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fushitoru · 13 days ago

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chapter 8: the lake a bridgerton au

pairing ⸺ duke!satoru gojo x fem!reader

summary ⸺ dearest gentle reader, a new season is upon us as the ton gets ready for a season filled with drama, heartbreak, and passion. after being crowned diamond of the season, duke gojo⸺only looking to marry just to secure his inheritance⸺has his sights set on you, the easiest (and most obvious) option. later, when you catch his saying unsavory things about you on a terrace when he least suspected it, you swear to never marry gojo. as london's fashionable set goes through yet another wedding season, will there be hope for scandalous gossip, hate, and thinly veiled insults, or will we witness blooming love and passion?

warnings ⸺ nsfw, enemies to lovers, bridgerton au, angst, fluff, SUGGESTIVE, making out, touching bare skin pre-marriage (the scandal), eventual smut, jealousy, misogyny, description of injury, concussion, blood, regency era au, gojo being infuriating, reader also being infuriating, both of them are clueless honestly

chapter summary ⸺ both you and gojo discover contradictory feelings lodged deep in your heart, and a confrontation (with an unexpected ally) leads to a rather....wet conclusion. (4.6k)

a/n additional warning that this chapter is not beta read. this may seem like a short chapter but it has TEAAAA (if you didnt already guess from the summary). i pushed myself to finish this for the peeps who finished finals this week so it may be a bit messy. anywho see u down below <3

prev. the rebound | next. soon!

general masterlist | series masterlist

Dearest gentle reader,

This Author finds herself most intrigued by the unfolding events of the Inos' recent ball. It appears that Her Majesty has not yet abandoned her faith in the diamond she so carefully selected. Will her confidence prove to be misplaced? Only time shall reveal the truth. Yet one cannot deny that fortune seems to shine—dare this Author say, sparkle—upon Miss Itadori of late.

Last evening, she graced the ballroom with a strikingly altered appearance, one that left tongues wagging and gazes lingering. Most notable, however, was the company she kept. Duke Nanami himself was seen at her side, engaged in conversation that appeared both earnest and uncommonly animated. A rare sight indeed, for His Grace has shown little interest in the charms of other young ladies this season. Could this be the beginning of something extraordinary? This Author will watch closely.

And who could forget the Gojo house party, where the drama rivaled even the most lurid novels of the circulating library? Whispers abound of a certain Lord Naoya Zen’in, who, it seems, departed the event looking rather... bruised, both in pride and in visage. What transpired to cause such a spectacle? Alas, my sources have yet to provide all the particulars, but one can only assume that tempers flared—and perhaps fists followed.

⸻ LADY WHISTLEDOWN’S SOCIETY PAPERS

Satoru wipes his knuckles on a spare handkerchief, marring it with streaks of crimson. After the blood coating his hand is cleaned off, it reveals light bruises.

He always abhorred such physical entanglements. Let other men soil their reputations in drunken brawls or duels over imagined slights; Satoru prided himself on wit and charm, a tongue sharp enough to parry any insult.

However, for the first time, it seemed that the blasé duke-to-be Lord Satoru Gojo, ever so apathetic to others and their struggles, was not so blasé anymore. What affected him was contradictory; after all, he had made a big decision to avoid being affected by the woman herself. So why was he so…inconsistent? Perhaps it is this unpredictability, capriciousness the reason he has to distance himself from any others who may be in harm’s way—the way forged by Satoru himself. There is no space for inconstancy, irresponsibility, whimsicality, or contradiction in his life, especially not with his duties and the weight held over his shoulders.

But he allows himself this, one last time. Your expression lingered in his mind—the way your lips parted in shock, the stiff set of your shoulders as you brushed past Naoya’s lecherous words without deigning to respond. He had seen the moment your composure faltered, a crack in the armor you wore so effortlessly. The crack only he was supposed to cause.

It was intolerable.

As soon as pale pink ribbons trail out of the room, he moves toward Naoya, completely ignoring the lady who was talking to him and her trailing protests. When he’s right in front of the other man, he gives him a curt nod. “Naoya.”

The other man’s eyes—which were before no doubt prowling on other unsuspecting ladies—flit to him in surprise. “Lord Gojo, what a pleasant surprise. I daresay—”

“Meet me in the courtyard,” Satoru interrupted, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Naoya’s brows shot up, but he recovered quickly, a sly grin curling his lips. “A private word? How intriguing. Lead the way, my lord.”

Satoru didn’t wait to see if he followed. His stride was steady, his purpose unwavering.

The cool air of the courtyard carried the faint strains of music from the ballroom, the chatter of guests dimmed by the stone walls. Satoru turned to face Naoya, his stance deceptively relaxed, one hand resting on the pommel of his cane.

“Now, my lord,” Naoya drawled, his smirk widening. “To what do I owe this rather dramatic summons?”

The reply came not in words but in the swift arc of Satoru’s fist, connecting solidly with Naoya’s jaw. The sharp crack of the blow shattered the stillness, and Naoya stumbled, clutching his face as shock registered in his eyes.

“What in blazes—”

“Hold your tongue,” Satoru bit out, seizing Naoya by the lapels of his coat and slamming him back against the cold, unyielding wall. His tone was calm, his voice low, but it carried a menace that silenced all protests. “You will not speak of her in that way again. Do you understand me?”

Naoya grimaced, his defiant eyes narrowing despite the pain. “Ah,” he sneered, a breathless rasp laced with derision, “this is about Miss Itadori, isn’t it? Playing the chivalrous hero, are we, Lord Gojo? Or is it your own wounded ego driving this display?”

The next punch silenced him mid-taunt, burying deep in his abdomen. Naoya doubled over with a strangled gasp, his knees threatening to buckle, but Satoru held him upright, his grip vice-like.

“Speak her name again,” Satoru hissed, leaning close, his voice cold enough to chill even the night air, “and I swear you’ll find yourself in far worse condition.”

The tension between them crackled like a storm. For a fleeting moment, Naoya’s lips twitched into the ghost of a sneer, but his words died unspoken, arrogance muted by the sheer force of Satoru’s fury. Satisfied, Satoru released him with a sharp shove, watching dispassionately as Naoya crumpled against the wall, gasping for breath.

“You are mad,” Naoya spat, wiping at the blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. “You’ll ruin yourself over this.”

“Perhaps,” Satoru replied evenly, smoothing the cuffs of his sleeves as though nothing had happened. “But I’ve never much cared for your opinion, Naoya.”

He turned on his heel, his steps measured, his expression impassive.

The sting in his knuckles was a small price to pay. Unfortunately it seemed that for you, it was a price he would pay again and again.

He had told himself the decision was rational. Logical. Your match had to cease because it had begun to unravel him. You were a distraction, one he could not afford. His life was designed for control, every action measured, every move calculated. A match with you, he had realized, would be unlike any other. It would mean more. It would demand more.

And yet, how could he feel this jealousy? This fierce protectiveness? It was contradictory, maddening even. His resolve to avoid entanglements of the heart warred against the memory of your laughter echoing through his mind. It was absurd, but he could not dismiss the sharp ache in his chest whenever you looked at another man, especially one so undeserving as Naoya Zen’in.

He had known from the start that you were different. No coy smiles or simpering obedience. No easy conquest to stroke his ego. Your instant rejection of him during your first meeting had been a blow to his pride and a revelation he had been too stubborn to acknowledge then.

Satoru was not a man who chased after women. He had no need to. And yet…

But even as he walked away, Satoru couldn’t help but feel the cracks in his own carefully constructed armor widening. What, indeed, was he doing?

You startle in your sleep, sitting up abruptly on your bed in the dark.

The season has taken a turn for the good, so far. With Whistledown singing your praises and the Queen not yet deciding to behead you, you were on the path of securing great prospects, whether it be with Duke Nanami or someone else.

“But you’re missing something, aren’t you?”

The voice is a low murmur, brushing the shell of your ear like the ghost of a touch. Your heart leaps to your throat as you twist toward the sound, your eyes darting across the dimly illuminated room. The corners of the chamber remain steeped in shadow, the moonlight doing little to ease your apprehension.

“Who’s there?” you whisper, clutching the sheets tighter, your knuckles whitening around the fabric.

The silence stretches, thick and oppressive, before a figure emerges from the shadow near the mantle. He moves with a predator’s grace, his steps silent against the floorboards. Even before he fully steps into the moonlight, you know who it is.

Gojo.

“You look startled, my lady,” he says, his voice carrying an infuriatingly casual lilt, though his gaze fixes on you with unnerving precision.

“This is a dream,” you murmur, your voice trembling despite your effort to remain calm. “You are not real.”

“And yet,” he replies. “here I am. Curious, isn’t it?”

You swallow hard, the lump in your throat refusing to budge. He’s closer now, standing at the foot of your bed, his pale hair catching the silvery light like a halo—an angel or a devil, you can’t decide. “What do you want, Lord Gojo?” you demand, your voice sharper than you feel.

His eyes sweep over you, lingering for a moment too long before meeting your gaze again. “To commend you, of course,” he says. “You’ve been doing well—dancing with dukes, charming the Queen. The season’s darling.”

His words cut, though you can’t say why. “Why does that matter to you?” you snap, sitting straighter, as though defiance could shield you from the heat simmering in his gaze.

“It doesn’t,” he replies smoothly, though the corner of his mouth quirks into a smirk that betrays him.

“Then why are you here?”

His answer doesn’t come in words. Instead, he steps closer, his boots brushing the edge of your rug. Slowly, deliberately, he reaches out, his gloved hand catching a strand of hair that’s fallen loose. He rolls it between his fingers, as though testing its silkiness, before letting it slip away. “Because I can’t seem to stay away,” he murmurs. His voice is low, meant only for you, and it sends a shiver through your body.

You scoff, though the sound catches in your throat. “You’re insufferable.”

His chuckle is soft, a deep rumble that seems to linger in the air. “And yet, you don’t look away.”

Your fists clench around the sheets, anger flaring in your chest—anger at him, at yourself, at the fact that he’s right. Before you can stop yourself, you throw the covers aside and rise to your feet.

He doesn’t step back. Instead, he stands still, a study in casual defiance, though his gaze flickers with something you can’t name as you move closer. His eyes lazily drag up and down your frame, which you notice is only covered in a flimsy, almost translucent nightgown.

“If this is a dream,” you say, your voice trembling with fury and something unspoken, “then it doesn’t matter what I do, does it?”

His smirk falters, replaced by a glimmer of uncertainty that only fans the reckless fire inside you. “Perhaps not,” he murmurs, though the tension in his voice betrays him.

Your hands shake as you reach out, your fingers curling into the lapels of his coat. His eyes follow the movement, then stare back at you, into your eyes. For a brief moment, his breath hitches, and his hands twitch at his sides, as though warring with the instinct to touch you. But the flicker of surprise in his eyes tells you he didn’t expect this.

With a sharp tug, you pull him closer, your lips meeting his in a collision of unspoken longing, yearning, and pining. The kiss is unsteady at first, as if both of you are testing the waters, but it quickly deepens, becoming a clash of fire and desperation. His hands find your waist, his grip firm but not demanding, as if he’s holding on to something precious.

You press closer, letting the reckless freedom the dream gave you sweep you away. His lips part against yours, and the kiss turns slower, more deliberate, like he’s savoring the moment, savoring you, devouring you. But then, his hands shift, moving from your waist with a slow, tantalizing seductiveness. They skim over your hips, his touch deliberate, before trailing down to the curve of your thighs. His fingers brush over the soft fabric of your nightgown, the heat of his touch searing through the barrier like it isn’t there.

