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threepandas · 1 month

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Bad End: For Us

My sister is the only one who actually knows me. Who looks at me and... and actually SEES me, for who I am. It's because she suffers too, I think. Is beautiful. In that way that drives men too distraction. Poets too the page, artists too a medium. They look at her like she is art, magnificence and beauty given form.

Not a person.

Living, breathing, with thoughts and feelings of her own.

She is... is just BEAUTY to them. Delicate features and graceful limbs. Refined and splendid. A lovely voice reducing all her brilliant thoughts to mere sound. Who cares? How clever and educated, how wise or dignified, she may be? She is decoration. A pretty thing to look at. A prize to be held and won.

And... and I am a cute little pet.

Eternally the toddler, to be pampered and dressed in bows. Girlish things, no matter how old I grow. Handled instead of spoken too. Because somehow I am a child. Fuckable, yet... a child. Cute, innocent, naive. Not because I AM, but because they SAY so. Because it matches their fantasy of me.

I fear what will happen if I dare break that fantasy, with how much they control my life.

My Sister, alone, is the one who SEES me.

And people try to convince me she is... what? Jealous? Bitter? Because I am somehow "stealing" the lecherous eyes of her unfaithful man? I don't want them. I don't want ANY of them. Reborn, somehow, as a Protagonist in some game amongst countless, I can predict the plot points as they come. Read the troupes.

Bah. I am no spunky little bright eyed thing.

As I lay, draped over my sister's splendid skirts, in her private writing room, she quietly sips her tea and writes return missives. Strokes my hair as I hide, curled up like a child against her legs. If the ridiculous outfit I was shoved in would allow it? I would cram myself under her desk. Hide there instead.

As it is? I sit like some sulking maiden, an exhausted pet, seeking comfort in the only refuge I HAVE.

They will not leave me ALONE.

The Knight. Some brash, meat headed, "I'll take care of you" type, crashing into every quiet moment I try to have. Loud and presumptuous. Disdainful of my academic interests.

The Playboy. All too forward "romantic" gestures and ignoring obvious discomfort. More wrapped up in HIS feelings then considering, for even a moment, my own. Selfish and dramatic.

The Duke. Cliché and terrible. "Kind" to no one but me. Endless expensive gifts, pressuring grand displays, and eyes that linger possessively. Violence at the drop of a hat.

But oh, let us not forget the ASSASSIN! Yes, the LEADER of the ASSASSIN'S Guild! That somehow, someway, decided I was a prize worth possessing. A cutesy little "interesting" doll. That? Gods only knows, what will happen when he grows bored.

Lingering and haunting me. Crawling through windows. Standing too close, to touch my hair and drop cryptic bits of information that always hint at terrible things. Having to watch my words so SO carefully. Lest someone end up DEAD.

And let's not forget the WORST offender! The most clingy of them ALL!

My sister's FIANCÉ.

The Crown PRINCE! Yes, not some average noble, but a ROYAL!! And the man can't CONTROL himself! But does anyone else care? Noooooo! It's ROMANTIC. True loooove~! Aren't we CUTE together? Surely my Sister, his FIANCÉE, is just JEALOUS. How VILE. Disgusting, they scoff!

I should start throwing chairs.

This house is a nightmare.

I curl closer to my sister. Releasing her skirts to slip an arm around her waist. Hugging her, pressing my face close. She puts her cup down with a soft clink. A second hand joining the first to stroke my head. Cup my cheeks.

"My Dearest, you can not hide against my skirts indefinitely. As much as I would love to let you." She says, voice soft and cool like swirling mist, tilting my face up so she can look me in the eyes. "You DO need to eat eventually, as do I. Unfortunately, I can not keep you here forever. Come, help me plan the wedding. We can look at cake styles."

I'd rather be planning a funeral.

"Not until I get a son out of him, I'm afraid."

Wut.

I blink, not sure I heard that right. Look up at my softly smile sister. No. No, I probably didn't. Wishful thinking maybe? Or I've just been around Stabby too much. I scramble to my feet. Fighting my own girlish abomination of a skirt. I hate it. It's cutesy to the point of mocking. I'm in my TWENTIES for God's sake! Not EARLY twenties either!

Why do I have a BOW ON MY ASS?!

Because I am the Protagonist. Baby faced and Pwecious~☆. Fucking INFANTALIZED. I could BITE.

I sigh, take the arm my sister offers me, and tuck myself into her side. Rest my head upon her shoulder. It's a little uncomfortable, with all the jewelry she must wear. But damn it! I want my cuddles!

I bask, as we walk, in the comfort it brings.

She's strong and graceful. Smells like a delicate spring morning, all rare flowers and new growth. A hint of expensive spice. I LOVE being the little sibling. When it's HER that's treating me so. Because she makes it precious. Comfortable. Like we could spend our lives, together like this. The best of friends.

Happy.

If only people would... you know... stop trying to FUCK me. I prefer my hobbies. For God's sake, I'm RICH and a second child. I HAVE basicly no responsibilities except "don't embarrass the family". Or that WOULD be the case? If our parents weren't so intent on... "pushy dating advice".

"Would you like some lovely news, Dearest?" Whispers my sister, as she sweeps us past some upset looking maids, towards the tea room. I nod. "I've made some wonderful headway with some... ambitious gentlemen, about your little cockroach problem. They are quite efficient. I'm likely to recommend them."

I stiffle a snort. Oh my god. My sister sent thugs after a few of the suitors? Holy shit! That's amazing! Is THAT why I haven't seen them around lately? They got scared?

We settle in our seats. Tea and snacks. The maid looks... nervous. Weird. My sister smiles kindly, somehow startling the poor thing, making her flinch. Oh dear. I try to smile reassuringly. No harm no foul, right? Yet the poor girl reacts like I've cast myself into a lion pit for her. Flees.

....I'm beginning to suspect someone is abusing our waitstaff.

It's probably that bastard lech of a fiance.

We need to keep him away from the maids. And me. Women in general honesty. If I had my say, he wouldn't be allowed near my SISTER either. But she insists, and- Oooh! This one's CUTE! Sis, Sis! LOOK at the little details on this one!

"Hmm? Oh that IS lovely! Do you like it? If so, we shall sample it at once. I want the day to be perfect for us, Dearest. You're my world after all. There's NOTHING I wouldn't give you. A shame though, that our parent's will likely be too sick to see me wed."

It really was. I had my differences with them, but... it was their DAUGHTER'S WEDDING you know? Whatever they had caught, during their endless string of parties, was ravaging their health. It seemed agonizing. Slow. Yet even in the midst of planning her WEDDING, all the gossip and backstabbing, my sister dutifully visited them. Brought them tea and kept them company.

I didn't know how she could bear it.

She was a better person then I, I guess.

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savannahsdeath · 9 months

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MDNI ! haven't posted much bout ellie lately .. but rockstar!ellie makes me go feral . especially when she likes to have secrets, like a cute groupie backstage. a clever groupie, who wants to be more than a secret

❥︎ i hope nobody catch us ,

but i kinda hope they catch us , anyway ...

"you told anyone?" she cooed in a sweet voice. an overly sweet, too sweet, like the calm before the storm. she had you settled on her lap, making you hold the hem of your skirt — cheap fabric scratching your sensitive fingertips and upper thighs, even though it wasn't the friction you desired. you knew you have to, so your body will be on display for ellie, revealing what she wanted. she looked down at her well deserved gift with lust in her eyes, ready to make a move... yet something was holding her back. her head rested in the crook of your neck, leaning on your shoulder. her fingers left your knee, abrading through your thighs, her knuckles chafing your skin in a light touch, barely palpable, nevertheless enough to give you goosebumps.

"what if i did?" you suggested in an innocently naive tone, which ellie found suitable for an illiterate. it wasn't troublesome to use your brain and interpret her intonation — she was not in the mood to quarrel. her hand abruptly landed on your panties, the raw, cold agitation making you freeze. you gritted your teeth, letting out a strangled seethe, followed by a shake of your head. "i didn't."

you studied the area around you, glancing at all of the instruments left by the other band members. what were they doing now? perhaps they were parading around the building, ( whose storage compartment you were in ) giving autographs for rapacious fans. sooner or later, one of them will notice that something's off — not everyone decided to greet their admirers.

"where's ellie williams?"

this question must be asked, moreover the explanation wasn't known yet. ellie's friends will have a difficult time finding an answer. you had the honor to know. to know where she was and what she was doing. the way her eyes closed in pleasure showed she wasn't embarrassed of her actions at all.

the next thing you took note of was the microphone, stuck in a tripod, which fell down right next to you. you stretched your hand and grabbed it, letting your skirt limply cover up your thighs. as you heard ellie hum, your fingertips quickly moved the snap and put the mic back in its place. it noiselessly rolled away, and even though it was still near, you had to squint, creating a cute wrinkle in the corner of your eyes. after you used enough effort, you stopped struggling to notice a green dot. you blinked a few times — your eyelids fell down... and opened again. but you weren't wrong. there was, definitely, a little light, glowing blurry in your vision. its color was outstanding — an significant, tinted part, evident in the plain black handle. and you knew what it means;

mic on !

ellie unknowingly laughed and withdrew four of her fingers, only the middle one remaining pressed to your lingerie, slowly sliding towards your clit. "of course you didn't," she whispered in your ear.

if you were right — if the microphone was connected to all of the speakers in the pub — no one should hear that murmur. but once any of you whimpers, whines or lets any other pornographic moan out ... there will be a clear excuse for williams' absence.

i kinda feel insane rn . too crazy ? yes Ok

i swear you turned the mic off right after that n nothing happened im not insaneeee 😹😹😇😇😇 and not horny AT ALLLL

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physalian · 12 days

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Fantasy Worldbuilding Without Ignorant Protagonists

A reminder, as we approach Arcane Season 2, that exposition in a fantasy setting can be given sparingly, and yet still tell an enthralling story.

Or, imagine how different Arcane, or Game of Thrones, or Lord of the Rings would have been if they were “stranger in a strange land” type fantasies with ignorant Earth protagonists who needed the whole plot and kitchen sink explained to them?

I dislike audience exposition vectors, not just in fantasy, but usually in a fantastical setting ranging from urban fantasy to superhero stories, because they’re an author crutch, giving the illusion of having to explain every little detail so the audience can keep up when… if this character wasn’t the hero, and you had to pick a character who knew about the world to be your protagonist, they wouldn’t be asking all these obvious questions and you'd still be able to tell the story.

I know why they exist, so they can be the vehicle through which the audience lives vicariously. We share their wonder and amazement as this cool new realm awes and humbles and frightens them.

But what these characters tend to lack is agency, specifically when they’ve been around in this setting for long enough that they really should start to know better. Or, if they’re built up as smart and self-sufficient, and yet don’t ever seek out information about the plot or their new world beyond asking the other characters dumb questions.

