meat grinder of the war machine BAD" then it wouldn't be acceptable, but it seems like a pretty reasonable point of drama to be like "oh man if I don't fuck I die, that's pretty upsetting" without having to be overtly seditious, as long as the drones are only sort of imperial in nature!
As with most of my xeno headcanons this is ofc subject to change with every different fic I write lol. But those are the thoughts I've been mulling around, at least as they pertain to the question!
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Well at least everyone from different races are shitting on the society of magical negroes trailer. Also it was white people who caused the most damage to black people. Yeah it was white people who abused the living shit out of Tyler Perry as a child and also molested and raped him several times growing up.
Wait his main abuser was his father, he was raped by a friend mom, sucked by a male family friend, etc.
All of whom seem to be black, hence why most of his early career is him becoming coping with his trauma.
You don’t put subplots of domestic violence, CSA, and SA in your films constantly unless you been through it or seen it. You just fucking don’t
Sorry for the heavy subject, I just want to use a prolific black creator on who causing the most trouble to black people.
Also if they can do magic, why no use healing magic to heal crackheads, oh a lot of kids who got shot thanks to gun violence would love that. Oh what about resurrecting LB Johnson and Regan for the damage they did to our community too? The Kennedys can beat up Johnson after black people are done.
Ugh it feel like modern black Hollywood is made by people who didn’t picked up the middle fingers boondocks were giving them
Also when was the last time we had a magical negro? Some say Morgan Freeman roles…but he old as hell so he prefer less active roles.
I mean I seen the rise of magical black bitch boys like what nick fury became after captain marvel join the MCU.
>Also it was white people who caused the most damage to black people.
like I said I don't want to bring statistics into things too much here, if we were to look up the #1 killer of black Americans, non natural death edition, it ain't gonna be white people.
Haven't seen a lot of movies recently so I couldn't toss out someone who would qualify for that title in the last decade or so off the top of my head, Will Smith in "The Legend of Bagger Vance" is quoted as one a lot, someone tried to convince me that Morgan Freeman was one in "Shawshank Redemption" problem with that one book has the character of Red listed as a white Irishman, my theory Freeman got the role because there's not many others out there folks would like to hear narrating it.
Also don't know about any of that Tyler Perry stuff, but I'll take your word for all of that.
I'm mostly glad to hear that there's people of all stripes calling this out, it's nice to know that's finally happeing.
Got the hat trick of the woman king, Cleopatra, and now this Hannibal thing all of which are serving up a good deal of schadenfreude for those of us who have been trying to point out the wild hypocrisy of ahistorical, faux history nonsense for years now.
The only real question is will it wind up making a difference.
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There was a 'put in the tags' post requesting people put in the tags a villain with a "good reason" to be evil...and I just thought that seems very subjective and also how can I just choose one...so I am gonna just ramble a little about some of my favourite villains/antagonists and why I like them so much :D (link to the 'in the tags' post here)
Not every villain needs a tragic backstory or a 'sympathetic' motivation, and I think you'll find that very few of my favourites actually do. It's 2023. Let the villains be actually evil. Potential for spoilers ahead.
These are not listed in any particular order; just listing them as I think of them:
Ursula (from The Little Mermaid)
I love Ursula. She's just so unapologetically herself. The only time she changes herself to fit 'societal norms' is to trick the prince. And even then, she isn't doing it out of lust for him or to fill some sort of need to fit in; she's doing it as a means to an end, that 'end' being having Ariel to use as a hostage against Triton. This lady is cunning, she is confident, and she takes what she wants. I loved her as much in the cartoon as I do in the recent live action movie; both versions were good. (whether you like the makeup or not, I don't care, the live-action Ursula was hilarious). She gets the trident, the power over the seas, and what is the First Thing she does? Tries to smite Ariel because she hates her, and also Ariel is the reason her beloved eels perished. Ursula wants immediate revenge. Love that for her. She has her priorities.
The Sheriff of Nottingham (from Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves)
He's played by Alan Rickman. That's it. That's the reason. LOL. I mean, I love the way that Mr. Rickman brought the character to life, I loved the comedy, the dry and dark humour he brings to the role. I just really love it. And he looked very handsome as the Sheriff, I must say. Also, the Sheriff's death scene always kinda makes me giggle just because it is So Drawn Out. Like, my dude. Die already!!!! But nope, gotta stumble around the Entire Tower Room first.
