#and she's a FORCE and all her actions are so purposeful so to suggest that she “gave up” feels just alien to me

[backjustforberena]

I reject any and all assumptions that, at any point, Rhaenys lost the will to live. That's something I won't entertain. She didn't. That's just wrong.

[lovelytsunoda]

nation of two // oscar piastri

summary: a camping trip in perth, and a set of missing sleeping bags brings together a pair of childhood friends in a way neither of them had quite anticipated

pairing: oscar piastri x female reader

warnings: lando being a little shit, wee lil' age gap (reader is a year and a half older than oscar is), general outdoorsy activities, forced teambuilding. for all intents and purposes, this is in the very beginning of lando and oscar's time as teammates and they don't know each other well yet.

authors note: I was so tempted to make this a fic for a different fandom but knew y’all would hate me if I started dropping top gun fics out of nowhere instead of the f1 goodness you’ve come to expect, and then this prompt was just so perfect for oscar and now here we are

the australian sun beat down as she trekked up the rocky hiking trail, rugged outdoor shoes digging into the dirt and mud beneath her feet. sweat soaked through the back of her concert shirt, her black bucket hat concentrating all of the sun's rays on her scalp.

"jesus, piastri! how much further?" she whined, taking oscar's outstretched hand and allowing him to pull her up the trail.

oscar laughed, looking over and grinning at how ridiculous she looked with her massive backpack and sweat stained shirt, the hot pink of her sports bra showing through the white fabric underneath the words 'duran duran'.

"don't be such a baby!"

"i'm older than you!" she shreiked, feeling the burn in her legs as she rested her weight on the younger boy. "carry me the rest of the way?"

"no! you have to get to the lookout yourself."

she groaned, rolling her eyes. "then where are lando and will? i'll sit in the damn wagon if i have to. how are you not winded?"

she hadnt planned to even be here. oscar had phoned her late the night before, asking if she would be up for a hike. she'd agreed, searching for a reason to get out of the house. it wasnt like she had anything better to do.

she'd known oscar all her life. in elementray school, they waited for the big yellow bus at the same stop, and were in the same homeroom for most of secondary school with oscar taking advanced classes for his age and y/n sinking down a level in maths, despite oscar's many absences. their mothers were in the same knitting club, and many a night teenage oscar would apologetically come to her house and collect his wine-drunk mother from the knitting circle. (despite it all, she loved nicole. how could she not, the woman was an icon)

"because i'm an athlete and you're out of shape?" oscar guessed jokingly, prodding at the cute pudge of her stomach.

the action gave her butterflies, a feeling in her stomach that wasn't welcome when thinking about the younger man she was leaning against.

they'd always been friendly. too friendly, some may say, eyebrows raising when people heard about the age gap. what did a sophisticated older woman want with oscar piastri?

it was simple: she liked stupid men with hearts of gold. and so far, nobody had compared to the 21-year-old. she was 22, so the gap wasn't even that bad.

and oscar didn't really think she was out of shape. he might joke, but that small bit of pudge on her stomach was so adorable, like a kangaroo pouch in his head, and he dreamed about the day he could cuddle up behind her and wrap his arms around it, skin to skin between cotton sheets.

"shut up." she whined, relieved that the group had finally stopped. she flung down her badly-packed and underprepared rucksack and slumped against it, pulling her hat over her eyes. it was getting cooler, though still humid, as the sun began to sink below the horizon.

"i think it's time we think about making camp." mark webber suggested, stretching out his old man limbs, tapping the giant stick he held as a walking aid against a rock. "this is as good a spot as any. lando, do you have the sleeping bags?"

"do i have the sleeping bags?" lando repeated jokingly. "what kind of muppet do you think that i am? of course will and i have the sleeping bags!"

the mclaren driver sidestepped towards the wooden wagon, dramatically ripping back the tarp on top to reveal the cardboard tent box (which had been duct taped back together so many times that it was more tape than cardboard) and the clusters of rolled up sleeping bags.

one by one, lando and will started tossing the bags at the hikers. in almost no time at all, everybody had a sleeping bag.

well, everybody except y/n.

"oi, orlando, what the fuck!" she shouted, deliberately getting his name wrong. "where's my stuff?"

not looking sorry at all, lando shrugged his shoulders, eyes hidden underneath the brim of his bucket hat. "i guess i miscounted."

"you didn't miscount shit." she glared at him, using both of her hands to flash the man her middle fingers.

lando stifled a laugh, looking over at oscar. "are you sure she's the older one?"

"lando, shove off." oscar defended before turning to her. "my sleeping bag is a double, we'll be just fine. as long as lando hasn't lost the second tent."

y/n chuckled darkly, using the rock behind her to push herself to her feet. "the tent is in my rucksack. there's no way in hell that i'm sleeping on the dirt floor."

"princess." lando coughed into his fist, hoping that neither oscar or y/n noticed.

see, lando norris had a plan. a plan that was formed out of one too many rom com nights with his girlfriend, and an impatience born from watching y/n and oscar run circles around each other like horny dogs too nervous to get to humping.

the way lando saw it, hiding the sleeping bag was just going to help that along.

"anyways, im heading out." y/n sighed, getting to her feet and brushing the leaves and twigs off her thighs. "you freaks better not follow me into the woods and watch me piss."

oscar watched her leave with a dreamy expression as she pushed branches out of the way, stumbling over tree roots and branches. he saw her loose her footing in the mud , scraping the side of her knee on the tree bark.

"you okay?" oscar shouted, ready to jump into the woods after her.