Example because I love these books: In The Titan’s Curse (PJO Book 3) Percy complains about not being able to manipulate the Mist, of which his new rival, Thalia, can do easily. This is one of the first things he does in the book. Because he has to remain the butt of the “seaweed brain” joke (and Annabeth must remain The Smart One), Percy hasn’t already learned how to do this very important trick (and he never does).

While it would behoove him to learn, when he’s had 2.5 years to do so, he just… didn’t. He also doesn’t know what the Manticore is to retain the suspense… when he’s had plenty of time and motive to study up on all the things that eagerly want to kill him, and has a nerdy girlfriend who’d be more than happy to lecture him with this information.

Even something as simple as Percy being shocked that he’s right that it’s the Manticore would have given him a little bit more agency. He’s an incredibly clever character, but still has to serve as the audience exposition vehicle, so he has to remain ignorant so the plot can explain things to him. He's as cherry-picked clueless as the story demands sometimes.

So. You want to have a character for the audience to live vicariously? Please give them expository agency.

Meaning–give them means and motives to learn about their new world on their own instead of asking questions as the plot demands. Or even let these characters form their own biases on what they think they know so that the actually knowledgeable characters can go “um actually”.

I once wrote a protagonist who was from her fantasy world, but purposefully ignorant about life beyond her planet. Why? So I could have all my other characters explain things to her that they would not explain to each other. But she was from a world with heavy information policing and manipulation, so she thought she knew plenty (naively, not arrogantly), giving plenty of fodder for conflict as opposed to just exposition.

It wasn’t just A learning about the new planet for the audience’s benefit, it was A realizing she was misled and lied to, and learning what “facts” she has that are wrong. Was it perfect? Heck no, but not only was this part of her character growth, by the second book, she was all studied up and when something unknown came along, the whole team shared in the confusion.

I did the same thing with Elias, my protagonist in Eternal Night of the Northern Sky. He’s very purposefully, literally sheltered, literally grew up under a rock, but his people have incredibly loud biases against vampires. Elias has plenty of knowledge about his world, both that is correct and vastly incorrect, while still lacking basic knowledge of other survival skills because he’s never had the opportunity.

Elias’s biases drive early conflict and conversation. He’s not going “what’s a vampire” so the other characters can stop the plot to explain them to him. He’s going “I know exactly what a vampire is” and the plot is him getting kicked on his ass with the truth.

So you can have that naive amazement factor, but also still have a character underneath. You can also let that character show off their acclimation into their world by not being afraid to stop making them the ignorant exposition machine.

Just thoughts.

#writing #writeblr #writing a book #writing resources #writing advice #writing tools #writing tips #character development #character design #fantasy #exposition #world building

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boundinparchment · 1 year

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Undertow

He stopped officiating weddings a long time ago. There was no time for such things as the Chief Justice of Fontaine. But your family insisted. As nobles are wont to do. Only the finest for their eldest daughter. Besides, you two were friends, after all. Neuvillette/Female Reader; in which the Chief Justice can no longer deny his heart on the day of your wedding. AO3 Story Link

A joyous day.

It should have been, at any rate.

At least for you.

As long as you were happy.

Or so Neuvillette told himself. Duty came first, after all. He had a whole nation to keep from setting itself aflame, be it from Focalors’ whims or the people’s fury. In serving everyone, he was, in fact, serving you.

And in turn, you, too, served the people. Few were so generous with their time and their skills, especially those in your social standing. Fewer still went on to study law, as you had; as heir, you needed to understand property laws and taxes and the words that bound your family to its estate and your place in parliament. Neuvillette would never let it be said that you did not know the meaning of long hours and hard work. Amid the vain and the greedy, you were pragmatic, and not without the wit to prove it.

That was what drew him to you. So many in your position used their wit as sharp daggers to stab others during conversation in a clever, charming way. You flipped the conversation back on perpetrators so often that he wondered why you never pursued certification exams.

“For one, it benefits my station far too much,” you said. “My ambitions are to be able to make life sustainable for all I’m meant to govern. Naive, perhaps. But I think those in my rank need to earn their keep, prove they’re worthy of their legacy. We owe it to the people of Fontaine.”

You were certainly not without a vision, even if you were Unblessed. It was better that way. You didn’t deserve the eyes of the island above on you anymore than they already were.

Neuvillete adjusted his cuffs as he glanced down at the book in his hands. A book you’d given him, annotated with your favorite passages and thoughts. He’d stayed up far too late trying to conceptualize anything other than his legal obligations for the ceremony.

The courtroom buzzed with anticipation. Focalors had rolled her eyes when she caught him getting ready but even she had made herself scarce for once after mumbling to just get it over with. Funny. And here he thought she might be present to laugh in his face and call him a fool.

A fool who took an hour to painstakingly braid his hair in a fashion that mimicked an Oceanid’s tail, as you had once shown him.

He stopped officiating weddings a long time ago. There was no time for such things as the Chief Justice of Fontaine.

But your family insisted. As nobles are wont to do.

Only the finest for their eldest daughter.

Besides, you two were friends, after all.

You would have settled for far less; or rather, you would have been happier with his presence in another capacity. He knew as much. His estate for the ceremony and party. A speech at dinner. A dance. Your smile had been so forced throughout the entire exchange about an officiant that Neuvillette was certain you might snap right then and there.

And yet you remained rooted. Dedicated.

If only the finest would do, why did they even consider the dolt standing before him to be eligible?

Hardly remarkable in accomplishments. The family coasted on interest earned through their holdings but were not without the occasional cousin who ended up with a debt record as long as one’s forearm. Neuvillette couldn’t even justify an excuse for a pedigree; bloodlines couldn’t, shouldn’t, be about trying to maintain whatever purity they claimed to hold.

No one could make that judgment.

Celestia might try, at any rate.

And the Chief Justice could hardly see your future husband comforting you should such a thing happen, let alone caring for the people. Neuvillette could only stare when the nobleman’s eyes caught his; your fiance looked away first and Neuvillette smiled briefly to himself. No. There would be no comfort in this relationship, no challenge, no ambition.

This man would snuff your flames with his own self-importance.

Neuvillette should have offered his hand instead when you’d told him. You seemed so resolute, so determined, to carry out your duty. And he was so patient that he might as well be a coward. Time would wait for him, not you. Instead, he’d pulled every string he could to find every shred of information for you, for your parents, approved the match with as much grace as a ruling.

Mulled over every file with a glass of brandy, trying to convince himself things would be fine.

Wouldn’t they?

Nearby, a musician began the song you had chosen to walk in with and the gallery rose in unison, like the sea, to watch.

The only thing you’d had control over was the dress, you’d admitted one night after dinner. Repurposed, you’d mentioned; all lace and fashionable lines, practical but elegant in its shape. He couldn’t pull his eyes away and he tried to remember to breathe as you made your way down the aisle. In all his years, he had seen many things, including the stunning shimmers of the previous Hydro Archon, but all of them paled to you.

Likewise, it seemed you couldn’t look anywhere else but straight ahead, Neuvillette realized: most looked towards their future spouse but your gaze was fixed on Neuvillette himself. His grip on the book tightened and he was thankful for the swell of the music to hide the squeak of leather.

You weren’t making the stabbing knife in his chest any easier.

The words came quicker than he liked as he began the usual spiel. Welcoming guests, reciting the names of the parties involved, and starting off with a brief speech on the strength of a union. He could read the passage from the book backwards if you asked him.

As a judge, he was meant to be the impartial interpreter of the law. There was no place for bias, for emotion.

His eyes would give him away to any discerning onlookers. Neuvillette was no stranger to rumors and gossip columns and no doubt someone could already see the questions he couldn’t keep from surfacing. It would be obvious, he realized. He kept looking at you and not the crowd, not the man with eager eyes who held your hand the same way one held a horse bridle: too tight.

Neuvillette cleared his throat and pushed away the anguish. It had no place here.

As the Chief Justice asked you to repeat after him, to recite the vows all Fontaine citizens gave on their wedding day, something inside him cracked. Couldn’t you see this would lead to nothing but misery? Weren’t you worthy of more? If you must marry for duty, then at least commit yourself to someone equally committed…

Your lips, painted to perfection (unnecessarily so, for you were already beautiful without such coloring), opened but silence followed. Neuvillette swallowed. Your eyes left his long enough to stare at the man holding your hand before you thrust your bouquet at him, gathered your skirt, and dashed back up the aisle.

Behind you, the courtroom ignited with all of the shock and drama as a high profile murder case as you threw the doors open and dashed into the lobby and eventually out of sight.

The only trace you’d been there at all was your veil as it floated to the floor silently, forgotten.

A joyous day.

It should have been, at any rate.

And yet you shouldn’t shake the knot in your stomach and the claw clenching around your heart. Sleep eluded you for the better part of the night and your maids tutted, pressing cold spoons to your eyes before you were allowed to eat. Food tasted no better than dirt over the last few months and all anyone saw was how careful you were watching your figure.

How you wished things were different. The ring on your finger felt heavy, clunky; a ball and chain around your ankle would have been easier to manage.

It hadn’t been so burdensome at first, of course. Things took time. Perhaps, eventually, you might enjoy your betrothed’s company for longer than a few hours. The potential was there.

But was it enough?

Your maids fixed your makeup, did your hair, swatted your hand away when you reached for just one sip of water.

They all gushed about your fiance, how handsome and charming he was, how well conversation seemed to flow. Every single one of them forgot that the conversations were nothing more than surface level discussions that made you want to gouge your eyes out with a spoon.

You’d almost begged Neuvillette to forge something, anything, that would make this arrangement null and void. Every meeting since the engagement had been heavily supervised under the guise of protecting the Chief Justice’s reputation and your honor, whatever that implied.

Expectation had been there for years, lingered like a ghost. Not from you but from everyone else who cast their eyes on your station. One rarely, if ever, captured the Chief Justice’s attention, after all. Your family had hoped, as others had, but you were content to simply converse over dinner, at parties, exchange books and philosophies and see the man’s smile reach his silvery eyes. He spoke of opera and art in a way so few of your contemporaries could. You tried to control the flutter of your heart when he locked eyes with you across the courthouse foyer after parliament adjourned and you swore you saw his eyes glow.

He was engaging, enthralling, and it was easy to see why the nation considered him such a celebrity.

But your friendship was more than the attention, than the allure of the Chief Justice and all that he encompassed. Some might not call his rulings fair but he saw all of the trappings that Fontaine itself was guilty of pressing onto all of its inhabitants. When you came up with ideas for proposals, it was him you went to for proper language and legal references, always attempting to stay within his schedule, of course. More often than not, he would continue to prompt you to think the proposal through, consider scale and the impact and the precedent.