Your breath hitches as he lingers, his thumb tracing a path along the sensitive skin just above your knee. The sensation is electric, and yet it feels like forbidden ground—an intimacy you’ve never dared to imagine, even in your most audacious thoughts.

It’s then that the dream begins to unravel.

His form flickers, as though caught in the haze of a mirage, the sharp lines of his figure softening. The room darkens, the corners of your vision blurring as though the world is folding in on itself.

“No,” you whisper, the word barely audible over the sound of your own pounding heart.

He looks at you one last time, his eyes filled with an intensity that feels as real as your racing pulse. And then he’s gone, the dream dissolving into nothingness, leaving you gasping and clutching the sheets. When you wake, the echo of his touch lingers, the heat of his hands on your thighs an ache you can’t explain. You press trembling fingers to your lips, your breath catching as though the kiss was still happening.

But no matter how much you try, you can’t shake the memory of his hands, of the way he’d touched you like he belonged there. Like he had always belonged there.

You choose to blame the irregular slumber you have gotten this past fortnight as the reason why you are being so discourteous. For Duke Nanami’s words drift your mind, never truly being registered, as you both had strolled, promenading hand in hand.

It is not merely His Grace who suffers from your inattentiveness. Any suitor who dares to approach is met with the same distracted gaze, your thoughts elsewhere. Whether it is the lingering remnants of that unbidden dream—one you’ve tried and failed to forget—or the fleeting moments where you think you spot Lord Gojo across the green only to realize it is a figment of your imagination, your mind is a battlefield.

A few awkward conversations—where you are not truly present—pass and go, until you sit by the lakeside of Surrey Park, deciding to take a break from the conversations that awaited you if you were to stroll towards your family’s pavilion.

But not now, for here, nature offers solace. The gentle ripple of water, the soft rustling of leaves, the occasional bird song—all soothe the cacophony in your head.

You settle onto a bench, your gown fanning around you, and allow yourself to breathe. But even as you close your eyes and tilt your head toward the sun, the peace does not come. Your thoughts betray you, circling back to him—his infuriating smirk, his piercing gaze, the way his voice seemed to linger in the air long after he was gone. The dream was completely unbidden, unexpected. You had only started to move on and start this season anew. It seemed as your consciousness was working against you in an effort to bring fictional desires to life.

You knew clearly that Gojo was infuriating, and had colored your name. So why must your mind actively go against what was clearly a certitude?

Before you could ponder on your thoughts for much longer, you heard her.

“You do seem terribly at ease for someone of your…reputation.”

The voice startles you, cutting through your reverie like a blade. Your eyes snap open, and there stands Lady Mei Mei, her expression a mask of genteel venom. You sigh inwardly, and bring on your best smile, albeit artificial. “Lady Mei Mei,” you greet, striving for composure. “To what do I owe this very unexpected…interruption?”

“Interruption?” she echoes, feigning offense. “How quaint. I merely wished to congratulate you on your newfound popularity. Though, I must say, the…boldness of your wardrobe choices does make one wonder.” Her gaze drags over your form, disdain dripping from every word. “Are you seeking a husband, my dear, or something far less respectable?”

Your fingers curl into the fabric of your skirt, but you maintain your poise. “Boldness, Lady Mei Mei, is often mistaken for confidence by those unfamiliar with either.”

Her lips twitch, but the venom remains. “Confidence, or desperation? It is difficult to tell with one so eager to flaunt herself before the ton. Tell me, do you find it tiring? Whoring yourself out for attention?”

The word lands like a slap, sharp and stinging, and you feel the surge of heat rise to your cheeks. Slowly, deliberately, you rise to your feet, smoothing the folds of your gown as you stand. Your chin tilts upward, a shield of composure against the venom Mei Mei has hurled your way. You desperately fight the urge to slap her into nonsense, but there are eyes, no matter how hidden from public view you may think yourself to be.

“I find it far less tiring than wielding envy as one’s primary weapon,” you reply, your voice cool yet cutting, every syllable sharpened to a blade. “But then, I would not expect you to understand.”

Mei Mei’s lips twist into something that might have been a smile, had it not been dripping with malice. Her eyes narrow, the sunlight catching the cold glint of her stare. She shifts closer, the deliberate grace of her steps at odds with the tension crackling in the air. For a moment, you think she might lash out—a slap, a shove, something physical to match her words.

But before the storm can break, a voice, smooth and deceptively warm, cuts through the charged silence.

“Lady Mei Mei.”

Your breath hitches, and you whip your head around to see him. Lord Gojo strides toward you both, his movements as fluid and effortless as a ripple across the lake’s surface.

For a moment, your mind stutters, unable to reconcile the sight before you. He’s here. Not lingering at the edges of the crowd, not offering a polite nod of acknowledgment before disappearing into the fringes of Surrey Park. No, he’s walking toward you with purpose, the light catching in his silver hair, his focus unerringly fixed on the scene unfolding before him.

The man who had, for days, seemed to find every excuse to avoid you (and you him), whose gaze had flicked past you as though you were nothing more than a fixture of the lawn—he was now approaching with a startling intensity, his presence impossible to ignore.

His expression is inscrutable, but the faint furrow of his brow betrays something darker beneath the veneer of his charm. The tension in his jaw, the faint set of his shoulders—it all speaks of an intent that sends a shiver down your spine.

“Lord Gojo,” you whisper under your breath, your voice barely audible over the blood rushing in your ears. What is he doing here? And why, when he looks at you, does it feel as though the air has shifted?

Lady Mei Mei recovers first, her voice cutting through your disarray like a blade. “Lord Gojo,” she purrs, her saccharine tone a stark contrast to the venom she had wielded moments earlier. “What a surprise to see you here.”

But you can’t take your eyes off him. You’re too stunned, too disoriented by his sudden appearance and the sheer force of his presence. Why must he appear now?

His gaze flicks briefly to Mei Mei, his lips curving into a polite smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes, before his attention returns to you. And when it does, it’s as though the world narrows to the space between you.

“Not half as surprising as overhearing this delightful conversation,” he says, his tone light, almost lazy, but there’s an edge to it—a sharpness that wasn’t there before. His eyes meet yours again, and this time, the intensity in them is impossible to ignore. Your breath holds itself in, your confusion and shock colliding with something you can’t quite name. There’s no teasing quip, no playful smirk to soften his words. Just the weight of his gaze, pressing down on you as though he’s searching for something you don’t understand. Then, he returns it to Mei Mei. “I was unaware you had taken to dispensing moral judgments, my lady. Though I suppose one must occupy their time somehow.”

The barb lands, and Mei Mei’s smile falters. Her spine stiffens, her fingers twitching at her side, but Gojo doesn’t stop. He steps closer, his boots crunching against the gravel, and the shift in his demeanor is subtle but unmistakable.

“I would suggest, for the sake of civility,” he says, his voice softening to something far more dangerous, “that you refrain from such remarks in the future.”

The crowd, drawn by the commotion, murmurs from a distance. You feel their gazes prickle against your skin, their curiosity thickening the already-tense air. Mei Mei’s cheeks flush a pale pink, and her hands clench at her sides, the effort to maintain her composure palpable.

“You dare—” she begins, but Gojo cuts her off, his voice a degree colder now.

“I dare a great many things, my lady. Do not test the limits of my patience.”

The words hang heavy in the air, silencing the murmurs of the crowd. Mei Mei’s breath quickens, and though her lips curl into a sneer, the fire in her eyes dims. After a moment, she dips her head again, but this time it’s no longer polite. It’s forced, a concession.

“Very well, my lord,” she says, her voice tight. “I can see when my presence is no longer welcome.”

Lady Mei Mei walked past you to exit the scene, clearly disgraced after Lord Gojo had surprisingly butted in to your defense. Her turn was sharp, and her skirts flared. Then, she did something you hadn’t expected. After all, you were nonplussed from Gojo’s appearance in of itself that you did not have much awareness of your physical environment. Foremost of all, you were furious. How dare he waltz into the scene, aiming at playing hero and gentleman after all he has done to you this season? The anger consumed you, leaving you ignorant to Lady Mei Mei's schemes.

The movement came quickly—a flick of her hand, subtle yet purposeful, as though she intended to brush away an inconvenience. Only, her target was not the hem of her gown or an errant lock of hair. It was you. That is, that was the intention of the action. However, fortuitously enough for you, Lord Gojo had noticed it.

With a sharp tug, his hand closed around your wrist, pulling you aside just as Lady Mei Mei's push landed—on him.

The splash was enormous.

For a moment, the world stood still, the lake swallowing the ripples as though it too were stunned by what had just transpired. Around you, gasps echoed, punctuated by the soft clink of champagne glasses dropped in surprise. All eyes turned toward the water, toward the spot where Gojo had disappeared.

Your pulse pounded erratically, caught between the shock of it all and the mortifying realization that everyone was watching. Watching and waiting.

And then, like something out of a scandalous painting that no young lady of good breeding ought to admit having seen, Gojo emerged.

The water clung to him as though reluctant to let go, his white shirt turned sheer and pasted to his torso, revealing every lean muscle and curve beneath. Droplets trailed from the tips of his silver hair, tracing maddening paths down the sharp edges of his jaw before disappearing beneath the soaked fabric. His black necktie clung damply to his throat, accentuating the hollows there, and when his eyes met yours—gleaming with mischief and something darker—your breath hitched.

It was obscene.

The crowd seemed to agree, though their response was far less scandalized than you might have expected. The ladies weren’t laughing; no, their gazes were riveted, their fans fluttering in a feeble attempt to hide their obvious fascination. Their admiration was palpable, their whispers laden with awe.

Flustered, you took a few steps back to give him space and to not drench yourself (a/n lmaooo you’re drenched already bestie), but you mentally noted to yourself to make his pectorals bigger in your dreams (not that you would continue to have such salacious dreams, of course. It was the mind creating desires you never had, obviously.) It was apparent that you were still very distracted, for you did not notice the two pairs of footsteps rushing towards your direction, towards Gojo.

“What happened?” Duke Nanami looked at Gojo’s very…wet state, concerned and alarmed. “What did you get yourself into this time, Satoru?”

Gojo, who was still wiping water from his hair and grinning like a fool, gave him an exaggerated look of innocence. He ran a hand through his damp, platinum hair, the gesture almost too casual for someone in his drenched state. As he did so, the hem of his shirt inched upward, revealing a tantalizing sliver of bare skin, a sliver that led downward to a trail of white hair disappearing beneath his waistband—

“Kento,” Gojo laughed heartily, as if there were nothing amiss. “You worry too much! A little water never hurt anyone.”

Lord Geto, on the other hand, had been trailing behind Nanami. At the sight of Gojo, he started laughing, snickering mischievously at the sight. He had a knowing look on his face, as if he were fully aware of the scene he was witnessing—Gojo’s accidental plunge into the lake being just another moment of unintentional chaos.

“Oh, Satoru, you're impossible.” Geto stepped closer, shaking his head in mock disbelief, but his smile was far too amused to be truly accusatory or reproachful. "Did you get knocked into the lake by your own... charm?" His voice dripped with sarcasm as he glanced at the crowd of ladies now eyeing Gojo as though he were some mythical creature freshly emerged from the depths.