"i'm fine!"

when she came back from the woods, legs slightly scratched up from the way she stumbled, hat dangling from the chinstrap around her neck and her sweat-matted hair falling down her shoulders. oscar was setting up the tent, shirtless as he hammered the tent stakes in place. all in all, the tent was fairly well constructed considering that oscar had done it all himself.

"so, your new teammate is a jackass." she laughed. "who suggested this trip?"

"i did. against my better judgment." oscar rolled his eyes, straightening up at dusting off his hands before peeling back the zipper door to the orange tent. "welcome to my humble abode. ladies first, your highness."

"oh, shut up." she laughed, her face turning pink as she ducked into the tent.

it was a large space, backlit by the battery powered lantern from oscar's rucksack. the soft yellow lighting made their shadows dance as she sat down on the double sized sleeping bag, unsure of what to do next.

they hadn't shared a bed since they were sixteen years old on a joint family trip to fiji and they had been so drunk that they fell asleep together on a sun lounger.

it's okay. you can do this.

"can i have the right side?" she asked timidly as oscar followed her in, zipping up the door behind him.

"knock yourself out." oscar said, avoiding eye contact as he reached into his backpack and passing her a bag of cheetos.

the proximity and the rising heat in the tent was starting to make him uncomfortable. no doubt he was also thinking about the sun lounger.

"i'm glad that you came. i missed spending time with you, y/n."

she laughed, popping the bag open and cursing when she spilled orange cheese dust on her leg. "me too. i've been at a loss lately. a crossroads, if you will. this is exactly what i needed to get out of my head."

"remember what mark said? leave your problems at the bottom of the mountain!" oscar laughed. "just put one foot in front of you and keep moving.''

she grinned, popping a crispy cheeto into her mouth. "easier said than done when thinking about the future paralyzes you."

oscar moved his body along the sleeping bag so that he was sitting directly next to her, his thigh touching hers. the sleeping bag took up most of the floor space, neither of them wanting to lean back, lest they cause the whole tent to topple over.

the feeling of his skin against hers made the hair on her arms stand up, goosebumps following in its wake.

"you'll figure it out. i know you will. have some faith in yourself."

the way the led lantern highlighted every pore, every contour of his skin should have been reserved for the film crew on fifty shades of grey. he looked so breathtaking in the dark that it had just that effect: taking all of her breath away. she felt like she'd been hit in the lungs, unable to think about anything except the greek god in front of her.

and she was going to have cheeto breath when she kissed him.

outside the tent, their silhouettes danced in the half light as she leaned towards him, lips moving to whisper something inaudible but that the aussie seemed to understand instantly, wrapping his hands around her waist to pull her closer.

and when oscar kissed her? she forgot all her worries, this airy feeling spreading throughout her body. the skin around their lips would be stained from the cheetos, as would the sleeping bag where the bag toppled over, but neither of them could find it in them to care, too lost in the others touch as oscar's calloused fingers ran up her t-shirt, gently squeezing the part of her stomach that made her the most self-conscious,

"you're beautiful. and smart. and brilliant. and i'm sorry that nobody has ever told you that." he whispered in his kiss, his tongue licking into her mouth. he growled at the taste of cheetos, something that was suddenly so much sexier than he had ever believed it could be.

"shut up." she blushed, kissing him again.

outside the tent, lando and will sat by a crackling fire, watching the embers rise in the air and wondering if the pair knew that the lantern allowed them to see everything through the tent walls.

"i knew he had it in him." lando laughed. "look at the little guy go."

"should we tell him about the lantern?" will chuckled, popping a marshmallow into his mouth.

"nah. they'll figure it out in a minute when we all start wolf whistling."

TAGS

@magnummagnussen @httpiastri @sidcrosbyspuck @twinkodium @thatsdemko @userlando @libraryofloveletters @diorleclerc @lorarri

[yeahihyperfixtate]

♡ — luke and kieran x assassin!reader

content : fluff, suggestive (like you have to squint), nonmc!reader, reader contexted to have killed ppl, idk luke and kieran being adorable, more or less the twins x reader

authors note : i havent written stuff in a year hope we're somewhat back in the game. idk I love luke and kieran and this idea has been buzzing about since I met them in game, and ik it says assassin but assistant felt too icky to call reader so yeah, enjoy pls <3

♡ — assassin!reader who, in her vulnerable youth, was taken under the wing of onychinus's mysterious leader, revealing a hidden purpose and destiny within her.

♡ — assassin!reader who quickly fell in line when an opportunity arose, casting aside her former recklessness as a besieged street rat, employing such developed cunning senses to eliminate anyone who dared interfere with the hailed leader of onychinus.

♡ — assassin!reader who was treated no differently than the others, used as a strategic asset in those dull meetings the sylus ordered her to attend, some remarking on the irony that no one in that overly cologned room took a woman seriously, even if she stood beside onychinus's revered leader.

♡ — assassin!readerwho only sighed at the memory of the last meeting as her boss spoke humorously. those who dared to push their limits with him, feeling a boost of superiority against one man in his lonesome and some unseen woman, lay with their throats slit as she returned to stand beside her seated superior, her actions displayed as a brief warning to those who tried to think the same.

♡ — assassin!reader who had to refrain her walls of stoicism from falling when she was handed her very own crow mask, briefed that she would be under his direct commands, no other.

♡ — assassin!reader who after a few months of securing a spot directly under sylus’s hand, was introduced to her previously unknown, equally skilled comrades, luke and kieran—the infamous twins of onychinus—immediately affirming such with her new uniform, smaller but just as tactile copy of theirs.

♡ — assassin!reader who quickly learned the personalities she was forced to interact and work with daily, distinguishing between the vigorous, unpredictable nature of the older brother, Luke, and the calmer, more soothing demeanour of Kieran.