Never once did he give you an opinion, naturally. Just a different perspective.

“You can be dazed tomorrow,” your mother said as she snapped her fingers in your face. “Your flowers just arrived and the photographer is insisting on family shots here, at the house.”

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes as you were dressed by deft hands. It had been something of a game with your maid to pass time when you felt like trying your dress on; little had you known how the practice would backfire.

Something tugged at your gut and you fought the urge to vomit at the thought of the hands (the wrong hands) that would undo the buttons.

No, you made your choice, you reminded yourself. The guilt would fade. The love would fade.

You were closer to thirty than you cared to admit. What your family took for a phase they realized would be a dangerous precedent for your siblings.

Everything you did was for the betterment of the people, you would argue.

What good was the betterment of the people when you were neglecting your duty to your family, was often the retort thrown back with as much acid as your grandmother’s strong tea.

Family.

Duty.

Honor.

All of it was bullshit if the common people were unhappy and left to fend off wolves from above and below.

You’d never subscribed to these notions and they were content to let it be until it was inconvenient. Rather than let you advise on financial planning, to grow an endowment that could take care of the yearly costs of the estate, you were to be cattle in exchange for financial and political support.

Or you would be cast aside, disowned and dishonored, your position taken from you as if it were a rug underfoot.

And so, you accepted all of it with a smile.

You endured.

Just as you endured the flash of the kamera, the fussing over your flowers and your veil during the carriage ride to the courthouse.

The press were eager, as they always were, for gossip and fashion and for a glimpse of the Chief Justice presiding over the ceremony. They weren’t here for you, not truly. Why, of all things, had your parents insisted he be the officiant?

Wasn’t it enough that you were giving up parts of your life, parts of your soul, for a person who would never appreciate them?

Your feet already ached from your heels. A wave of dizziness slapped you across the face as you entered the lobby and you pushed through it. Music began, the doors opened, and your body moved of its own accord, just as you had practiced the night before.

Neuvillette had declined the rehearsal dinner. The one time you were glad not to see him. If you had, you wouldn’t be here now, you were certain.

You gave a cursory glance to your fiance but your attention whipped back to Neuvillette almost instantly. He’d done his best but you could see the faded dark circles under his silver eyes. How late had he stayed up, you wondered. And how long had that braid taken him?

He’d let you style it once, and only once, in the privacy of his library. Waterfalls of silken fabric couldn’t compare to the beautiful blue and white locks between your fingers. He’d been attentive when you showed him the technique, pausing his case review to do so, but…

An ache from your feet ran up to your heart and sat, heavy with longing; it hurt to breathe.

The music swelled to a close and your father kissed your cheek before he passed you along to your fiance. He smiled and you tried not to be disgusted at the sweaty hand that held yours. You held your flowers in your other hand tighter, glad that the florist had missed a thorn in trimming your flowers.

Before you could blink, Neuvillette was already speaking.

And although he was addressing everyone as he read the passage you read aloud to him on a particularly gloomy evening, his gaze never left yours. The man witnessed and knew of the cruelest things the nation allowed, worked under Honorable Focalors Herself, and yet the expression on his face (such as it was, for he was known for his unreadable countenance) was as if…

It was gone in all but a moment as he cleared his throat and prompted you to recite your vows.

It was the subtle raise of Neuvillette’s eyebrows, the way his eyes widened just enough for emphasis that did you in.

Doubt. Anguish.

Was this what you wanted?

You turned your head, every intention to get the words across your tongue and past your lips in mind, when your voice simply wouldn’t comply. All you could see was a life shackled, compromise after compromise and always made against your favor. Concessions that eventually wore down to wondering why you ever bothered.

Did you want to throttle yourself, your spirit, your drive, for potential that wasn’t even there? When the man you loved would be forever kept out of reach?

If not this, then what did you want?

The answer was literally staring you in the face.

You shoved your flowers into your betrothed’s hands and pulled away, not caring if your dress carried sweat stains as you gathered the skirts and ran as fast as your legs could carry you out the door. Commotion behind you roared to life as you haphazardly made your way through the lobby, down to the entrance, and then dashed to the side garden to avoid the headline-hungry press.

There were few options to hide, all of them easy enough to locate. Your family would drag you back if they found you. Assuming they weren’t bickering and that the wedding was even still on from your fiance’s point of view.

A single drop of rain plopped on your head, sudden and cold. Followed by another. And then there was no sun left in the sky as rain came down in sheets, heavy and frigid. Thunder rumbled through your entire being. You couldn’t stay here. Over the roar of the rain, you could hear your name. You wouldn’t heed.

You were tired of coming when called, of giving your loyalty and love to those who sought to keep you from your happiness. No better than a hunting dog.

Soaked, your hair and dress now destined for the Abyss, you slid off your heels and made your way towards the one place you might be able to wait out the rain in peace.

Over the chatter of the crowd, the rumble of thunder was unmistakable.

Of course it would rain. It wasn’t like he’d done a terrific job of hiding his own bias.

The speed at which you’d run back up the aisle was a feat, given the shoes you wore. No doubt those wouldn’t do you any good in this weather. You were probably cold, overwhelmed…

Movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention and Neuvillette’s hand shot out. He grabbed the nobleman’s arm before he could move, already poised to go after you.

“Leave her be. These things happen. It is best for a neutral party to resolve these matters. Wedding planners, family, or friends are usually equipped for these situations,” the Chief Justice said matter of factly.

Fight back, you absolute–

Your betrothed’s arm relaxed in Neuvillette’s grip and it took everything in the Chief Justice not to summon his power and drown him there and then. If there was one person deserving of being reduced to their primal element…

Neuvillette’s voice cut above the crowd as he called for order, requesting that guests remain where they were and that, no doubt, everything would resume shortly. Your parents were already doing a poor attempt at damage control with your supposed-in-laws. Your siblings were casting looks at the door, half-debating if they should go after you; they weren’t like you, not as headstrong, not as independent, and one look from your matriarchal grandmother sent them further into their seats.

He intervened, diffusing arguments with ease, all the while wondering if you were okay. Your parents wanted to use city resources, send out police. For once, your fiance chimed in that such a thing might scare you and you needed help, not to be dragged back kicking and screaming.

“You should go, sir,” the young nobleman said quietly as the bickering picked up again. “You said it yourself: family or friends, and her family doesn’t seem keen to fight for her.”

The man’s smile was shaky but the Chief Justice appreciated the sentiment. At least he had a brain in there somewhere.

“Be sure to keep them from saying too much to the press. Should any ask, Her Honor is also behaving…in her usual fashion.”

Neuvillette was certain his absence wouldn’t go unnoticed and the fact that the press were still clamoring at the front stairs despite the downpour wouldn’t help matters. He paid them no mind as rain pelted him, drenching his robes and suit jacket underneath. The rain did nothing to affect his vision nor his drive to find you; he was unbothered by the chill but you…you always did love curling up right next to a fire and being bundled in winter.

There was one place you might go, he pondered, that few knew about and fewer had access to. Short of you running through the city in your dress (which would not be like you), you had little options to avoid the press but to stay near the courthouse.

He found you as he expected to, under a pavilion tucked away into a quiet garden on the property, wringing out your skirts and pacing, feet bare against the wet stone. You were never still when your mind was lightyears ahead of you, be it from following trains of thought or when you were attempting to force a filibuster. Your thoughts were likely half-way to Inazuma by now and just as tumultuous as the storms he heard so much about.

His breath caught when you jumped as you caught sight of him, eyes wide and anguish carved into your face. Neuvillette stepped under the cover of the pavilion, his robes and braid dripping unceremoniously and you immediately reached to wring his hair out gently, without so much as a second thought.

The Chief Justice took off his gloves as he let you finish before he took your hands in his. He could feel the bump on your finger where you held a pen, the tender spot where your flowers pricked you.

“I can’t do it, Neu,” you choked out, shaking your head. “I can’t do it.”

“You don’t have to if it’s going to make you unhappy, if you cannot see a future with the person standing at the altar.”

He worked in rulings, evidence, facts; managing Focalors emotional outbursts was a terrible part of his job description but they never teetered into this territory. He was used to fleeting whims and de-escalation.

This? This was a decision that would change the course of your life. Not immediately, of course. But the future was a terrifying, uncertain thing, and you had expectations to contend with.

Expectations that did not involve him.

The pall of fear lifted from your face slowly, the same way morning dew disappeared from the grass. Something else blossomed in its place, like a sweet flower pushing through the cracks in the cobblestone streets, resilient and resolute.

“The thing is, I can. Just not with the man I was about to marry.”

Shooting him would have been less painful. Such an admission should have, as with all things today, been enough to make a heart soar, even manage to turn bitter water into sweet ambrosia. Your lips parted again before he could speak.

“And I understand you feel differently; you’ve never given me reason to believe otherwise and I am not asking for more than what you have to give. I would never do that to you. If I marry the man in there,” you nodded your head in the direction of the courthouse, “it will always be a lie. Maybe I’ll grow to tolerate him but I will never love him. Not like I love you. As I do now, I will spend the rest of my life looking into his eyes, wishing he was you.”

Neuvillette’s hands dropped yours to cup your face of their own accord. Before he could process anything else, he’d tilted your head up and pressed his lips to yours as if he was a man deprived of air. You were warm, despite the weather, and he could make out the familiar scent of your perfume amid the fresh flowers in your hair. He felt you relax, curve yourself into him, hands finding purchase on the soaked lapels of his robes.

He broke away, his face hot as he admired your swollen lips. Mixed in with your slight daze was that inquisitive expression he would never tire of, one you often gave to silently encourage him to continue speaking.

“Then no more wishing, mon amour,” he whispered, brushing away the stray tears pooling at the corners of your eyes. “Marry me.”

“Don’t just—”

“I should not have let it get as far as it has. What good is duty if your heart is elsewhere?”

“And where will we go, my Chief Justice? The people of Fontaine and our Archon might enjoy this scandal a little too much…it would be quite a spectacle.”

“Qiaoying Village is nice this time of year. I have an acquaintance in Liyue I can persuade to be a witness. Beyond that…we’ll let the current decide.”

His words shook something in you as you reached up and tugged at his cravat to pull him into another kiss. Longer than the last, smooth and steady like a morning tide, passion dancing like an undertow.

#neuvillette #neuvillette/female reader #neuvillette/reader #chief justice neuvillette #genshin impact neuvillette #arranged marriage #angst with a happy ending #fluff #romance #love confessions

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dyns33 · 3 months

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Only wastelands 4

Annnnnd here's part 4 !! I will be honest, I will need some time to finish this series. I know where I'm going, but I can't find the time or energy to write it.

