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ladystarksneedle · 1 year ago

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God I don't understand how people ship Alysmond in this fandom. There must be something wrong with them (perverts, I tell you).

A better ship for Aemond would be one with a dreamer, although younger (obviously). Let’s make her silver-haired and blue-eyed while we’re at it. Oh my, why not have her commit war crimes on dragonbacks alongside him like the perfect couple? 🥺👉👈 Let their romance be as darkly romantic as it can get and everyone will swoon! But wait; it gets even better! Just imagine if this woman bore his bastard children. Now THAT is truly a much better ship! Don’t you agree? Can I get a hallelujah?!

Helllooo Kalki! Congratulations on being my first discourse ask lol. I'm going to get right into it from a mixed pov. I watched the show before I read the book so you can maybe get a different perspective of my views on this ship. Again all these opinions are my own, I don't condone or promote any ship, merely like and comment on what I find interesting.

So when I first watched Hotd I thought Aemond and Helaena were cute. They were cute as siblings when they were younger and have an easy going, intriguing dynamic when they're older. Helaena seemed to be comfortable in his presence when one of the kings guard's brought Aemond to Alicent's chambers and Aemond was seemingly fond of his sister in episode 7 when he says he would do his duty by her. Now I personally interpreted it as something not romantic. Aemond from the get go has been shown to be heavily influenced by Alicent and his own traditions as a Targaryen. He's a stickler for duty and he sees Aegon shun every opportunity handed to him which he so desperately craves. He craves a dragon at that point, he craves a position which is worthy of him, respect and validation. Helaena along with being his sister, seems as a means or an added advantage being conferred to him were he in Aegon's position instead. She's his sister, he's close to her, he cares for her and he'll treat her much better than Aegon would along with the other duties Aegon's been bestowed with by order of his birth.

When they grow up we see Helaena and Aemond again comfortable in each other's presence. She looks up at him to seek comfort in moments of distress and he looks out for her when they are "at a threat" from the opposing faction. So for me, there was no obvious element of romance but again they're Targaryens so who knows? Siblings don't sibling like normal ones do🤷‍♀️

Now after I read the book and found out Helaena and Aemond had minimal to no interaction in it, my opinion changed drastically. All of her character exploration there revolves around Aegon, Alicent, her children and even Rhaenyra. Aemond is barely mentioned in relation to her.

Now if the show wanted to completely invent something new again they could, but to me personally, it would be a huge let down, not only because it takes away from the intresting and conflicted relationship Helaena and Aegon have in the books but also because I feel it goes completely against her combined, meshed book and show charcterisation.

Helaena is shown to be a dreamer on the show. That's something new they added which doesn't deviate so much from her book charcterisation. She's gentle, kind and has a strength which shines through her softness. She is feminine and strong. No pun intended. In the book she's depicted as a happy mother, a sensible advisor and a beloved queen which as far as season 1 is concerned I can sort of see happening in the future too.

Now coming back to the ask, I'd like to ask why someone would want to completely change this woman's charcterisation to make her a warrior queen in the first place. I'm all for her wanting revenge after b&c. If that were the case in the books or it was done and explored well on the show I would cheer for joy. Here is a mother who's been wronged in the worst possible way wanting revenge, hell yes! But alternatively there is nothing wrong with her mourning and succumbing to grief instead and in my opinion it makes her all the more human. She's been traumatised to no extent why shouldn't anyone in her position be allowed to fall into despair without being called weak. Grieving does not make you weak. To say "let her be a warrior to show how strong she is" doesn't sit completely right with me because she's strong to me either way. She shows strength in captivity, strength in letting her children and Aegon go, despite all the horror she faces. Strength need not be of one kind, it can be through perseverance and retaining your softness. Sadly she does kill her self which is again very understandable. It doesn't make her weak. To summarise giving her another arc for the reason of making her "a strong female charcter" seems fishy to me and I don't like it's implications.

Coming to her children being Aemond's. There are many posts detailing the opening sequence of Hotd which shows the entire family tree. Anyone who wishes can clearly see the twins are not Aemond's. As far as the show is concerned I'd be highly disappointed to find out they were his because first the timelines dont match and he'd have to be a kid, younger than her to do the deed and after that questionable incident at 13 I doubt duty bound Aemond would have gone ahead with it. Secondly both Aemond and Helaena have grown up listening to Alicent secretly chastise Rhaenyra and her brood. Do you think Hightower-seven worshipper-mother's traumatised children would think of doing the same thing she berates her rival about, begetting bastatds when it was a bastard who cut out Aemond's eye. Now I'm not saying he hates them because canon wise he may have either a bastard or a true born son with alys but at present the Aemond portrayed to us would likely not indulge in activities as such and neither would Helaena.

As for alysmond. Alys by herself is an intriguing character, as well as Aemond who is my favourite after season 1. I'm not hoping for a whirlwind mills and boon romance. I would rather see a codependent, forced proximity, reluctant allies type of relationship bloom due to the circumstances they've found themselves in, which gives them solace while also driving them to insanity. I want questionable romance and jaw dropping character arcs ok. Not a fairytale.

Tldr : I like helaemond as a fanon ship. Their dynamic could have been interesting in a different scenario and the actors are two pretty people so what's not to love. As far as canon and the show is concerned, it's a no for me.

#asks #lovely mutuals💕#fandom discourse #hotd

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maedivae · 2 years ago

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Who was the worst, snow or coin?

Why?

Thank you. @curiousnonny

This will be a long post! But I have some funny little sentences thrown in there, it's worth it. I can safely say Snow was worse, especially with the prequel in mind but even just counting the trilogy, he's definitely the source of most of everyone's problems. But it's a testament to how annoying Coin was that she can appear in one book and be compared to the main villain at all. I'll explain my perspective on Coin but first Snow:

I think by nature he always had some narcissistic and self-serving traits, since he's an asshole early on in Ballad. I mean, in the first chapter he has extremely weird judgmental comments about how his cousin Tigris might have prostituted herself out since they're heavily impoverished. He's very morally pure, only thinking in black and white. Overall he's controlling in his relationship to Lucy Gray, as he gets jealous over any references to her having previous relationships, and pretends to have empathy for other people but it's surface level. Even his grief over Sejanus lasts a short time, with his only concern being whether or not his mom will still send him cookies. And then with his death he steals Sejanus's entire claim to his family, since Snow is on the verge of bankruptcy if not already there. It's not difficult to see how well he fits into the world of politics from here.

Although Snow was more ambitious than his classmates and rivals, he had just about the same underlying ideologies so I guess in that way he was ultimately a product of the Capitol and represents a lot more in the story. He believes humans are inherently self-interested, and when it comes down to it, anyone would be able to put their own survival above their own morals. It's what he does in the prequel. It's what he believes the Games prove, that the most innocent members of society (kids) are able to turn into monsters.

That kind of viewpoint is in opposition to Katniss's actions, so he's a better direct antagonist than Coin. Like, there's no way any of Katniss's actions could be attributed to pure survival if we're being serious. I know some people like to pretend she's an unemotional survivalist, but time and again she wants to team up with someone's grandma who's nonverbal from a stroke, middle aged computer science nerds, a twelve year old, a recovering drug addict who keeps her up at 3 AM, an alcoholic who trips on his own puke, and a lovesick teenage boy whose bone you can see protruding from his leg wound and leaking pus. She has the option to not tolerate many of these people she just never takes it. It's why the rebels liked Katniss to begin with! When she says she doesn't want Snow to win, she doesn't want his mindset to win. She bets on Peeta not having a flashback and trying to kill her because she believes that people aren't as bad as Snow makes them out to be.

So really I just feel like Snow was always the villain, Coin was more of a side antagonist, a secondary threat for Katniss to deal with after everything's said and done.

We know more about Snow than Coin, and we expect him to be evil as a dictator, so perhaps we may be more surprised or betrayed by Coin committing war crimes when she's supposed to be a rebel leader. But I feel like she wasn't always evil based on what little information we have of her. Just strict, because leading District 13 through an epidemic in close quartered underground spaces was probably rough. The same outbreak which took out her own family (she had a husband and daughter). She uses the same strict set of rules as we see District 13 under when Katniss arrives. This wouldn't be a problem if not for the severity of what it means to break these rules and the lack of equity in the presence of equality.

Like, Katniss has to fight for her Capitol prep team to not be tortured over stealing food. They were being starved in a room by the time she found them. She also has to fight for the victors currently being tortured and manipulated into saying anti-rebellion statements in the Capitol to be pardoned if they even make it safely to 13, no guarantees there, because they wait a few months to try rescuing them. When they do get the victors from the Capitol, Coin and Plutarch try to speed up their recoveries in order to get them back in the public eye to be used as propaganda. This means drugging them and sending them into a war zone against their consent. And that's not even covering Coin's barely disguised attempts to kill Katniss, endangering everyone around her too, then when that fails killing her sister instead because then she'd finally stay out of her way. But of course that doesn't work out.

Coin is very cold-blooded like Snow. Obviously. And she's really a symbol of what's to come if Katniss doesn't nip some of these rebels in the bud. Rebels who haven't even been in danger from the Capitol, by the way, since the people from 13 have been hiding in a bunker for 75 years. Coin, who suggests punishing the Capitol with their own Games, hasn't had to sacrifice any of 13's young to the Games. It's not her decision to make (and it's the wrong one anyways). District 13 is practically a separate country trying to swoop in and take over Panem with an actual civil war between oppressor and oppressed happening.