♡ — assassin!reader who while navigating these complex dynamics, found herself constantly adjusting herself, carefully tailoring her walls to stay upright as she interacted with the pair careful to not stitch herself into their lives, wanting no more than to rely only on herself, all while maintaining her unwavering loyalty to sylus.

♡ — assassin!reader who finds it increasingly hard to hold up these walls as she works with the pair, finding herself alongside the two during their free time, relaxing in one of sylus’s penthouses, awaiting his next command to fill the boredom that overshadows the three.

♡ — assassin!reader who isn’t respected by a selection of lower-ranked members due to her status of being a highly-ranked woman in onychinus, her name slandered continuously among the workplace.

♡ — assassin!reader who finds herself watching the twins with a mix of admiration and surprise as the two yank a man out of his chair, their aura cold and menacing. their victim, refusing to acknowledge her high rank, accompanied by a moment of foolishness calling her a bitch during a meeting the three were conducting. all triggered by her blunt criticism of his team’s failure to deliver the required number of protocores on time, fuelling the brothers' anger, actively threatening his life with a gun to his head unless he supplied an apology on his knees within the next five seconds.

♡ — assassin!reader who gradually comes to the profound realization of the deep significance the twins hold in her life, a startling epiphany triggered by a harrowing near-death experience on what should have been an ordinary mission gone south.

♡ — assassin!reader who often perches on a high-rise rooftop after successful missions, gazing over the mist-shrouded N109 zone. only recently finding herself joined by the twins, a result of their collaboration over the past few weeks.

♡ — assassin!reader who suddenly finds herself looking for the pair during her scarce free time, looking for the mix of comforting personalities to fill her boredom.

♡ — assassin!reader who finds herself swept up in their mischievous antics, reluctantly pressed against a wall corner alongside them, watching as an unsuspecting newcomer to onychinus gets a face full of pie upon opening the shared base fridge.

♡ — assassin!reader who finds her cheeks reddening as her two companions casually speculate about her appearance, pulling guesses on the colour and texture of her hair, her supposed eye colour and its shape, all while she attempts to avoid their curious eyes on her.

♡ — assassin!reader who silently prayed to whatever deity was watching, begging for an open grave to swallow her whole as luke reached out to hold her, thankfully, masked face, forcing it still in an attempt to peer past the red slits that lay over her eyes.

♡ — assassin!reader horrifyingly wishes she could jump off this very rooftop they resided on as kirean casually chimes into the conversation some more, audibly wondering about her form in outfits that weren't the current uniforms displayed. he shrugs it off, only adding fuel to the fire as he stretches on how he knows that 'you’re a beauty either way behind that mask', luke places the foreseen cherry on top as he agrees with his younger brother so casually, finally letting go of her burning face.

♡ — assassin!reader can only stare at the back of their heads as they both turn away from her, looking down at the streets below as if this was the most normal thing in the world

[stardustdiiving]

The way some people talk about “misogynistic writing” with the female genshin archons—specifically Nahida & Furina— kills me a bit, because while i do feel there’s valid criticisms of genshin’s writing to be made (especially regarding Ei, who I do feel was done a massive disservice writing wise), often I see people seem to come from a place of not understanding the writing/characters well, and/or leaning into like…very reductive ideas of what makes a female character “good” that honestly says more about their biases than Genshin’s

For example, a common complaint I see against Nahida & Furina is about them being made to be “weak/unserious” and how this is bad writing because genshin is unwilling to take their characters seriously—but the way this is argued seems to suggest Furina & Nahida would be better characters if they were more physically powerful, mature, or “cooler” in some way. But I really dislike the notion of girlbossification being seen as the one standard of good writing for women. A girl being strong and independent and able to punch things really hard isn’t a marker of inherent good writing

Nahida and Furina not being physically powerful or completely sure of themselves is the point. Their lack of life-experience-based maturity and overpowering physical strength are intentional and points of strength for their character writing, not flaws or weaknesses:

Nahida is the God of Wisdom—her primary source of strength is her intelligence, which comes from her curiosity about the world that is intrinsically linked to her being very caring by nature. The reason Nahida is at a disadvantage in physical strength with the antagonists—Scaramouche and Dottore—and doesn’t have an epic moment where she brute force overpowers them, isn’t because Genshin is treating Nahida like an incompetent joke, it’s because her character highlights the overall theme in Sumeru’s AQ that power isn’t everything and strength/wisdom comes from many places.

She outsmarts both Scaramouche and Dottore through her ability to strategize—if you’re trying to sell Nahida as a character who embodies wisdom, it’s far stronger writing wise to have her use her wisdom and mind to overcome narrative conflict than have her be all powerful. If you don’t think Nahida revealing she’s trapped Scaramouche in a dream loop after he tries to rip her gnosis from her, or her standing her ground against Dottore and forcing him to bargain with her when he attempts to intimidate her into giving him what he wants doesn’t make her “cool” or interesting….idk ! Maybe it’s not the writing and just your personal preference for character appeal

Furina —without getting too deep into 4.2 spoilers—has an arc revolving around the loneliness & conflict of needing to mold yourself into a performance for a greater purpose, and grappling with personal identity and autonomy in the aftermath of performance and repression shaping your life. I really don’t understand how people watch how she’s handled and come away with the conclusion her character gets bent around Nuevillette’s man pain/the fact he’s just so ~much more competent than her unless you’re just really not interested in trying to engage Furina’s writing or taking it in confusingly bad faith