Tag : @one-of-thewalkingdead @coolrobloxkid28 @thebumbqueen @rachmari @ilyvia @justme12200 @honeybunhottie @savanahc @gobbodoggo @bisasterbisexual @killingboredom @bonafideyapper @i-simp-for-mha-men @pixelatedprofilepic @ultimatreality @chattersstuff @harmfulb1tch @hellolettuce444 @miketastic25 @darkangel4121 @avidreadee123 @kaitttttttt @nullx1ety

It would have been a lie to say that Y/N hadn't prayed that Janey would be a better traveling companion to Lucy. The vaultie was not bad, but far too naive, talkative, not listening to advices.

Maybe she had been heard, or Cooper had been a great father, but the little girl was a true angel.

Obviously very clever for her age, she didn't need long explanations to see that the world had changed, that it was dangerous, and that it was a good idea to follow Y/N without asking too many questions.

Of course Janey still had some questions. This was perfectly normal. But she waited until they were safe, often before sleeping, to look at Y/N with her big, innocent eyes.

“Are we going to see dad soon ?”

"… Yes. He's not far away." the woman said as she checked her pitboy.

If the information was correct, Lucy was only a few days' walk away, and if Coop was still with her, then he would be reunited with his daughter soon. 219 years without seeing her, without any news, no clue on her location, and the almost evaporated hope of finding her still alive.

Of the things Y/N hadn't yet explained to Janey, the time that had passed since her forced separation from her father was one of the most complicated. The child probably thought she would find the man in the picture, smiling and with pink skin.

She nervously repeated that Cooper had been ill, but couldn't elaborate. Each time, Janey responded that her daddy was strong, and that he would get better soon, especially if they helped him.

Impossible to contradict this adorable child.

If she wanted to lie again, Y/N would have said that she wasn't walking as fast as she could because she wasn't sure what would happen when Janey saw her father. That would probably be a shock. Was she going to scream ? Cry ? Be afraid of him ?

It would break Cooper's heart. And she could repeat that she hated him, that she didn't care at all about his fate, Y/N didn't want to hurt him like that. Anyhow, but not like that.

There was also the possibility that he would react badly to seeing her. Vault Tech was so monstrous, they would have been able to clone Janey, or create a robot that looked like her, or even brainwash her at her mother's request.

He could also think that he had become too monstrous to approach such a pure being without harming her.

Maybe he had abandoned Y/N, thinking only of himself, but he would never do that to his own daughter. She couldn't believe it. The problem was that he would want the best for her, and he might think that was keeping his distance.

Y/N had imagined all these possibilities, but in reality, she knew perfectly well that they would just be happy to have each other again. If she was afraid, it was mainly for herself. For them.

She had been running from him for three years. Not that he seemed to be looking for her, but she had promised herself that their paths would never cross again or it would end badly.

She was not thinking of killing him. First because she had no chance against this cowboy, but above all because Y/N may have hated him for what he had done, she still loved him too much to really want his misfortune.

That was probably why everything was still very painful.

When the Pitboy beeped to indicate that they had arrived at their destination, Y/N observed the ruined building, Janey's hand still holding hers, awaiting orders.

Although fear kept one alive in the wastelands, one should never hesitate. Never.

Cautiously, motioning to the little girl not to make any noise, they approached what was obviously Lucy and the Ghoul's hiding place for the night.

With another gesture, Y/N indicated to Janey to stay at the end of the corridor, while she checked the place, until she found what they were looking for. And if necessary, she should flee.

As none of her reactions were normal, the vaultie seemed happy to see her, greeting her with a huge smile.

Sitting in a corner, hand on his rifle, Cooper didn't look so happy. Surprised, yes, nervous too. With a mixture of sadness and anger. Not really open to a reunion.

But he had celebrated their separation, he had no reason to want to see her again.

Y/N stared at his gun, wondering if he was going to shoot. No movement showed he intended to harm her, but he kept his hand on the trigger. Maybe he thought she was going to try something.

Slowly, so as not to rush him, and ignoring Lucy's long tirades about everything that had happened to them in New Vegas where they had not found her father, Y/N made Janey understand that she could come.

The weapon fell to the floor as she walked through the door. The hatred completely disappeared from Cooper Howard's eyes.

He just sat there, petrified by this vision of his past.

The poor kid shook a little, clinging to Y/N, not understanding what they were doing with these people. So Y/N got down on her level.

"This is Lucy, she was in a shelter like you and me. And… Janey. Janey, here's your father." she whispered with an uncertain voice.

The child looked at her, searching for a lie or joke on her face, before turning back to the Ghoul, who still hadn't moved.

It may have been instinct, the call of blood, or the great intelligence of this kid, but then she found her smile again, finally recognizing the man who was standing there.

"Daddy !"

While he had been stuck since their arrival, Cooper didn't hesitate for a second when Janey ran towards him. He opened his arms to welcome her, lifting her to embrace her tenderly, breathing a sigh of relief that he had been hoping for for two centuries.

Lucy didn't understand everything that was happening, but she placed a hand on her heart in front of this scene, knowing that she had to keep quiet for once. Nothing should spoil this moment.

"Janey… My lil cowgirl…" sobbed Cooper. "You're okay. You're here."

"I missed you, dad. Why didn't you come with me in the car ?"

"He… I told you, there was no more room. I was supposed to join you later, but there were problems. I'm sorry, my angel. I wanted to come."

“Mom said you left me.”

"Your mother… Your mother will have had bad information. I would never have left you. I would always come for you."

The sentence echoed in Y/N’s mind. A broken promise. Without really thinking about it, she touched the picture she always kept in her bag. If it had been of value to Cooper, it hadn't been enough for him to come get her.

Now that he had found Janey, that photo was forgotten. It was long forgotten, like Y/N, who no longer had any value.

At least this story would have a nice ending. Their paths had crossed so that she could bring back his little daughter. He had saved her, she had saved them. They were even now.

Still silent, she left the room, then the building, without attracting attention. Lucy was too busy crying, while Coop obviously only had eyes for his child.

By the time they realized she was gone, Y/N would already be far away.

Maybe the vaultie would want to follow her, thinking about using her pitboy, but there was no reason the cowboy would want the same thing. If his daughter wasn't enough, he would continue to search for the old MacLean, for Barbara, all those responsible for the end of the world.

But not Y/N. Even to thank her. He hadn't looked for her in 3 years, he had no reason to start now.

So it was a surprise when something passed around her at lightning speed, stopping her in her tracks as she was about to advance towards the desert.

It had been a long time, but she remembered that damn lasso and the habit of its owner perfectly.

“Leaving so soon, sweetheart ?”

Why wasn't he with Janey ? Why stop her ? Why not be happy to see her go, like last time ? He already had Lucy to annoy him, and even if he loved her, it wouldn't be easy to survive in this world with a child. Why make her suffer like this ? Why make her believe that she was important ?

She could ask him all these questions and finally get real answers, but Y/N was scared.

No sound came out of her mouth as she turned to face Cooper, who had regained his cold gaze. This blur between despair and hatred. As if he had a reason to be angry with her.

“Think we need to talk.” he said in a slow voice. “A real conversation, sugar.”

And from the man who hated idle chatter, long explanations, and really all human interaction, that was something.

#fall out #the ghoul #cooper howard #cooper howard x reader #cooper howard imagine #cooper howard fanfiction

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katyspersonal · 2 months

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So like... thoughts on Messmer's crew? Not the man himself, just the guys he hired.

I actually found the remaining two Fire Knights just recently! :D I didn't post about it yet, but I assume this is all of them! ...I hope. Shadow's Keep has too many turns. Who knows.

This is sweet how they all are close with Messmer and stood with him no matter what.... Unlike THESE traitors:

(Sorry I forgot to copy the screenshots so have bad phone images fshhds) Like @heraldofcrow said earlier, it is really stupid how they could accept like genocides and whatever but drew the line at him being a snake sdfhfghds Well, Fire Knights definitely didn't!

Queelign was the first one I've met, and apparently in the wrong order since I missed him in Belurat and had to go back there! And I instantly hated that zealot, even before I had the picture of what exactly Fire Knights were!

^ As if Queelign's dialogue was not enough, he also dropped THIS! The reason I will ALWAYS respect Miyazaki no matter what is that he always finds the way to throw a jab at this particular grudge at human race fsdhfdsh

He is still a terrible person, but since then I warmed up to him when I've found some potential in him! He is not only the most fleshed out from the Fire Knights, but also in JUST the right way! He is very passionate and fanatical, but also very genuine and naive with his feelings. And he not only wants to be like Messmer, but also has very strong fixation on Marika! Like I keep joking, she is such a bad mother that even people who aren't her children have mommy issues over her fhhdsf

But he also, interestingly, reflects that weaker, childish part of Messmer that still wants his mom to love him. Whereas Messmer is at least good at repressing it, with Queelign it is completely loose and earnest, and the guy is probably not aware! He IS like a little version of himself in this way.. Not sure whether Messmer dislikes him, or pities him, or maybe at least several times told him to NOT try to be like him! In any case, it is really cool how there is the guy who gives that interesting insight. You could write headcanons essays on the psychology between Queeling and Messmer, or just Queelign. I wrote an essay on what could transpire if Tarnished healed him instead (I believe he dies when we find him, from deadly wounds since we only access his chamber after beating him twice).

Like, you can work with this character, you see what I mean? I never found a similar rambling potential in, say, Alfred or Lautrec. They're religious fanatics too, yet that was exactly ALL I could tell about them. MEANWHILE I've made like FIVE posts about Queelign already and they are all substancial! And, boy, any writer WANTS a strictly cruel, fanatical, irredeemable, negative character to give something to talk about besides just kicking the topic of them being bad. If you are writer, remember to similarly give the topics of discussion to your villains! I agree with what Izunia said earlier:

+ Correction though: Petrus does NOT belong in the list of fanatics xd He has opposite problem! He is a selfish, opportunistic, corrupt, cowardly parasite that benefits from the religious institution and doesn't actually HAVE any beliefs he will kill and die for. He kills for his benefit, like how he killed Reah after her being rescued clearly so she would not rat him out, ie risk his position as elite cleric! There is a good reason why of all cleric/religious/etc characters he is the only one who has no simps!

This guy kicked my ass a couple of times, but if Fire Knights are Messmer's most important people, that makes him second most important person in his army? ...okay third, after his wife Rellana fsdjhdfhssd Really clever how only the captain wears a helmet fashioned after this creature, since he keeps Messmer's military forces in check here

1) I also assume that the "loneliness" Wego experienced was from having outlived the people he held dear as not only being in the military but also elder! Because why else would he be strictly lonely, if he has friends within the covenant? Like look right here, he had a pupil! :p 2) This implies that disagreeing with Messmer was a huge risk.. but not only Messmer spared him, but also actually listened to his request!