At a certain point in Mockingjay, Katniss knows Snow dying is an inevitability, the geezer is coughing up blood and swallowing it back with his wine and then taking inconspicuous naps at his desk. A light breeze could come in from an open window and get the job done. So there's no use in her wish of killing him anymore. That doesn't mean he's not as evil, because he's done far more over the years, but I think by Katniss going on a vengeful quest to kill Snow for a large part of the book to ultimately give it up is powerful. Because while Snow was the origin of the evil, Coin would've just continued it if she wasn't stopped. And she had only one arrow to spare.

~~~

Also an aside that Katniss's motivations are mainly for Peeta in Mockingjay. What triggers her to go to the Capitol in search of vengeance is literally what happens to Peeta. She can't deal with it in 13 and she feels useless trying to help him, to the point where assassinating Snow is a more likely goal. What ultimately convinces her to become the Mockingjay is Peeta. I gotta say it!

#the hunger games #thg #thg meta #katniss everdeen #coriolanus snow #alma coin #president snow #president coin #district 13 #tbosas spoilers #tbosas #long post #text post #answered

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starlixir · 3 months ago

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💬Arthur

My muse's thoughts!

❖

❝Arthur?

Well, he is quite something. Very interestin' and I definitely love to get to know him more, which I'm trying the best I can without stepping over his toes. If he wish to open up, he eventually will. Anyways! He may be an outlaw and had his hands dirty with murder, robbing, and quite a bit of other crimes he has committed. Will likely do so, of course. It doesn't take away the kind heart he has. He may not see it himself, which is understandable. We are our own worst enemies after all. But he is a good man for an outlaw, willing to help someone out, even if money is involved. He's not getting money because he is being greedy, but because he wants to use that money 'o help others out. The Van Der Linde Gang that is. At least, that's how I see it.

Many associate wantin' money because you are greedy, which is true in many cases. Not to him. He enjoys helpin'. From how I observe him from time to time. Not to mention, people enjoy havin' him around. Obviously, not everyone. I, myself, came to enjoy havin' his presence around, but perhaps it's because I'm always willing to befriend many people around me. Perhaps I enjoy anyone's presence at this point.

Ah, there goes my rambling again.

My point is that he is a great man for an outlaw like himself. Loyal and have a heart of gold. Sure, it's not the same as someone you'll find living an ordinary life. That's the thing. He's not living an average man's life. One day, I hope he gets to see himself how I view him or even what others view him.❞

#anonymous #Sᴍᴏᴏᴛʜ Sᴀɪʟɪɴɢ ﹣ ᴘʀᴏᴍᴘᴛᴇᴅ ᴀsᴋ #⊰━Aѕĸ αɴѕwered━⊱

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robininthelabyrinth · 3 years ago

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Fic were both JZX and Jiang Yanli are trans? I imagine the engagement would get complicated.

The More Things Change - ao3

“My lady,” the midwife said. “Congratulations. You have a daughter.”

Madame Jin shook her head. “I need a son,” she said.

“My lady –”

“I’m not doing that again,” Madame Jin said, her voice getting stronger. “I need a son.”

“But –”

She looked at her loyal maid, who inclined her head.

A knife flashed.

“Congratulations, my lady,” her maid said, pushing aside the midwife’s body with her foot. “You have a son.”

Madame Jin smiled.

“I’m glad you survived the birth of your child,” Madame Yu said to her old childhood friend, wondering why she’d been invited over to visit Lanling City quite so quickly – it hadn’t even been a month. “Were you thinking –”

“I have a son,” her friend said.

“Congratulations.”

“You don’t understand,” her friend said. “There’s a problem.”

“A-Li,” Jiang Yanli’s mother said in a strange tone. “Do you like wearing dresses?”

“Uh-huh,” Jiang Yanli said, trying to see if she could stick her fist into her mouth. She’d always worn frocks, the way all children her age did, but at some point soon her mother had been warning her that she’d need to switch over to wearing proper robes for boys. Jiang Yanli had burst into tears, saying she didn’t want to be a boy at all – that she didn’t want to leave her mother’s side, that she didn’t want to join the world of men, she didn’t, she didn’t.

“And you really don’t want to go be a boy? Really, you’re sure?”

Jiang Yanli nodded.

“What if I said you didn’t have to be? You could be a girl, just the way you like.”

“Really?”

“Mm. But you’d have to be a girl forever.”

“Okay,” Jiang Yanli said happily. “I wanna be a girl forever.”

“Good,” her mother said, and picked her up. “Just keep saying that.”

“What do you think we are,” Jiang Fengmian asked his wife blankly. “Qinghe Nie?”

His wife glared daggers at him.

“Attempt the impossible,” she said stiffly. “A-Li has been claiming to be a girl consistently for a year. Would you deny her the chance to follow her dreams?”

Well, when she put it that way…

Jiang Fengmian hesitated.

“It does create a problem,” his wife said, and he looked at her. She smiled faintly and leaned forward, showing her curves to their best advantage. “If she’s a girl, she’ll marry out, won’t she? We need a boy.”

Jiang Fengmian swallowed. A boy sounded – nice, he thought vaguely, eyes caught on what he was being offered. A little boy, lively and bright, with a happy smile always on his face…yes, that sounded rather nice.

Wei Changze’s letter upstairs said that his wife had announced that they had conceived, and that she had divined that it would be a son – it was frightfully early to make such predictions, less than a month in, but apparently disciples of the immortal mountain were able to determine such things early. A boy like that, who could be friends with their boy, a reason for them to come to visit and maybe even to stay…

Yes, he thought. That sounded rather good.

“All right,” he said. “A-Li can be a girl, I guess.”

Madame Yu and Madame Jin let news of the engagement seep out as rumor for months before telling their husbands. When they did, they took different approaches: Madame Jin pointed out the strategic benefits of an alliance with Yunmeng Jiang and the unlikelihood of Jin Guangshan finding a match for their son that would give him so much more influence in the cultivation world, which had made her husband stop his grumbling and look upon the match with a favorable eye.

Madame Yu stared at her husband, for whom she had just born a son three weeks premature and very nearly died in the process, and said, “What’s your problem?”

“A-Li can’t marry the Jin sect heir! She’s not –” He waved his hands. “The possibility of children –”

“I would have thought that would be a selling point,” Madame Yu said, and he blinked at her. “He’s Guangshan’s son. There will be children enough.”

After some further arguing, Jiang Fengmian begrudgingly backed down.

Madame Yu smiled to herself, and thought of grandchildren.

Everyone said that Jin Zixuan was a spoiled brat and incredibly lucky, but he didn’t think he was. Sure, he was rich and legitimate; his father valued him, while his mother loved him and would defend him against any challengers to his position as heir, but privately…

“Why do I have to work so hard?” Jin Zixuan asked, panting. “I’m already cultivating, and my teachers say I’m not bad with the sword –”

“Not bad isn’t good enough,” his mother said sharply. “You have to keep up with all the rest of them, and that means getting ahead now.”

“The rest of who?” he asked. “Do you mean…”

He hesitated, not knowing if he was also included in his mother’s taboo against mentioning the results of his father’s philandering.

“All of the cultivation world’s young gentlemen,” she said, to his surprise. “You have to keep up with them. No, you need to exceed them. You must!”

“But – why?”

“I’ll tell you when you’re older.”

“Mother,” Jiang Yanli said. She was clutching a book in her hands. “Mother, can we talk?”

Her mother frowned at her, looking disapproving – and then she saw the book.

Jiang Yanli thought she would yell at her, but she didn’t; her mother only gestured for her to come into her room, ordering her maids to close the doors and windows.

“Mother,” Jiang Yanli said. “Mother, the book –”

“How did you get a spring book?” her mother asked. She looked tired. “Surely you’re still too young?”

Jiang Yanli bowed her head.

It was true, she was too young. And yet…

“Mother, the pictures in the book…”

“I know.” Her mother sighed. “All right. Let me explain.”

Jin Zixuan stared at his mother. He felt sick.

“But,” he said, and swallowed. “But what about…?”

“I’ve handled it,” she said harshly. “But that is why you must not allow your father to take you to a brothel. Is that understood?”

“Who do you think is the best girl? Zixuan-xiong?”

“Oh, don’t ask him! He has a fiancée, so his answer will be her!”

“A fiancée? Really? What sect is she from? She must be extremely talented!”

“Forget it,” Jin Zixuan said.

“What do you mean by that?” Wei Wuxian exclaimed, and suddenly he was getting into his face. “Say that again if you dare!”

Jin Zixuan opened his mouth, hating him – hating the whole situation, being stuck not making any decisions for himself, his whole life mapped out for him by others – but then hesitated.

Jiang Yanli is the only one fit for you, his mother said. Do you understand? The only one.

“I haven’t met her since I was five,” he said instead of what he wanted, rolling his eyes. “So how could I dare to boast about her in your presence? You all want to know about her, ask Jiang-gongzi.”

Wei Wuxian blinked at him, the wind suddenly taken out of his sails.

Jin Zixuan escaped.

He felt like shit, thought. She was his fiancée, and he didn’t know anything about her – he didn’t want to hear about her, think about her. And yet…

The only one.

He went back to his room and wrote her a letter. It was a mess, the worst thing he’d ever written, nothing at all like the polite and careful phrasing, elegant and beautiful, that he’d been trying to put together, something worthy of his name.

He sent it before he could think better of it.

Jiang Yanli held the letter to her chest and smiled.

They’d exchanged a few dozen letters. Jin Zixuan knew that his intended was smart and witty, empathetic and kind, observant and well-meaning, but he didn’t know that she was beautiful until after they escaped from the indoctrination camp and the cave with the Xuanwu of Slaughter.

He’d just accompanied Jiang Cheng for the entire seven days it took to get to the Lotus Pier, collapsing right alongside him, and while Jiang Cheng had – somehow – gotten back on his feet and immediately led his father and mother out the door to go rescue Wei Wuxian, he’d stayed down on the floor until someone knelt down in front of him and smiled.

“Can I get you something to eat, Jin-gongzi?” Jiang Yanli asked.

“Uh,” Jin Zixuan said, and turned bright red. He could sure think of some things he’d like to eat – living as his father’s son had certainly given him an education (however theoretical) about that.

“Food,” Jiang Yanli clarified, giggling into her sleeve. “Let me get you some food.”

This was probably a bad idea, Jiang Yanli thought, looking down at the head tucked against her chest. I probably should’ve just stuck to food. What if he gets with child? What will we do then?

She couldn’t quite bring herself to regret it, though.

“A-Xuan,” she whispered, and Jin Ziuxan stirred a little. “Can we do it again?”

“You’re insatiable.”

That wasn’t a refusal.

“A-Li!” Jin Zixuan shouted, rushing forward. “A-Li, A-Li…!”

She collapsed into his arms.

He looked at the retainers from Meishan Yu, stubborn but pale. “It’s all right,” he said. “She’s my fiancée. I can take care of her.”

“The Jin sect walks in the center path,” one of the retainers said. “Never quite committing to the Sunshot Campaign. How do we know this isn’t a trick to get into the Wen sect’s good books?”

Jin Zixuan bit his lip. He’d pushed his father time and time again, and even that had only gotten them to participate half-heartedly in the fight against the Wen sect. What could he say? What worth was his word?

“It’s all right,” Jiang Yanli said. “I trust him.”

“You could do so much better, you know,” Wei Wuxian said. “It’s not too late!”

Jiang Yanli smiled down at her wedding outfit, but thinking instead of the panicked expression on Jin Zixuan’s face a week before when he’d unexpectedly thrown up in the morning when he was supposed to be preparing for the Phoenix Mountain hunt.

“Oh, it’s too late,” Jiang Cheng grumbled. “On that note, you pick the name.”

“The name…?”

“For our upcoming nephew.”

“Shijie! You didn’t!”

Jiang Yanli’s grin widened.

“Wei Wuxian has committed a crime in attacking our camp and taking the Wen remnants,” Jin Zixuan’s father announced. “We should –”

“Let it go, Father.”

“…what?!”

“I’m getting married, and he’s A-Li’s shidi,” Jin Zixuan reminded his father. “It would be inauspicious to start a marriage by breaking such a relationship.”

His father looked like he was planning on ignoring that, so Jin Zixuan used his trump card.

“We can’t afford anything inauspicious right now,” he said. “Not when there’s a child on the way.”

His mother dropped her cup.

“I have to go,” Jin Zixuan said. “You don’t understand. I have to.”

Jiang Yanli rubbed his hair. “You’re supposed to be in seclusion,” she reminded him. “As am I.”

“I’ve been throwing up every morning for two months, A-Li,” Jin Zixuan pleaded. “I can order them to clear the kitchen. No one would know we were there!”

Jiang Yanli laughed a little. “The craving’s that bad, huh?”

“Yes!”

“Oh, all right. We’ll give it a shot…”

It would have worked, too, if Jin Guangyao hadn’t noticed that too many people were in the wrong place and taken it upon himself to investigate.

“…Jiang-guniang?” He stared at her flat waist, then turned his eyes slowly towards the roundness at Jin Zixuan’s. “Jin-gongzi…?!”

“It’s all right, it’s A-Yao,” Jin Zixuan said to Jiang Yanli. “He won’t tell anyone. Right?”

Jin Guangyao shook his head mutely.

“Seclusion,” he muttered. “No wonder…everyone said it was bad timing that you went into seclusion right before Mistress Jiang announced her pregnancy. But it wasn’t, was it..?” He shook his head. “Don’t worry. I won’t tell.”

“We’re in your debt,” Jin Zixuan said, and thought Jin Guangyao’s eyes upon him were softer than they’d ever been before. “You’ll be a good uncle.”

Jin Guangyao smiled. “Perhaps,” he allowed. “One question, if I may. Who’s the father?”

Jiang Yanli wrapped an arm around Jin Zixuan’s shoulders and beamed.

Jin Guangyao’s jaw dropped again.

“Your son needs you,” Jiang Yanli said to Madame Jin. “Go.”

“Jin Ling,” Madame Jin said, looking down at the baby in her arms. A son, her grandson…a miracle. “Well. You’re – not what I expected.”

If her husband ever found out…

Well.

She’d just have to make sure he wouldn’t, now, wouldn’t she?

#mdzs #jin zixuan #jiang yanli #madame jin #yu ziyuan #my fic #my fics #the more things change #misaligned

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piermanwalter · 2 years ago

Text

What we know about Jul Tambor so far, and potential ways Sabé will deal with him

It’s interesting to see how Wat has been mythologized after his death by criminals (An ancient droid personality matrix so violent that Wat Tambor himself was afraid of it. Spooky!), his own people (The Techno Union facility Echo was imprisoned in got consecrated as holy ground.), and now the Empire.

To recap, in the Darth Vader (2020) comic series, Padmé’s handmaidens tried and failed to kill Darth Vader. They survive to escape, regroup, and try again, except for Sabé, who believes she can turn Vader away from the Emperor’s control. So far this has backfired, as instead of her presence redeeming Darth Vader, Sabé is becoming more violent and corrupt in order to secure her status and stay alive as an officer of the Empire.

Darth Vader has left her alone on Skako Minor to assassinate Jul Tambor, who claims to be Wat Tambor’s grandson, currently blockading his own system with a pirate fleet in attempt to force a regime change and free Skako from Imperial control.

I think the specific wording of Darth Vader #29′s summary, “So who is the pirate JUL TAMBOR, what is he planning on Skako Minor, and what will the Handmaiden, who now stands at Vader’s side, do when it’s her job to choose if Jul lives or dies?” is important. It’s not as though Jul is too strong for Sabé to defeat. It sounds to me like Sabé has full control of when and how Jul dies, but for some reason she decides not to kill him. We know this because he survives to at least #31. I have no idea how old Jul is or what he did before all this, but I think it would be a funny character dynamic between Sabé, the 50-year-old jaded veteran of countless battles, and Jul, a bit of a spoiled failgrandson.

Before he even appears in the comic, Jul has not made himself sympathetic to Sabé in any form whatsoever:

He takes pride in his alleged relation to Wat Tambor, one of the worst war criminals in galactic history, someone Padmé, Sabé, and the Republic as a whole opposed during the Clone Wars.

He’s doing some war crimes of his own, since his subordinates are first introduced attacking civilian transport ships and piling their dead bodies into mass graves.

His blockade is basically the same as what the Empire has been doing to Skako, maybe even worse, since the pirate fleet can’t be good for regular trade and imports.