Her struggling with lacking the physical power/competence a god “should” have is, again, the point of her character and they are very clear where that lack of ability comes from within the writing. Her narrative actions follow an arc that revolves around this internal conflict she has—she feels very established to be her own person and they certainty don’t shy away from expanding on Furina’s emotions without it only being done as footing for other (male) characters

I think Nahida & Furina were just not what people were expecting the Dendro & Hydro Archon to be like, I also see a lot of complaints that neither of them “act like gods” or “seem very godlike” but see, in my opinion, one of the central themes to genshin overall is to examine the relationship between humanity and the divine. Part of this also includes calling into question what a god should be, especially in relation to humans/having a sense of humanity

The center conflict within Nahida & Furina’s characters is that their sense of humanity is at odds with being held to what being a god “should” be. Nahida is imprisoned by the Sages who treat her with disdain for being a child and not being inhumanly perfect enough to be useful to them as a deity. We see Furina try to engage with her people earnestly in a more human way before realizing she needs to put up the performance that proceeds to shape her life & state of deep loneliness for the next 500 years to be taken seriously and fulfill her duties. You aren’t supposed to look at Nahida or Furina and think they’re all powerful otherworldly divine beings. You’re supposed to view the, as people—people who are young and inexperienced regarding their position in life. Venti and Zhongli act like people in the same way—the only difference is they have more experience and have had the time to accomplish more feats as original members as the Seven

Again, it’s not that I don’t think there’s criticisms to be made. Genshin to me sets up Ei to be a character who requires a lot of self reflection/growth and thought with handling her moral dubiousness, and then out of desperately worrying she won’t be likable enough, seems to bend over with trying to insist on Ei being palpably appealing while not following through on a lot of what her character really needs to feel well handled. (I feel they barely even address Ei needing to rebuild trust with her people and it’s only more clear when you now see Furina spend a lot of time handling something similar despite doing less um, government oppression thsn Ei did for instance HDJNDJDJ. But I guess me pinning where my personal dissatisfaction with her writing comes from is another post in of its own and more based in general issues with Inazuma vs viewing it as misogynistic writing alone) The trend of not letting a female character grapple with her morality and try to push her being livable at the expense of addressing her complexity does honestly feel it falls into a misogynistic writing trends. I am really bummed out with Ei’s execution when genshin has proven through other characters along with Nahida and Furina they are capable of handling a character like her writing wise imo

But I really think, again, if someone thinks none of genshin’s women are engaging or interesting, or that Nahida and Furina aren’t taken seriously enough narratively while seeming to not really understand the intent of the characters’ writing, or want to take them seriously unless they’re cool/girlboss-y enough, I feel it may say more about their ideas of handling women in fiction than it does about genshin. I get personal preferences and not being really into a character, but people so frequently frame it as a possibly misogyny pattern with how genshin writes the female archons and I can’t help but disagree. I think sometimes people don’t consider what the story is trying to say with the characters vs what they think is cool or want (and of course what we all think is cool or may want/expect narratively is always informed by our own biases). There’s a level of subjectivity in how you can interpret writing and narratives of course but they’re just not interpretations I feel fit into what’s presented in the text !

[pedgito]

Smut request for Eddie, but I’m worried you might think it’s too close to your single!dad series! But I’m just gonna give it to you anyway because you’re my favorite smut writer. Dad!eddie and babysitter!reader? (Obviously 18+)

author’s note: it’s not at all!! i really wanted to try out something a little different so hopefully this isn’t terrible lol. i hope you enjoy!

cw: 18+ (minors dni), large age gap (21 & 36), dad!eddie, power dynamic (but it’s still pretty balanced, just given the content), virgin!reader, oral (f&m receiving), fingering, all the sex stuff—don’t come into my inbox with bs, if you don’t like, don’t read. but if you do, ily.

word count: 5.6k

Eddie liked to think that with being older came more wiser thoughts, actions—but through experience, he was still fumbling his way through life the same way he had back when in his early twenties, fresh out of high school and making the decent money that he could between shifts at the plant with Wayne, who had to nearly bribe his boss to give him the job, and the small shows he kept up with Corroded Coffin—not that it ever brought in a lot of money.

But, it did bring him to the life he had now; nearing his late thirties, fresh divorcee and a spirited young daughter to prove it. He couldn’t even believe it himself half the time—marriage was never something he planned out, or kids, or searching for babysitters instead of opting to force his child into daycare—spending hours looking through possible prospects, vetting them thoroughly. It felt like he was living a dream most of the time, until reality plopped down on his lap with a giant grin on her face, stray curls cascading down her forehead.

“Do you have to go, daddy?” His daughter asks, “Can’t you play another night?”

Any shows he did now were more for his own enjoyment—monthly shows at a small bar at the edge of town. They gathered a decent crowd and lended to Eddie meeting some very friendly ladies, not that he cared that much.

He had his eyes elsewhere and it was a damn shame nothing would come of it—as horrible as he felt about.

“Sorry, sweetie—I made a promise.” He explains to her, trying his best to lay it out in her terms, “You know I can’t break promises.”

You step through the door only a few moments after, overnight bag snug over your shoulder as you squealed gleefully at his daughter—her previous qualms about Eddie leaving disappearing in an instant.

“You could stay home and play board games with us!” She suggests excitedly, pulling at your hand. You smile knowingly at Eddie, it was typical behavior that didn’t surprise either of you.

“Yeah, Mr. Munson—she’s a pro at connect four, believe me.”

You say his name the way he hates, the way you know he hates. He’s told you time and time again—Eddie. It’s Eddie.

It felt like you were doing it on purpose most of the time.

And so what if you were?