Eddie Gluskin (from Outlast: Whistleblower)
Eddie is, by the time Waylon Park stumbles across him, completely deranged, completely twisted, completely unhinged. He is running around chasing other prisoners to take them as 'brides', and cutting off the parts of them he doesn't desire. He makes a wedding dress. He has a tailored suit that he *wears*. He sings songs that he likely learned in his childhood, about marriage and love. Now, if there's one thing I love, it's a villain with a THEME. Also, this man did all this within the span of hours. HOURS. That is some crazy productivity...like holy shit. I know people who do less over the course of an entire week; AND get paid for it. Eddie was like 'hold up I got this' and prepared a wedding while doing some..."art"... on the side.
Usagi (from Juuni Taisen: Zodiac War)
Similar to Eddie, Usagi is just. Wild. A beast. I mean, it makes sense. He's in a 12-man battle royale where the winner gains whatever wish they desire. We don't get much on backstory for Usagi but I honestly think that's just fine. You can tell from his appearance and several of his voice lines that he hasn't had many friends...but when he kills the corpses reanimate and are completely under his control. "Friends" that can never run away. It's kind of fascinating to me, that he has so many trust issues he can't fathom having any friends that he can't 100% control. Also, he is in the skimpiest bunny outfit, complete with a giant tail to store his swords in, and stiletto heels. Iconic shit.
Sukuna (from JJK)
What I like about Sukuna is he is so evil and ready to kill and destroy...aaaaand he's stuck in the body of a teen who can somewhat limit his abilities and keep him locked away for the most part. Gotta love that frustration. Also, even though Yuuji has Sukuna inside him, they undoubtedly talk a lot, and pretty much have to be civil to each other...Sukuna still does not give Any Fucks about Yuuji's happiness. The cruel reminder comes when Sukuna refuses to save Junpei (My Baby!!!!😭😭😭), and honestly despite the fact it made me cry, I absolutely respect the writing that has a villain stand by his convictions. Don't get me wrong, I am a SUCKER, for character development and the villain becoming part of the Found Family whether they like it or not (which is how I write Sukuna in The Bar AU), but I also love and adore when a writer will Go There and be like "Yeah, no, you're not changing this guy so easily. He's evil." (I am nowhere near caught up with the manga but so far in my current observations this remains to be very true).
Azula (from Avatar: The Last Airbender)
This girl is so iconic. I love her methods. I love the outward confidence and the crazy consequences she doles out that are really just hiding a scared young girl with a perfection complex. I love that we get a such a rounded character; that we as the audience see her fail at flirting, see her lose her temper over trivial things, see her enjoy a day AT THE BEACH?! UNIRONICALLY???? Azula is just such a great character. When she loses her battle at the end and goes batshit spitting fire while bound...My heart. It aches for her. Even though I think she needs a whole lotta counselling. Truly.
The witches (from Hansel and Gretel: Witch Hunters)
I like the witches because they are just. Evil. (yes I know there's a 'good witch' in the story, but I'm not talking about her right now). I like that they fully commit to the evil. They feast on children. They kill without remorse. They cast disgusting and foul curses that cause some really gross gory scenes. I just like that return to a character who is just Evil and will never be good or be persuaded under any circumstances to act good. I thought, in an era of "pretty" witches who all seem to be "morally grey" at worst, it was fun and refreshing to have a witch just go "Nah, I want to eat a child" again.
Those are some of the ones I can think of right now. I just wanted to ramble a little about them. :D
#villains#favourite villains#antagonists#personal rambles#disney's the little mermaid#robin hood: prince of thieves#outlast whistleblower#jjk#avatar: the last airbender#hansel and gretel: witch hunters
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Damn Anika, can’t people have an opinion? Can’t someone share that they don’t personally like y/n stories when tumblr is filled to the brim with them? I’m not op of that post, but your comment was salty as fuck. You also don’t seem to understand that it’s extremely difficult to filter out y/n fics, because everyone tags memes with x reader and y/n, so if you filter those, we lose half of our feed. Yeah whatever op tagged actors on their post. The real problem is everyone tagging x reader on unrelated memes/shitposts
(screenshots for context can be found at the bottom of this post for those confused)
Oh hey, Anon! Super brave of you to send this ask under the disguise of a grey orb with sunglasses. :)
Anywho. I sat on this ask for like 24 hours so I could give it a good think and properly respond. Also, I have a life.