This means in #29, Jul will do something, or possibly several things, so extreme that Sabé can’t bring herself to kill him even though he’s already committed atrocities and her own survival is dependent on his successful assassination.

Option A: Jul has legitimate moral justifications for the war crimes

Jul: ok it might be hard to imagine this from the perspective of a species that lives all across a galaxy where a billion miraculous oxygen worlds are here as if made just for you. there’s one single fucking planet my species can safely live on. the empire can blow up planets if they feel like. I literally do not care if a few shiploads of your people die in the process of making sure my species doesn’t go fucking extinct. do you understand

Sabé: wow shit’s fucked dude

Jul: Right now it sure is but maybe we can unfuck this shit... together.

*A Stranger I Remain Extended Eurobeat Remix plays at max volume. I know this is a comic book but bear with me here.*

Option B: Jul may have information that must be extracted while he’s still alive

Sabé: prepare to die idiot

Jul: I know who the Crimson Dawn boss is

Sabé: how the fuck do you know this

Jul: if you kill me you’ll never find out... idiot

*The regular version of A Stranger I Remain plays this time*

Option C: Jul deals a devastating emotional blow

Jul: so you’ve just been impersonating someone else your entire life. after she dies you chase after her husband. that’s super fucked up

Sabé: I don’t do this out of misplaced love for him. I’d rather die than have someone like him claim control over Padmé. I loved her.

Jul: sure. did she love you

Sabé: No. I’ve long since made my peace. My love for her is enough for me to embody her memory.

Jul: I know what it means to carry the legacy of someone who never loved you. My grandfather loved my potential and continuation of his genome, but he did not love me. If I had developed an adequate personality and sense of self at the time was alive, he did not observe long enough to love me. Regardless, I am proud to carry on his legacy.

Sabé: wait why are you calling me super fucked up for doing the exact thing you’re also doing idiot

Jul: we aren’t doing the exact thing... idiot. everything I do in his memory is something he’d be proud to do. Grandpa Wat is super into this ‘blockade my own home planet and enrich the earth with alien corpses’ type shit. Is Padmé proud of everything you do to embody her memory? Would she kill on Palpatine’s orders like you? Would she obey Darth Vader’s every whim like you? Would she be afraid to die like you?

Sabé: wow shit’s fucked dude

Jul: Right now it sure is but maybe we can unfuck this shit... together.

*A Stranger I Remain Extended Eurobeat Remix plays*

Option D: Jul sucks but Darth Vader is completely unsalvageable

Sabé: prepare to die idiot

*her comlink goes off*

Eirtaé, barely alive: Vader did this. The one you abandoned us to save. For fuck’s sake I can’t let this be the last thing I say to you. Heh- maybe you were right. If we didn’t fight again, we’d still be alive. I should have trusted you. I’m sorry for anything we did to drive you further away. Out of all of us... I’m glad... it was you

*Eirtae dies*

Sabé: changed my mind. don’t prepare to die idiot

Sabé, to herself: holy fucking shit if he killed his own wife in a fit of blind rage why the fuck did we think ourselves safe just for looking like her

Sabé: shit’s fucked dude but together at least one of us might survive

*The regular version of A Stranger I Remain plays*

#darth vader #sabé #jul tambor #Padme Amidala #star wars #this is basically fanfiction #not sure how useful this exercise is considering darth vader 29 comes out in 3 days #fun fact: joules and watts are both units of energy measure #wat tambor #comic #shitpost #profanity #eirtaé #long post

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onebizarrekai · 4 years ago

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v3′s art is comically terrible for a professionally distributed game in a series: a compilation

in this not-essay I will list all of the mistakes and problems I have spotted in v3′s art. don’t worry, it’s entirely for fun and I’m doing this on a whim, so please feel free to not take this seriously but also it’s hilarious and embarrassing how ridiculous this is like what happened did they speedrun the whole production or what

see, there are some things you can take as meta like “they made it bad on purpose to allude to the downfall of tv shows that have been on air for much too long” but I have a very strong feeling this is not the case due to the nature of some of these errors

disclaimer, the more I study this art, the more I fear that the artists were underpaid and underslept, so if this is in fact the case, I am so sorry to all of them but also I’m going to make fun of the art anyway

anyway let’s get started!

if you study this image for longer than 5 seconds, you will see that kaede is the only one fully shaded and keebo is literally just his normal sprite pasted into the image. every other character is just an ordinary ref, hence most of them facing the exact same direction with neutral expressions on their faces. it looks like a bad edit, and is probably one of the worst pieces of art in the game. it kind of gets better from here on, but my roasting will not.

with that out of the way, here’s the problem that officially bothers me the most and clarifies my viewpoint of “this is not meta and an actual lack of company communication”

this freaking cg, which seems normal at a glance, but some wiseass was like “oh, kaede is a girl, so obviously she’s going to be shorter than the Male Protagonist™” ah, that’s funny. because if you look at the character bios, kaede is, in fact, one inch taller than shuichi and not like 6 inches shorter as she is shown here.

also shuichi’s shoulder is disproportionate and horrendous and he looks vaguely like a jojo character, but I wasn’t even thinking about that until right now.

thanks guys, 50% of the fandom who has never bothered to check these bios thinks that kaede is like 5′3 (did the developers really put so little thought into her to the point where drawing her correctly in the game didn’t even matter??)

also I would like to point out that, even though this isn’t related to the art itself, yes, a character kaede’s size being only 117 lbs is unfeasible, but this applies to literally every character in danganronpa ever and it’s not new news that it’s unrealistic

update: someone in the tags informed me that in versions of the game that use centimeters, like the japanese version, kaede is actually shorter than shuichi, which just adds another thing to the list of weird decisions the localization team made for no reason. that said, after confirming this, kaede is 167 cm in the original, while shuichi is 171 cm, which are approximately 5′6 and 5′7 respectively, but one inch is still nowhere near as drastic as it is depicted above. (in spite of this, I would rather depict kaede as slightly taller, so I’m probably going to keep doing that.)

the journey continues!

bro if you want kaede to have shoulder length hair then stick to it to begin with

you can pretend this is at an angle all you want but they definitely committed the shorter kaede sin a second time

wait a goddamn second.

DO YOU SEE THIS

no………… it wasn’t kaede who shrank. it was shuichi who got taller

speaking of which, can we talk about how shady the perspective is in this elevator pic? look at shuichi and kokichi in comparison to kaede. kokichi, who is canonically 7 inches (edit: or 5, if you’re loyal to the original) shorter than kaede, looks taller than kaede. he’s growing too. what steroids are these gays taking

running into the room, electric boogaloo: I don’t think tsumugi is supposed to be the same height as kokichi

gonta… gonta you’re lookin a bit like a jojo character there

I love how kaito’s head looks kind of like it was pasted onto his body. why is he the same size as shuichi? shouldn’t he be high school bully size or something? his torso is teensy

ah yes, white angie.

I love this cg but why is shuichi’s right hand so much bigger than his left hand

I also love how this cg looks like they literally took pictures of trees and pasted them into the background, especially on the left. the shadows are so weird, especially closer to the ceiling, it’s difficult for me to believe they didn’t do exactly that.

return of Enlarged shuichi

puberty update: kokichi is now taller than shuichi in spite of shuichi never missing leg day. what crimes will he commit

I have to mention it, guys. this has to be one of the worst danganronpa cgs. kokichi’s facial proportions look atrocious. look at the way his face sticks out like his jaw is in the wrong place. his scarf is a pasted texture. that’s it. this moment was so iconic but the cg just looks so… so… off. like something is terribly wrong, but you can’t put your finger on it.

you know what? let’s get into that ‘pasted texture’ thing.

let’s imagine you’re an artist working on a professional game. you’re assigned to draw cgs of kokichi ouma, who has a checkered scarf from hell. sure, it will be terrible to draw, but you only have to draw it once at a time! plus, perspective is pretty important, right? can you be bothered? nah, actually. let’s just copy paste a checkered pattern into the cg, because I’m sure nobody will notice. it’ll blend right in with the other cgs that someone actually put effort into drawing his scarf in, right?

no. the answer is no and I very much noticed. this genuinely looks terrible and I would understand taking a shortcut like that in fanart or even an indie game but this is a full price pc and console distributed game

(an addition: look at kokichi’s TINY HANDS in that last one)

meanwhile, they straight up forgot to color in kokichi’s scarf in this cg.

dude. I forgot about whatever the hell this cg was. anyway look at keebo please just look at him

lovin kaito’s baby arms

real talk, maybe you could argue that he’s missing muscle because he’s deathly sick, but most of his cgs don’t line up with this, and his arms just look disproportionate to his torso size (granted this is a consistent problem across all danganronpa games and a lot of characters have this weird problem, like hajime, but also kaito is bigger than hajime so I kind of have higher expectations of him) maybe it’s his stupid goatee and the way he reminds me of yasuhiro?? it creates this illusion that he’s older than he is and so I keep expecting him to look more like an adult

oh, also rantaro is missing some of his accessories in that video he made–you know the one–but I don’t wanna go back and screenshot it

also you may have noticed that I’m skipping all of the monokub cgs because I literally do not care about them and I’m not even bothering to check and see if they have artistic mistakes in them

JIMMY NEUTRON???

hey um uh kaito you seem to be missing your neck

hey guys do you like my pregame fanart

so, that done, the sprites are also pretty terrible at times. they’re not as interesting to go through, however, and downloading the full sprite sets for every character and studying every single one of them will drive me insane, so I’ll just sum some of the ones I noticed up. I made things for kaede and shuichi before deciding I wasn’t going to get into it, so here are these.

that said, other mistakes include kokichi missing his purple highlights in all of the sprites encompassing a specific pose, stray pixels all over the place on everyone, and everyone also has heavily inconsistent shading, but literally all I think about is how pregame shuichi is unshaded and two of kaede’s pregame sprites have glaring outfit change mistakes in them

anyway, thank you for taking the time to read my ridiculous ramble. in all seriousness, there’s this looming presence of some lack of communication in the development team, like with all the art and design inconsistencies, pieces and sprites that look rushed, stray pixels, and missing basic proportional stuff. these are the kinds of things that you supposedly have to pretty much have in the bag in order to get jobs in professional businesses, so it’s really weird to me that this game suffers from so many of these problems. it’s like they tried to make the art so much more crisp than the other games, but it fell on its face as they realized it was going to take longer to draw everything and they started to rush. it’s weird, because the coloring itself looks normal–it’s just sloppily drawn, and the proportions are a mess once put into the context of perspective. many of the cgs look like they were drawn by different people, and I’m still not over the fact that half of kokichi’s cgs have his scarf pasted in as a texture.

the moral of the story is that if you’re selling a game at full price that also happens to be in a series that has had 3 very good games in it already the stakes should probably be higher than this. v3 has been out for more than 3 years and it’s still $40 (did it cost more than that before? I sure hope not), and the overarching quality of the game is just not as high as the other games. I’m not saying that the other games don’t have any problems with their art at all, they’re just not as glaringly obvious and every artistic choice in those games feels intentional.

regardless, I had a blast roasting the art at 2am, so maybe you got a kick out of all this chaos.

#god I keep telling myself I'm gonna stop rambling about v3 #v3 spoilers #drv3 spoilers #ndrv3 #random stuff #but making this… it sounded so fun #danganronpa

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rosiehunterwolf · 3 years ago

Note

CONGRATS ON 100 FOLLOWERS FREN 💖💖 you deserve it and so much more

If you're feeling up to it (DONT FEEL OBLIGATED DO U HEAR ME MY DEAR) movie verse Jay my beloved

asfljdlkj tysm Amour! I'm so glad to have you as part of my tumblr family, ur one of my best friends on here 💕✨

i really needed to write something movie!verse because I LOVE movie!verse and haven't written anything yet, so I was excited for this one

(@fabro-de-omres you've said in the past that you would love to read it if I wrote something movie!verse, so here's ✨content✨)

I'll chase you to the moon and back

Summary: When you’re in a secret ninja force and are your city’s primary protectors, pulling your weight is important.

Jay tries to be an asset to his team, but it’s difficult when he’s viewed as the scaredy-cat who cracks lame jokes. He loves his friends with all his heart, but sometimes it’s hard to know if they return those feelings.

Jay wouldn’t blame them if they didn’t.

Sometimes, Jay felt like he was a burden to the team.

He tried not to, he really did- he knew the others liked him and cared about him. But standing next to strong Cole, smart Zane, brave Kai, determined Nya, or warm-hearted Lloyd, it was difficult not to feel… inadequate.

It didn’t help that Cole hadn’t answered any of his recent texts.

It could be anything, Jay told himself as he stared down at the unread messages, resisting the urge to send another text. He could have an appointment he forgot to tell me about, or maybe he’s just not looking at his phone right now, or he simply doesn’t share my urgency to answer a text message so quickly. Cole had always been much more laid back about that, raising an eyebrow as Jay always scrambled to answer the text from his mom, or whoever had sent it this time.

But Cole was also Jay’s best friend. He knew he got anxious when someone left him unread for too long. Because of that, he had always been good about answering Jay’s texts quickly, even as the others still groaned about the earth ninja taking ages to respond to them.

For him to go an hour without responding was… concerning, to say the least.

Jay pushed the thoughts aside. He was probably just overthinking this, like he always was. Cole would get back to him soon. It wasn’t like he was ignoring him, or anything.

Maybe the others are up to something. He opened the group chat, but although there were usually a hundred notifications at any given time- he had learned that the hard way the first day he had joined, turning on his phone after school to a whopping 785 texts- it was empty now. The last text was from Lloyd, asking Kai to meet him at his locker before lunch.

Jay felt his heart rate spike. The lack of an argument between Kai and Nya in the last five minutes alone was worrying- because heaven forbid they actually talk things out in person, even if they literally lived one bedroom down from each other- and his mind quickly spiraled into possibilities. Had someone kidnapped them? Had their parents grounded them? Or maybe they had committed a crime and gotten thrown into jail. He wouldn’t put it past Kai and Nya to pull something dumb- Cole and Zane would go along with it, and Lloyd would never speak up enough to voice his disproval-

No, don’t be ridiculous, they wouldn’t commit a crime.

Well… Kai might. But the others would stop him.

What if they made a separate group chat without me?

No. His friends would never do that. They’d be more likely to commit that crime.

But the thought wouldn’t leave Jay’s brain, and before he knew it, he was sending a text in the group chat.

jaybird123: What r u guys up to? Wanna hang?

He immediately regretted it. What if he came off as too clingy? Too overbearing? They probably just wanted some time to themselves.

That didn’t sound quite right to Jay, but he stuffed his phone in his pocket, forcing the thought out of his mind.

He decided to go to the park- watching the people there always gave him good ideas for inventions. He was too late to catch a bus down there, but it wasn’t too far to walk.