“Oh, I do.” He smiles smugly, crinkling his nose toward the young girl as he fetches his keys from the letting. “Her mom said she might come tonight—maybe in the morning. I can never really predict her, but you’re fine with staying the night just in case, right?”

“I did bring my bag for a reason.” You retort with a playful tease to your tone, swinging the back around as you drop it on the empty loveseat. “You know I don’t have a problem with it.”

“I just—there’s no telling how tonight is going to go.” Eddie admits.

There was no telling how drunk he was going to get—that’s what he means to say. Your eyebrow quirks up in interest and Eddie only shakes his head. There was never any judgment—his life was his life. But, being so young and naive still, it made you wonder how life could really be as you grew older. Eddie seemed to be happy; great friends, nice house, a small but close knit family, he had it all.

Eddie felt the monotony set in the moment he tied himself down to his ex-wife, but being newly single—it had sparked something inside him that wouldn’t die out. Maybe it was an early midlife crisis, a lapse of judgment, but it made him want the things he knew he couldn’t have.

The clues weren’t there initially either. Eddie was as respectful and stern as you expected when you first met, scrutinizing and over-examining every part of your life—you were the secondary protector of his daughter outside of him, it only seemed fair.

But, things took a slow turn as you started to come around more—dinners were occasional, cigarettes out on the porch before you drove home, small talks about what you had to deal with while he was away that soon turned into Eddie being more open with his personal life, and in turn, yours.

There wasn’t a part of his life that was much of a secret anymore—you knew the dirtiest details, the saddest ones. He confided in you a little too easily, but you were just as much at fault for letting it happen.

The first night things shift, you keep telling yourself it’s not actually happening. You had your keys in hand, ready to step out the door until Eddie grasps at your wrist, nodding you back in for a glass of wine, Chardonnay, or whatever the hell he kept around in his cabinet.

“I…don’t drink wine, Eddie.” You say wearily, not complaining about the tug on your wrist as you follow him.

“I forget—you probably like beer, don’t you?” He teases, “At least I did at your age.”

Admittedly, you were twenty one—so it wasn’t like you were doing anything wrong per-say. You had graduated, opted out of college, and made most of your living through odd jobs and nannying—Eddie’s was probably the most stable you’ve been, even if you weren’t a live-in. You saw his daughter nearly everyday, dealt with his chaotic ex-wife as often as he did, and it felt like you had embedded yourself in his life. Eddie couldn’t complain, he liked having you around.

“I—I really shouldn’t.” You say regretfully, twisting the key in your hand. Eddie senses your nervousness, leaning an arm out against his open fridge. “I have to drive home and I—“

“Just one.” Eddie barters, holding up the two frosted bottles, “You don’t have to finish it if you don’t want to.”

You smile slightly, nodding despite your better judgment.

“Fine. One.” You say sternly, “And you still have to pay me for this week, don’t think I forgot.”

“Can you stretch it a week?” He asks, “I promised the little devil I’d get her that guitar she’s been begging for and her birthday is in a couple days.”

“I know.” You tell him obviously, but the smile you return is sweet. “But that’s fine—just, next week for sure. I have to pay rent.”

“Promise.” He grins, a perfect smile that has you clenching your thighs together every time. “Cheers.”

The clink of the bottles is deafening and Eddie moves to the corner of the counter where you take your seat in the barstool, leaning his torso over as he sips at the beer.

Being close wasn’t strange—you’ve sat next to him on the couch, at the dinner table, but the air is so thick you feel it caught in your throat. Your eyes flick up as the bottle tips to your lips, letting out a small giggle as he tips it up with his finger, a small amount of the liquid trickling down the side of your mouth.

You recover with a small cough, shoving at him weakly.

“Hey, that’s not nice.” You say, feigning annoyance. “You’re wasting a perfectly good beer.”

“Sorry,” He lies, taking a long chug of his own before placing it down on the counter. “So, plans for the weekend?”

He asked every week, it wasn’t strange to you. Eddie always seemed genuinely interested, but for some reason, it didn’t feel like that now—and maybe he was just stringing you along to keep you here, but you played into it so well.

You wanted it—maybe not as bad as him, but it was there.

“No,” You say shyly, shaking your head, “Just my bed and a couple movies. Same old thing.”

“No bars? No clubs?”

“Nope.” Your lips pop around the consonant, taking a small slip before shoving the bottle toward the middle. “They don’t interest me.”

“Come on,” He prys playfully, “There’s gotta be something you do for fun, sweetheart?”

And it was the same thing he had called you after a week of taking in the job, a kind endearment that didn’t make you feel any certain way, a sweet way to differentiate from calling you by your name, but it sits on his tongue like sin—begging for you to lick it off, let him defile you the way he desperately wanted to. It wasn’t lost on either of you how tense the air had become—it was Eddie’s web and he had you caught.

And as much as you enjoyed it, tonight just wasn’t the night.

He’d had a bit too much to drink, alcohol dripping from his breath.

“That is fun.” You insist, “Some of us don’t need to go out to the club and relive our younger years to feel good, you know?”

It’s meant with all the care in the world, a playful jab for how insistent he was being in keeping you here tonight, dragging out the conversation instead of getting to the point.

You would’ve been more satisfied if he had just kissed you at the door and let you leave, but then again, this was pretty enjoyable.

“You’ve never seen me play,” Eddie points out, “I think you’d really enjoy it.”

“I’m sure I would,” You agree before shaking your head slightly, “but I wouldn’t be caught dead at that bar.”

Eddie makes a face, a little taken aback at the insult.

“How come?” He asks curiously.

“A bunch of creepy old men who stick around to prey on the younger girls who sit and watch you play—no thank you.”

Eddie laughs through his nose, leaning into your space slightly.