Nanami sighed, his brow furrowing as he crossed his arms in that ever-earnest manner that seemed to constantly play contrast to Gojo’s reckless energy. “This is exactly why you need a keeper at all times, Satoru.”

Gojo, still basking in the odd mix of amusement and the lingering attention of the nearby ladies, merely shrugged. “I’m fine, Kento. Just a little... refreshment is all.”

“By the looks of it,” Geto continued with a raised brow, “I’m more concerned about you than you are of yourself.” He gestured with a lazy wave, motioning toward the way the water had soaked through Gojo’s shirt, revealing a lot more than was likely intended. “And, I mean, look at that—those ladies aren’t gazing at you for your intellect.” (a/n LMAO ate him up)

Before Gojo could lob a retort, Nanami interjected with his trademark no-nonsense tone. “Enough of this,” he said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You’re soaked to the bone. Let’s get you inside before you catch a chill—or create an even bigger scene.”

Gojo lingered for a moment, casting a leisurely glance around the gathering. The ladies, previously locked in their own conversations, now shamelessly ogled him, their fans fluttering uselessly against the rising heat in their cheeks. Their gazes trailed after him as he started to walk away, and you swore you caught more than one wistful sigh among the crowd.

And yet, even as he moved farther from the lake and closer to the house, his steps deliberate and unhurried, he suddenly stopped. Slowly, his head turned, and his piercing blue gaze found yours with unnerving accuracy, as if he’d felt your bewildered stare all along.

His smile appeared—lazy, confident, and maddeningly seductive. The corner of his mouth tilted up just enough to make your stomach flip, and his eyes... Oh, his eyes. They gleamed like a predator’s, sharp and teasing, and yet impossibly inviting.

The world seemed to tilt, the air around you thickening. Your chest tightened with the realization: that smile wasn’t for the crowd, nor for the fawning ladies he left in his wake.

It was for you.

Your cheeks burned, your thoughts a chaotic mess as he turned back and sauntered away, water still dripping from his hair and shirt. The ladies continued to gawk openly, but you remained rooted to the spot, your heart pounding erratically.

Oh, that bastard.

prev. the rebound | next. soon!

general masterlist | series masterlist

a/n so....erm this was definitely a CHAPTER.....BUT AH POOKIES ITS HERE i got so excited bc i got the idea to write his lake fall so i finished this chapter. it's a bit messy, like i said, but i hope you liked it <333

I WANT TO SUCK GOJOS DICK BADLYYY i think this chapter was posted so fast after the last bc im on my period and im horny so hence the lake scene was born like i rawdogged this shit in five hours

ANYWYAS THERES PUSH AND PULL YEARNING PINING...so much contradiction hmmmmmm

miss itadori malfunctioning when gojo got out of the water (like a complete SLUT)

anyways i hope some of you WHORESS that simped for bridgerton!geto will be coming anew to simp for our main MAN. this debauchery i approve of. i fear all anons, especially zaynesbathrobe anon and anon in my walls, will be having a field day with this one

thank you for readinggg! please comment and reblog to let me know ur thots :3 (esp reblog, a lot of people have been binging bridgerton!gojo recently and spam liking. tumblr daddy might lock me up and shadowban me/mark my account, so reblogs would be appreciated <3)

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prokopetz · 9 months ago

Note

Do you happen to know the origin of the fantasy trope in which a deity's power directly corresponds to the number of their believers / the strength of their believers' faith?

I only know it from places like Discworld and DnD that I'm fairly confident are referencing some earlier source, but outside of Tinkerbell in Peter Pan, I can't think of of any specific work it might've come from, 20th-c fantasy really not being my wheelhouse.

Thank you!

That's an interesting question. In terms of immediate sources, I suspect, but cannot prove, that the trope's early appearances in both Dungeons & Dragons and Discworld are most immediately influenced by the oeuvre of Harlan Ellison – his best-known work on the topic, the short story collection Deathbird Stories, was published in 1975, which places it very slightly into the post-D&D era, though most of the stories it contains were published individually earlier – but Ellison certainly isn't the trope's originator. L Sprague de Camp and Fritz Leiber also play with the idea in various forms, as does Roger Zelazny, though only Zelazny's earliest work is properly pre-D&D.

Hm. Off the top of my head, the earliest piece of fantasy fiction I can think of that makes substantial use of the trope in its recognisably modern form is A E van Vogt's The Book of Ptath; it was first serialised in 1943, though no collected edition was published until 1947. I'm confident that someone who's more versed in early 20th Century speculative fiction than I am could push it back even earlier, though. Maybe one of this blog's better-read followers will chime in!

(Non-experts are welcome to offer examples as well, of course, but please double-check the publication date and make sure the work you have in mind was actually published prior to 1974.)

#gaming #tabletop roleplaying #tabletop rpgs #dungeons & dragons #d&d #tropes #media #literature #religion #death mention

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shizunitis · 7 months ago

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no cause it’s better that it was shen yuan who was born in the modern world instead of binghe. imagine his unhinged ass in the forums. his fandom legacy.

the “What the fuck did you just fucking say about me, you little bitch? I'll have you know I graduated top of my class in the Navy Seals” type copypasta he’d bestow upon the most innocent of mischaracterisations (of shen qingqiu, of course) in the comments.

there would be t-shirts sold of his handle. how he secured ‘heavenly pillar’ we cannot prove but highly suspect wasn’t without bloodshed.

he would not think himself above dabbling in fanfiction, both enjoying it and writing it. he would absolutely re-write the entire novel if airplane dared do what he did to pidw to shen yuan’s story, and he’d win. he would overtake airplane in the rankings, and his stories aren’t even monetised.

he doesn’t need the money. hell, he’s probably offered to pay airplane to just fix the story but was dismissed as a troll!

he’s doing this for shizun, his own entertainment and to punish the gaggle of idiots that try to ragebait him.

oh, you said shizun is one-dimensional and stupid just for the fuck of it? very funny! here’s your 24-hour live location and the last transactions registered on your bank account. godspeed🙏🏻

he keeps getting banned and yet his handle remains the same whenever he pops back up.

airplane is too afraid to drop the story and wash his hands of the whole thing. last night he got an email from an unknown address and he needs to work up to opening it

#svsss #svsss au #luo binghe #bingqiu #airplane shooting towards the sky #god binghe please. please transmigrate already and spare us #villains love him systems fear him

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margotw10bis · 6 months ago

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Daydream.KTH [m] "Baby" 01

boyfriend!taehyung x female reader

Genre: drabble series; smut; fluff

Words: 2.8k

Synopsis: Your boyfriend is daydreaming about how he fucked you last night.

Warnings: talk about babies; protected sex; spanking; oral sex (f. & m. receiving)

"Hey, Kim, focus please!"

The voice of the superintendent makes Taehyung jolt. Even if he is quite bruised in his ego to have been called out in from of the whole team, he cannot deny that he wasn't daydreaming while he should listen to the meeting. It's not even that he finds is job boring — he actually enjoys being a police officer — but something is stuck in his mind.

Something as you.

Taehyung knows he has to get his head in the game otherwise his colleagues, especially the older ones, won't stop teasing him and he is not fond of sharing that the reason why he is so deep in thoughts today is because he fucked you good the night before.

₊˚⊹♡ YESTERDAY

You roll your eyes for the millionth times. Your boyfriend and you know that it's a never ending debate — well, perhaps Taehyung doesn't really acknowledge that.

"Why are you so insisting anyway?" You ask with despair

"And why are you so against it?" He replies, trying his best to make his puppy eyes but it's not working — not with this subject

You do your best to escape the conversation by heading to the kitchen and attempt to make food but, obviously, Taehyung won't let it go that easily. You know the man, he is stubborn on certain topics and this one is definitely one of them.

"Y/N, answer me" He says, more softly, sounding almost hurt "Why don't you want to have kids with me?"

You sigh, your heart squeezing in your chest.

"It's not that I don't want kids but I don't want kids now" You try to explain

"Why not?"

"Because it's too soon" You reply firmly

"We've been dating for two years!" Taehyung exclaims, scandalized

"We have time" You de-dramatize, patting his cheek

"Please" He whines

And here you go again.

Your boyfriend has been begging for kids for months now. You don't know why this sudden urge appears but you suspect the birth of one of his colleague's baby. You know that Taehyung wants children, the talk arrived early in your relationship, but you don't want children right now. For you, 26 is still young.

"Tae..." You sigh

"I just want a mini you walking around" He pouts and brings you closer by grabbing your hips

He even draws light circles with his thumbs like he knows you like. That man is definitely a menace for your sanity.

You know damn well that he is trying to seduce you and you hate to admit that it's working. To be honest, Taehyung is really, really handsome. A lot of your friends are burning in jealousy that you got to get the hot police officer with the whole honey-tanned skin and muscles set.

"Don't you think it'd be adorable?"

Oh, you forgot to mention the harmonious deep and sexy voice in the set.

"Baby, you don't want one child, you want five!" You point out

"Five mini yous walking around is cuter!" He states

"Do you know how hard is it for a woman's body to have a child? Then, think about five!"

"Please, baby" Taehyung pouts again "I'll do anything"

You think for a minute, trying to prove that he is actually not ready to 'do anything'.

"You'll massage my feet after I come back from the gym?" You tease

"Before and after your shower" He answers without hesitation

"You'll let me win every argument?" You raise your brow

"Isn't it already the case?" Taehyung jokes, slyly kissing your neck

Instinctively, you wraps your hands around his neck to appreciate more his lips on your skin.

"You'll really do anything?" You whisper because you know that if you talk too loud, you'll moan

"Anything. I'll eat you out everyday"

Tempting.

"Even when I'm on my period?" You cock a brow

Taehyung pulls back his head from the crook of your neck and looks at you with big black eyes. He doesn't say it but his face spots a light disgust and you're having a hard time concealing your laugh.

"Even when you're on your period" He finally concedes

"Wow, you really want kids, do you?" You say, genuinely surprised that he is ready to go this far

"Yes" You can see on his handsome face that he is dead serious "With you" He adds and gosh, you can't help but blush

Taehyung is not only the most good-looking guy on Earth, he is also the sweetest one. When you first met him, you were attracted by his physical appearance of course, but you fell in love with him because of his personality.

"I'll think about it"

"You promise?" You spot the excitement in your boyfriend's voice

"Yeah" You smile widely at him

Taehyung secures his arms around you and lifts you up to head to the bedroom. His happiness that you are simply thinking about having his baby drives him beyond clouds. He loves you, so much. Yeah, he has been wanting to have (a lot of) kids since he was young but when he met you, he knew that you were the one. He is just tired that his fantasizes of you as the mother of his babies are, well, fantasizes.

He makes sure to land you safely on the bed and wastes no time in getting rid of his t-shirt, blessing you with his strong upper body, while you keep giggling. Seeing you smile makes him happy and he can't help but send you the most charming smile ever.

"Why are you laughing?" He questions, raising a brow in a comic way

"Because I was wondering if your colleagues knew that the intimating and buff Kim Taehyung was actually crazy for cute babies" You joke but your smile doesn't last as your boyfriend lays on you to capture your mouth

"Not any cute babies" He states "Ours"

Gosh, he makes it very difficult to say no.