His phone buzzed, and he glanced down.

thegreendragon: sorry jay, got plans 2nite. maybe tmrrw?

Jay tried to stop the pang of disappointment. Lloyd wouldn’t lie to him. The others probably were just busy. It was no big deal. Tomorrow, things would be back to normal.

A couple of blocks away, he caught the sounds of annoyed shouts, the kind that usually hinted towards the presence of-

He stopped, blinking, as a boy darted past the onlookers and into the shop.

Huh. Lloyd?

Starting towards the store his friend had vanished into, Jay peered through the window, looking for Lloyd-

Jay froze. Lloyd was standing with the others, animatedly babbling something to them as they watched him happily.

Jay shrunk back. They really had met up without him, and had lied about it, too. He wasn’t being paranoid- his friends just didn’t want him around.

For a moment, the shock left Jay floundering. He had no other friends. The other ninja were his entire livelihood. What was he meant to do now?

He quickly wiped at the tears pooling in his eyes. I’ll go home. My mom will know what to do.

He had the worst feeling that this was something that even his mom couldn’t fix, though.

About halfway home, a buzz in his pocket interrupted him from his stupor. Pulling out his phone, he saw there was a new message in the group chat.

rock’n’cole: hey jay, something just came up, can u meet us at the warehouse asap?

Jay just stared at his phone for a minute, debating whether to actually show up or not. After all, the others had ditched him, why shouldn’t he do the same? And he still felt hurt- he wasn’t sure if he was ready to talk to them yet. He really should just go home.

jaybird123: sure, i’ll be there in 20

Jay had never been good at holding grudges.

Thirty minutes later (he had ended up stalling a little bit just for the spite of it) he pushed through the doors of the warehouse. It was pitch black inside, and as he fumbled around for the lights, he couldn’t help but notice that no one else was there. It was stupid of me to come. They just abandoned me. Again.

Suddenly, the lights burst on, and the others were jumping out from behind the furniture, cheering and hugging him. Jay stumbled backward, taken aback. “What’s going on?”

Kai looked at him like he was crazy, gesturing widely at all the balloons and streamers that Jay could see now that the lights were on. “It’s a party, dumbass, what else do you think?”

“What for? It’s not my birthday!”

Nya scoffed, as if he had just told her that men lived on the moon. “Of course not, this is for your Ninja-versary!”

“My… what?”

“The anniversary of the day you first became a ninja, stupid!”

“Oh.” He blinked around at all the decor. “All this? Just for something as simple as that?”

Kai wasn’t the only one looking at him like he had sprouted a second head, now.

“Are you kidding?” Cole said. “We’re not going to skimp on celebrating the day one of our favorite people came into our lives.”

Jay blinked at him. “I…” I’m so sorry for ever doubting you. That’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.

“Now, what are we waiting around for?” Cole threw an arm around Jay’s shoulders. “Let’s go get some cake!”

As the ninja hurried over to the table, squabbling over who would get which slice, Jay squashed between the middle of his big, loud, bickering family, he couldn’t have felt more at home.

#:D #movie characters are so fun y'all #i'll definitely have to write something that explores all of them more not just jay #but i'll save that for something longer so i can do it properly #and coming up with their chat usernames was the highlight of this piece XD #i have more for the others as well and this is going to remain canon within all my movie fics #ninjago #asks #amourshipper393 #fic request #event #100 followers event #ficlet #my fic #rosie writes #movie!verse #tlnm #jay walker #requests open

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avversiera-writes · 3 years ago

Text

touch your heart [senju tobirama/you] - chapter 4

Summary: Hashirama might go down as the worst matchmaker in history, but he thinks he might be on to something. Tobirama sees through his brother's schemes and is determined not to fall for it. Or fall for you.

Word Count: about 3k

AO3 LINK TO TOUCH YOUR HEART

AOR SERIES LINK TO ‘TIL DEATH DO US PART

[<<<CHAPTER ONE] [CHAPTER TWO] [CHAPTER THREE]

You are not sure what to make of it, but you feel like the awkward atmosphere between you and Tobirama seems to have multiplied by the tens. You did not feel like this around him before, but now, every time he addresses you, it makes your insides twist and you just want to avoid him as much as possible.

At the same time, Tobirama’s words seem more curt and he often repeats the same sentences like “ridiculous” and “get to work” as if those are the only words he can say.

A part of you wants to make fun of him for sounding constipated around you, but you don’t think that the two of you have established a rapport that allows you to do so. You know you have been teasing him nonstop ever since you started working together, but now that he mistook your interaction with his brother as flirting, every time you open your mouth to say something to him, your throat decides to croak and you end up staring at him with your mouth hanging open.

You cannot stand it.

You sigh and decide to stretch your hands up, garnering a glance from Tobirama.

You swear if he utters “work” one more time, you are going to drag him outside to breathe in some fresh air. Maybe the nice change of scenery will make his mind restart so that he can say other words for once.

“I’m curious,” Tobirama starts.

You stare at him, not believing what you are hearing from him. Finally, something else he can say to you.

“What is your relationship with Uchiha Madara?”

Maybe he should go back to grunting out one word sentences to you.

You narrow his eyes at him. He keeps asking unwarranted questions.

You press your lips together, thinking about how you want to reply to him. “Well,” you start. “He’s someone I’m very grateful to.”

Tobirama frowns. “Why?”

“Excuse me? Have you never had someone be grateful to you?”

Tobirama suddenly looks pissed, but he quickly fixes his expression.

You let out a burst of laughter. “Don’t tell me you think I’m also flirting with him,” you grin playfully to hide the ire behind your tone.

Tobirama looks away.

“Relax, he’s a friend and kind of a mentor to me,” you tell Tobirama. “Nothing more. He helped me get accustomed to Konoha. I think he just felt sorry for me, but thanks to him, I’ve had a good start here.”

Tobirama glances at you, his expression unchanging but for once he is not looking at you as if you committed a crime.

Well, this is probably the first true thing you have said to him. Your heart ponders at this, but you decide that it should be okay. It’s not entirely specific, but it’s not trivial either. You wonder if you should elaborate more.

“So, there’s no grand plan of me wooing the founding fathers of Konoha,” you joke and Tobirama rolls his eyes.

“Don’t worry, I am not interested,” Tobirama huffs and he straightens even more on his seat.

You smile at this, and you go back to your work. “Alright. Are we good, then?”

Tobirama turns his head to you, and you meet his eyes.

“Fine,” Tobirama reverts back to his automated one word responses.

You nod, and you detect that the air between you has somewhat cleared.

At the end of the day, as you bid your goodbye to Tobirama, you slip him a piece of paper with some doodles of ninja fighting and a note saying ‘have a good day’ on it in your attempted fancy writing.

“Really?” Tobirama deadpans.

“For our budding friendship,” you joke.

Tobirama’s eyes narrow at you. “We are only working together, we’re not here to make friends.”

You roll your eyes and slip the paper further into his sights. “Co-workers?” You suggest.

“Not even close.”

“Oh, come on!”

Tobirama rubs his forehead. “Fine.” He grits out. “Co-workers.”

“And then future friends,” you include playfully.

Tobirama scowls. “Go home.”

“That’s not a no!” You wag a finger to him. “So it’s up in the air, yes?”

“No,” Tobirama says, his fingers twitching–probably itching to crumple the paper in front of him. “And don’t do this again, this is a waste of paper.”

You sigh. “Okay, okay, fine. Have a good night.”

Tobirama says nothing as you exit the room, and you let out a deep breath you have been holding. At least, he’s talking to you normally now.

You chuckle to yourself.

Tobirama is so weird, you think.

The thought brings a small smile on your lips.

Tobirama stares at the doodle in front of him, his focus beyond repair for the meantime. He assumes the long-haired man in the picture is his brother, with a blob of red as his armor, and the one next to his brother is him, with a hair so huge and spiky that it looks like lightning has struck from the sky and connected with his head.

Tobirama stares at it, unsure of what to make of it. Why are you always making fun of him?

He sighs, and he looks to the window, where the sky has changed to a swathe of pink and purple, indicating that the sun has set and the night will soon take over. His eyes go to the table and he notices engravings on the table itself on your side of the table, and he sighs, trying to fight away the signs of a headache. Though for a moment, to his chagrin, he found it a little funny. He did say save some paper.

Tobirama thinks about what you had told him about Madara, and he ruminates on this. Why would Madara take you in, help you get settled and feel sorry for you? How did you even get here, and why did you choose Konoha, of all places?

Tobirama rubs his forehead, his thoughts circling in on you. It’s not common that he’s not able to figure out someone in a few seconds. He prides himself on feeling out people, whether it be their chakra, their personality or their thoughts, but the only thing he has learned about you is that you are loud .

He can’t even figure where you are from or which family you came from based on your chakra signature, which is not all that impressive. Compared to your presence, it is almost silent. It is there, but they are like waves in a low-tide, unable to do any harm. They ebb at some places, like something is disrupting its flow, and at times it feels almost nonexistent. You do not have any affinity for the elements either, and even with taijutsu, there should be a flare of chakra in you, but there is nothing.

He knows that you are skilled with blades because the way you hold and carry it indicates that you have drawn it a thousand times. He knows that you have fought before because you are able to surprise him in a match.

He can keep guessing who you are, but you somehow prove him wrong and it bothers him.

He attempts to get back to work, but his stomach grumbles in complaint, which means that he really cannot focus anymore. Deciding to indulge his uncooperative stomach, he exits the Hokage mansion and trails towards the more active part of the village, where various restaurants are starting to pop up.

People recognize him as he walks and they offer polite and formal greetings towards him. He greets back, but he does not stop for shirt conversations. Those exhaust him.

Ahead, lamps are strung by posts to light the street. The street grows in volume as more and more people flood in, coming and going. Someone shouts nearby, and laughter springs everywhere. Splashes of red and gold appear in his peripheral vision, and the smell of fried food wafts in the air.

Tobirama takes a deep breath, suddenly feeling overwhelmed.

Suddenly, his eye catches you, running towards him with a carefully wrapped package in your hands. He notices you holding it securely, and as you get closer, he notices that they are packed food. You pass by him, and Tobirama turns to see where you are heading.

It is not far, as he can see you stop by an alleyway and walk in.

Tobirama pauses at this, and against his better judgement, he decides to follow you and see what you are up to.

He hears your voice first, and when he sees you, he feels unprepared to react at the sight of you handing the freshly cooked food to two children squatting by the trash.

"Be careful," you tell them, your voice laced with worry.

"Thank you so much, nee-chan!" The boy cries out.

"Can I ask where your parents are?" You inquire.

"Uhm...well," the boy starts hesitantly, his eyes swimming with fear. "We...don't have parents anymore."

The boy looks down. "We came here to find safety."

Tobirama notes the change on your face. You look sad, and Tobirama wonders what is causing it.

"Well, can you tell me your names?" You address both children with a gentleness Tobirama has never heard before.

Maybe that is how you talk to others that are not him.

"I'm Kaito," the boy says. "My sister doesn't talk much, but her name is Yuna."

You offer them a kind smile. "Well...enjoy your food, okay? If you ever need help, come find me. I live near the forest in the new building recently built there. I'll bring you guys some blankets if you stay here."

Kaito stares at you, his eyes swimming. "Thank you very much, nee-chan."

You sigh, and you reach over and pat his head. Tobirama backs away from sight to hide himself.

You run past him, and Tobirama elects to stand where he is so that he can watch the kids while you get them their blankets.

Tobirama suddenly frowns as a thought comes to mind. There is a newly built orphanage in the village now.

"Tobirama?" You cut him off his thoughts and Tobirama snaps to your attention and it occurs to him that this is probably the first time you called his name without insulting him in some way.

Tobirama had not noticed your arrival. He must have been standing here for a while.

He should have moved and went on with his life.

"We should take them to the orphanage." He looks down at your arms where you are carrying a blanket, a change of clothes and a knife.

Tobirama grows uneasy as you stare at him, even though the surroundings are almost dim.

"Okay," you finally said and you called the kids out.

Tobirama glances at the two tiny children, suddenly noticing how thin and grimy they are.

"This is Senju Tobirama," you introduce him. "He can help us find a place to stay warm, okay? He's a good person." You reassure them.

Tobirama attempts at a small smile, but he feels your eyes on him and he ends up grimacing. He also zeroes in on the fact that you called him a good person in front of these kids. He doubted that you even thought of him that way, but hearing it from you is a little refreshing.

"Follow me," Tobirama walks ahead, unable to stand still under your gaze.

You are looking at him strangely and Tobirama is not sure what to make of it.

Thankfully the walk is not too long, but it means that Tobirama has to spend the rest of the time walking with you in this awkward silence that seems to pervade whenever the two of you are near each other. It is now completely dark, save for the occasional lanterns guiding the way, but it does nothing to alleviate the tension. Instead, he turns to himself inwardly and makes a mental note on formalizing how to accept refugees in the future so that random people that have the potential to be a threat cannot enter the village easily. It is still so young and he is not sure how it will hold when there is some disorder.

After dropping the kids off in the orphanage and signing some documents and talking with the ward there, the two of you head back to the center of the village, where the night scene comes alive. He is tempted to say something to fill the air, but he is also waiting for you to say something because he assumes that you would normally talk when there is nothing to talk about.

Alas, he is wrong again.

He never thought that he would be the first one to say a word.

“You look chirper,” he comments. He glances at your face, noting how relaxed it is compared to earlier. You also do not look as glum.

“Yeah, well,” you start, scratching your cheek lightly. “It’s all I wanted to do is–you know, make a difference and all that shi-stuff.”

Tobirama hums, amused at your slip of a curse word. He senses the truth in your words and for once, he finds himself relaxing around you.

“I know you probably think that I don’t mean that since I tend to joke around, but trust me when I say that I see a lot of good things happening here. Children outside of Konoha are not so lucky,” you say.

“Yeah,” Tobirama agrees.

Tobirama feels your eyes on the side of his face and he swallows.

" I was not so lucky," your words falter as you begin them, but Tobirama sees the determined look on your face and it surprises him even more. "But I am now in a place where I can help people out."

Tobirama glances at you again, surprised at your sudden confession to him.

"Ah well, I talked too much, you might start to think I’m nice," you joke.

"I do not find anything wrong with that," Tobirama replies, and for a moment the two of you locked eyes.

Tobirama hears your stomach grumbles and you let out a shy laugh.

"Whoops," you announce, chuckling.

Tobirama sighs, but he is not exasperated. "Let’s go."

"Where? Back to work? Don't tell me I missed some pages to work on because I was very thorough today."

Tobirama raises an eyebrow. "Only today?"

You smirk and Tobirama looks ahead of him, unable to stare at you straight on.

"My brother and I weren't so lucky either," Tobirama begins, feeling that it's only right that he says something back that is equivalent to your confession. "All we knew was war when we were children. So many people we cared about died, but despite all that, elder brother was very ahead of his time. He's the one who dreamed of building this village."