“What about me?” He asks, wide eyes glazed over in a haze.

“Creepy? No.” You assure him. “Old—-eh?”

“I’m thirty six, that hurts.” Eddie pouts slightly.

“So old,” You reinforce, “We should probably put you into a retirement home already.”

“I can promise you, sweetheart.” Eddie says menacingly, bottom lip pulling between his teeth briefly to nip at the skin. “Nothing about me is old.”

Your eyebrows raise in subtle interest, leaning forward slightly.

“I could show you.” He suggests, eyes glancing down at your lips briefly before catching your gaze. He’s close enough that you can feel his breath, see the freckles on his face this close, faint but there. “If you want.”

He can see the gears in your head turning, deciding. But, it quickly fades as you pull back, his lips barely brushing yours.

“I have to go.” You tell him again, insisting more sternly despite how kind your voice sounds. “Eddie, we can’t.”

He looks instantly dejected, pulling back slightly and rubbing at his eyes with the palms of his hands. He’d forget this in the morning surely, his words had been slurring together most of the night and he wouldn’t have acted so boldly otherwise—would he?

“Let me walk you.” He insists, sliding your bottle toward the trash, his own following until the clink to the bottom.

The walk is slow, palpable, his toes on your heels as he hovers behind you. He grabs the door handle before you can reach for it, pulling it open silently.

“Tell her happy birthday for me?” You ask hopefully, knowing you wouldn’t be around in the day despite how much you wanted to be. “Please?”

Eddie nods quietly, lips pursed together in a tight line.

“Yeah, of course.” He assures you. “Goodnight.”

You lean up on your toes as you turn, caution to the window as you press a chaste kiss to his cheek, stubble rubbing against the sensitive skin of your lip. You can feel the sigh Eddie releases as you make contact, his hand coming to rest against your hip gently, a featherlight touch that if you were to have blinked you would surely miss.

“Goodnight.” You smile, words spoken against his skin.

It’s the same touch Eddie reminds himself of as he tightens his hand around his cock that night, stretched out and writhing on his bed in the loneliness of his empty house—and god did he wish you were there to keep him company.

His ex-wife shows up an hour before midnight, a lot more put together than you’d usually expect, but she fetches her daughter without fuss, leaving you to clean up the mess left behind.

It doesn’t take long, only a little over a half an hour—and your immediate thought is to leave, get the hell out of there, enjoy your weekend like you planned, but you still hadn’t been paid for the week prior, and you’d be damned if Eddie didn’t follow through like he promised.

“Hey—“ His voice is soft as he shakes you away, your figure hunched over the arm of the couch where you napped briefly, peering up at him through bleary eyes. You poured slightly, his face becoming clearer by the second, “did she pick her up?”

He looks surprisingly sober, which is unusual for him.

Admittedly, it was a weird night. His mind had been racing all day, he didn’t play as well as he’d wanted, and he spent the entire night hoping you’d still be there when he got home.

At least one thing has gone right for him.

“What time is it?” You ask, avoiding the question.

“A little after midnight.” He tells you, watching as you leaned up from your reclined position, adjusting your clothes and smoothing out your hair as best you could.

“Uh yeah—yeah, an hour ago.” Your speech is slow and spacey, “Why?”

“Well, I figure you would have left already.” Eddie says admittedly, running a hand through his tousled curls, the hairstyle never changed—and you were kind of grateful for it.

You’d seen pictures of him younger, mid-twenties and dating all the way back to his first day of high school—he didn’t look all that different aside from the slight aging in his face, worry lines buried into the corner of his eyes and that light scruff he wore every now and then when he didn’t shave for a week.

“You still need to pay me.” You retort with a tinge of annoyance, holding your hand out expectantly.

Eddie snorts, reaching for his wallet and slapping the fold of bills into your hand. He hadn’t forgotten at all.

“Did you have a good time?” You ask curiously, stuffing the money in your wallet before burying it back into the back placed on the coffee table, kicking your feet up behind you on the cushion as you stared up expectantly.

You could’ve fled immediately after he handed over the cash, but something was telling you otherwise. Eddie frowned slightly but it disappeared as quickly as it came.

“It was alright.” He tells you halfheartedly, “I hope my kid didn’t give you too much of a hard time, she can be a little, uh—“

“She’s never a problem for me.” You assure him.

There’s a long beat of silence as Eddie lingers about, hands shoved in his pocket as he leans against the wall. You hadn’t talked about that night, hadn’t even mentioned it, but it was still heavy on your mind—and hopefully just as heavy on his.

You pat the cushion next to you expectantly, friendly—it wasn’t out of the ordinary or weird, and Eddie doesn’t hesitate as he throws himself down lazily, stretched out at the other corner as he kicks his shoes off and onto the floor, smiling at you like he always did.

“No groupies tonight?” You tease, knowing he’d had a few experiences with them, none of them memorable or positive.

They were always messy and weird and everything he hated.

Eddie mocks a laugh and rolls his eyes slightly, “I shouldn’t have gone out tonight anyways, too much on my mind.”

You give him a skeptical look, turning to him fully with your arms bugged around your legs, chin tucked up by your knees. He tries to ignore how innocent you look, wide eyes and eager, hanging on his every last word.

“You wouldn’t understand.” He excuses, letting out a deep, heavy sigh as he rests his head against the back of the couch, legs spreader unnecessarily wide. Your eyes draw to the stretch in his jeans near his groin, quickly darting up to meet his gaze with a soft smile.

“Try me.” You shrug, tongue poking out slightly between teeth as you bite down gently, “You’d be surprised.”