Bottom line? I don't give a rat's ass if OP doesn't like reader inserts! They have every right to dislike something. They can have an opinion. I'm fine with that. And I DO understand that it's damn near impossible to filter out tags for "x reader" or "/reader" cause it's per character and tumblr barely recognizes tags, let alone partials. I'm not disputing that at all. I agree that everyone should properly tag and stop adding unrelated characters, actors, pairings, etc. So we're on the same page so far!
But yes, I'm salty about the OP tagging actors on an unrelated post that therefore dropped said post right on my doorstep aka my dashboard because I happen to be following one of said actors in the tags. Did I have to comment? No. I could have and should have just scrolled on, but I'm biased when it comes to reader inserts. Writing and reading them has been an amazing part of the past 6 years of my life and it's also how I've met several of my best friends online, many of whom I've now met in person. It's a great community. So yeah, I piped in. With my whole-ass username and actual face attached to the comment. Weird, right? Accountability is a wild concept.
Here's an analogy for you. Let's say that everyone's blogs are houses on a street. We all have our home base (dash) where we can choose what comes in (follow other blogs and tags) and speak whatever opinions we have in our own space (post whatever we want). I'm not gonna try to stop anyone from doing anything in their own house. Do your thing! Curate your space!
But. If I happened to be driving down the street (aka scrolling) and OP happens to be waving a sign (tag) with a subject I care about and yelling something, I might roll down my window to hear what they're saying and GASP...respond. I'm allowed to do that. OP and others don't get to get pissy about MY opinion that I wouldn't have needed to share if I never saw the post.
OP put their opinion in the public space by tagging nonsense and now, here I am. Tumblr does seem to be the space for reader inserts so, might I suggest that those who dislike them use AO3 or Wattpad where it's easier to filter? Especially if tumblr is "filled to the brim with them"? Just a suggestion. :)
So, now I'm gonna go back to reading and writing my silly little reader inserts cause I can and no longer think about this interaction.
Bye, Anon! :)
(Screenshots for context—)
#aoyh answers#i'm a salty bitch and i'm not sorry. :)#anika rambles#tag your shitty correctly#i'm sick of this nonsense#i'll stay out of it and block next time though#sheesh.#fandom wank
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*Finding Nemo seagull voice* lore? lore? lore?
Is... is Ira using pieces of the gnarlrock as light sources for plants? What? "Ira warned us they have an immediate proximity issue... just said it wasn't healthy." And Ira can handle them. He's the one who brought them here. Definitely makes me think that the gnarlrock is one of those things that's just pure power — it can be used for good or bad, but it isn't inherently either, it's just powerful.
Also makes me think that one of the conceits of this campaign is that a neutral perspective is an assumption of the world.
Fearne is half elven! Ollie is a blond elf with a Scottish accent. The only other elves we know of that have this accent are the elves of Uthodurn, but it's implied that Ollie is from the Feywild originally (and is therefore an eladrin, maybe?).
Treshi is (allegedly) the one who instructed Ira's experimentation and the subjects of said experimentation. From what we know right now, I would argue that Ira is just as chaotic neutral as Chetney is.
The machine that Ollie, Birdie, and Ira are building is called the "veil scatter-scope," and it can see things for dozens of miles around like a goddamn periscope. Even without the lens from Morri, it can see leylines, and they look like auroras. When the telescope looks at Ruidus, "it's almost like your thoughts seem to wander when you focus too hard on it." The telescope could see many things, but not Ruidus — until now.
"I don't know how much your mother's told you... we've been trying to figure out this dubious lunar nightmare since it showed up back home. You were touched by its flare... several years later, it just showed up in one of the shaded regions. Now, you were too young to really tell much about this, but I have from my mother what she calls the squint — I get little glimpses of possibilities when I'm in danger, little flashes of choices and I pick the better one. It's like a faint oracle touch, whatever you wanna call it... usually just teases, flashes, enough to get out of trouble. But when I saw that red moon invading our sky, I had more than a squint, it was a full vision. I saw the red light of that moon widen like a hungry mist, decaying the life and green from out homeland, leaving dust and dull red light in its wake... I saw our home crumble, I saw what was Birdie's silhouette standing in the center of the light unmoving, reaching for it before it caught us all. But looking at you now, I'm not sure it was her silhouette... we knew we had to do something."