He doesn't really give you time to think about that because he starts pulling up the hem of your t-shirt that you might have actually borrowed — stolen — from your boyfriend. Taehyung grunts against your lips as he squeezes your bare breasts, not believing that you hid the fact that you didn't have a bra underneath his large t-shirt.

Actually, he is not complaining: he loves your tits. But well, he loves everything in you.

He starts going south to reach your boobs and kiss them. He even licks and sucks your nipples until they are hard and you start whining with impatience. Taehyung knows you so well and he knows that his ministrations on your breasts bring wetness to your core. And even if he didn't know yet, the way you are starting to buckle up your hips so you can gain some friction is a clear sign of it.

Sometimes you miss his longer hair because you can't really tug on it anymore. But it's okay because you have to admit that Taehyung is really hot with this hair-cut.

"Baby..." You moan when his teeth tease your right nipple, threatening to bite

You gasp when a vicious and quick lick replaces his teeth.

"Can I fuck you?" He asks and smirks when you nod frenetically because gosh, you really want it

His experts fingers hook the hem of both your sweatpants and soaked panties and pull them down your legs so Taehyung can fully appreciate your wet cunt. And let's say that he is not disappointed at all: your arousal is clearly noticeable and he can't resist.

He makes himself comfortable between your open legs, squishing the flesh of your thighs as he dives into your pussy. His mouth is nothing shy, settling messy kisses and licking your juices from your entrance. The way he is eating you out like a starved man makes you shake with pleasure, especially when he sucks on your clit. If your boyfriend wasn't holding your thighs this tight, you would already close your legs or kick him with the spams that control your body.

The sounds coming from your mouth are a mix of moans and gasps but you don't even acknowledge it as you are resting on your elbows to watch your devilishly handsome boyfriend's face between your legs.

"It feels so fucking good" You praise him as he enters you with his tongue and your head roll back

"This little pussy is the sweetest one, I swear" He mumbles to himself, giving one heated kiss to your cunt

When he stands up you first notice the way his face is glistening with your arousal and then how tight his pants look at this crotch area. With a little smirk, you reach out your hands so you can open his pants and caress his hard cock through his briefs.

"Eating my pussy got you hard?" You tease, faking an innocent voice

Taehyung grunts when you squeeze his tip but doesn't stop you — and you know that he secretly likes it.

"Loving you makes me hard, baby" He replies and you feel butterflies in your stomach

You are always amazed by how easily he can switch between pure hotness that burns your skin and the softest and loving words that make you sure that you're living on a cloud.

Your eyes leave his covered dick to his warm dark eyes. This man is the love of your life, there is no doubt about it. And if you don't say it to him, you make sure that he knows it as you are kissing him in the most passionate way.

Taehyung's hands slide to your ass, hugging you tight.

"I love you" You whisper against his swollen lips

"Then get on all fours for me" He commands with a light spank on your asscheek and you oblige

You arch your back and rest your head on the mattress to make sure that Taehyung can see how you clench around nothing while waiting for him. Before him, you thought that you knew what good sex was but god you were wrong. No one fucked you the way Taehyung does and there is only one word to describe it: addictive. After your first time with him, you begged him to fuck you every single day for two weeks, afraid that you won't feel the same way as the first time. However, now that you cannot count how many times you had sex with him, you can confirm that he never disappoints.

Your boyfriend looks away from your appealing pussy to grab a condom in the nightstand — secretly hoping that he won't need one soon — and wraps his long dick after taking off the rest of his clothes.

You feel the mattress sinks as Taehyung takes place behind you. He makes sure that you feel him, sliding his hard dick between your asscheeks and you can't conceal your surprised moan nor control the way your hips push back against him.

"You want it, don't you?" His deep voice is full of cockiness but how can you be mad when he is speaking the truth?

"Yeah" You try to make him quit the teasing with a honey tone but you only earn a good spank on your ass

"Are you sure you deserve it though?"

Your head turns abruptly because you don't understand how Taehyung can resist when his dick is this hard — and you cannot resist anymore yourself either. Does he want to punish you because you refuse his demand of having a baby? You know that he is not cruel and that he won't force you to do anything, especially something as serious as that but you can't deny that the thought is crossing your mind.

However, you sigh with relief when you spot on his face his playfulness and you know that he is just playing his 'male alpha' fantasy or whatsoever. You roll your eyes and bite back:

"If you don't want to fuck, I can take care of myself in the shower"

To support your claim, you feign to move away and a wave of panic raises in your boyfriend's chest. He quickly grabs your hip and says:

"No, no, no, no! Please stay, I was just teasing you"

You hide your smirk and let Taehyung lands a sweet kiss on your ass as an apology.

You return to your comfortable position with your head down as Taehyung slowly enters you. You love how careful he is with you — only the first minute because after that he turns into a sex machine that only stops after making you cum.

Once settled inside you, he grunts of out deep he is inside you and how tightly your walls squeeze around the intruder. You love having his cock in your cunt, really really much and the impatient whine that escapes your mouth is a sign.

Taehyung gets the message and starts moving, slow at first but it doesn’t last. You beg him for more and it’s like a switch in his handsome head: he harshly grabs the flesh of your ass to keep you in place and pounds into you. The bed shakes the same way your moans are shaky.

Pleasure. That’s all that feels your mind right now. Your boyfriend’s dick is stretching you so good that you can’t think straight. Your fists grab the sheets in a desperate attempt not to sink too much into horniness.

“Oh my god, Tae!” You exclaim when he spanks your beautiful ass

“How does it feel when I fuck you like that?” He cockily asks

“So fucking good” You reply nonetheless because you feel no shame in confessing that he is good at sex — and he knows it

Actually, it’s so good that you could cry. Your eyes are watery and you close them to focus on the sensation in your pussy.

Taehyung slightly changes the angle when he shifts to rest on his right foot rather than his knee, allowing him to go even deeper. Extra pleasure is added when his balls slap your sensitive clit at every pound.

If you could care, you’d hope that your neighbors don’t hear the bad smashing into the wall or your loud moans or your skins clapping. But you don’t care because you are close to a great orgasm.

Your walls throbs and your hand tightly grabs your boyfriend’s forearm, provoking a smirk on his face. He doesn’t mind that your nails bruise his skin or make him bleed. He has a hot girlfriend and he doesn’t mind showing that he is fucking her the way she deserves.

He lightly and lovingly caress your ass with his thumb, soothing you before you reach your orgasm but it does little against the huge wave of pleasure that washes over you.

You cum so hard that you have no strength left and that your knees doesn’t support you anymore, especially with how you're shaking with endorphin. Taehyung gets it and makes you rest on your back, facing your exhausted yet blissed face.

“You think you can it five more minutes?” He asks

You consider it but when your eyes land on his messy dick, you have another idea.

“How about I suck you off?”

“I love you so much” He replies at that, making you laugh

You let your boyfriend resting comfortably against the headboard and you massage his dick after taking off the condom. Light grunts escape Taehyung's mouth and it spurs you to take him in your mouth.

You love how heavy he feels. With his thickness, you have no choice but to open your mouth wide and someway, it makes you horny. Your tongue swirls around his tips to conceal your moans and it doesn't take long for you to bob your head.

Taehyung helps you by putting your hair in a ponytail and pushing your head at a pleasant pace for you both.

"Fuck, baby, you're so good at that" He whispers almost to himself "You suck my cock so well"

To thank him, you go even deeper until you gag. You know damn well how much your boyfriend loves it and you can't conceal a smirk when his breathe hitch out of pleasure.

You decide to push him a little further and caress his balls.

"You naughty" He says but you know he loves it "Keep going I'm gonna cum"

You nod lightly and enhance your pace. You bob your head, let sloppy sounds fill the air and tighten your throat around his tip when you choke on it. It's a mess, full of saliva and pre cum but you both love it.

You feel your boyfriend's body tense right before he cums down your throat.

You, just like Taehyung, are panting but your heart squeezes when he delicately wipes your swollen lips with his thumb.

"You were perfect, baby" He says and you smile at him "I love you very much" He adds as he kisses your nose, making you giggle

You should really consider having his babies...

#bts fanfic #bts #bts smut #fanfic #kim taehyung #kth #kth x reader #bts taehyung #taehyung #taehyung smut #v #bts v

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vidavalor · 6 days ago

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So, Aziraphale arrived in Edinburgh with a briefcase we never see him open and a hat that reads, among other things, "PRESS 66" on it, right?

And we might think that these are just Aziraphale's journalist cosplaying accessories but I think there are some hints that there's a bit more going on here than we might think-- all of it very relevant to The Finale.

We think that Aziraphale's arrival in Edinburgh is the first time that we see these things but, in true Good Omens form, the hat and briefcase are both actually glimpsed in a prior scene... rather significantly placed in that earlier scene, even.

Here they are, sitting together, the hat atop the briefcase, both in front of Jimbriel's once Fly-containing box, beside/behind the memory-wiped Muriel, in the scene below:

So, as Muriel is sitting there, not remembering Aziraphale, and as Aziraphale is sitting there, remembering Muriel and thinking all the things about the fact that they don't remember him at all? In the shot between them is the box into which Jim put his memory and brought it to Crowley and Aziraphale for safe keeping. In front of that box? Is Aziraphale's press hat and briefcase, seemingly drawing some connections between the journalist accessories and the memory plots in S2. Hmm...

What this scene also shows is that Aziraphale didn't just magic this stuff up as props when he arrived in Scotland. Even though we didn't see them in the car on the way up, they were there on the passenger seat for him to retrieve upon his arrival. He brought them with him from the shop. He packed them overnight and they were there, all ready to go, prior to Muriel's arrival, which coincided with Crowley coming over and moving the plants out of the car because Aziraphale planned to take it to Scotland. Why does this matter?

Because it might signal that there's more to the briefcase and the hat with its press credentials than we might initially suspect.

I think it would be safe to say that Aziraphale, by this point in the story, would be concerned that his memories were in danger.

He knows he's always been on a collision course with falling and this is all escalating pretty quickly in S2 in the two days prior to Aziraphale packing this press stuff and taking the car. Gabriel was The Supreme Archangel and he couldn't remember who he was and the archangels had shown up to threaten them and say that they're going to be spying on him even more closely, sending another angel to bug them the next day... the memory-wiped Muriel being quite an interesting choice, as that's sending quite a threatening message. Aziraphale also had roped Maggie and Nina into this and he knew he was likely going to have a confrontation with Heaven and Hell coming.

One of the first things he'd be concerned about would be his memories, right? and it's here where we can mention what we later learn about what Heaven can and cannot do regarding those memories... things that are new to us but that Aziraphale likely would have already known and factored into his plan, as we'll see.

Hints are given to this all season via Gabriel but it really becomes overt in this scene here:

This scene proves that Gabriel's memories aren't just in The Fly in S2-- they're also still in his mind. His memories are shown to be in two places at once. Gabriel's memories-- ones even directly related to the trauma he underwent-- actually began to come back before The Fly, in this scene. Gabriel felt safe and like he was talking with someone who could understand in this scene with Crowley so the memories began to come back for him.

The point here is that this scene shows that, when Gabriel "took his memories out" and put them into The Fly, what he was really doing was basically backing them up. He "uploaded" his memories into The Fly for safekeeping so he could retrieve them later, as a way to keep it so that they wouldn't be erased forever, but those same memories are still also on the "hard drive" of his mind. They were just mostly inaccessible to him for almost all of S2 because of trauma.