So basically, Salza is okay with burning people and their homes, but he draws the line at destruction of like, culture, knowledge and ancient architecture fshfds And not he alone:

It were Fire Knights who asked Messmer to have the Specimen Storehouse, so there is at least historical remains about the species they destroyed! So as funny as the double standard looks, it makes a lot of sense; like it was mentioned earlier, all Fire Knights were nobles at the Erdtree! Of course they have it internalised to preserve culture and knowledge for the future! They all had to be well-educated and well-cultured people, not sympathising with the type of hatred that aims to erase as much as history! And at the same time, being educated didn't help them to consider not participating in the HoLy cRuSaDe to begin with..

And this is so human. It is very realistic. There is a lingering misconception that it is ignorance, poor quality of living, low class, bad past or all at once that makes people prone to crime, but in reality there are criminals in every class and every demographic. We should not attribute the root of all evil, crimes and harmful prejudices only to concrete group, because this is always just a matter of multiple people gathering and deciding to do something. When it is not mistreatment and despair that drives people to evil, it is power and corruption, because people ARE evil by nature.

_______________

So yeah, I really like what they did with this covenant! They did well with giving the sense of each of them being an individual by naming and distinguishing five characters like this! For Soulsborne games, this is rich x) They have some tweaks to their outfits or weapons, they have characterisation that makes them unlike each other, and THIS is what's wild; how so many people that clearly can and always could think for themselves ended up here! Queelign too! I could speculate that Alfred has been indoctrinated and brainwashed since young age, or that Lautrec lost his marbles after some sort of grasp by Fina, but Queelign apparently was no less of a noble that decided to go like his peers, nor he'd be any more embraced by Marika than everyone else with grace! He is Just Like This fshdfhs

They made the covenant very real an interesting. (Also rich for creating OCs if you like writing awful people and want to be close with Messmer 😔)

#elden ring #elden ring dlc #fire knight queelign #(since 50% of the post is just him lol fsdhfhds)#(I know too much attention to this prick but like I said he offers TOPICS)#ask replies #elden ring reference #elden ring observation #fire knights

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blossomthepinkbunny · 6 months

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Not a lot of variety in Hazbin Hotel

Another thing I dislike about Hazbin Hotel is the genuine lack of diversity.

With a setting like Hell you have the amazing opportunity to have characters from so many different time periods interact. With different fashion, different skills, different believes or upbringings it's incredibly easy to make characters that stand apart from eachother and create conflict (atleast it should be).

But with Vivzepops disinterest in making characters that even slightly stray away from the specific way she likes to write them, a lot of them end up blending together in how they act/look. Hazbin Hotel has this pretended diversity, where it seems like the cast should vary because on the surface they are very different, but in the show they blend together. This is because Vivzepop throws around different jobs, sexualities, nationalities, goals and inspirations for her characters, but never puts in the work to make them feel like it.

Sir Pentious, Alastor and Vox are all from different times, with different occupations. Sir Pentious was an inventor in the 1880s, Alastor was a radio host from the 1930s and Vox was a TV show host from 1950 (that's the era they died in). Yet they all wear very similar suits, just colour shifted. They all have shoulder pads, the same lapels, stripes and bowties. Alastor and Vox even wear the same pants and have the same shoes (atleast in shape).

Not to mention that in almost all of the designs there's that obnoxious red colour (especially with the red-black-white combination she just loves to put on her creations).

Even characters like Vox who seem like they have different colours (for him a mostly blue colour sceme) still have red accents and only very few characters are allowed designs without any red. Which is not that great since the background is also mostly red and it just hurts to look at sometimes.

Theres also all of the "typical" Vivzepop desing traits. Mostly sharp shapes and features, very slim bodies, sharp teeth, tophats, suits etc. A lot of her characters already blend together even though it doesnt make sense for them to. Would an inventor from the 1880s really dress the same as a TV show host from the 1950s?

Here I should mention that I don't mean blend together as in being completely indistinguishable from eachother but rather having too many similarities that it doesn't make sense for them to have.

As far as personality goes I do have to say that the characters are different enough in their basic chatacterizations. Vaggie especially was mostly refreshing because she acted as a voice of reason sort of and Charlie with her often naive (but very childish) attitude also stood out. But the devil is usually in the details.

I've heard people complain countless times about how pretty much the only continuous joke the show has is a character cursing, insulting others or making a sex joke. I get that cynical characters are sort of the appeal of HH but there's also just a lack of variety there for me. This is probably just a small nitpick here and something that is already done sometimes in the show, but there are different ways a person can be insulting and mean.

Like, for Husk it makes sense to be so up-front with being rude. He's a bartender and dealing with drunk people often requires being very clear and assertive.

But why does Angel never get to do anything else then directly talking about being sexy and making fun of others in such an obvious way. I think they wanted to give the appeal of him reading someone like a drag queen would but he just makes the same observations again and again and not in really clever ways (from what I remember!).

Alastor and Vox could've also been used better in the sense that atleast from what I know people in the entertainment industry (especially ones who do interviews or that stuff) won't directly tell someone that they don't like them. It's much more common for them to bring it up in small ways, like asking a question tied to an embarrassing topic to force the person into having to talk about that stuff.

Like I said this isn't really all too important though. What makes me more annoyed is the lack of diversity when it comes to the villains and how they're treated.

To me Viv has an issue with trying for every villain to play a more goofy role even though it doesn't always fit. Of course you can have "stupid" or silly and mostly funny villains but that shouldn't be every single one. When there are multiple villains in a show what makes them interesting is often how they differ from the others in their attitude and motivation and in HH we just don't really get that.

Sir pentious is never taken seriously as a threat and is mostly treated as incompetend, (I know he gets out of being the villain rather quick but even before that) Adam is just constantly portrayed as a dumb and irrational until we are supposed to take him seriously in the end. Vox doesn't do anything in the show apart from be kinda antagonistic towards Alastor and outside of that he is mainly also presented as being a fun villain rather than an intimidating one (very prominently in the song he has with Alastor where Alastor just completely bashes him at the end). Velvette also has nothing to do. Lucifer isn't treated as an antagonist (even though he should be in my opinion) and is shown to be just a "goofy and silly little guy" ig.

And apart from Valentino's genuinely terrifing scene he has with Angel Dust in episode four, he too is shown to be whiny, obnoxious and mostly dumb in his other scenes (this isn't helped by Viv pushing the idea that the Vee's are just like fun little saturday morning cartoon villains outside of the show). I guess Alastor is different in that regard kinda.

This plus the fact that outside of the characters who are obviously villains no one is allowed to be even slightly critical of Charlies idea without being presented as totally irrational, makes for no variety when it comes to the opposition in Hazbin Hotel. It's just kinda dissapointing to me that a show with this opportunity to create different characters gets stuck in the same conflicts and ideas over and over again.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel criticism #vivzepop critical #hazbin hotel critical #hazbin hotel critique #vivziepop

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gothic-thoughts · 8 months

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Who Is She?

(a/n): now as a black person... I wouldn't let this slip nor slide 🤣😂

Geto Suguru x Black GN Reader Fluff

Bimbo!Reader, Meetcute(ugly), Drabble

CW: Geto saying monkey (cuz 🙄), Suguru slowly falling for your empty headedness

While in the plaza, I feel someone bump into my back, I turn around in disgust to see a short person sitting on their butt from the force of the fall. They were wearing leather knee-high boots and a short skirt that no doubt came down mid-thigh. A black low-cut crop top hugged their chest as well as revealed a chubby stomach.

“Of course, it's a monkey.” I scoff, “Choose your next words wisely, non-sorcerer.”

They struggle to stand back up on their platform boots and then wobble before steading when they stand. I continue to coldly look down on them.

“Ohmygod, I'm so sorry.”

“Be more careful with your movements and know your place. You may only address me respectfully since I have allowed you that much.”

“You're right, cute guy.” They giggle, “Ion even know why I was running so fast in these fuckin’ heels.”

My eyebrow raises as I register their words. “What the hell did you just call me?”

“Uh, yah. Ion know your name so I just went by your face. I mean I guess I coulda said ‘tall guy’ but I'm 5'2" so...”

I try to calm myself down. “You are calling me 'cute' simply because you don't know my name? That's the most foolish excuse I have ever heard.”

“Fine then, ‘cute guy’. What's your name so I can call you that instead.”

“I am Geto Suguru, the special grade sorcerer and the leader of the Curse User Organization, monkey. And you will address me as 'Lord Geto' from now on.”

“Ooou, that sounds important. Suguru is a cute name, by the way.”

Nobody's ever found my surname cute, or even said so, so their words instantly throw me for a loop.

“What?”

“I love your name, it's fun to say. Suguru rolls off the tongue.”

“Are you flirting with me?”

“I mean, I could start. I did say you were cute. I'm (Y/n) by the way~”

It was strange, they're annoying, but I don't even think it's on purpose. It's almost cute, the way that every time those glossed lips opened it was to let out a sweet voice saying something idiotic.

“A human like you has the guts to flirt with THE Suguru?”

"Why?” They tilt their head dumbly, “You famous or something?”

“Famous? Me? Oh ho, yes.” I smirk at the naive human before me, “Not only am I world-renowned, but I am also feared by many and have quite the reputation for doing some heinous things. I don’t think you comprehend how dangerous I am.”

“Ohhhh.” They lean in and whisper under the noise of the plaza, “Are you a yakuza boss? I won't tell.”

Oh, they're adorable. I’m gonna have fun with them. A smirk spread across my face, making the decision to play along with the idiotic thing.

“Why, yes I am. My empire is the most powerful in the entire world. And if you tell anyone about this, you will never see the light of day again.”

“I won't, I swear. I am so good at keeping secrets.”

“I bet. Something tells me your skull doesn’t quite have the capacity.” I touch the tip of their nose with his index finger, “You are quite the interesting thing, aren’t you?”

“So you like me too?”

They’re so dumb, I can’t even tell if they know I’m flirting. Or does that make them clever? This enigma alone makes me want them even more mysterious and I love it. I don’t even think they know how mysterious they are

“In fact, I think I do. And since you know about my um... secret business, I might have to make you mine.”

They gasp. “Really? That was fast.”

“I just know when I see potential in someone, and you? You have that potential.”

“A mafia boss likes me? It’s like a fanfiction.”

“Yeah, exactly; just like fanfiction. I don’t know what else it is about you but,” I grab their chin and pull them so our gazes meet, “You just keep entertaining me with that smooth brain of yours, and I think I want to own you.”

“Ooh, kinky~”

I chuckle and roll my eyes at their oblivious yet flirty reply despite it enticing me further. I lean in closer, lips just an inch away from theirs.

“Kinky, indeed.”