You smile softly at him. "Well, look at it now. It's something."

"More than something," Tobirama insists. "It’s a new world."

"Tell me something, Senju Tobirama. Is this how you saw the world too?"

Tobirama stares straight ahead. For a moment, he considers not answering, but his mind gets the best of him. "No," he admits. "The world is always in peril."

"Then why partake in such an ambitious dream?"

Tobirama tenses up. He gives you an inch, and you are backing him up a mile without his control. Your question is too close in a way that it shows his deep devotion to his family and this village.

You did not even have to try.

"You wanted to make his dreams come true, right?" You prod on.

Tobirama's fingers twitch, desperate to hold something. You are right and it almost pisses him off.

"It’s his dream," Tobirama answers curtly. "But he dreams too much. He did not think of what the cost could be and the work that comes with it."

"And you covered that part," you state.

"Right," Tobirama murmurs thoughtfully.

"I can respect that." You smile at him, and you bump your shoulder against his arm.

Tobirama finds that he did not mind, but he is still a little annoyed that you of all people have seen through him.

However, he also realizes that the awkward atmosphere between the two of you has dissipated.

It's a curious thing.

He sees you walking ahead, and before he knows it, he is reaching out to grab your arm. He is able to stop himself, but his fingers brush against the back of your arm. His hand forms a fist as a form of restraint.

You turn to him with a questioning look.

"Dinner," he almost stammers, but his voice is even. "It’s this way. My treat."

Your face lights up, but you cringe as your stomach announces once again that it needs food.

"Sounds great to me," you smile at him again, and Tobirama finds himself hurrying his steps ahead of you.

He thinks about the project and how it is almost finished. Just two more months of this, and he can be done and you can get out of his hair.

That was the agreement, after all.

He hears your footsteps catch up to him, and now, he finds you walking by his side.

If Tobirama thought that you were a con-man before, then he will probably think that you are now.

Today, he has students doing some chakra training by walking on water, and you have opted to watch and listen to Tobirama’s elaborate instructions instead of joining them and demonstrating how to do it along with Tobirama.

The truth is, you have no idea how to do that. You never learned how to because you had no formal shinobi training. All you know how to do is fight for your life, very desperately at that.

You watch the kids, and you cannot help feel the bitterness that you have tried so hard to let go. You did not have this when you were younger. All you knew were sickness after sickness, vials of poisons and medicine, and a hazy mind and a weak body.

Years of your life were lost to parents who failed to protect you because of their twisted beliefs and their inability to stand their ground.

You were lost and without a guide.

You consider sneaking away, but you feel like you and Tobirama are finally on the same page and doing that might not help your case with him.

You are aware of his piercing gaze being directed towards you, but he doesn't call you out for not participating or push you to do the exercise with the kids.

You stand to the side uselessly, using your foot to draw random circles on the ground, until the kids are dismissed and Tobirama is walking up to you with a strict expression. He looks like he might yell at you or scold you, but surprisingly, he does none of that.

“You’re awfully quiet today,” Tobirama comments tersely.

You look up to meet his hard eyes and you shrug. “I did not think that you’d notice.”

Tobirama gives you a very hard and long look, and it burns through you.

“What?” You snap, your facade long gone.

You see Tobirama’s eyes widen slightly, but they are back to his usual scrutinizing gaze.

“If you have a problem, it’s best that you communicate it with me. We are working together professionally.” Tobirama does not back down. “We are both adults.”

You press your lips into a thin line, and you look towards the flowing river, where the kids tried their luck to walk across it.

Tobirama turns to walk away, and you grip the hilt of your sword in instinct.

It is now or never.

“I don’t know, okay?” You suddenly blurt out. “I did not have any of this when I was a kid.”

Tobirama stops and he turns to you questioningly. You observe from his demeanor that he is not particularly judgemental towards you at the moment. He looks at you with an understanding he extends to his students.

You turn towards the river again. “I…”

Tobirama waits, neither impatient nor placating. He does not even look like he’s in a hurry.

You grit your teeth, and then slowly let out a deep breath through your mouth. You glare at Tobirama.

“Do not ever speak of this to anyone,” you warn him. “This is between you and me.”

“I promise,” Tobirama says, his tone serious.

You look at his face, your eyes tracing his set jaw and the three perfect markings that are tattooed on his cheeks and his chin.

“I did not have this when I was young,” you tell him vaguely, but you realize that you will get nowhere if you keep evading the subject. “I don’t know, maybe you can help me, but maybe it’s too late…”

“You should get to the point,” Tobirama finally says and he folds his arms. “And if it’s help you need, you only need to ask.”

You stare at the ground uneasily as you feel your face heat up.

“I need your help because when I was young, I did not learn how to be a proper shinobi,” you say in a rush. “That walking on water lesson? I never had that. I don't know how to do that.”

You look at him helplessly and watch Tobirama’s neutral expression, seeing the gears turning in his mind.

“I had to figure out everything myself,” you say in a low, dark tone.

Tobirama nods, but then for the first time, he smirks at you. “That’s not a lot for me to go by, but it’s a nice change to see you not put up a farce for once.”

You glare at him. “Yeah, well, beggars can't be choosers.” You fold your arms as well. “And you’ve noticed it, haven’t you? That I do not have a good, consistent chakra flowing in me.”

Tobirama pauses, and his eyes glow for a moment.

“Shouldn't your closest friend know this?” Tobirama inquires sarcastically.

“He doesn’t,” you roll your eyes. “Or maybe he does, but he chooses not to bring it up.”

“Why did you bring it up?”

“Because I’m not stupid and I refuse to let my shortcomings get the best of me,” you snap.

Tobirama raises an eyebrow.

You meet his eyes, throwing your pride away and mustering all the determination you can find in yourself. “And I want to learn. So teach me. Help me. We only have two months and I know the timing couldn’t be better, but that’s all the time I need.”

Tobirama turns to the river, and a breeze brushes by, sweeping the grass, flattening it, and carrying dry leaves and scattering them about. It picks up strands of your hair, and it moves the hems of your clothes, and when the breeze has passed, Tobirama has his reply ready.

“Very well,” Tobirama folds his hands behind his back and turns to you. “I’ll do it and keep your secret.”

Your eyes widen, and you feel elated. “That was unexpected.”

Tobirama narrows his eyes.

“But...thank you. That means a lot to me.”

You can't help but give him a shy smile, and Tobirama glances at you from the sides of his eyes, his ears and neck turning pink.

"Well, when do we begin?"

Tobirama lets out a sigh through his nose and gives you a funny look. "Now. Get running."

"What?" You stare at him with disbelief. "Now? It's almost lunch."

"Yes, now." Tobirama's face goes back to its hard and strict expression, his eyebrows almost furrowing and his lips and jaw set.

You take a deep breath, and you break into a run and Tobirama jogs lightly after you. You try to get ahead of him, but Tobirama keeps up just as easily, his long legs pumping to match yours. The two of you run towards the forest, jumping over decaying logs and rocks. You hear Tobirama's rush of breath near you, the snap of sticks underneath his feet, and the ruffle of his clothes as his body moves. You focus ahead, and you see a wall of rock blocking the edge of this forest. Tobirama keeps going and you follow him, but you speed past him so that you can get to the rock first.

However, Tobirama does not stop there.

"What are you doing?" Tobirama barks. "We're going back."

You catch your breath and you watch him go ahead of you. Of course, you expected nothing less from the Senju Tobirama. You smirk to yourself, and you run to his direction, determined to get there first as well.

A burst of laugh escapes your lips as you pass him by, and you jump over a small path. You turn towards him, completely exhilarated and Tobirama stutters in his steps.

"Not bad," Tobirama comments coolly as he gets closer to you.

You pout playfully. "I was here first."

"That was not a race," Tobirama says. "And if it was, you'd lose."

"Wow." You roll your eyes, but there is no malice between the two of you. This is the first time the atmosphere between the two of you had eased enough for the two of you to joke around with each other willingly. "Such hubris, my lord."

Tobirama's eyes narrow. "I think you should just stop calling me with a title. You give it no purpose anymore."

"Are you hurt?" You say mockingly.

Tobirama sighs and he pinches the bridge of your nose.

You chuckle easily. "Alright, Tobirama."

Tobirama glances at you, a slight frown etched to his face but he does not look displeased. He nods and you shrug, and you find that spending time with Tobirama like this is not so bad. You are not sure about tomorrow since your interactions with him are like going through hills and valleys, but at least, it does not feel like you are Tobirama's mortal enemy anymore.

[CHAPTER FIVE >>>]

#avversiera writes #angelica writes #'til death do us part #Senju Tobirama #Tobirama Senju #tobirama x reader #senju tobirama x reader #tobirama x you #senju tobirama x you #tobirama x y/n #naruto fanfiction

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aesthmodeus · 4 years ago

Text

This post is gonna be a list of my personal dmmd headcanon's that I'm gonna update over the course of probably about a month until it's posted (started writing on 17.02, I WAS ALMOST RIGHT)

This includes how I imagine most characters smell like, I'm not the most visual person, so that's what I got in my head/nose when I was playing dmmd

RAN OUT OF SPACE for everything, so I'll finish in a reblog!

Sei

I imagine Sei having a very bad sight or even being nearly blind? I find it very likely that since his Scrap is used through the eyes and there have been a lot of tests/experiments done on them to understand how the power works, he probably doesn't see that well. (based on that+ I remember there being mentions that his gaze was unfocused?)

He obviously has that that typical dentist/hospital/antiseptic smell, but if he'd somehow leave the tower and live a normal happy life alongside aoba, I imagine he's smell like candy? Kinda that sweet scent you get in a handmade candy shop.

He'd never swear, but would rather use that christian mom™ type of things like 'Holly cow' etc

I wouldn't be surprised if Sei was scared of eating new food if it looked/smelled weird to him (which would probably be so much of stuff) if he'd be to survive the oval tower

Sei is somehow very jumpy, sudden noises scare him, but only if he's focused on the current situation

He has no sense of direction in unfamiliar places. If he's been on a certain route multiple times? Yeah he'll do just fine. If it's not a commonly taken path tho? This boy is about to get lost, watch him

Koujaku

Koujaku doesn't have depth perception and walks into stuff. Been there, done that, you're not that cool with one eye covered all the time

Most likely wear some kind of strong perfume/cologne to hide the smell of cigarettes

His apartment smells like incense, like, always, Aoba probably is mad at him for never opening the windows and accusing him of trying to suffocate them both

Koujaku is bad with technology, like, very bad. Aoba sometimes teases him when he calls for help with something very easy to set up. Overtime they both start to enjoy spending time, with Aoba just explaining hot to install/do something tho

Him and Mizuki tease each other about both of them being old, probably made a bet about who's gonna get a grey hair first

Noiz

Noiz has very poor blood circulation and his hands and feet are always cold

Alternatively he's always warm, and his hair is probably always wet under the hat

For some reason I see him hating dogs and cats, especially cats

Like, he'd be the type of person who when asked if he prefers dogs or cats, would muttered something about wanting to commit mass murder and answering 'rabbits'

He smells like fresh cut grass, cooked carrots and something slightly burned

Loves making stupid bets, the physical form of 'hold my beer'

Holds a whisky bottle in his desk drawer, although he probably casually sips on martini while at work

Somehow he'd get too invested in some niche sports and if you ask him about it during the Olympics? Get ready for a lecture about the whatever sport he's into now

Clear

Clear adjust to the dark very fast and easily (cause android duh) and his eyes have the tiniest glow in complete darkness

You can smell the faintest trace of flowers on him, but you wouldn't notice unless getting very close and personal

He would not let you leave in the morning without eating breakfast

And if you tried to drink/smoke etc in his presence, he'd give you a 10 minute lecture about how bad it is for your health, and would try to talk you out of it

Goes apeshit at any small animal, but absolutely despite's mice

Mink

Mink doesn't actually know how to drive and would fail on a driver's license test Probably in the first 5 minutes of the practical part if he somehow managed to pass the theory

Would complain about 'today's youth' at least twice a day Wouldn't know how to use a washer/dryer but would never admit it and just wash everything by hand. When asked about it, would not answer, but most likely look up how to do that after the fact and pretend he always knew

We already know he smells like cinnamon (which is how you detect poison in drinks for example btw, it's easy to hide with it) but I also imagine him always smelling like smoke with a hint of a forest after the rain

Mizuki

Mizuki smells like wisniowka (it's like vodka, but cherry? Don't ask, please) fruit (most notably apples and strawberries) paper and cigarette smoke

He's the type of person who secretly enjoys gardening and has a whole family of plants in his apartment

He talks to the plants sometimes, especially if he's drunk

He watches true crime documentaries

He gives me strong vibes of someone who had a big stuffed animal and still sleeps with it, so he has something to cuddle

Mizuki got his allmate because both Koujaku and Aoba had one and he finally gave in and bought one, cause he didn't want to be the odd one out

When he's tattooing, the ferret(is that how that animal is called?) fetches tissues, extra needles or bottles of ink if he forgot to prepare them before

He has the worst sense of humor, and loves to tell dad jokes to tease his friends

How old is he? You'll never know, he stays young forever

Is bad with technology, although not as bad as Koujaku, and tries to catch up with the newest stuff from time to time

#i ran out of space #dmmd #dramatical murder #headcanon #dmmd2020 #mizuki dmmd #koujaku #dmmd noiz #dmmd ren #dmmd koujaku #dmmd clear #dmmd mink

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amazingdriverfics · 4 years ago

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Hi! I have a new Kylo Ren requests: after he turned back to Light and therefore became Ben Solo, he and his love start a new life on a distant planet (maybe Tatooine) where neither the Resistance or First Order can find them. They get married and start a family. I can imagine how happy Ben is when his wife tells him that he's going to be a dad and they'll be having twins ❤️❤️

A/N: hey love, how are you doing? I’m so glad you like the things I write for you, it means a lot to me.

I hope I was able to capture what you were hoping for and I’m also sorry that it took me this embarrassing long time to finish your request, I hope that the quality pays off for it. Anyways, hopefully you will like it as well as everyone who is taking their time to read this. Thank you all.

Warnings: a bit of angst, nothing too much, is basically just fluff.

My masterlist

Ben watches the two suns rise up in the sky with a sense of peace spreading through his body, not too long ago he was stuck in a spaceship watching endless halls with the same colors, watching the Galaxy and never being able to know what time it was just by looking at it since the view was always dark, only with some stars to bright things up, bossing the same bucket faces around without even bothering to know their names, their age or anything at all that made it clear that those stormtroopers were alive, that way, it was easier to kill them in a tantrum or just because he was bored and had nothing left to do.