Before you say well, Gabriel might be a special case because he took his own memories out to avoid Heaven attacking him? Consider that Crowley didn't have a chance to do that-- but he tells Gabriel he knows how Gabriel feels.

Crowley has had the same experiences with his own memories. He's been able to bring some back at different times, without a lot of context, but a lot remains blocked. Crowley saying that he's been able to retrieve some memories means that those memories are still there in his mind, just very painful and difficult to access.

The idea might be that their memory loss is actually trauma-blocking. If Crowley's situation has the same effect as Gabriel's, it suggests that Heaven can't actually take people's memories-- they can only block them.

This would then be suggesting, as a lot in S2 did, that Gabriel didn't develop retrograde amnesia from taking his memories out-- he developed amnesia from the trauma he underwent.

When he felt safe enough to confront some of that trauma, the memories started to come back to him a bit.

What does this have to do with Aziraphale's briefcase, you ask?

It is connected because Gabriel's memory loss being from the trauma of Heaven trying to kill him, not from putting his memories into The Fly, proves that an angel could take his out their memories and not get amnesia from doing so.

Gabriel's story is showing that they could take out their memories whenever they want and still retain those memories also in their minds and be perfectly fine.

It's showing that Aziraphale could have backed up his memories in S2 without experiencing memory loss-- and the press hat and the briefcase are tied to just how he might have done that.

Aziraphale might have taken one look at Gabriel and his memory situation and the archangels circling the shop and thought that it would be a good idea to backup his memories and store them somewhere safe for if this all went pear-shaped.

What's interesting is that then, in a parallel shot to Aziraphale arriving in Edinburgh, we have this later scene when Aziraphale returns to London... note what's missing:

We see him park by the suit shop-- but no suitcase/briefcase this time. No hat. He's also taken off the raincoat. We never see them again for the rest of the season but we see a whole bunch of scenes that hint at where they are and why Aziraphale has left them in that location.

In this moment, we spend a strange amount of time on watching Aziraphale get out of the car and look around, hands-free, pat The Bentley, go for a little walk for a moment...

He talks to Nina, he goes back to the bookshop and greets Crowley and gets an armful of plants. The Bentley is largely the focus of the scene with Nina as well and its moving up in a scene that involves Nina and her bicycle-- another "mad 'American' woman on a bicycle", in parallel to Anathema in S1-- recalls Aziraphale miracling a bike rack onto the boot of The Bentley to transport Anathema's bike back to Jasmine Cottage. The key to getting Anathema and her bike safely home to her cottage was the bike rack Aziraphale made happen; the key to getting him and Crowley safely to the South Downs Cottage might be what Aziraphale stashed in the trunk of the car on his trip.

Here's where we can see that scenes before and around this involving Shax and Crowley show us pretty emphatically where the briefcase and the press hat are not located in the car...

They can't be on the passenger seat as they were on the way to Edinburgh because Shax wouldn't have been able to sit there when she got into the car on the drive back from Edinburgh. They also can't be in the backseat because the scene adjacent to Aziraphale's return to London is he and Crowley loading the plants back into the backseat. Crowley would have handed him his things if they were back there.

So, we have all of these shots of Aziraphale's return that are, among other things, emphasizing that the hat, the raincoat, and the briefcase are all not things he's taking out of The Bentley's trunk upon his return, even if they are his belongings and he brought them with him from the bookshop. He's intentionally leaving them all in the Crowley's car.

Aziraphale definitely did not leave his memories in a briefcase in The Resurrectionist Pub, even though that's the last place we saw the briefcase. How do we know that?

Because let's say that we're right here and Aziraphale did put his memories into the briefcase... either into something else that he then locked into the briefcase or just into the briefcase itself. What's the one problem with this?

He locked them in there for safekeeping, right? So...

He can't just leave the briefcase for Crowley-- he also needs to leave the key to the briefcase, yes? He needs to leave the combination somewhere... but he also has to hide that combination key. The briefcase wouldn't be very safe if just anyone could figure out how to open it, right? It needs to be something only Crowley can understand.

This is why Aziraphale is not a private detective in Edinburgh but a journalist because the key is in the hat.

How does one open the locked briefcase?

Press 66. 😉

The briefcase and the hat go together because the briefcase cannot be opened without the press credentials in the hat which, in very Good Omens and Crowley & Aziraphale form, look like they're one thing but are really another when you consider alternate meanings of words. Aziraphale knows that only Crowley would see Aziraphale's hat atop that briefcase and the 'Press 66' and work out that it's how to open the briefcase.

It would also be very Good Omens to nod to famous film Macguffins and then make them actually important in Good Omens' story. While a "what's in the briefcase?" thing here is very Pulp Fiction, the film that inspired the briefcase in Pulp Fiction is 1955's atomic noir Kiss Me Deadly, which is being referenced all over the place in S2.

The scene where Aziraphale picks Shax up from the side of the road is a homage to Kiss Me Deadly's opening scene, Gabriel's memory issues and his "I am in The Fly" note is similar to part of the central mystery of that film, and Kiss Me Deadly is the origin of the popularization of the word vavoom/va-va-voom.

Like basically every other film referenced in Good Omens, it's also known for innovative use when it comes to language-- particularly, coded cinematic language, in this case. Like North by Northwest, which is referenced in both parts of 1941 so far, Kiss Me Deadly found innovative ways to get around the Hays Code to tell its story. References to The Maltese Falcon in the story are also likely in relation to that story using etymology-based language to queer code aspects of its story, in a similar way to Good Omens, but also that The Maltese Falcon itself is a bit of a MacGuffin. In Good Omens, though, it seems like they're actually winking at those by making Macguffin-alluding things actually important parts of the story.

Anyway, the biggest fan theory about what's in the briefcase in Pulp Fiction is based around the combination to the briefcase being 666 in the film and the idea is that it's Marcellus Wallace's soul, which he sold to the devil. Famously, the audience never sees what's inside the briefcase. We might be saying here that the combination to Aziraphale's briefcase being 66 may be nodding to Pulp Fiction's briefcase a bit and hinting at the Satan in The Final 15 ideas. 66 is also tied to Route 66 and rock 'n roll in America, Buddy Holly, and the paralleling Gabriel & Beez flashback, maybe especially hinting at memory-related things happening with the briefcase.

I won't spoil you on what's in the briefcase in Kiss Me Deadly but let's just say that it goes along with Good Omens pretty well thematically... in a much, much darker way. The film being very bleak noir makes it very different in tone from Good Omens but the fact that the briefcase is actually is relevant to the story in the end of that film might also hint that Aziraphale's disappeared briefcase might wind up being important in The Finale, too.

Adding to this theory is also that another briefcase in The Bentley's trunk/boot was also something shown earlier in S2-- on a very significant night in Crowley & Aziraphale's history:

When Aziraphale is in Edinburgh, we see him intentionally hamming up his newspaper man persona and, in doing so, he takes the briefcase into The Resurrectionist Pub, right? Bit of foreshadowing there as to what will happen to Aziraphale and what will need to happen to bring him back?

Yes, we don't see the briefcase again after this scene but I doubt he left it in the pub because it would be useless to Crowley without the hat, on which Aziraphale has hidden the briefcase combination hidden in plain sight. Aziraphale was seen wearing the hat in one scene set after we last saw the briefcase, proving that both of them and the raincoat are in the trunk of The Bentley:

Aziraphale wore this whole get up to Edinburgh so that, if anyone was watching him, they'd think he was Muriel-like cosplaying a newspaper man. I mean... we know the trench coat is a little Columbo-esque, but why wouldn't he just be a private detective and not a journalist, if the goal was just to play a role to help solve the Gabriel mystery? Because he had to be a old movie-esque journalist so he could have the word press there in the credentials, only for its other meaning for the briefcase combination.

Aziraphale definitely had a whole other list of motivations for being the one to go to Edinburgh. He wanted Crowley to rest in the shop and to talk to Gabriel, he wanted to be the one to go tackle the mystery, and he wanted to work on his 1827 issues by going to the graveyard again... but we might find we can add to that list that he also realized it would be a good opportunity to hide his memories in a briefcase in The Bentley with actions that are right there, in plain sight of anyone who is watching-- including us 😉-- but might not be deemed suspicious.

Parallel-wise, the briefcase and The Bentley are the matchbox and the moving box and PRESS 66 is Aziraphale's equivalent to I AM IN THE FLY... all before Aziraphale and Crowley actually figured out what Gabriel and Beez did to protect Gabriel.

He's pressing on the press hat he's leaving for Mr. Six Shots of Espresso... 😂 The press card is in his hat, like a feather... Crowley's "it'd be a real feather in your cap wing" joke from the foreshadowing "I'll be damned"/"It's not so bad when you get used to it" scene in 1.01...

That demon doesn't know it yet but he's driving around with Aziraphale in the trunk because Aziraphale figured out how to get around the worst case scenario. He knew he was on a collision course with falling and he found a way to potentially dodge the memory loss by stashing his memories for Crowley in The Bentley.

His enthusiasm in Edinburgh is him barely able to contain his amusement at getting one over on anyone watching him who think they know what they're seeing but don't realize what he's actually up to.

No wonder why he was walking on air when he got back to London-- it was mission accomplished. He'd managed to leave Crowley the ability to bring him back, tucked away in the safest spot possible.

The bookseller who, like the others, is a metaphorical book/paper, left their out for Heaven and Hell trying to kill him for Crowley's safekeeping in a briefcase... the thing people use for...

...paperwork. 😂

But wait... there's one other big question, though, yes?

Why didn't Aziraphale tell Crowley this?

There absolutely was enough time and opportunity to tell Crowley he'd backed up his memories and left them in The Bentley's trunk.

The fact that this didn't come up seems wild, right, because they both know that Crowley has been having a steady anxiety attack about Heaven and Hell circling all week. We would think that, if Aziraphale had figured out this plan to circumvent that threat, the first thing he would have done would be to tell Crowley about it, yes?

Except... while I wrote this meta from the perspective of what the end result of Aziraphale's actions with the briefcase might be in The Finale, I don't actually think that was Aziraphale's own motivation for doing what he did.

Aziraphale didn't take out his memories and leave them in the briefcase in The Bentley for Crowley as a backup plan for them to elude a form of death for Aziraphale.

He left them there for Crowley to find and have after Aziraphale was already gone. Why else would Crowley need the combination on the credentials on the hat, right?

If Aziraphale had intended on his memories in the briefcase being a plan to save himself, he would have told Crowley about it so that Crowley would know. Instead, though, it's something of a suicide note. He left them for Crowley to find and have in the future.

I think The Bentley was even warning of this suicide ideation and showing concern upon the return to London for Aziraphale over what he had put in its trunk. The car is worried. [I love Good Omens-- when else am I going to type a sentence like that? 😂]

Aziraphale first parked it in front of Battye [madness] & Palm [to take]. It's a shop reflective of a lot of that depression and suicide ideation happening in Aziraphale's story and leading to his fall that I looked at in The Devil Takes The Hindmost.

The Bentley then drives itself-- and all Aziraphale's Aziraphaleness in the briefcase-- up a few feet. What is The Bentley then aligning Aziraphale with?

Death.

The car parked itself in front of the Give Me Death half of Give Me Coffee or Give Me Death...

... until Aziraphale told it to go back to where he parked it. Then, The Bentley backed up a few feet to Battye & Palm and all the madness that is the rest of the season. The car was foreshadowing the end, parking itself right along where it would be parked the last time we'd see it in S2.