Eddie huffs again, a mix between a laugh and flippant noise of dismissal, “Come closer.” He suggested, motioning toward the cushion positioned between you two. You crawled forward without question, resuming a similar position. “Are you uncomfortable?”

“No—this couch feels amazing, actually.” You tell him honestly.

“Sweetheart.” He says like a prayer, head tilted down slightly despite how his gaze still stays. “That’s not what I mean.”

And he’s not drunk—stone cold fucking sober, actually. That’s what intimidates you the most, his willingness to do whatever he felt he needed to have you. It wasn’t just the influence of fuzzy inhibitions. It was genuine, selfish want. Something he knew he shouldn’t have, couldn’t have—yet here you were.

“Around you?” You ask, he nods slowly. “Never.”

The touch he returns is careful, fingers wrapping around your ankle gently, rubbing soft touches into the skin. You follow his movements, the silence lingering.

“And now?” Eddie asks quietly, eyes flicking toward you briefly before returning back to his slowly moving hand.

A slow drag of his middle finger up your calf, up under the curve of your knee until he can wrap his fingers around it and widen your legs slightly, arms spilling from where they’re snug and tight around you, forcing you to sit up slightly. There’s no resistance when he pushes your legs apart, eyes darting toward the apex of your thighs. Your breath catches slightly, hands falling behind you in an effort to keep you upright. You’ve never been more thankful than to have chosen a dress on a night like this and Eddie can’t even act like he’s able to keep it together, thin lace panties on display before his very eyes.

“Do you want me to stop?” He asks when you don’t answer his first question, your chest rising and falling rapidly at his lingering touch, guiding along the inside of your thigh. The leg that isn’t bracketed against the back of the couch falters to the floor, spreading you so wide that Eddie has no other choice but to rub his fingers over the clothed mound of your cunt, pulling a soft gasp from your chest. “Answer me.”

“Nono,” You rush out embarrassingly quickly, “please, don’t.”

It’s exactly what he wants to hear. Needy, desperate—everything he was feeling just as intensely.

“Have you ever been touched like this?” He asks, words careful and precise, his movements as such, dragging a single finger down the seam, pressing into the growing spot of wetness there.

And you can’t take your eyes off of him, same as he does for you, it’s so much more than admiring your body, rather admiring the way you react to his touches, taking it all in. Your mouth hangs slightly, soft breathy gasp escaping.

You shake your head shyly. As much as you would’ve liked to lie and say you had tons of experience, you didn’t. Most of the time you lied, afraid of the ridicule, but you’d been saving yourself for someone special—and if that was Eddie, so be it.

His finger curves around the barrier of your underwear, forcing it to the side until there’s skin against skin and he feels it, if he wasn’t attempting be so coy he’d make a comment about how wet you already were, but the words are lost on him as he drags a finger through the pool of wetness and presses gently against your clit, unmoving as he watches you.

“Is this okay?” He checks in again. There was never a doubt in his mind, but he needed to ask for reassurance, to know that he wasn’t just dreaming again. “Do you like it?”

You bite harshly at your bottom lip, nodding a fervent yes in response. The heat invades your face, your eyes, practically your entire body as it flushes under Eddie’s gaze. The tension had always been there, but it had finally snapped and you couldn’t help but stare at him now, watching as his face contorted into his own version of pleasure, idly running his open palm over the front of his pants, palming his growing cock as it sat heavy in his jeans.

“Talk to me, sweetheart.” He encourages, “Don’t go shy on me now.”

You giggle softly—it was completely unlike you, knowing you talked his ear off every chance you had, but there wasn’t a single word or thought in your head that made sense right now.

“I’m sorry,” You apologize meekly, “I don’t know what—what to say.”

Eddie smiles warmly, head resting back against the couch as he slips a finger inside you wordlessly, just the beginning of his first knuckle, not enough of an intrusion to make you feel anything.

“Tell me what you’re thinking,” He says softly, “how you feel, maybe?”

“Good,” You chirp quickly, “I’m okay.”

His finger pushes in more, breaching past the tight entrance and you gasp, finally breaking eye contact as your head luls back, gaze caught on the ceiling as he moves slowly, pulling his finger out gently before pushing back in—it’s torture, count throbbing with every movement he made. You could hear the soft ruffle of fabric, metal against metal and a zipper being undone and when you finally have the courage to look up, you’re not sure you’ll ever recover.

It’s not the first dick you’ve seen and you’re not sure it will be the last, but you can’t help staring and taking it all in. They’re never pretty or enticing or enough to make your mouth water—but with Eddie, that’s all out the window.

He’s thick, cut, and everything that intimidates you. He’s confident in the way he holds him, let’s spread wide as his hands come down to cup his balls gently before traveling up his shaft, squeezing over the sensitive head.

“Fuck, sweetheart.” He coos, pulling his working fingers out to glide over your clit, rubbing soft and timid circles until you’re moaning out his name—it’s like music to his ears. “You’ve really never done anything?”

“I’ve—I’ve kissed boys.” You admit, “And girls—but never, never—“

“Never let them touch you,” He finishes for you, “have you?”

You nod, affirming his statement.

“Can I have you?” He asks softly, voice sweet and dripping with adoration, “I want you to be sure, don’t lie to me.”

And you can’t even properly describe how badly you’ve wanted him. It felt like crossing a line—like sleeping with your boss, but lust wins you over.

You nod slowly, “Yes. Just—I don’t know what I’m doing, not really. I don’t want to screw anything up.”

“There’s not much to it,” He comforts, removing his hand from your aching cunt and grabbing your own hand, guiding it over his dick, pulling his shirt up slightly where the tip rests against his lower stomach. You always forget how toned he is, how well he takes care of his body, always hiding himself under his work clothes and suits, “I’ll talk you through, okay?”