He still remembers the moment when he decided to leave Kylo Ren in the past, knowing that it was the only way to be able to feel alive again, able to breathe without fearing his past, his enemies and of course, fear losing y/n. The moment he first saw her in the interrogation chair, Ben felt something from his Jedi years coming back to him, he felt light strongly once more, he felt like she could give him something to live for, not to kill for as Snoke had given him. As the days passed and y/n joined him in the First Order, a new kind of worry started to haunt him, as Kylo he was always vulnerable to possible attacks, no matter how strong with the Force he was, there wasn’t a way to be sure that he could effectively protect y/n, the resistance kept on attacking whenever they could and even inside the Order, Kylo wasn’t completely sure that he could trust his subordinates.

And if that wasn’t reason enough to abandon that place of grief, pain and death, y/n kept on remembering him of who he truly was, of the light inside of him, that no matter how hard he tried to suppress kept on tearing him apart, begging for him to come home, to leave all that nonsense he had putting himself through on the past, to accept that Ben Solo would never really die and that this was for a bigger reason, that the Force had plans for him that could not be changed.

The decision was made slowly, it started to come to his head when he would lay by her side in the bed talking about their dreamt future, about how they would raise their kids freely, how they would be able to discover themselves without too much pressure or abandonment, how they would have domestic moments when they would cook, clean, sing, dance, shower together, how they would have a small garden where they would plant some herbs. At the time, Kylo had not really thought that he would have enough courage to leave the Order behind, but the realization he had that he would never be able to give y/n all the nice things she wanted and dreamt about as long as he was the Supreme Leader caused him too much pain. And of course y/n knew that too and despite wishing that someday he would leave it all behind with her, she also knew that as long as she was by his side, she would be right where she wanted to be, right where she belonged.

Little by little, Kylo started to be more confident in himself and also more aware that he didn’t belong in the First Order and that he had to do something about it and y/n had all to do with that growth. Every night, she would listen to him as he talked about his joys, fears and hopes, reassuring him that she would go wherever he wanted to go, she would also hold him tight when the memories of the years of abuse he had suffered came back to haunt him, remembering Kylo that he was loved, safe and in the arms of the woman he loved. It took five years since he got her back to make the call and he would never forget the way her eyes shone with happiness when he told her that he was ready to leave Kylo in the past.

It was tricky to get away, Ben knew that neither the Resistance or the First Order could be able to find them, and he also knew that he would have to live somewhere people didn’t really knew his face, after all, he had committed horrible crimes and terrified thousands of souls with his red saber, bringing death and destruction upon thousands all throughout the Galaxy. Y/n and him made an infallible plan, which they had studied over and over again, making sure that it didn’t have a single flaw. It happened during a night, he had sent most of the troops away and given the generals a lot of work as y/n got the tracker off one of the Order ships, which they would trade for an old ship in some deserted planet before escaping to Tatooine finally.

If he closes his eyes and thinks about that moment, Ben can still feel the way y/n’s arms hugged him when they finally made it to Tatooine, when they finally realized they were free from the past and ready to start over. He kneeled in front of her in that exact moment, the golden ring he had bought her two months before in his hand as he asked y/n if she wanted to spend the rest of her life loving him.

The start of their stay in Tatooine was hard, they didn’t know anyone and were still a bit scared to meet someone from the Order, the Resistance or anyone who could possibly ruin their cover ups. Y/n started to work first in a small bar, serving customers and getting a very low payment that was barely enough for them to pay the bills. Ben took a bit longer to become confident enough to work and he started helping in a mechanic shop about six months after they first arrived on the planet. Slowly, they built a life there, making some friends - not so many -, buying a house, starting to plant a small garden, getting a pet and rediscovering themselves as people who didn’t have to deal with the pressure of ruling a reign of terror.

Their marriage took place three years after they arrived, it was at their small house with some friends that were glad to join and watch the ceremony. That was the happiest day of Ben’s life, he cried through most of it, but there was no way he could keep it together as she walked into the living room holding some flowers from their garden and wearing a white dress she had bought just for the occasion - nothing too expensive, of course -.

“Ben?” he hears her hoarse voice coming from behind, she would always get scared when she woke up alone in their bed, fearing that the worst had happened.

He turns around quickly, taking in the sight of his wife, her bare feet on the sand, her hair a bit messy from sleep, but shining in the light of the suns, her beautiful smile adorning her features and her body covered in a pink pajama Ben had given her not too long ago.

“Sorry, love, I wasn’t able to sense you were waking up, I was remembering how we got here” he says truthfully with a kind smile to her, just her presence making him feel better than before as she always made him feel.

“It’s okay, darling” she replies before making her way to him, step by step getting closer. As she stands before him, she takes her hands to the side of his face, kissing his lips gently. Once she parts the kiss, her y/e/c eyes look directly into his. “I have the most wonderful news”.

“And what would that be?” Ben asks in a joking tone, ready to hear about her being able to cook some recipe she had been dying to cook for a while.

“We need room for two” y/n states.

“We need what?” he questions, his beautiful face showing confusion.

“We need to make room for the twins, darling”.

In this moment, he finally understands, their dream is finally ready to be complete.

He starts crying in the same moment, joy and excitement pumping through his veins. Ben doesn’t think twice before hugging y/n, holding her tightly into his big arms, whispering countless “I love you”s into her hair, feeling as her tears also fall onto his skin, feeling her happiness as if it was his own, their connection through the Force the strongest it had ever been. At this moment it is as if they are one.

There is nothing in the Galaxy that could take Ben away from their family - about to become larger - and away from their small home in Tatooine where they will grow old together, surely loving each other as hard as they ever have.

#adam driver #kylo ren #kylo x reader #kylo ren x reader #kylo ren x you #kylo x you #star wars #ben solo x reader #ben solo x you #ben solo #request #lovinghufflepuffgirl

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cagestark · 4 years ago

Text

The Rest it Kills

About this: ballerina!peter and mobster!tony. Starker. Physical and emotional between established quentin beck/peter parker.

THIS IS UNFINISHED. Anyone is welcome to continue it.

“FRIDAY, baby? Do you have the shot?”

It’s a celebration, which does nothing to explain why the room gets quiet as soon as Tony enters it. Around the table are four of his best and brightest, the handful of underlings that were instrumental in helping Tony execute his vision of how to repay Adrian Toomes for encroaching upon his weapons market. For a job well done, he’d invited them up to the penthouse to have at his expensive collection of spirits.

He’d left them alone for only a half hour to make a few calls, but now upon his return they were shifty eyed and babbling about something inconsequential, a sure sign that they had hastily changed the subject.

“Alright,” Tony says, pouring himself a glass of scotch. “Out with it. I’m a paranoid bastard at best. At worst?—well. Ask Toomes.”

“It’s nothing bad, Tony,” Rogers says. If the fact that Rogers hadn’t told a lie his entire life didn’t put Tony at ease, then his clear eyes and voice did. Rogers was his number two, and they got on thick as thieves. He’s about as likely to lie to Tony as the sun is not to rise.

“Then I’m not angry,” Tony says, taking the empty seat. “But now I’m curious. Which is worse?”

“Angry,” Wilson says in that deadpan way that Tony just adores.

“Come on, don’t leave me in suspense,” Tony says, finishing his scotch with a single gulp. He pours himself another.

It’s Romanov who—doesn’t break, per say. Tony isn’t convinced that there’s anything that could break Natasha, though if they were on opposite sides, he might have a few places he’d be willing to start. She must weigh the pros and cons and decide that letting Tony in on their little secret is the best move. Whether it’s best for her, for them, or for someone else, Tony can’t say.

She shifts and pulls out a piece of paper folded in half and tosses it across the table. Barnes and Rogers groan.

“Nat, you rat,” Barnes says.

“Wow,” she says, eyes glittering. “That rhymed, Bucky. It was beautiful.”

“What the fuck is this?” Tony wonders out loud as he unfolds the paper. It turns out to be nothing extraordinary. It’s a program for the New York City Ballet. The ballet is something new by Ratmansky, with principal dancers MAXIMOFF/PARKER. “Ballet? Taking up a new hobby, Barnes?”

“I thought I’d look great in the tights,” is all Barnes says. A deflection if Tony’s ever heard one.

“Their boy toy is the lead,” Romanov admits (to fresh groaning from around the table).

Tony’s eyebrows raise. “Boy toy? All three of you?”

“We are in the process of wooing him, so to speak,” Wilson admits, taking a swig from the bottle in front of him. “Barnes and Rogers might be willing to tag team him, but I want him all for myself.”

Rogers’s eyes flash, cold steel in the overhead lights. “Watch the way you’re talking about Peter. He’s not a piece of meat to be shared.”

“This is a goddamn episode of the Bachelor,” Tony laughs. “Which one is Peter: Maximoff or Parker?”

“Parker,” all four chime together.

“I feel like a father whose kids are going out on their first date. Are you buying him flowers? Are you opening the car door for him? Are you being safe?” Tony jests. He leans back in his chair feeling the warm thrum of the scotch in his stomach, glancing from one besotted man to the next.

“All that and more,” Barnes says. Then, with more than a little bitterness: “It’s the way he deserves to be treated.”

Tony lifts his brows. Natasha slides him the deck of cards so that he can shuffle. He’ll lose, especially once he’s as drunk as he hopes to be, but there’s no amount of money he could lose to them that wouldn’t amount to pocket change in his book. Consider it their bonus. As he deals, he asks, “Trouble in paradise?”

“You could say that,” Wilson mutters. “He’s not exactly on the market.”

“Never took you for a homewrecker, Rogers. Barnes maybe—“

“Hardly a home to wreck,” Barnes admits. “Not a happy one, at least. Pete’s boyfriend is a perverted, abusive low life.”

Tony goes stiff. The buzzing in his gut transfers to his brain, raw as the sizzle of electricity. In his mind, he sees himself as a young boy sitting cross-legged by the vanity in his mother’s room watching her apply creams and powders to disguise Howard’s abuse. All the heinous crimes Tony commits, that one is not among them. He doesn’t prey on the weak. It’s the only promise to his mother that he’s never broken.

“So, take care of him,” Tony says lowly. “Do you or do you not have certain skills and the balls to use them? You could kill this boyfriend and have it look like a hundred different accidents. What’s the problem here? Do you need daddy’s permission or something? Well, here, I’m giving it.”

Rogers scowls darkly at his hand. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Wouldn’t I? Regale me, then! Because it sounds to me like I’m sitting around the table with a bunch of pussies.”

“Peter asked us not to,” Barnes says.

Tony blinks. “Is—is that it? Good God. Definitely a bunch of pussies. Kill the bastard anyway. If you can’t stomach it; if you don’t want your boy toy mad at you, give me a name and I’ll do it. It can be done before we’re four rounds into poker, for fuck’s sake.”

“It’s not like we don’t have the stomach for it,” Wilson says. He’s the newest of their crew, but Tony appreciates his fearlessness, the open, unabashed expression he gives Tony when calling him out on perceived bullshit. “It’s about respect, man. We respect Peter’s wishes, and he trusts us because of it.”

The form of respect Tony is most acquainted with is fear. This softness he sees in his men right now translates to nothing short of weakness. Tony has never lived in a fairytale: the world is hard, and it makes hard people.

The rest, it kills.

“It’s complicated,” Rogers says to soothe Tony’s hackles. “If you knew the kid, you’d understand I think.”

“Now you’ve gone and done it,” Barnes mutters. There’s movement underneath the table: one person kicking another, everyone jolting to get their legs out of the way. Barnes looks like he’s sucked on a lemon, or taken a shot of Nat’s imported whiskey. “Now he’s gonna go see Pete for himself and none of us will have a chance.”

As it is, Tony doesn’t have to lift a finger to meet Peter because Peter comes to him.

Tony knows the benefit of giving his men a nice long leash.

He doesn’t have to. With them living in the Tower, it’s within his rights to keep surveillance on all of them; except he knows that distrust breeds distrust. Wilson, Romanov, Rogers, and Barnes have earned his trust. For that reason alone, he removed the wiretaps and cameras in their rooms upon their arrivals.

But it’s still his home, and he watches it. Closely. Tony has just poured his third glass of scotch when FRIDAY alerts him that there’s an unauthorized presence in the Tower.

“Unescorted?” Tony asks. His blood thrums—this is the most exciting thing to happen all day.

“Mr. Rogers and Mr. Barnes are the ones who granted him entrance using Mr. Roger’s passcode, and they appear to be returning to Mr. Rogers apartment, judging by the floor number selected in the private elevator.”

Tony rolls his eyes, relaxing back in his chair. “A fuck, baby?”

Tony has asked them not to entertain guests at the Tower without his authorization, but Tony was young once. He knew the thrill of breaking rules, how good forbidden, casual sex could feel. He wouldn’t put it past Rogers and Barnes to have grown bored, considering they’ve been dicking each other down since they were teens. Just thinking about twenty years of monogamy has his cock shriveling. If they’re just bringing home someone to bend between them and spitroast, Tony’s not going to bother abandoning his scotch.

“Judging by the young man’s level of inebriation, I would hope not.”

Groaning, Tony sets his scotch aside. He gives it a mournful glance while he steps into a pair of jeans and straps up. “I’m coming back for you, baby,” he whispers. “Wait for me. Take no other lover. Fuck, I hate wasting my humor on an empty room.”

“I’m here, boss,” FRI offers.

Tony rolls his eyes.

When he knocks on Steve’s (Steve and Bucky’s apartment, considering how much time Bucky spends there) at fifteen minutes ‘til midnight on a Thursday, he would usually expect a bleary-eyed blonde to crack the door open, a dark apartment the backdrop behind him. Instead, the door opens and light floods out into the hallway. Steve is dressed in his pajamas, that is to say that he’s wearing only a pair of pajama pants that cling to his hipbones for dear fucking life.

“FRI said there’s someone in my building and they’re drunker than I am. Don’t you know that’s a crime?” Tony asks, leaning against the doorframe. The cock of his hip emphasizes where his gun rests, but Steve’s eyes don’t even flicker to it.

Nonplussed, Steve just steps aside to give Tony room to enter.

Slumped on the sofa, bundled underneath a large blanket is a young man. Handsome, his face is a testament to masculinity: cut jaw, straight nose, flat brows and thin lips. The only hint of estrogen is the clear, smooth skin that looks like he’s never grown facial hair in his life. Right away, Tony places his bets that he knows who this kid is.

Peter Parker is resplendent, large brown eyes that blink sluggishly, dragging all over Tony’s figure like his eyes can’t decide where to rest. Sitting up, the blanket falls away and reveals his naked chest which Tony eyes with appreciation. He has the optimal figure for a ballerino, obvious strength that is lean and not bulky.

One of the thin lips is split, bruise blooming like the most tender flower beside his mouth. The wound opens when the kid’s mouth falls open.

“Ohmygod,” he slurs, elbows shaking from lack of strength. He collapses back onto the comfortable couch. “Tony Stark is here.”

Were he not so sobered by the kid’s appearance, the bruises and blood and the red-rimmed eyes and raw mouth, he might be charmed. Bucky appears dressed no more than Steve and Tony, a glass of water in his hand. He helps Peter sit up and coaxes him to drink from the glass. Every other sip, Peter gets distracted, gaping from naked chest to naked chest. At one point, he falls asleep propped up on Bucky’s shoulder.

“He’s not drunk,” Tony says, standing back with Steve while they watch Bucky try to coax the kid into consciousness. “Drugged?”