#x black reader #black reader #black writers #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x black reader #black bimbo #suguru geto x reader #suguru geto x y/n #suguru geto x black!reader #geto suguru x reader #geto suguru x you #geto suguru x black reader #geto suguru x y/n #jjk suguru #Spotify #getou suguru x reader #suguru x reader #suguru fluff #jujutsu kaisen suguru

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esperfruit · 3 months

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TTTE Human AU reference sheets and bios Part 3

Mavis Stephenson

Age: 23

Height: 175 cm

Mavis is a feisty young woman and full of ideas. Eager to show what she is capable of, yet she still lacked experience when she moved to Sodor. She was placed under Toby’s tutoring, who she did not like very much at the start. She actively went against his advice after she was told by Diesel Toby was a stuck up wanna-be know-it-all, insisting on doing everything her own way much to Toby’s frustration. Tired of Mavis' antics he left her with a difficult task all by her own and when she failed and Toby helped her out, she started to take his advice finally seriously. Mavis gladly became Toby’s student but still liked to put her own spin on things.

Over time she became less naive and open to bad impressions. Mavis matured into a responsible, creative and eager hard worker. Her way of approaching things from different perspectives has also proven to be very helpful at many occasions, having fallen into good graces with many. Having zero patience for mischief, she frequently berates the twins Bill and Ben. The two were intimidated by her unbreakably determined attitude at first but quickly started to find her cool, looking up to her as an older sister, calling her “Big Sis Mavis”.

She loves her work but she also wished to see more of the island and expand her horizons, so she accompanied Thomas and Percy on one of their escapades once, resulting in them becoming friends. Mavis is still very stubborn and when she starts something, she wants to finish it no matter what tries to stop her. The same stubbornness resulted in her collapsing once when she tried to finish a job despite a sprained ankle, leading her to be carried to an infirmary by Diesel, who took a liking in Mavis and her being the first person he was genuinely nice to.

Diesel’s affection for her grew more and more obvious to Mavis especially when he tried to keep her away from her usual workplace to spend more time with her. While not approving of his antics, she decided to be patient with him as Mavis is able to see past his devious demeanor. When Diesel finally made efforts to better himself, he tried and fumbled to confess to Mavis. Still getting the message, Mavis kindly rejected him as she likes him platonically and offered him her friendship instead, which he happily accepted.

Mavis overall is one of the island’s most enthusiastic and creative people, who strives to always improve herself and find new methods to solve problems unseen by others, carrying an almost infectious confidence and optimism with her.

Rosie Hill

Age: 16

Height: 164 cm

Rosie was born and raised in Scranton, Pennsylvania, USA and moved to Sodor when she was 14 due to her parents’ work. She is lively, sweet, energetic and quick to act. Most of the time she needs something to do in order to not become nervous from understimulation. Rosie is Thomas’ classmate and she quickly began to idolize him, imitating Thomas, which only irritated him. However, they managed to become friends, Rosie stopped imitating him and she is often invited to hang out with Thomas and Percy. Her parents disapprove of her friendship with Thomas but she happily ignores that despite usually being a very obedient daughter.

She was raised very American and still has problems adjusting to Sodor’s culture but she is eager to learn regardless. Even though she is very extroverted, she still struggles with some social cues, very often misunderstanding what others mean and getting into trouble despite only having good intentions. Rosie is easily intimidated by very tall people and gets silent when being yelled at thanks to her very strict parents. She looks up to women like Mavis, Emily and Daisy and after a helpful talk with Mavis managed to grow courage and stand up for herself when her father threatened to make her transfer to a boarding school on the Mainland if she won’t stop being friends with Thomas.

Rosie has shown to be clever, dependable, a good student, free-spirited, humorful and reveals to be quite tomboyish when she’s not with her parents. She likes to have moped races with Thomas or bike races with Percy and she can give great motivational speeches and directly opposes any mistreatment towards others or herself.

On Valentine's Day Diesel, Bill and Ben made fun of how close Rosie and Thomas were, teasing them to be a couple. Irritating Thomas and embarrassing Rosie, led to him avoiding her for most of the day and Rosie felt very hurt. After some inner turmoil on both sides, they decided to set things straight, revealing they both care a lot for each other as friends. Rosie also said she always wanted a sibling and she is delighted that Thomas is like a dear brother to her.

Bertie Leyland

Age: 31

Height: 181 cm

A joyful and whimsical local bus driver. Bertie always welcomes his passengers with a warm and wide smile and a jolly honk-honk from his buse’s horn and says goodbye with a bright “toodle-peep”, making him very beloved by many people. He has a strong attachment to his red single-deck bus and cleans it everyday after his shift. Loving his work and putting a lot of passion into it, Bertie wants to make sure his passengers always have a pleasant and punctual ride. Bertie is genuinely very nice and is always open for a little chat but he also likes to get cheeky with others from time to time and has a boastful side as well.

Nothing ever seems to break his joyful attitude, only getting upset when he runs late, gets stuck or when something might cause or really does cause damage to his bus. He has a rough relationship with his co-worker Bulgy, who is annoyed by Bertie’s cheerfulness and being kept in line by him.

Bertie is a trusty ally of the kids of Thomas’ school as he daily drives them to school and back home, always stopping when a kid barely misses the bus to let them hop on. His helpful and whimsical nature has brought him into many crazy scenarios with Thomas, who he often calls his “little blue friend”.

With Bertie’s inexhaustible cheerfulness it is hard to believe he used to be very down on his luck in the past. Permanently injuring his shoulder in an accident, ruining his potential career as a rugby player, failing university, inheriting his late father’s debts, getting into many other unpleasant situations and even getting abandoned by everyone around him and ending up homeless for a while. It was when he finally got his job as a bus driver on Sodor when he finally found peace and could be the ray of sunshine he naturally is.

Daisy Cammell

Age: 40

Height: 172 cm

Daisy is a lady, who describes herself as a “highly sprung and up to date beauty”. She was

troublesome when she moved from France to Sodor and just started working there. Being rather lazy, refusing to do extra work or manipulating others into doing her work for her. She was an irrational, self-obsessed diva, who constantly belittered others and talked them down.

However, her vanity and stubbornness got her in trouble on multiple occasions with people like Toby, Annie and Clarabel. Her misbehavior brought her in so many uncomfortable situations that she decided to better herself for her sake and others’.

Despite changing for the better, she still is highly authoritative, snarky, snobbish and easily irritated but that is now paired with using her strictness to bring order instead, trustworthiness, engagement, benevolence and a good sense of humor.

She lets Ryan live in the apartment complex she runs and looks after him, developing motherly feelings for the young Gresley. Daisy also became friends with Harvey despite Diesel trying to cause discord between them and also made up with Annie and Clarabel.

When Diesel accidentally hospitalized Daisy after playing a prank on her, the guilt became too much for him and he sneaked into her hospital room to apologize to her while she pretended to be asleep and learned that he secretly likes her. Daisy did forgive him in the end but decided to not let him off the hook that easily and invited him to have a serious talk where she taught him that if he really wants to make friends, he seriously had to change his ways just like she did in the past. Diesel took her words to heart, genuinely making an effort to change, and to support the young man, she offered him a spot at her apartment complex and invited him to talks whenever he needed some.

Daisy found a great liking to Emily as she found her strong personality very attractive and the two began to meet up more and more until the two women decided to start a relationship.

Paxton Doncaster

Age: 21

Height: 174 cm

Paxton is a gentle, young man, who recently just finished secondary school alongside his best friends Sidney Horwich and Norman Bulleid. The trio applied to jobs on Sodor and were all taken, all three of them moved into Daisy’s apartment complex and started into their work life with much enthusiasm. He struggled at school due to his short attention span but he managed to push through and graduate eventually even if it was close.

Paxton has a very loving and supportive family and his parents always looked out for him. They were worried about their son moving away because despite being very proud he turned out to be such a good-hearted person, they also know he’s very gullible, naive and easily taken advantage of. He used to be tricked by his peers constantly and he never fought back because he did not notice he was tricked or was too scared to do so. He also takes sarcasm literally, confusing others and himself. Paxton is more of a follower than a leader and finds making big decisions very stressful, letting Norman usually call the shots in their group activities. Surprisingly, Paxton is very self-aware, knowing about all his flaws and he also knows, he can’t really change it as this is just how he is.

Wanting to become friends with Diesel because he thought he seemed lonely, he fell right into Devious Diesel’s traps, being taken advantage of on multiple occasions. Like when he unintentionally helped Diesel to accuse Luke murdering the to that time missing Victor but his conscience and good will helped him to make everything right again because Paxton is always willing to do the right thing and is even able to gain unexpected mental strength when he has to help someone.

He never gave up on Diesel and was very happy and proud when the latter actually wanted to change.

There are times where he can show some cunningness and has wisened-up from experience, which are mostly displayed when he helps others when they have to teach someone a lesson. Despite believing himself to not be very smart, he loves solving mysteries, no matter how tricky and his eyes lighten up whenever he finds a clue.

When Paxton, Sidney and others were trapped in a cave because of a landslide, he stepped up and gained the courage to speak up and keep everyone calm until help would arrive, taking on the role of a leader he never thought to be capable of. Paxton supported Sidney, who was having a panic attack when he got injured while trapped in the cave, giving first aid and calming him down. After three hours they were finally freed and Paxton had received some new found respect from many and he and Sidney have grown closer severely thanks to the incident.

Nia Kimani

Age: 19

Height: 176 cm

A young, enthusiastic woman from Kenya in East Africa. Nia was pendling from job to job, still trying to find her true calling, having gained a lot of experience already despite her young age. When she was traveling to her next job interview, she saw a boy in blue trying to help someone push a broken down rally car up a hill and offered her help as her motto is “two heads are better than one”. After they were able to help the driver, they took both of them to the next city. The blue boy introduced himself as Thomas Billington from Sodor in the UK and the rally car’s driver as Ace Canley from Australia. According to Ace, the two young men are traveling around the world to find clues about “Gold Dust” and Thomas said he joined in to find his missing parents and to help a friend called “Lady”.

Nia was nothing but confused at first but found the whole objective rather interesting and because she was an orphan without a family to return to, she thought it was a good opportunity to find her place to stay somewhere out there and joined them. Quickly Nia learned Ace was nothing but bad news and that he and Thomas were not friends but Thomas was only following for his own objectives. She and the young boy became friends over their journey through Africa and Brazil and Nia found out Thomas was being manipulated by Ace into doing all of this and he actually wanted to return home despite having fun traveling and wanting to find answers.

After arriving in San Francisco, California in the USA, Nia forced Ace to let Thomas go home before he could get into any more danger. Unable to find any answer for her own goal, Nia thought she had to return home to Kenya but Thomas suggested joining him to Sodor and she gladly agreed. Thanks to Thomas convincing Sir Topham Hatt to hire Nia as a contract worker for the time being until she could become a full-fledged employee, Nia finally found a place to stay.