The trunk is aligned with Give Me Death in The Final 15...

...fulfilling the foreshadowing of the end of S1.

#good omens #good omens meta #ineffable husbands #crowley #aziraphale #aziracrow #good omens theory #ineffable husbands speak

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laughhardrunfastbekindsblog · 8 months ago

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I cannot get over how much this one scene informs us of Tech's priorities, personality, and how much he cares about his squad.

THE SCENE: "Replacements," season 1 episode 3; the Marauder is in dire need of repairs

This scene is often played for laughs (and let's be real, it IS hilarious). There's Tech, completely ignoring Echo's not-so-subtle hints to help fix the ship, instead prioritizing tinkering with his gadgets because his definition of "critical systems" is apparently vastly different than others'. Result? The ship crashes.

But... Tech is RIGHT to be concerned about the chips.

He has been warning his brothers about the chips since Order 66, multiple times throughout "Aftermath" and "Cut and Run."

2. He suspected Crosshair was susceptible to the effects of the chip early on.

3. He saw firsthand the friction caused between Crosshair and the rest of the squad due to the chip, with the ultimate result that Crosshair attacked the squad and shot Wrecker.

OF COURSE he is going to prioritize creating a device that will test the functionality of their own chips - and I think he has two reasons for this.

First: Prevent further catastrophe by making sure no one else on the squad is at imminent risk of acting out like Crosshair did.

Can you imagine what could happen if anyone else became susceptible to the chip's effects? (Oh yeah, we can: we see exactly what happens with Wrecker on Bracca.) Tech's not losing another family member the way he just lost Crosshair.

Second: Support his theory that Crosshair's actions ARE a result of the chip. (Omega talked to Crosshair about this (in a roundabout way) in the brig, but it's Tech who mentions this possibility to the squad.)

And if they can find a reason, a solid explanation, for why Crosshair has turned on them, maybe they can find a way to help him.

Tech is logical and rational. He understands people by analyzing them, finding reasons to explain their motives and actions; and by understanding them, he can come up with a plan to fix the situation. And that's exactly what he's doing here: by proving his theories about the inhibitor chips, he can better help his family.

So, as much as I still laugh over Tech's nonchalant "We're fine" as they're LITERALLY CRASHING, I also find it so dang heartwarming and sweet that Tech was SO focused on saving his team in other, equally crucial ways ❤️

#the bad batch #tbb #tbb tech #clone force 99 #star wars #star wars the bad batch #headcanon #yep tech is my fave #save crosshair #just some random thoughts that turned into an essay #nope i'm not crying

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misswynters · 5 months ago

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Tempestuous Alliance

Gwayne Hightower x Baratheon! fem!reader

[a/n: i had to make a short drabble and cheesy for gwayne cuz there is a lack of. enjoy!

[note | pls don’t just like, reblog & give me feedback. i don’t want to get shadowbanned

The storm raged outside Storm’s End, but within the castle walls, warmth and laughter echoed. You stood by the window, watching the waves crash against the cliffs. You had always loved the ferocity of the sea, finding it a kindred spirit to your own tempestuous nature. Yet tonight, your thoughts were not on the storm, but on the man who had arrived unexpectedly at your family’s stronghold.

Ser Gwayne Hightower, heir to the Reach, had come to Storm’s End on a diplomatic mission, or so he claimed. You suspected there was more to his visit than the pretense of strengthening alliances. The Hightowers were known for their strategic minds, and you wondered what plans were brewing behind Gwayne’s courteous facade.

You turned away from the window as the door to your chambers creaked open. Gwayne stood in the doorway, his tall frame casting a shadow across the room. His silver hair, a mark of his noble lineage, caught the firelight, giving him an almost ethereal glow.

“Lady ___,” he greeted, his voice smooth and calm, a stark contrast to the storm outside.

“Ser Gwayne,” you replied, inclining your head. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?”

He stepped inside, closing the door behind him. “I wished to speak with you privately. There are matters of importance we must discuss.”

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Important matters? In the middle of the night?”

Gwayne smiled, a hint of mischief in his eyes. “Sometimes, the most pressing issues cannot wait for the light of day.”

You motioned for him to sit by the fire, taking a seat yourself opposite him. “Very well, Ser Gwayne. Speak your mind.”

He settled into the chair, his expression growing serious. “House Hightower and House Baratheon have long been allies, but we live in uncertain times. The realm is fractured, and we must secure our positions. I believe a stronger bond between our houses would benefit us both.”

You studied him, your keen mind considering his words. “And how do you propose we strengthen this bond?”

Gwayne leaned forward, his gaze intense. “A marriage, my lady. Between you and me.”

You were taken aback by his directness. “You propose an alliance through marriage?”

“Yes,” he said firmly. “You are known for your strength and wisdom, qualities I greatly admire. Together, we could unite our houses and ensure our families’ futures.”

You looked into his eyes, searching for any hint of deceit, but found none. Gwayne Hightower was a man of honor, and his offer was genuine. Yet, the thought of marrying for political gain rather than love troubled you.

“You speak of duty and alliance,” you said slowly. “But what of love, Ser Gwayne? Can a marriage founded on strategy truly thrive?”

He reached out, taking your hand in his. “I do not offer you a loveless union, my lady. I believe that in time, we could come to care deeply for one another. Respect and admiration are strong foundations upon which love can grow.”

His touch was warm, and you found yourself drawn to his sincerity. “You have given this much thought,” you remarked.

“I have,” he admitted. “For I see in you a partner worthy of standing by my side, not just in name, but in spirit.”

Your heart softened at his words. You had always been wary of suitors seeking your hand for your family’s power and influence, but Gwayne was different. He sought a true partnership, one built on mutual respect and shared goals.

“Very well,” you said at last. “I will consider your proposal, Ser Gwayne. But know this: I will not be swayed by mere words. You must prove your intentions through your actions.”

Gwayne smiled, a look of relief washing over his face. “I would expect nothing less from you, my lady.”

You sat in silence for a moment, the crackling fire providing a comforting backdrop. Despite the storm outside, a sense of calm settled between you.

“I will prove myself to you,” Gwayne vowed. “And together, we will weather any storm that comes our way.”

You felt a flicker of hope. Perhaps this alliance could be more than just a strategic move. Perhaps, in Gwayne Hightower, you had found a partner who could match your strength and spirit.

As the night wore on, you spoke of your dreams and ambitions, discovering a shared vision for the future. By the time the storm subsided, a new bond had begun to form, one that would shape the fate of your houses for years to come.

And so, amidst the lingering echoes of the storm, a promise was made. Not just a promise of alliance, but of a partnership forged in the fires of mutual respect and growing affection.

taglist: @benjicotblckwood

#house of the dragon #gwayne x reader #gwayne hightower #hotd fanfic #hotd imagine #hotd season 2 #hotd x reader #house baratheon #house targaryen #hotd smut #hotd greens #gwayne x you #ser gwayne

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onskepa · 1 year ago

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Yay requests are open!

What about a platonic Ronal x scientist? Yes they study the planet but ronal cannot help but like them because they respect the culture, her medical skills and only seems to find the silver lining in her stiff comments. Like come on human I am trying to make you leave through the power of rude and you just gave me a freidnship bracelet? Wtf I imagine tonowari just snickering every night as she complains about her new best friend

Hellooooooooo darling~!!

Yes! Another ronal fic! Thank you for requesting and I hope this cute fic will satisfy you and everyone else! Enjoy~!

Irayo pt2

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Irayo

“You are good to go, if anything goes wrong or if they are not very welcoming, just say the word and we will get you” the head director of the ocean na’vi program says. In front of him was the new girl. Determined and open minded to learn new things, and was given the ultimate task.

Make the first human contact with the reef na’vi.

Nodding in excitement, the new recruit gets into a canoe with her prepared items. Making sure she is set for sail, she looks at her comrades. “I will let you know everything. Hopefully, this can go well. If doctor Agustine has faith in us, we can't lose” she says with optimus in her voice.

Saying her last farewell, she sets off to the Metkayina island.

“This will be good, I can feel it!”

She arrives at the island, her eyes in awe as she gets closer to the shore. So many na’vi! They all stare at her, many in fear, others in curiosity, and many ready to fight her. Raising her hands, she gets out from her canoe and displays she is of no harm.

“I come in peace, I bring no harm” the human girl announces in perfect, fluent na’vi.

Many, from what she suspects are warriors, stare at her in surprise.

“You are a sky demon! Leave or we will not be easy on you!” one of the warriors warned her. Another warrior follows after.

“We heard what you did with the forest na’vi, leave! You only bring death and sorrow wherever you go”.

The tension was building fast among the other people. Mothers protecting their children, might warriors standing in front of the weak. Any wrong move and she might end up dead. Which is a high factor.

The crowd breaks as two significant looking na’vi walks through, from how they are dressed and the others willing to step aside, the human knew exactly who they were.

And it gave her excitement. Already the first and she is seeing so much!

The human was quick with the traditional na’vi greeting of “I see you”. In hopes that the tension can lessen if she displays their ways.

The Tsahik and Olo’eyktan looked at her carefully. Observing her every move and detail. Small hint of disgust but also confusion as to why a human is here.

“Hello, I bring no harm. I am here to learn your ways. Allow me to prove myself to you, perhaps you have heard of the dark stories of what the humans did to other na’vi, but I promise you that I only bring peace. Please, teach me your ways”.

Ronal doesn't know what or how or even why. But after a lengthy discussion with Tonowari, they granted the human permission to enter their home. And learn their ways. As best a human can learn. While Tonowari was more loose on letting the human in, Ronal felt different, at first she came defensive and was always on alert should the human do something that seems bad under her eyes.

But the human was aware where the line drew, only did what she was allowed to and dared not to push boundaries. Ronal wasn't making it any easier for the human. None whatsoever. In fact, Ronal planned to make things so difficult for the human that she would have no other choice but to leave.

Now if only it worked that, and not Ronal making it harder for herself.

“Put more strength in your arms. It must be thinned out and easy to separate. Any thicker and it will be difficult to mix” Ronal instructed the human with a harsh tone. She was teaching the human how to make crushed, thin, dust-like green material. Very dry leaves that were thoroughly picked from their small forest.

The human woman smiled and obeyed, “alright tsahik”. Doing exactly what she is being told. That is the thing that irks ronal. The human doesn't fight back. She doesn't do anything!

“A child can do a better job than you,” Ronal says with a snarky tone. The human just takes it, “I don't doubt it. This is more of their ways” the human replies with such calmness in her voice. Not a hint of anger, impatience, nothing.

“Dont think this will be enough, there is still much more to grind down” Ronal says, as she places a lot more dried grass in the already big pile. The human stops for a few seconds to look at the bigger addition. Ronal smirks, surely this will be it? “Guess I better grind faster to finish all of these” the human says in glee and continues to grind.

Ronal’s smirk left her lips, fine then. Tomorrow will be worse.

Harsher insults, harsher training, harsher practice. Ronal threw everything at the human, but nothing breaks the human girl. And it infuriates her to the core. Why wasn't she fighting back? Why was she accepting everything? Why was she letting ronal belittle her?

Ronal’s anger grew to where Tonowari had to enterfier.