*drunkposting starts here*
After Ollie sought help from the Seelie Court, they were threatened by the Unseelie, and he and Birdie followed them back to the Unseelie Court. There, they discovered that the Unseelie had put up an illusion to hide the moon from the rest of the Feywild, and we know the rest of the story from Birdie.
Morrigan is also known as "the Fate-Stitcher." what??
The parallels to EXU:C are really stacking up.
Hondir believes that Imogen is Ruidus-born
Both Otohan and the other gray-haired elven man — who wore grey and blue robes — are Ruidus-born.
"Time's been ticking down for years now, leading in this direction."
Ira is fucking fascinating, and I love his character in a really fucked up way.
"I had grown weary of such post-war times... between a wild that bored me and a world that forgot me, I was restless... yes, I've done merry an impulsive and selfish thing, but it seemed interesting enough to pursue." Very fey, and very very similar to Artagan. "You don't have to trust me, but if you stop me, what do you learn? You don't have to trust me... just let me work."
Oh my god, three-way date with Ira, Ashton, and Laudna? I thought I had my ships set in stone for this campaign, but..... if someone writes this, please tag me
The Moontide Crown is "partially metal, partially immaterial crystal," and it does some "pretty interesting things" when you put it on, like increasing darkvision range, giving truesight, giving "magics I'd never felt before," and having a "strong connection to the skies above, I could draw magics from the moon — both of them."
When Birdie and Ollie left Fearne, she was "still a young girl, but not that [14] young." To which Ira notes that "well, you left her with Morri. She is a collector of things. If she knew she had limited time, she might've stretched it for all it's worth. It wouldn't be the first time."
So in theory, Fearne was born in 823 PD, if my drunk math doesn't deceive me.
Morrigan is 12-13 feet tall?? what the fuck???
"What was Morri like before Fearne?" "Like us, one of those outlier fey, a collector of sorts... she plays guardian to one of her own fanes, a place of power, and she does favors for those who ask in exchange for things to add to her collection... she's what you would call crone. She has no coven, she's a strange one in her own right. She's been around for as long as I have... it seemed to work out okay, there could've been worse choices [to take care of Fearne, pointing towards Ira]."
??????
"Ira, you said that she would make this for us, right? Right?"
So Fearne was what Ollie and Birdie gave in exchange for Morri creating the final component of their telescope.
Huh.
Wild.
Fey.
(definitely not me, looking at this discordant morality between fey and mortal as if it's the same as the incongruent morality between Betrayers and mortals in EXU:C.)
"Ira, what are we building?"
"As you glance through, you see before you the green sheen before what us almost a dark, universal sky speckled with stars, And there in the center, is the lightly muddied red of Ruidus, a familiar sight... but there's something you've never seen before around it. There is a shape that encompasses it, clear as day, like a field of energy, like something that encapsulates it. Not unlike some of the magical forcefields and such you've learned to generate, and it has a texture, like a lattice weave, an extremely powerful gathering of different magical threads that crate this textured weave that seals it off entirely... it looks more like like a cage. It's strong, distinct, something you've never seen before, unlike anything you've ever seen..."
"It's a prison."
"What do you see?"
"I see a god that can't get out. Am I right?"
"It's my first time hearing of it..." [Make an insight check. [16.] Hard to read... [24]... 'an imprisoned god, you say? Interesting...'"
"Any breaks in the weave, any flaws? [Natural 1.] Focused on this, it's still a fresh sight... as you look through it, the sense of a headache that was mentioned before never takes root... and you swear, you swear there's something you're missing."
Orym?
NATURAL 20 FOR A 27
"Glancing in, he adjusts some of the elements..." "As you focus in, you see the same lattice shape, you blink a bit... roll a religion check for me. [8] While the nature of this field that contains the red moon evades you, your eyes catch a glint in the middle of the red storm as the device is scanning past the front of it, and it's moving away from it... As the telescope pushes past the layer of lattice-like energy, the storm is clearer than its ever been. [Imogen] sees it part for just a moment, and there's a city."
nooooooooo I'm too drunk to process this fully, what the fuck
Cognouza? Avalir? the Ars ward of Aeor that we've never seen before? who fucking knows???
[text break]
Tharizdun enthusiasts, how we doin'?
I will expand upon this tomorrow when I collect my thoughts
#critical role#critical role c3#critical role campaign 3#critical role liveblog#note watches c3#critical role spoilers#drunkposting#cw alcohol mention
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