Nia, who was very protective of Thomas and became like an older sister to him, quickly fell into good graces with his caretakers Edward, Annie and Clarabel, who were very grateful to her for watching out for him while he was dragged into Ace’s mess. She also formed a friendship with the other newbie Rebecca, who was currently struggling with her assigned mentor. She is the one of those, who stayed back at Sodor when an excursion team was formed to go around the world again to find clues about Gold Dust way more effectively.

She has a positive attitude, is adventurous, always open for new experiences, a good problem solver and has a strong belief in friendship. She is very protective of her younger peers and always looks out for them, particular Thomas, Percy. Rosie and Rebecca. Nia is good-mannered but can become very scary when angered and does not hold back when she seems it appropriate to lash out on troublesome people like Ace. A side of hers she tries is her sensitivity and strong fear of being ignored or abandoned.

Rebecca Bulleid

Age: 18

Height: 168 cm

The daughter of the head of the wealthy Bulleid Group. Rebecca was recruited to work for Sir Topham Hatt, mostly for business relationships but also the Fat Controller needed new personnel to make up for many of his best workers leaving for the Great Excursion. She was placed under Gordon’s tutoring, who was at a low point in his life at the time and despised her and Nia at first because he thought they were there to replace Edward and Henry, who were chosen for the Excursion while he stayed back on Sodor. It was a very difficult road to get there but she managed to grow on Gordon in the end after all and he became her proud and caring mentor.

Rebecca has a big heart and is usually happy-go-lucky and cheerful but also has a very insecure side as she fears to be inferior to her seniors, can get anxious whenever she fails to meet expectations and feels that she might be seen as a liability, something that was started by Gordon when he still hated her and constantly insulted her. She is also on the more clumsy side and acts humble whenever she causes a mishap.

Rebecca is always willing to see the good in others and is quite gullible and oblivious in a similar way to Paxton. She often fails to read the room and causes a lot of confusion like when Diesel tried to be rude to her but her unconventional way of thinking just left him puzzled or when she used to anger Gordon due to being unable to understand his hardships.

Adrean “Diesel 10” Diesel

Age: 51

Height: 199 cm

Heartless leader of a nations-wide feared crime syndicate, Adrean is the tenth in line as the head of the dangerous Diesel family and goes by Diesel 10 or D10 for that reason. D10 rules his organization with an iron fist and does not hesitate to serve cruel punishments towards those who irritate or disappoint him, including his own nephew Darius, who he raised himself after his parents’ passing. He is ruthless, cold, arrogant and unhinged through and through as he tends to break out in loud cackles out of nowhere. His lack of reason and common sense, made him replace his left arm with a hydraulic claw he named “Pinchy” and even speaks to it from time to time, unironically believing it speaks back to him.

He is really strong and someone to be truly feared in combat and only has some back -up from his two henchmen Splatter and Dodge in the background. His sadism makes him toy with his prey until he gets bored or they “break by accident”. Said sadism is also displayed in other forms of abuse Darius had experienced most of his life in order to get “toughened-up” by his uncle, only making him end up to be terrified by D10.

One day his research team learned about Gold Dust and a mysterious entity called “Lady”. Wanting to gain that power for himself, D10 sent Darius to Sodor for intel. After taking too long, D10 decided to take matters into his own hands. All of this culminates into a large confrontation with some inhabitants of the island and the goddess Lady. D10 managed to land a fatal blow on Lady but he himself ended up falling off a cliff, getting hurt severely in the process. He might be out of commission for the time being but the evil mafia boss plans his dreadful return.

Lady

Age: unknown

Height: 166 cm

The goddess of a hidden world of spirits called Shining Time and the guardian of Gold Dust. Not knowing how she ended up where she is now and what her true purpose is with her role, she wandered around the Island of Sodor and has only been spotted a handful of times but her existence still only remained a mythos. One fateful day, she was fatally injured by D10 and fell down an abyss to her demise. But she was found by Thomas, who carried the Golden Whistle with him at the time. In order to survive in any way, she gave up her body and transferred her soul into the Golden Whistle but lost all of her memories as a result.

Now housed in the Golden Whistle, she can only be seen and heard by Thomas and can barely interact with the world around her. She made the conclusion that to regain her lost memories, to help Thomas find his parents and Hiro to move on into the afterlife, she has to uncover the truth behind the Golden Whistle and the Gold Dust, which she can only do with Thomas by her side. Thomas and Lady did not get along at first, mostly through their clashing personalities and because Thomas blames her on many tragedies that happened that were in correlation with Gold Dust. They managed to become friends in the end and Thomas promised Lady to help her regain her lost memories out of kindness and not only in self-interest.

Lady is gentle, kind and smart. She has a good heart, genuinely wants the best for everyone and hates seeing others get hurt. But her amnesia and position as an otherworldly being makes her oblivious and feel disconnected to humans and their customs and really wishes to understand them regardless if it is useful to her cause or not. Her rational mind also makes it difficult for her to comprehend more complex human emotions, getting into many misunderstandings because of it. Despite her initial struggles to understand them, she truly grew to love the people on the island she wandered for so many years and wants to protect them at all cost from evil forces that are after her.

#thomas the tank engine #thomas and friends #ttte human au #ttte mavis #ttte rosie #ttte bertie #ttte daisy #ttte paxton #ttte nia #ttte rebecca #ttte diesel 10 #ttte lady #ttte humanized

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unfixablebabyyy · 5 months

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so i just read You and was obsessed w the perspective and also i just love getting a lil peak into dennis's brain so this is a something i wrote idk (also slightly inspired by that one meme of that anime girl lol)

(nsfw, minors DNI)

Dee's taste in... well, everything is absolutely abhorrent, but her taste in people is especially repugnant, which is why I can't fathom why such a striking creature would ever consider her a friend. What do you see in her? She's annoying and rude and abrasive, but you, you're none of those things. And I knew that the second I met you, but I had to be sure. So for the last week or so I've been doing a bit of research and it turns out, you really are just perfect- kind, smart, fun, absolutely stunning. Your only flaw lies in the fact that you're so incredibly naive. You leave your doors unlocked, your windows open, you always walk around the city with headphones on and your face in your phone. You're such an easy target. Don't you know how sick the world can be? But it's ok, it's not your fault- you're prey. Good thing I've got my eye on you. I'll protect you, even if it means you never go outside off leash again.

And now, as you sit across the bar from me, I can smell your perfume and I just want to drown in it, in you. You're half turned away, joking with Charlie as he throws darts, and from your side profile I can make out the tiny bumps of your nipples under your shirt. The past three nights you've come with Dee to the bar, you haven't worn a bra. You're clever, but not subtle. It's beyond cute. When you turn to me, I make sure my gaze lingers on your chest a second too long. I want you to know that I noticed.

"Hey!" I could never get tired of your voice. I need to know what it sounds like after a long night of crying.

"I.D., please."

You giggle. I've been carding you since the first night you came in, it's become a joke between us. Really, I just love reminding myself how young you are. When you hand it over, I brush my fingers against yours. I pretend to examine it and nod approvingly before handing it back. You grin, and this time, you brush your fingers against mine.

"Alright, what can I get you?"

You bite your lip, "Surprise me." Of course you want me to decide for you. I smile. I could surprise you. I could slip you something and we could have a night full of surprises. But not yet.

"You got it." And I know exactly what I'll make you- I saw the cranberry juice in your fridge and the vodka on your counter while doing my research. You were at work.

"Just don't make it too strong." Don't worry, I won't start making them strong until you're at least three in. Your eyes go wide as the song playing over the jukebox changes from some Dire Straits Mac had put on to Depeche Mode. "Personal Jesus". Kind of on the nose, but you won't notice.

"Oh my god I fucking love this song," you're so bubbly, and I know, I saw the album sitting on your record player. That's why I queued it up when Dee mentioned you'd be stopping by.

"I saw them when I was in middle school," don't forget, I'm old enough to be your daddy. I was in my twenties when you were born. You like that- I can tell by the way your cheeks get a little more pink.

"Ugh you're so lucky, I would love it if they toured again," I slide you your drink and smile.

"Well, if they do, I'll take you." Did your dad ever buy you concert tickets? I bet he did.

"Then it's a date," now you're really blushing, "or whatever." You're so sweet it's making me lightheaded. 'Or whatever'? So submissive. I imagine if I were to take a bite out of you I might get a toothache.

"It can be a date," of course it's a date. You bring your drink to your lips and sip and god I wish I could just reach over and taste you. You smile as you set it down.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd think maybe you like me," Like you? Last night I was looking at custom dog bowls for the cage I'm going to put you in. I can't sleep at night without touching myself to the thought of cumming inside of you, marking you, making you mine. I don't like you, I want to cut you open and crawl inside of your ribs and hold your heart in my hands.

"You're adorable," I could rip you apart with my teeth. You cross your legs and readjust in your seat. Again, not subtle. I wonder just how wet you are. I mean Jesus Christ, all I have to do is look at you and I can practically hear that little lamb heart beating in your chest, and I can only wear this wool for so long. Sooner or later you're going to see the teeth and the claws. Maybe they'll scare you, maybe not. Either way, it won't matter when they're making you bleed, and judging by how red your face gets when I speak to you, I think you'll bleed easy. Bruise easy, too.

"Do you flirt with all of your sister's friends?" you're starting to get a little bolder. I lean in so that my face is inches from yours, like I have a secret. Your eyelashes flutter.

"No. Only you," I won't play your games, I want my intensity to bring you to your knees. The last couple of days have been fun- toying with you, making you wonder whether my charming smiles and compliments and gentle touches were platonic or not. But it's time to show you who's in charge. You bite your lip. I swear to god I can smell the pheromones on you.

It doesn't take me long to get you drunk enough to slip out the back door with me while everyone else argues over a game of pool. You really are such a lightweight. As the door swings shut behind us, I cup your little face in my hands and press my lips to yours. I don't want to. What I want to do is rip your clothes off and pull you to the ground and watch as the panic begins to rise when I slap my hand over your pretty mouth to muffle you. But that could be dangerous and I have to control myself. You kiss me back and slip your hands under my t-shirt where they roam across my chest, up my shoulders, down my back. It's giving me goosebumps and making it harder not to hurt you. I decide to test my limits. When I push you up against the rough brick exterior, I shove a little too hard and you yelp. But it only seems to make you want me more. So when I lean in to kiss you again, I bite down on your bottom lip, and you moan. Of course you're one of those girls. You love the abuse.

My hand finds your neck and you gasp even though I don't tighten my grip- I just want you to know I could- I want to. Someday I will- I'll choke you so hard and for so long you'll pass out, and then I'll smack your face until you wake up, just to do it again. I'll make you beg for the privilege of breathing. But not tonight. If I ever want to get to that point, I have to stay focused. Besides, just the feeling of my fingertips on your throat is turning you on- I can feel a wet patch forming on my knee where I shoved my leg between yours.