“Ronal, perhaps you are pushing her too far?” he asks her one day. Ronal scoffs as she does her small tasks in their home. “The human can bare it. Anything I give her, she accepts. That utter fool” she replies. Annoyance heavy on her tone. “She won't break so easily. Not made of sea glass” she continues.

Tonowari sighs, walks up to her and places a hand on her shoulder. “Perhaps not, but your tolerance is thinner than these fibers. Perhaps by surprise, it will be you who will break first”.

The human began to make and wear her na’vi like clothing to fit in more. And as she talked more with the other clan members, more began to welcome her with open arms and even into their homes. Adapting more into their culture and ways of life. They began to accept her.

Ronal wasn't so ready to accept the human.

Not yet at least.

One night, after the communal dinner, Ronal took the human away from the noise and into a more quiet part of the small forest. Yet, along the way, the human not once asked where they were going. Never questioned ronal’s actions, her odd behavior. Nothing.

When they arrived at a beautiful blue glowing waterfall, Ronal kept a bit of distance from the human.

“Tell me human, why do you accept?” Ronal asks after a few minutes of silence.

The human blinked once, “accept what tsahik?”.

Hissing in frustration, Ronal turns to look at the human in anger.

“Why do you accept everything?! I keep pushing you to do beyond what you physically can. Accept any insulting word I give you. Force you to do things clearly you are not very comfortable with. Why do you accept my harsh treatment towards you?”

The human sees Ronal and sees how she truly feels. Taking a deep breath, relaxing her shoulders, the human does what she does best.

Give her an honest smile.

“You have every right to treat me that way. While I am not personally responsible for the thousands of killings of the na’vi, I still feel ashamed and guilty as if it were my own crimes. My kind has treated your kind terribly. So, I understand if you feel any anger or hatred towards me for simply being human. But I accept, I accept it all. If it means to be part of your world, your clan. I would gladly accept anything you throw at me. This is a dream come true for me. This planet, the life it holds. The environments, plants, animals, you. I love and respect everything about your world. All I desire is to learn how things are. From learning about Eywa to learning of the na’vi ways. My only desire is to learn. To have you personally teach me, it is a high luck I could never get anywhere else. So that is why I accept all that you give me. A price to pay for the things I can see and experience. So Tsahik, that is why I accept it. As my way to thank you”

Ronal saw the human, looking deep into her eyes to detect any lies, but all she saw was the truth.

“You fool…”

“Irayo, just in time for breakfast” Ronal welcomes her human friend. Irayo, that is what Ronal calls her ever since that night. It's been stuck to her ever since, not that she plans to defy the tsahik wishes.

Irayo sits in the home of ronal and tonowari. Accepting the food, she begins to eat. But not soon after, she felt a little tug from her wrist. Looking down, Irayo sees little tsireya playfully tugging at her bracelet. Taking it off, she hands it to tsireya who tries to bite down on it.

“Has tsireya began teething?” Irayo asks, ronal nods but gives a disapproving look.

“She will rip off the beads. You worked so hard to make it for us” Ronal says as she points to her own matching bracelet. Irayo laughs, “that is fine. It will give me an excuse to make better friendship brackets for us. I will even make another for cute little tsreiya” Irayo replies as she playfully pinches tsireya’s chubby cheeks, making the child squeal in delight.

Tonowari sits down to join them.

“Today irayo and I will attend to the elderly, tsireya will be under your care until noon” Ronal says to him.

Tonowari nods, but couldn't help but smirk a bit. Leaning in, he whispers into Ronal’s ear. “Your friendship with irayo has improved greatly. I still remember when you called her many foolish names”.

Ronal rolls her eyes and taps his forehead lightly.

“I recall no such things. Irayo has been my good friend from the start”

Aaaaaaaaand that is all for this one! I hope you all enjoyed this fic! Until next time, see ya!

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Irayo = Thank you

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neousfics · 3 months ago

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Dead Boy Detectives Fic Recs (Miscommunication Edition)

If you liked my fic Miscommunication, here are the fics that inspired it!

I'll let you go if you kiss me goodbye by shadowquill17

Word Count: 5,440

Rating: Teen and Up

Summary:

Edwin and Charles have been kissing regularly for months.

Edwin is under no illusion that it is because Charles is attracted to him. Clearly Charles misses physical intimacy and he cannot get it in a tangible way with anyone living, and while one day he will no doubt find someone who is both dead and attractive to him… in the mean time Edwin is happy to fill in, as someone who is one of those two things.

Only now Charles has met someone, and it seems the day has come for Edwin to let him go.

Review: I've read this one, like, 10 times. It hurts, it comforts. What more can you ask for?

Bright as a Morning by IntoTheUnknown

Word Count: 9,161

Rating: Teen and Up

Summary:

“You trying to court me like one of your old-fashioned girls?” Charles says, and he doesn’t sound displeased with that idea.

Or:

Edwin tries to navigate a relationship he refuses to believe is reciprocated, while Charles tries to prove that it very much is.

Review: This one is a bit more cute and wholesome than the others on the list, but I love it regardless. We get a fun exploration of Charles and Edwin fumbling through that "we're dating-are we dating?" mess that many early relationships face.

Won't Fear Love by coloursflyaway

Word Count: 10,265

Rating: Teen and Up

Summary:

„We should go a date“, Charles says on a perfectly bland Tuesday, looking up at Edwin from whatever he is doing at the moment.

If Edwin wasn’t dead already, he would suspect that Charles is trying to kill him.

or:

Five times Charles takes Edwin on a date to figure out if he could fall in love with him, and one time when he has an answer.

Review: We always love a coloursflyaway fic and this is no exception. The dramatic irony of, as a reader, watching Charles fall in love through Edwin's eyes yet also watching Edwin persist in willful ignorance of that love makes the hurt/comfort conclusion all the sweeter. 10/10 love this one.

you can have the best of me, baby (and I will give you anything) by aletterinthenameofsanity

Word Count: 7,466

Rating: Mature

Summary:

So they start kissing, and it turns into more. Into scientific exploration of the sort that Edwin finds himself dedicated to. Too dedicated to.

And Charles is good about it all. Too good about it all, as dedicated to the pursuit as Edwin is.

But that's all it is. Of course it is.

Because the thing about what they're doing is that they should really talk. They should really, really talk. They should say something before their mouths trace each other’s, before Charles helps Edwin shed far too many layers, before Edwin carefully peels Charles out of his own clothes and treats with them as much delicacy than he does any case, because Charles' ripped jeans and beat-up black coat patched with nicked pins is more precious than any artifact ever could be.

But they don't talk.

Of course they don't talk.

Because to talk would make this real, and Edwin needs it to be real, but it can't be real.

Review: I love the way the tone of the fic really changes when we switch from Edwin to Charles. It makes for a lovely bit of reader-frustration that makes you want to bash these boys heads together until they sort out their shit. Of course, the reward is just as sweet when we finally get to see them together.

Kiss You Better by coloursflyaway

Word Count: 4,068

Rating: Teen and Up

Summary:

The first time Charles kisses him, it wipes Edwin’s mind clean like nothing else ever has. No case, not Hell, no amount of exhilaration or fear or devastation, none of it compares to the moment their lips meet, nothing even comes close.

They have been talking about… something, Edwin cannot even remember the topic, and Charles gets a look on his eyes that he has never seen before, something far away and yet so aware, and one second, Edwin is talking and the next, there are lips pressed against his, soft and warm and tender.

Charles kisses him and it’s like Edwin is finding a new home in his lips, a new purpose in the hand Charles raises to cup his cheek, a new, yet familiar destiny in the little sigh he breathes into Edwin’s mouth; a kiss of life.

----

10 times Edwin thinks Charles is kissing him to figure out if he loves him, and one time he knows better.

Review: Oh look, it's another coloursflyaway fic and its also amazing. How shocking. This has got some fun poetic language in it and of course some good hurt/comfort.

Caravan of Love by Hse11z5

Word Count: 2,442

Rating: Teen and Up

Summary:

Charles and Edwin are both undercover, trying to solve a supernatural mystery on a caravan site. Charles decided, to keep their cover, they must stay the night in the caravan, say disguised, and pretend to sleep like real people do. Unfortunately, there is only one bed. [Written for Painland week - day 6- free day]

Review: Just a classic one bed moment where we get to watch Edwin desperately try to convince himself this is a totally platonic moment while Charles desperately tries to hit on his bestie.

#payneland #dead boy detectives #charles x edwin #fic rec #fic recs

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nothorses · 1 month ago

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Regarding the Congress bathroom thing. I cant help but think their strategy is to try to cast it as 'dems are wasting time standing up for trans people instead of focusing on real issues' while making a hostile workplace so they can just make her look crazy. A lot of people think trans issues are a waste of time bc there aren't that many of us, and it's in their favor to make it look like other people are the ones wasting time on it. It's bait - fighting it would be falling into a trap.

I think the problem with this is that Republicans are actually literally passing very enforceable laws that make it illegal for trans people to use the bathrooms that correspond with our gender, and by extension also put us at greater risk of transphobic violence- and MUCH greater risk of police brutality- if a visibly gnc/trans or passing trans person uses any other gendered bathroom, too.

It's dangerous for me to visit my fiancé's family in Florida right now, and I haven't tried in over two years, because they passed a law there that makes it essentially impossible for me to safely use the bathroom in the airport after I land in Florida (and many other bathrooms!).

Anyone who suspects me of being in the wrong bathroom can tell me to leave, and I have to comply immediately or risk arrest (and police brutality as a result). If I don't leave immediately enough when told, they can call the cops to "verify my sex assigned at birth", a thing that there is currently no documentation to prove, meaning I'd have to show my genitals to the cops... and again risk police brutality! Even if I'm in the "right" bathroom by their standards!

Either I try the men's bathroom and hope I pass well enough to everyone there that nobody thinks to question it/that there are no "transvestigation" freaks feeling particularly inclined towards vigilantism that day, or go to the women's bathroom and hope even harder that the only people in there are trans allies. Again: even in a women's restroom, I would have to leave or risk the cops. Because I do not and cannot look (or sound) like a woman.

This is so much worse for people who actually live in FL, and who can't just, like, choose not to fly in. And this is happening in other places, too.

Bathroom laws aren't a silly niche unimportant issue that can be sacrificed to Republicans in pursuit of more meaningful justice. They actually literally matter, in real life, right now.

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ignylinn · 1 month ago

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Okay, it all makes sense with the Crows.

So, imagine Caterina. A very dangerous, a very very clever woman. I mean, she is old. You don't get old in her profession if you are not exrtremely clever and careful. She has a clan to protect, she is old, and she thinks about the future. What does she want for the Crows? How does she want a sustainable future for them? I think her goal is legitimizing the Crows: for the people of Antiva, for the powers of Antiva, and for other nations.

She manages to acquire a bastard son of the king.

She feeds him an idea of "the Crows rule Antiva". She gives him power, but never too much power. She does not want him to become the First Talon, though he is much more competent as a leader than Lucanis and Illario combined.

Lucanis is meant to be a new Crows figurehead: a highly competent, but somehow kind and soft hearted guy, a very safe person to present to legitimate governments and organizations.

Illario was probably meant to manage real Crows assassination work, but proved to be too stupid for that.

She, of course, means for Viago to become a king eventually. She cannot outright assassinate the king without a lot of preparation. She needs the people and neighbours on her side.

She waits for the opportunity (and I'm sure does a lot of things to achieve her goals anyway). The first opportunity comes in the form of Antaam invasion.