Steve hums. A muscle in his jaw jumps from how he’s grinding it. “It’s not the first time. Beck and Peter have different tastes in the bedroom. Peter has mentioned before that sometimes after their date nights, he wakes up sore.”

“Jesus fucking Christ. And you haven’t killed this guy, yet?”

Steve looks downright tortured. He does it well; Tony’s always thought of him as a bit of a melodramatic. “Peter would never see us again if we did. We have to decide between being around to support and protect him or not being around at all.”

“If Beck was dead,” Tony says coldly. “There’d be nothing to protect him from.”

“James,” Peter groans, losing and finding purpose again during the middle of the word. “Tony Stark is here!”

“In the flesh, kid,” Tony says, stepping forward. Peter’s eyes trace down Tony’s chest, tracing the matting of scars over his sternum before dipping over his abs (nowhere near as pronounced as Barnes or Rogers’s, but Tony does alright). The kid licks his lips. He can’t help but preen a little, winking at Bucky who is rolling his eyes. “

The curiosity has been planted like a seed deep inside Tony’s mind. It sprouts, soaking up thoughts until it’s the only thing he can think about, Peter Parker, principal dancer, owner of three of his best-men’s hearts.

It leads Tony here, to the best seats money can’t even buy at the Lincoln Center in Manhattan, dressed in his best tuxedo, dark eyes focused on the curtain that glows gold. His heart pounds when it withdraws on a dark, empty stage, though he hardly knows why.

By the end, he has a better idea.

There’s no hiding a single sharp line or sensual curve in the outfits they wear onstage, the pale tights and leotards. There is nothing soft about him save for his curls, but still he leaps and lands silent on his canvas-clad feet. The dance is obviously based around Maximoff’s character with Peter there as her supporting love interest, but even when the red-head bewitches the audience with her fouettés, Tony can’t take his eyes off of Peter’s figure, bowed at the edge of the stage and watching her with the sweetest supplication. When it is time for his own variation, he leaps and bows with a boneless grace that does more than take Tony’s breath away. It makes him hard. It makes him think about those long, strong legs wrapped around his waist while he gives the boy his cock. It makes him think about peeling those tights off and wrapping them around the dainty, pale wrists. It’s a good thing no one can see his erection behind the wall of his box seat when they all stand to give their ovation.

Peter bows and flushes, hand in hand with Maximoff before standing behind her sweetly while the entire place howls for her.

Tony thinks that maybe he’s starting to understand.

No one bothers him where he leans against the wall beside Peter’s dressing room door. Whether it is his reputation or his thunderous expression, he knows not, but he’s grateful for the lack of distractions while he eavesdrops on the conversation taking place inside the dressing room between Peter and a man Peter calls Quent.

—work harder in the gym. Have you been tracking your calories on the app we downloaded together?

Yes, Quent, Peter mumbles, barely audible through the walls.

All of them?

I said yes.

Don’t get defensive, babe. I had three different audience members come to talk to me about your figure tonight. It pisses me off too! If you’re ready to leave the industry—

You know I’m not.

Quentin sighs, the long-suffering sigh of an argument that has been often visited. I know. This is your dream. Poor baby. It must be so tough, loving a job that hurts you so much. But I’m so proud of you for pushing through, Peter, you know that, right? I just wish you were a little more grateful to me for trying to keep you on the right track. You treat me like the bad guy.

Peter doesn’t respond.

Is there anything you need before I go? How’s your back feeling? Your lifts looked a little strained towards the end.

Feels okay. I’ve got everything I need back at my apartment. I’ll go home and put my feet up.

You deserve it. Just don’t forget to use that app okay? There’s a rustle, a struggle, maybe Peter trying to pull away. But Tony’s always had an overactive imagination. Hey. Don’t be like that. I love you.

You too.

Peter. Say it right.

Tony slips away from the door before Quentin can come out. From his place around the corner, Tony still has decent vantage to put eyes on this man for himself. Average height, average weight. Fit enough—for a civilian. Tony’s hands positively ache for a gun. Though he’s carrying, he’s no fool. Now isn’t the time, nor the place.

Once he’s sure the man is gone and not returning, Tony makes his way back to the door. It’s time to meet this young talent from Queens (yeah, Tony read the brochure) for himself. But when Tony goes to lift his hand to knock, the door swings open.

Peter blinks in surprise. He’s dressed in gray leggings that look soft as cashmere, a NYDC hoodie on, sneakers on his feet. Spilling from the sneakers’ tops are black fuzzy socks, meant to keep his toes warm from the cold New York weather.

He’s limping.

And gaping. It never gets old, seeing the way his reputation precedes him. He loves the way the crowds part for him on the street, loves the way waiters and waitresses stammer and struggle to serve him, the way eyes grow wide like Tony is a god in the flesh.

Tony extends a hand. “I’m Tony Stark. It’s a pleasure to meet you; you’re a very talented dancer.”

“Hi,” Peter breathes, taking Tony’s hand. Tony grips gently, feeling like he’s liable to break bones, the kid’s so fucking delicate. And cold. But Tony knows the saying: cold hands, warm heart. He wonders what that makes him. Peter works to regain himself, saying, “Trust me, I know who you are. It’s so nice to meet you. Thank you—they didn’t tell me that anyone important was going to be in the audience.”

“They who?” Tony asks. “Your managers, or my men?”

Peter swallows, face draining of blood. As much as Tony likes these games, they aren’t as enjoyable when the worm on his hook is as pretty and polite as Peter is. He puts on his most charming (softest) smile and makes sure to ask, gesturing to the messy dressing room behind him, may I come in?

Nodding, Peter opens the door wider. They both ignore how he was clearly on his way out, a backpack in his hands. He sits it down carefully by the vanity where he applied his stage makeup and seats himself on the chair, nudging his shoes off. When he stretches the arches of his feet, he winces. Tony gives him a moment to settle, stepping around the tiny room and taking in the smells and sights. On one wall is a picture of Peter and Quentin, arms around each other, beaming.

“Mr. Stark?” Peter asks, voice quiet. Tony glances over at him. “Are your—men in trouble?”

“No,” Tony admits. “If they were, I certainly wouldn’t be here watching ballet; I’d be...busy.”

Peter sags in relief. The way his shoulders hunch throw his collar bones into sharp prominence where they peek out from the neck of his sweatshirt. “Oh thank God. They’re so nice, Mr. Stark, and I promise they don’t tell me anything about their—your work. James still insists that he works for some guy named Potts in New Jersey. Who’s Tony Stank, he asked me when I brought you up.”

Tony lets his lips twitch. “James’s middle name is Buchanan. Some call him Bucky. Tell him I said: now we’re even.”

Peter grins and it’s radiant. Tony feels an unsteadiness in his gut, like missing a step on the stairs or hearing a gunshot go off when he’s not been the one to pull the trigger. There’s just the gentlest stirring of jealousy when Peter mouths the name, Bucky, testing the way it tastes and wrinkling his nose in laughter.

“I can’t wait to see the look on his face,” Peter says. “Thank you, Mr. Stark.”

Now might be the time to offer to let the kid use his given name but—Tony’s kind of into it. A few more instances of Mr. Stark rolling off that polished tongue might have Tony hardening in his tux. “Take a picture for me,” Tony suggests, sitting down on the cozy loveseat that is opposite of Peter’s vanity.

“You said—you enjoyed the show?” Peter asks, demure. The sleeves of his sweatshirt pass his wrists and most of his palms, turning his hands into adorable little sweater-paws. When he reaches up to bite at a nail, the sleeve slips down past his tiny wrist. Tony could surely wrap an entire hand around that wrist and have more to spare.

“It was incredible,” Tony admits. “I don’t usually have the attention span to sit through longer shows, but I was hooked from curtain rise to curtain fall, kid.”

Peter flushes, not so much in embarrassment as he does from the pleasure of being complimented. The flush of the drunk, though it seems Peter’s poison of choice is praise. Tony can’t help but want to spread him out on the sheets in his bedroom and say the sweetest, filthiest things to see if he can get the kid hard with just his voice. “I’m so glad. There hasn’t been as much press; new shows are always a little slow to take off. Wanda really is something special, though. She spent a season overseas and came back with so much more grace and growth—”

“Did she do well tonight?” Tony asks, unbuttoning the top button on his jacket to reveal the trim waist and vest beneath. He realizes what he’s doing just as the words are coming out of his mouth. Tony is flirting with Peter, and his flirtation is a force of nature. “I barely noticed her. Couldn’t take my eyes off of you, kid. How the hell you manage to dance that way, I can’t fathom.”

Now the flush hints at being flustered. He soaks in the way Peter’s face darkens, the way he hides behind one of his hands as the praise makes his posture go soft and waxy. His voice is remarkably even when he says, “Lots and lots of practice.”

“Your hard work pays off. I was captivated. I could tell that my men were the same.”

That topic sobers Peter, who sits up straighter. His pretty face twists, the question mark clear, the confusion too genuine for Tony to take it disrespectfully. On the contrary, Tony finds his forthrightness attractive when he asks, “Why did you come tonight, Mr. Stark?”

“I came to see what it was about you that has my men so enthralled,” Tony admits. With the kind of power he has comes the freedom to be honest, even painfully, brutally honest, because repercussions are either minimal or nonexistent.

“Did you figure it out?” Peter asks. Tony can’t help but feel like the kid is asking him for the both of them: what is it so special about me? Yes, this boy is fragile. That can’t be overlooked. But inside of him there’s still a spark of spirit ready to alight at any moment, grateful for any tinder that it’s given. He’s not Maria Stark. Not yet.

“Yes,” Tony says, standing. He rebuttons his jacket. “And I’d like very much to get to know you better, if you’re agreeable.”

“Me?” Peter’s head cocks, squinting up at Tony like he’s trying to see through him, to see what is really being said. “Why?”

Tony is used to letting his baser instincts guide him. He fucks who he wants, goes where he wants, says what he wants, and he owes no one alive an explanation for it. Many people have stopped asking Tony questions like why? Certainly none of Toomes’s men asked Tony why when he was torturing them forty-eight hours ago.

“Because I want to,” Tony says. He reaches down and picks up Peter’s backpack, putting it over his shoulder, the canvas bag downright gauche against his Givenchy tuxedo. “So what do you say, kid? You look dead on your feet, but would you like to be dead on your feet somewhere more private?”

Peter takes a long moment to think about it before tucking his toes into his shoes.

He belongs there amongst the backdrop of Tony’s penthouse. Peter glances around with all the coltish wonder of a newborn, running his fingers across the genuine leather of the sofa, leaning forward to look at the smart-glass table that Tony likes to prop his feet up on at night. Upon entering, Tony removes his tuxedo jacket and takes Peter’s hastily-removed sweatshirt. He appreciates the four inches of skin that appear when his shirt rides up, sticking to his outerwear.

He doesn’t appreciate the yellowing bruises dotting the kid’s biceps. Fingertips, he knows. His mother wore them round her neck like pearls.

“Is it okay if I take my shoes off?” Peter asks. He limped from the theater to the car, from the car to the elevator, and from the elevator to the couch where he collapsed with a sigh of relief. When Tony encourages him to, Peter nudges off his comfortable shoes and brings one foot up into his lap where he firmly presses his knuckles into the sole.

Peter asks for a drink. Tony gives him access to his wine, and the kid chooses for himself: a red, Chateau Margaux that smells of rose petals and hints at citrus and turns Peter’s cheeks pink. He doesn’t ask for a second glass, and Tony doesn’t offer it; the last thing he wants is the kid to think that Tony invited him here to take advantage of him.

“Tell me,” Tony asks, watching with rapt attention the faces Peter makes, like he’s dancing on the knife’s edge between pleasure and pain. “Tell me how you met my men. They aren’t exactly patrons of the arts.”

Peter’s face smoothes and he smiles. “It was Natalie, actually. She comes to shows every so often; I think her and one of the instructors know each other. Sometimes, she sponsors promising dancers.”

Romanov. Her and this instructor must truly know each other for her to be using a cover name around them. He files all this away in the darkest parts of his mind, should she ever become a problem someday. Tony has places reserved in his brain for all of his closest allies; already, he is making one for Peter too. Trust is earned but ever ephemeral.

“So Nat introduced you?”

“Yes. She sponsored me for a while, so we got to know each other pretty well. Once I mixed up my days and showed up at her condo when I wasn’t supposed to, and I met the others. Sometimes they would come to shows or send me gifts backstage.” Peter frowns. “I asked them to stop though because—Quent would just throw them all away.”

“Quentin Beck.”

“How’d you know?”

Tony just smiles and changes the subject. “You must know that the three of my men are half in love with you.”

Peter groans, pressing both his palms flat to his heated cheeks. “I had a feeling they were...interested. I hope they don’t feel that I’ve led them on, Mr. Stark. Nothing untoward happens at all when we’re together; sometimes I, I meet Steve and James for dinner, or other times Sam comes over to my apartment and we just talk, I promise. They’re so kind and it’s—it’s nice to have people to talk to.”

Peter stops talking abruptly, mouth open. He lets it fall closed with a click. When Tony prods him gently, he admits, “The attention is nice, too. It feels good, feeling wanted. Does that make me bad?”

Tony wonders what kind of miserable asshole would have Peter in his bed at night and not show the kid attention. It takes a special fuck-up to come home to a lover like Peter and not make him feel wanted. “Wanting attention? Not at all, kid. It’s the least of what you deserve.”

“You sound like them,” Peter says, smiling. “James and Steve and Sam. They’re always doing and saying nice things and telling me that I deserve them.”

“Good,” says Tony, one side of his mouth curling upwards. “I feel like a proud father; I’ve taught them well. Should you have those elevated?”

“Sorry?”

“Your feet. Elevation will keep down the swelling.” Tony places one of the expensive throw pillows on his lap and pats it invitingly. Peter stretches out without anymore prompting, toes flexing as his joints pop before curling in. The kid makes for an indecent picture, all long lines, absolutely nothing hidden by the leggings he wears.

“I asked them if I could meet you, you know,” Peter admits. He’s red from far more than the wine, now, judging by the way he has one hand pressed over his eyes to shield him from Tony’s gaze. As if it’s possible to. Peter peaks through his fingers. “Don’t take this the wrong way, Mr. Stark, but I’ve had a crush on you for ages.”

A crush. God. Tony doesn’t know what’s more hilarious, the sweet naivete of this boy or how it makes his cold heart flutter. Tony’s eyebrows raise. “Is that so? I’m not exactly crush material for the mentally stable.”

Peter hums. “When I was a kid, I had a lot of bullies. I started dancing when I was four years old, and not a lot of other boys understood. Sometimes, I used to daydream about you coming to protect me from them. To put them all in their place and then whisk me off to that house you gave a tour of on TV once, the one in Malibu.”

“Good taste,” Tony says. “You know, I used to do the same thing when I was young. I dreamed about someone coming to protect me and my mother, to take us both away somewhere where no one could ever hurt us.”

Sitting up on his elbows, Peter fixes Tony with a serious, solemn stare. “Really?”

“Really.”

“Is that what happened?”

“No. I became that someone. What happened to you?”

“I guess I gave up on the idea,” says Peter.

“Look. Maybe you don’t have your crush on me anymore, but I’m not the kind of man who can look away from innocent human suffering. My men told me about your boyfriend.” Peter sags back onto the couch and puts his face in his hands. He shakes his head from side to side, though no words come out. “This is my offer, kid. Let me take care of the problem. Let me be that knight in shining armor you wanted when you were younger.

#starker #cagewrites #unfinished fic #tw: abuse #ballerina!peter #mobster!tony

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euphoricsunflowers · 4 years ago

Text

queen’s whore — lee hoseok/wonho

a/n: sorry to anyone named adrian, i just needed a name lol