The heat of your body is making your perfume stronger and I feel like I'm going insane, like I'm on the verge of doing something depraved. You push your hand into the waistband of my jeans, then my boxers, and I can't help but growl when your fingers wrap around my cock. As you start pumping your hand up and down, I lose myself for a moment and dig my fingers into your neck. You whine, and when I release, I notice the dark red crescents my nails left on your soft skin.

It's best if I make my hands busy, so I work on the button of your pants as you continue to play with me. I groan into your neck as you squeeze me hard. Pretty soon I'm going to have to pin your wrists to the wall. When you do it again I bite your neck hard enough to serve as a warning and you quickly soften your grip as your jeans inch down just enough. Good girl.

You shiver as the night air breathes down the alley. I can feel your pulse in your cunt as I touch you over your panties. You're so pathetic, you easy little whore. I haven't even bought you dinner and you're already about to let me fuck you stupid next to a dumpster behind my bar. But I won't. I'm gonna make you beg for it. I want you to be so achy and needy for my cock you'll let me do anything to you. I can't fuck you tonight, you haven't earned it.

I sigh and retract my hand. "You're drunk," I press my lips into the crook of your neck and practically feel you deflate against the wall. "Why don't I take you home?"

"Oh," your voice is so sweet and soft, "ok."

I pull away and brush a loose strand of hair from your face before planting a kiss on your lips. Relax, angel. I'm not done with you. You pull your hand out of my pants and the absence almost hurts.

"My car's just down the street, I'll tell Dee you got sick," I brush my thumb across your cheek and peck your forehead before snaking my arm around your waist and leading you down the alleyway. At the end, before we step onto the sidewalk, you stop.

"Did I do something?" Your eyes are so big.

"Consent is really important," I lie, "I just want you to feel safe with me," it'll be all the more enjoyable for me when you realize you're not. My answer seems to satisfy you.

When we get to my Range Rover, you raise an eyebrow, "Nice car."

"Thanks, Frank bought it for me when I got into Penn," it doesn't matter if it's true, now you think I know how to take care of something for a long time. I've established my ability to commit.

"Jesus, isn't that Ivy League?" And just like that, you see that I belong to an elite community of scholars.

"Yeah."

In the Range, you begin looking through my CD collection, pulling out albums you recognize, asking about ones you don't. You like old music, old cars, old men. You mention that your dad introduced you to Christopher Cross, so of course I slip it into the radio and skip to Sailing and tell you it's my favorite, which is true, but I happen to know it's yours, too.

I pretend to be lost and ask you where to go even though I've made the drive at least 20 times in the last week. When we get to your place, I park the car right outside of the familiar front doors and look up at your dark window.

"Are you sure you don't want to come in?" you spread your legs ever so slightly. So obvious.

"How about I cook you dinner tomorrow night," you'll act like a whore when I say, first I've got to teach you some manners.

"When?" you don't want to leave.

"I'll call you." Get out.

You step out onto the curb and wave.

"Goodnight," I say and you turn and head in. I don't leave until I know you're inside, safe. In fact, I don't really leave at all. I park the Range a block away and walk back. Your light is still off, but even in the darkness, I can see you up there. You really should close your curtains, especially when you're inside, naked and panting, humping your pillow like a bitch in heat.

#dennis reynolds #it's always sunny in philadelphia #dennis x reader

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mask131 · 3 months

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What Oz could have been: The Great and Powerful

I first heard about the original script for Disney's "Oz The Great and Powerful" through a fan art of Theodora by the brilliant artist hwilki65 over at DeviantArt. The fan-art in question is gone now, but do not hesitate to go check the artist's gallery over at DeviantArt, he is one of the most thorough Oz artists of the Internet with tons of clever and beautiful takes on the Ozian world.

Everybody remembers Disney's "Oz The Great and Powerful", right? This Disney movie that attempted to be a prequel to the MGM movie, and yet couldn't really because Disney didn't have the rights? This VERY divise 2013 movie which was a big flop in terms of Oz adaptation? You remember, this thing which took a very cool concept of prequel, a lot of beautiful visuals and impressive visual effects and just... drowned it in cliche plot points, wasted opportunities and the most insufferable characters you ever met?

Yeah, this movie.

In his description for his fan-art, hwilki65 evoked the original scenario for the movie. His fan-art was of the "original" Theodora, not the one from the movie - and while the final product might seem like a simple cash-grab attempting at reclaiming the MGM heritage, these early drafts proved that the movie ACTUALLY started out as much more faithful to the Oz books and more sincere in its attempt at reconciliating the various Oz heritages into something new.

Of course, the idea of a better original version of the movie, that eventually was butchered into the story we can see today, was very intriguing. So I checked out the original script for the movie (but not after YEARS of searching it around, because it wasn't disponible online at first). And OH MY! The original scenario is indeed very different from the final movie, and quite better in term of overall quality! I did a full breakdown of this script back at my Oz side-blog (@witchesoz ), but to give you a taste of what we lost, and to encourage you to go seek this original scenario, here are some key points different from the final movie:

Oscar, the Wizard of Oz. In the movie? A selfish, greedy, womanizing jerk who starts out as the villain of the story, and his evolution arc is basically just him learning to be a decent human being. In the original script? He was such a positive character - in fact I will dare say he was a saner and cleaner version of Jack Sparrow. He was this kind-hearted, goofy, extravagant stage magician VERY good at his job (he was also a ventriloquist like in the novel, AND an escape artist/contortionist), but unfortunately unappreciated by the folks of 1900s USA, so he was forced to do snake-oil selling just to survive. He wasn't motived by greed or lust, but by his day-dreaming and ambition at being the greatest magician of all time, acclaimed by the masses - and the reason he played into "Yes I'm the Wizard of the prophecy" wasn't because of some girls or riches, but simply because Oz was the first place where his magic tricks actually impressed someone.

Remember this little winged monkey fella that Oscar saves the life of in Oz, and so the monkey swears a "life debt" to the wizard and becomes his funny sidekick? In the original script it was the reverse situation. Oscar was helped by a winged monkey, and thanked the talking animal for saving his life, swearing he had a "life debt" TO THE WINGED MONKEY, not the reverse.

In the final movie, when Oscar is in the tornado, he just whimpers and begs for his life. In the original script? He underwent a King Lear-like monologue, insulting the winds and defying the storm, insulting the tornado and daring it to kill him.

Theodora... Oh, Theodora! The character was originally designed as the very opposite of what she ended up as. She wasn't a shy, naive, nice girl - she was this strong, confident, majestic witch. Oscar didn't manipulate her like a teenage girl: she was the one who manipulated Oscar like a puppet by pretending to be a good witch and forcing him into the role of The Wizard of Oz. Yes I say "by pretending" to be a good a witch. Because originally, Theodora was a wicked witch FROM the start. She knew and was in league with her sister's evil plan. The only difference between the two is that Theodora, as the younger and less experimented sister, still had some humanity left in her - feelings of kindness and human decency that the wizard managed to "wake up" by just... being nice to her and treating her like a regular human being. There was the whole "I give you the music box" scene, but it was the reverse? In the original draft Oscar didn't lie, he just gave her a random music box as a gift for helping him in Oz, just out of kindness without expecting anything in return ; and that DID touch Theodora because indeed, since she is a wicked witch, she never had such a genuine gift out of pure kindness.

Originally we would have the backstory of the Cowardly Lion. Theodora, wishing to "test" if the Wizard truly had powers or not, secretely turned a rabbit into a lion, and had it attack Oscar while he was alone and presumably defenseless... Only for the Wizard to shoot it with a gun, causing in this rabbit-lion the fear of humanity.

Originally the servants of the Wicked Witches were the various terrible tribes of the novel "The Emerald City of Oz", monstrous outsiders the Witch sisters had Oz invaded with. The Growleywogs, the Whimsies, the Nomes (well rather the Gnomes)...

In the movie Theodora "turn to evil" is literaly just "Oh, a guy cheated on me, I'm heartbroken, let me nomnom on some evil". In the original draft? SO MUCH BETTER! Evanora, noticing Oscar had rekindled the last piece of goodness in her sister, first tries to convince Oscar he should kill Theodora because she is "in league with the wicked witch". When Oscar refuses to commit murder, Evanora tries to convince Theodora Oscar was trying to kill her... But Theodora doesn't buy it and, even though the Wizard knows she is a Wicked Witch, she still helps him escape Evanora in return for the kindness he showed her. And afterward, Evanora spends many, many scenes abusing her sister, at first verbally, psychologically, finally physically, to convince her to give up on the last of her humanity and enter a deeper, more monstrous stage of wickedness. Theodora does end up burning her skin due to the tears - but they're the tears her sisters make her shed with her torture. And Theodora resists' Evanora poisonous words, only to give up when Glinda causes a siege on the Emerald City and the Witches must prepare themselves to directly confront and fight Oscar.

And can we speak about Glinda? She was SO MUCH closer to the Glinda of the books! She was this majestic, beautiful and powerful warlord-witch living in a grand palace in the south, all on her own (because, since she is a witch, she literaly needs no servant). As soon as she saw Oscar, she cut through his bullshit and shoot down his dream of grandeur, because she knows what real magic is (all Witches do, but the Wicked Witches played along to better manipulate Oscar). She gathers an ACTUAL army of thousand of people to besiege the Emerald City ; and during the war she uses so much more her powers, bu unleashing blinding mists and huge snowstorms, and literaly stopping or unleashing the winds. Oh yes, and all possible romance between Oscar and her is also clearly made impossible when it is revealed that Witches cannot kiss humans - else humans DIE (which also puts Theodora's loneliness under a new light).

Oh yes, and in the original draft, Oscar's development was actually him going from this ambitious daydreamer who only wished for a fantasy land to escape to, where he would be a great and acclaimed wizard... to him actually being fed up with Oz where everybody wants to kill or manipulate him, and dreaming to return to Kansas to settle down with those he truly love, and live there a mundane, quiet, normal life, as a regular man... Something he ends up being forced to give up, because he is needed to prevent the Wicked Witches from overtaking Oz, and so he literaly is trapped within his own dream and forced to give up what he realized too lat was what he wanted all along...

Seriously, the original draft for the movie was SO INSANELY COOL. It was still a rough draft and it had pacing problems, and some cheesy stuff that definitively needed to be cut, and also some weird phrasing that made it sound somehow racist sometimes? But outside of that, the characters and plot were truly so much better than what we got!

#oz the great and powerful #original script #original scenario #what could have been #what oz could have been #theodora #oscar diggs #glinda #oz #script vs movie

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