The Crows become extremely patriotic. They oppose the Antaam, help the poor, save kittens, etc., all the whole doubling down on the idea that the central power does nothing, and it's only the Crows standing between ordinary people and Qunari.

The invasion also lets them abandon child stealing practices: traumatized, politicized pro-Crows war orphans, child soldiers, can't wait to be enlisted into the People's Army of Antiva. Crows, of course, accept them. A very dubious practice; the whole Jacobus story is... bad, from in-world perspective.

The people are on their side.

I also suspect that the war with Antaam goes at a necessary pace.

Then the second opportunity presents itself: the Veilguard. The very best dudes from various countries and various political factions start to just casually wander around, and also want an alliance. They are presented with "new Crows", and provided with Lucanis - as was his role. They are also fed with the idea that the Crows are the real power here.

Thankfully, the world does not end, and by the end of the Veilguard all necessary pieces are in place for Caterina.

It is so good now, that the events will unfold as she intended even if she dies.

What do I think happens next? I think the King will be killed - not through assassination, but through rebellion. Viago will be welcomed as a king by basically everyone.

The Crows will be legitimized and transformed into something new. They won't need to continue their assassin business on such a scale - they are rich, they are powerful, they are popular, and they can play safer now.

And last thing. Why Caterina did not side with Elgar'nan and Ghilan'nain? That's cause she is clever)) If the world does end, none of it will matter. If it does not, those who are now in the opposition will rule the world. Being friends with them is a much better option.

#dragon age veilguard #antivan crows #caterina dellamorte #lucanis dellamorte #viago de riva #illario dellamorte #dragon age lore #jacobus egrativi #datv

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totallynotsloughjykk · 4 months ago

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okay rant because I need to hhhhh I'm so tired of people misinterpreting mu qing. no he is not a heartless monster nor is he a tsundere baby. he's a complex character and people need to stop dumbing him down to either good/bad mu qing values logic before anything. he thinks everything through too much and only considers feelings after, which makes him come off as unempathetic and uncaring. that's his main flaw. he cannot deal with any emotions and hides behind an indifferent/arrogant mask despite it being far from his actual self. his avoidance with vulnerability is understandable considering just how much he had to watch himself during his teenhood and probably even childhood he's hypervigilant and gets defensive the second he feels any form of attack coming towards him. for example, him freaking out over the red coral pearl going missing during the xianle era - which, again, is understandable since that would've ruined his reputation completely. he's also terrible with showing affection and care and that's another reason why he always come off as so mean and rude mu qing is also deeply insecure; he suddenly turned his attention to hong'er after xie lian praised his skill with a saber and he found reasons to kick him out fast (I'll get onto this later). he jumps any time he's handed a broom and he's also pretty easily envious. he doesn't usually go far beyond petty words and punches - like xie lian said, he's spiteful enough to spit in someone's cup, not poison it his flaws are well thought-out and make a lot of sense for his character. you can trace his behavior patterns back to his past; for example, his hypervigilance and arrogant mask comes the fact that everyone always expected the worst of him. the second he was even suspected to be in the wrong everyone turned on him without a doubt, so he grew wary of what he did and what he said. and for the arrogant mask, he couldn't prove otherwise at all - who would listen? no one. so he just gave up and got used to it mu qing has his flaws but he also has his qualities; he's a kind person beneath everything, shockingly enough. he handed poor children cherries after he was beaten up for picking them, he brought feng xin and xie lian rice and medicine after he left, he helped jian lan give birth, he disguised himself to help xie lian and he took a whole cursed shackle for refusing to hurt him. he can only show affection through actions and it's still uncomfortable for his deeds to be recognized since he's already so used to the selfish, cold and indifferent tag everyone slapped on him so he never expects any gratitude or anything in return at all also controversial take but hua cheng was wrong to hold a grudge against mu qing and feng xin. first of all, the feng xin grudge was entirely unnecessary (for mu qing it's a lot more understandable) but that's for another rant. second of all, while it is, again, understandable from hua cheng's POV, from an outside perspective it's just.. wrong. hua cheng will go towards extreme lengths to anyone who even mildly hurts off xie lian, and that's one of his flaws as a character. I love hua cheng deeply and that's part of what makes him beautifully complex. he's overprotective after seeing his beloved hurt so many times by so many people while he couldn't do much about it. he views xie lian through rose-colored lenses and I doubt he'll let go of the way he sees mu qing any time soon considering just how heavy of a grudge he held and how complicated their friendship/relationship in general is. they don't get along and until they formally talk things out, give them 200 years to warm up to each other they'd still probably stab each other if left unattended

#kk's rants #I think I'm gonna do more of these since the amount of weird takes on here scares me #tian guan ci fu #tgcf #heaven official's blessing #character study #mu qing #hua cheng #xie lian #hualian #mxtx #feng xin #huaqing #mo xiang tong xiu #mulian #xianle trio #but like remix since it's hua cheng xie lian and mu qing

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jinxedshapeshifter · 5 days ago

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WAIT WAIT WAIT WAIT WAIT

IS IT POSSIBLE THAT APOLLO'S TREATMENT OF ATHENA IN TURNABOUT FOR TOMORROW IS BECAUSE OF KRISTOPH.

Like. Hear me out.

Apollo's already had one person he worked with turn out to be a murderer without him even suspecting anything as of Turnabout for Tomorrow. Apollo didn't suspect a thing about Kristoph until after Phoenix accused him of murdering Shadi Smith/Zak Gramarye. THEN half a year later he found out Kristoph was actually behind evidence forgery, two murders, and an attempted murder. All without Apollo's knowledge.

If there's even a hint of suspicion that one of his CURRENT coworkers is a murderer, let alone his best friend's murderer? I can't blame him for how he responded to Athena being accused of Clay's murder given he'd already had his ex-boss get accused of murder. It adds depth to Apollo literally begging Phoenix to prove Athena innocent too; Phoenix is the one who proved Kristoph to be guilty of murder twice, not necessarily Apollo. Apollo was just the one who made Phoenix's findings public knowledge, since Phoenix couldn't at the time.

Like I think looking at Apollo’s response to Athena being accused of Clay's murder is a fantastic example of how Apollo’s trauma from Kristoph (because you cannot convince me it doesn't exist) affects his relationships with his coworkers (possibly even just people he's close to). He mentions multiple times (I think multiple times anyway) that he doesn't WANT to believe Athena's guilty of Clay's murder, and begs Phoenix to prove her innocence because he's so genuinely upset by the idea that she might be guilty, both because if she is, that would make her the second person he's worked with who's guilty of murder, and because he wants to believe she's innocent but the evidence says she's guilty.

I don't know if the phantom knew about the whole Kristoph thing and Apollo being Kristoph's protégé before he was Phoenix's, but the phantom seems like the kind of person to use someone's trauma against them, so it wouldn't surprise me if the phantom somehow knew about Kristoph's relationship to Apollo and used that against him (since it is the phantom who forged decisive evidence against Athena).

#ace attorney #apollo justice ace attorney #dual destinies #dual destinies spoilers #apollo justice spoilers #apollo justice #athena cykes #kristoph gavin #aa4 #aa5 #aa4 spoilers #aa5 spoilers

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writingforstraykids · 9 months ago

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Jeongin soft thoughts? 🙏🏻

Collab with @zehina

Thank you so much for the many sweet thoughts you shared with me and let me use/adapt for this. Without you this post would've been rather short compared to the others🖤🖤

Jeongin loves to tease his hyungs with disgusted faces and slipping out of their hugs. But with you, whenever you're alone, that changes drastically. Innie turns putty in your hands, letting you trace your fingers all over his face, knowing you'll stop at his dimples for a while. They're cute, just like him, so who can blame you for that? A dopey smile grows on his lips whenever you play with his hair and massage his scalp, helping him relax after a long day.

Innie has a very specific pet name for you, which he hasn't said out loud for a long while. It's like his little secret, adoring you from afar, his heart growing at the fact that you're his. One day, he slips, muttering it against your hair when he's already sleepy. You pull back, gaping at him, and his eyes widen in pure shock when he realizes why. You don't dare to tease him about it, though, knowing he'd die from embarrassment.

If the boys wouldn't know better, they'd suspect you are just a pair of bickering siblings. The loving teasing, playful cursing, and playful fights definitely make it seem like you are. But the way you two get cuddly and share soft kisses proves everyone wrong.

Innie is used to being babied by his hyungs all the time, and if he's honest, he doesn't mind it one bit. Once he met you, he found someone he could baby for once. And oh, how he loves doing it. He takes upon Chan's tradition of "maknae first" and always makes sure you get the first bite, the first sip, the best view, the cuddliest blanket, or the most loving hug. In his eyes, you deserve nothing but the best.

Innie gets drunk faster than you do so it's your job to take care of him when he is. He trusts you with this, knowing you'll get him back home or safely to bed when he had a little too much. He gets so clingy when he's drunk it's adorable. You can't even remember the amount of times he has been hugging you and planting drunk kisses on your face, missing your lips with an adorable giggle. You've lost count of the times he's drunkenly declared his love for you in front of everyone, his words slurred but sincere, his arms wrapped tightly around you as if he never wants to let go. It's endearing, and even though he's a lightweight, you wouldn't change a thing about these heartfelt moments.

Innie, the baby bread who has a knack for acting like a grandpa amongst the bunch and you cannot say I am wrong. While he is a menace, yes, he isn’t one like Seungmin. No, this boy wouldn’t tease you for acting cute or taking care of him, instead, he would try his best to not be affectionate with you in public. A hard battle, one he often fails. But who could blame him, when you look that adorable, with such a sweet expression on your face? Certainly not him. So whenever you brush your fingers against his as you two walk, don’t talk about how fast he laces your fingers together, or how he silently takes off his coat if you seem cold. Let him be the little tsundere he is, otherwise he’ll pout, and you don’t want that at all.

Innie isn’t a big fan of skinship, click on any stray kids video if you need proof. But you’re an exception to that, to a certain degree. If you ask nicely enough, he’ll wrap you in his arms and have an all night long cuddle session. Other times, he wraps his arm around you protectively, not even a hiccup in the story he had been telling you, as if it was natural to him. Naturally, since you seem to be getting the VIP baby bread services that the boys aren’t getting, they all act incredibly jealous around you, all in a playful way. They tease both of you about this, which only results in their maknae getting flustered and chasing them around with heated cheeks and loud shouts. You don’t mind this at all honestly, their loud laughter and an embarrassed, cuddly boyfriend being your reward.

He would pay for your things, as expensive or cheap as they may be, he wouldn’t care at all. No, he would confidently raise his card towards the cashier, leaving you gaping up at him, admittedly a bit frustrated that you couldn’t pay for your bubble tea once again. And if you dared voice this, he would simply smirk at you, destroying your defences with that foxy smile of his. Damn him and his charisma.

When Jeongin plans a date, he makes sure every detail is perfect, from the timing to the location. His meticulous nature shows through in these moments, especially when he tries to incorporate activities he knows you'll love. He might feign indifference about the choices, saying things like "whatever you prefer," but you can tell he’s invested by how eagerly he observes your reactions. If you mention a fleeting interest in art, the next date might involve a quiet afternoon at a gallery, followed by coffee at a small café that he had scouted out weeks in advance. These thoughtful gestures don't go unnoticed, and they only deepen your appreciation for his caring and attentive ways.

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