a/n: hi welcome back to me getting so into a concept and writing out a complex story instead of just writing something sexual for this nsfw blog 😔✌️ i promise the next one will actually be horny

word count: 3.1k

content: only the last section is nsfw and it’s pretty soft, peasant!wonho, queen!fem!reader, kiki and kyun are in this too and honestly kyun in this is my icon, wonho is not treated well by the people so don’t read if that’s uncomfortable for you, like he mentions being called a whore but nobody directly says it to him in what’s written, riding le dick, aftercare i guess??? it’s vv soft at the end, the king is a sexist dick and i literally just looked up royal baby names and his is what came up so sorry to anyone named adrian

summary: hoseok, your secret lover, asks to become your consort so he’s not just seen as some peasant trying to get power by having an affair with the queen. kihyun, a royal advisor, and changkyun, a war strategist, help you do so against a king who is a really, really big asshole.

“oh my darling hoseok, why are you here so suddenly?” you mumble, allowing him into your chambers despite the absurd time. he trudges in, seemingly something disturbing his peace of mind, settling down on the bed, lying back with a miserable expression on his face that haunts your heart. it makes you want to do nothing more than absolve him of all this pain.

his eyes flutter close as he breathes in, taking in your words as if they are the only comfort he has left in the world, “i love you, you know.”

his bluntness startles you, “i do know, hoseok, i love you too.”

“no you do not understand, i really, really love you, i—” he stops, breaking down suddenly. Your heart shatters when he chuckles cathartically, covering his face with his arm out of embarrassment as he cries, “why do they have to say such cruel words? they say i’m fucking the queen so surely i must be trying to take advantage of her status or raise mine, but i am really not! i’m not just your whore!” he shouts, before looking over at you and remembering the situation. he, a common peasant, just cursed in front of you, the queen. Even if you did love him, he so desperately wished to go back and stop himself, “I apologize, my queen, for my words, i— please forgive me for tonight.”

“dear, please do not apologize tonight. you have every reason to be acting irrational right now,” you reach out to grab his hand, and he holds back with every last ounce of strength in his body, “the things people have said about you since the beginning of rumors concerning our… affair, have been vile and invasive. I wish that I could stop them, but I can only do so much without confirming them more. we both know my husband would not appreciate that.”

your husband. the king. not an ounce of love was shared between you two, and yet, even though he expected you to be fine with his constant affairs with other women, he would be livid if he knew you had a lover of your own. for that reason, the rumors concerning hoseok never made it to the king, because the people knew you would probably be in for hell. you were definitely the more well liked out of the two, and that meant that hoseok, a little nobody from a small fishing village in the kingdom, got the brunt of it, “does his opinion have… to matter so much?”

“hoseok...” you murmur with a warning tone, “sweetheart, i… i do not think…. it’s wise to talk about my husband in such a way—”

“you don’t love him! you sleep in separate rooms for god’s sake!” he shouts in a hushed tone, “make me your consort. i am not asking for political power, but i am sick of being called a whore.”

“and you expect me to take the brunt of my husband’s anger?”

“my queen, and more importantly, my love, please don’t imply such a thing. you have the support of the people, and many of your husband’s advisors would love to see him—” he says, and you place a finger over his lips.

“you speak far too loudly for someone trying to convince me to commit a crime.”

“i never said you had to kill him.”

“you were going to.”

“no i was not... because…” he takes a breath in, “i know you think he’ll have your head, but with the way the kingdom views you, and especially how the people view him, he would be a fool to lay a finger on you.”

silence fills the room, and hoseok wants to take it all back. it’s always felt like every time he opened his mouth to speak, nothing good would come of it. he sits up, but stays on the bed as you look away from him, “hoseok…”

he doesn’t answer when you call out his name, even though he knows he should. frankly, he should be on his knees in your presence, but in this room only he felt like you could be equals; he’s once again reminded that you are not, “my queen, i know what i’m asking of you is far too much, i know i’m overstepping and asking you to step into deadly dangerous territory, but… i’m so tired of being viewed like i’m using you, and i’m tired of the things they call me. i’m tired of being nothing to you outside these walls.”

“my dear,” you breathe, speechless at his words. it would be fatal to make one wrong move, but… would it be worth it?

“i’m not going to attempt to guilt trip you, you deserve better than that. if you don’t feel safe doing this, or just simply don’t wish to, i will accept that. and my love will be unwavering no matter what,” he raises your hand to his lips to kiss your knuckles, falling to his knees, and resting his forehead against your thigh, “just, please think about me too when you make that decision.”

—

“kihyun,” you murmur, and he perks up hearing your voice as you reach out your hand for him to take, “come here, please. i require you for something.”

“of course, your highness,” he nods softly, letting you lead him to somewhere more quiet. kihyun was a royal advisor, but he was also a good friend to have on your side. he was too smart for you to allow to become an enemy, but he had a good heart. it didn’t take much effort from your husband to get kihyun to… not be fond of him, to put it mildly, “what is the matter?”

“i… i have a favor to ask,” you gulp, the full weight of what you were going to do hitting you hard in that moment, but you push through it. hoseok needed this, “have you heard the rumors about me?”

he bites his lip, but nods, “i— yes, your highness. my lips are sealed if you wish to speak about them.”

“they… are true. and i wish to make him my consort, but…”

“you’re worried about the king’s reaction to knowing you have… a lover,” he finishes the thought for you, and you’re both left to silence, until he speaks up with a chuckle, “forgive me, but you’re in a rough situation, my queen.”

“it’s… it’s not me who’s had to take the worst of it,” you shake your head, “i need to do this, kihyun.”

“i know you do. so tell me what you need me to be specifically, and i will do my best to be exactly that—” kihyun says, before getting interrupted.

“the king must understand the backlash he’ll get from punishing the queen, right?” you hear a voice say, cutting kihyun off.

your heart stops.

it’s all over isn’t it? the king found out about it before you even got the chance to try. you failed hoseok.

“i could attempt to help?” the voice adds on. you turn to see the face that the voice belongs to, and you breathe out a sigh of relief.

“changkyun,” you whisper, a hand over your heart, “you scared me.” *changkyun*. he was a war strategist that worked very closely with your father and now your husband, despite being a rather young strategist when your father was still on the throne. though he runs in the big political leagues, you trusted that kid with your life.

“i apologize, your highness, i seem to have that effect,” he winks, “anyway, i am sure we could convince the king to let it slide and allow the queen to appoint her mystery lover as a consort.”

though changkyun always seems to speak nonsense, his nonsense is giving you too much hope right now that you have to consciously hold yourself together and keep your expectations realistic, “tell me how, changkyun.”

“we could threaten to reveal information that, to be blunt, would ruin the king,” changkyun smirks, “i have been waiting for the chance to screw him over for years.”

“what information do you have?” kihyun speaks up, “and, no matter what it is, you know you’re painting a target on your back if you do this, right?”

changkyun, suddenly somber, nods, “of course i know that this would make me a target for the king, but… i owe it to you, your highness. you’re the reason i am alive. i live to serve you, not the crown. and.. do you think exposing to the kingdom that the king wants to invade our northern allies because they wouldn’t give him their princess to fuck would work? let’s just say, the king is one incredibly unpleasant man.”

you glance over at kihyun, who is in turn, looking over at you, and you mumble, “what do you say we… pay a visit to my husband, just the four of us?” you raise an eyebrow at kihyun, and he just wants to laugh at the obvious death sentence.

“of course, my queen. let’s meet back here after dinner and say hello to him then.”

—

“my king,” kihyun says, entering first. he hears the disgruntled groan of the king before even daring to look up. he keeps his head down.

“what is it, yoo? this better be important,” he spits, and kihyun does his best to keep his cool. now that he’s really thinking about it, maybe they should have… not bothered the king during his personal time.

“the queen wishes to speak with you, your highness,” he mutters, hearing the scoff from the king, he can tell the attention is soon off of him because he hears your footsteps behind him.

“good evening, adrian,” your voice is cold and unwavering as you speak to the king, much different than the kindness and softness in your demeanor when you spoke to others. the difference is night and day.

“for what reason are you in my chambers this evening, y/n? i doubt you’re here for romance,” he chuckles half-heartedly, but you keep your glare pointed at him.

“you would be correct. i’m here to say i… i am appointing a consort.”

he laughs, actually bursts out into a fit of laughter, when you say that, “really?! you?! i hate to tell you, my wife, but that will not be happening.”

“actually, it will be,” kihyun stands up after kneeling, and meeting the king’s startled gaze, “she came here for a reason, and we’re not leaving until we do what we came to do.”

“who is this consort?!” the king doesn’t even spare kihyun more than a glance after he gathers himself together, “i feel bad for the poor thing, he’ll be dead before you even get the chance to do anything for him.”

the thought lingers in your head. that is definitely a possibility. hoseok was definitely physically strong, but there was a good chance he wouldn’t make it out of this alive. you have to remind yourself that this is what hoseok wanted, that he is fully aware of the danger, and that you’re doing this for him. you pull yourself back together, feeling kihyun’s hand on your shoulder, being a comforting and supporting presence, “you will allow it, adrian, i assure you that it’s in your best interest to let this happen.”

“and why is that?!” he shouts, making you flinch a bit, but you’re saved when changkyun comes in. it’s now three against one, and changkyun raises a piece of paper, with his signature smirk in place.

“take a look,” he murmurs, his voice deep and soft. it would be soothing if it wasn’t filling you with the same confident energy that he always has. it’s infectious, in the best way, “i’m sure the people would love to know how you tried to steal the princess of another kingdom away. that’s some real comic book supervillain stuff, my king.”

“and remember, public opinion heavily favors your wife, my king. sure, they’re terrified of you, but i doubt that is enough to stop them from rising up. we wouldn’t want a coup, would we?” kihyun seems to share the same sentiment, his usually respectful and reverent demeanor suddenly disappearing, “so how about settling this here and now?”

—

“hello, and good morning, my people. i hope you are managing well during these hard times. please know i am doing my absolute best to serve you all well and take care of each and every one of you. your needs are incredibly important to me and i wish i could be doing more to make your lives easier. i promise to do everything in my power to help you. please hold me to that if you feel i am lacking.

“today, i am here to confess and to ask that you hear me out. for over a year now, you may have heard rumors about affairs my husband and i have had. i am here to tell you, that at least on my end, the rumors hold true. i have… fallen for someone else. when my husband and i talked this over, we came to the conclusion that our titles mean we rule together, but neither of us have romantic or otherwise feelings for each other.

“as such, i am deciding to do something that… i should have done long ago. my lover— his name is lee hoseok— and i have let him be treated cruelly just to protect myself from rumors. that is something… i do not feel proud about. he is the kindest soul i have ever had the pleasure of loving, and i wish for him to only feel happy feelings for the rest of his existence. starting from today, he shall carry the title of ‘queen’s consort’. please treat him like you would any royalty. calling him what some have will not be tolerated any longer.

“thank you for your time, this has been queen y/n. i wish a kinder tomorrow for you all, take care.”

—

hoseok had been waiting in your chambers since you left to deliver your speech that morning, watching it from the tv in your room. he watched the heart-wrenching moments when he could see the fear and regret within you coming together in one big release. he thinks about all the things he needs to say to you when you get back, but once you’re walking through that door, he was at a loss for words.

“good morning, my hoseok,” you murmur softly, nudging him out of his dazed state, “how are you doing today?”

“i am… amazing. i am doing so well,” he finally breaks out into the brightest smile you’ve ever seen from him. he always gave lopsided grins or small smiles, all full of love, but he truly just seemed so happy, and the sight was incredibly endearing, “come kiss me, please.”

“of course, dear,” you mumble, pulling him by his collar to crash your lips on his. his hands cup your cheeks and yours find a home resting on his beautiful chest and shoulders. you kiss him feverishly, and he reciprocates with the same intensity. you pull back to kiss along his jaw, dropping down to kiss his neck as well, and the room is filled with the beautiful breathy moans he lets escape.

“i love you so, so much, y/n,” he whispers breathlessly, gasping when you bite down. his hands hold your waist, pulling you impossibly close, and god he never wants to let go.

“i know, bunny, i know, and i love you so much more,” you whisper as he whimpers out of need when your knee brushes his crotch, pushing him down on the bed, feeling all up on him under you. it’s exhilarating like always, a feeling he’ll never get used to no matter how much he tries, “tell me, bunny, today is about you, so tell me what you want.”

“c-could you—,” he stutters, always struggling with words when you touch him the way you do, “—please ride me?”

“of course, sweetie,” you giggle, of course he wants that. well, you’ve never been one to deny him what he wants, bunny’s so spoiled.

you both undress rather quickly, even as he struggles to get his shirt off. he pulls you back on top of him as soon as he has the chance, and you immediately kiss him with ferocity, hands massaging the skin of his waist, making him giggle slightly, “hah, that tickles!”

you smile at his cute reactions, before taking his hand and pulling it so his fingers barely graze over your sex, “feel that, angel? that’s all you, this is what you do to me” he groans as he feels the wetness on his fingertips, “now stay still, i promise i’ll make you feel really good.”

“you always do,” he breathes with a smile, meeting your soft gaze for a second before you lower yourself down on him and you both moan simultaneously, and he adds on, “o-oh my god!” you take a second to adjust, but you soon start rocking your hips slowly, gaining speed gradually. nothing else, and nobody else, existed in that moment other than you and him.

“bunny,” you murmur, and he tries to pay attention to your voice, but he’s losing himself in the pleasure, “touch me, will you?” he reaches out to rub your clit as you continue to ride him. god, it’s so easy to see stars, especially when there’s the prettiest one right in front of you. you grasp his hair as you start speeding up, feeling your orgasm coming, “cum with me, hoseok.” he attempts to nod, unable to speak from the warmth begging to burst in his body.

he cries out as you pull one last time, orgasming with the most pornographic moans and look on his face you’ve ever seen. you’re right there with him, and if sucks you don’t get a chance to admire him fully, but that can be saved for later.

once you’re done, having both hit your highs and come down, you take care of him like always. he reaches for the snacks you keep in the drawer of your nightstand. it seemed like the boy was always hungry, but especially so after his soul practically left his body from how good you make him feel. you run him a bath where he just plays with bubbles and asks for nose kisses, but he looks so happy that your heart just melts.

and then you tuck him into bed, warmly dressed with fluffy socks to top it off. sure, it’s only 11 in the morning, but you don’t have anything to do until evening, and he could always use some cuddles.

—

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