“Okay.” You answer, letting him squeeze your fingers around the shaft, dragging your hand up slightly before pulling back down, creating a slow rhythm. He grunts softly, eyes half-lidded as he continues the motion until he thinks you’ve got it, resting his hand over your thigh, traveling up until he can squeeze at the curve of your hip, feet tucked under you as you lean over his lap slightly. It’s like soft velvet against your even softer fingertips—Eddie notices the difference immediately, used to his horrible calloused hands all worked and worn out from his jobs, the joints aching with age. It gets the job down, but it’s never as good as this. Ever.

It does grow boring though—not that you didn’t enjoy every soft sound and subtle face that Eddie made when you squeezed him a little too harshly or teased your thumb over the head of his cock, swirling through the oppulescent precome heading at the tip.

“Can I—“ The words catch in your throat when his eyes lick on, peeking out from under his previously closed eyelids.

He sees the way you glance toward his dick, smiling at your bashful awkwardness and nods, “If you ask nicely, that is.”

He’s only teasing, but he loves watching you squirm, trying to find the courage to ask for what you want. You’re always so confident, sure of yourself—it’s one of the reasons Eddie adored you so much, there was never any doubt with you. He never had to worry.

“Please?” You retort playfully, watching as Eddie’s grin grew wider, “Please, Eddie?”

He nods, urging you down between his spread legs, forcing his jeans down further until he can remove them fully, letting you settle until you're comfortable.

You expect it to feel a little awkward, peering up at him as he does down to you, cock still heavy in your hand as he pushes your hair away, gathering it into his hands skillfully—but truthfully, the feeling never approaches.

You’ve talked to your friends about it before, seen small clips in porn, and none of it ever really made sense, and especially not now as you’re sitting between his legs, staring at his dick and hoping that you weren’t about to make a complete full of yourself.

“Don’t laugh.” You tell him, a small pout forming on your face.

“Never, sweetheart.” He comforts you, free hand rubbing the underside of your chin, following as your lips draw forward, closing over the head of cock, swirling your tongue testingly over the tip, through the slit to taste the salty slick of him that had formed there. Eddie groans softly, the first real noise he’s made all night, face scrunching up in concentration as he cradled your head, hair and all, as you moved your way down, taking him sparingly into your mouth until your lips connected with the hand you had around him, covering what you couldn’t reach.

“That’s it.” He compliments, “Fuck, that’s perfect.”

You barely acknowledge him, but given how hard you were trying to concentrate on not fucking up, he understood. His words flowed freely, openly, and once they started they never stopped.

“Look at you, so pretty with my dick in your mouth.” Eddie says softly, pulling your chin forward slightly from where he had a tight grip on your face, forcing you deeper. You gagged slightly, breathing through your nose. “Hold it, sweetheart. I know you can.”

If you weren’t so eager to please, you would’ve pulled away immediately, but you allow him to hold you there, cock heavy on your tongue until you can’t take it anymore, pulling away with a harsh gasp, lips shining obscenely as you stared up at Eddie.

It’s the same look he had the first time he met you, but a sharp edge of something more, something dangerous.

“Stand up,” He instructs, a guiding hand running along your thigh as you go, fingers delving under your dress to pull at your underwear, slipping the fabric down your legs carefully. He flips the fabric of your dress up, dragging the soft surface of his lips along your upper thigh, eyes following you the entire way, “good, sweetheart—can I taste you?”

You nod quickly, hands cautiously running over the top of his head and through his thick curls, whimpering soundly at the way he chuckles, deep and gruff against your cunt, raising your leg over his shoulder carefully, his hands resting at your back to steady you.

It’s like scolding hot fire with the first touch, his tongue delving deep and running up your cunt, ghosting along your clit as he bites playfully at your folds, looking up at you sparingly to gauge your reaction.

You couldn’t even act like you were able to keep it together, moaning unabashedly as the hands in his hair soon traveled down his back, body curling over him slightly as he made it his mission to torture you relentlessly, sucking at your sensitive clit until you’re softly tapping at his back, silently begging for a break while the words are still caught in your throat.

“Tapping out already?” He teases, squeezing the soft globes of your ass. You shake your head defiantly, peaking his interest

“I want you,” You tell him coyly, “I’ve been thinking about it and—“

“Oh, hey—“ He soothes, “That’s special, you don’t have to give that to me, sweetheart. You’ve already given me plenty.”

Another defiant head shake, shoving his hands away as you took a careful seat on his lap, his eyes following you intensely, arms held out at his side as you seated yourself against his cock, the heat of your cunt striking his body with the reality of this situation.

“No, you don’t get to do that.” You tell him, noticing the concerned look on his face, “I’m capable of making my own decisions.”

Eddie smiles slightly, reaching up to cradle the side of your face tenderly. He can see the subtle pout on your face, bottom lip poking out slightly—and he feels the overwhelming want to kiss you, force it off of your face. So, he does.

And he kisses with a forcefulness you’ve never felt—he’s not timid or unsure. Eddie’s confident, given his experience, he had no reason to doubt himself. You whimpering softly, his teeth pulling your bottom lip in, tongue sneaking its way in and tasting the saltiness of himself on you. He pulls away briefly, nose bumping yours.

“One problem, sweetheart,” Eddie starts regretfully, “I don’t have any condoms—I’m not really used to using them anymore.”

You shake your head fervently, “That’s not a problem.” You assure him, “Trust me.”

You didn’t need to explain and Eddie didn’t feel the need to ask—it wasn’t hard to piece the information together. But god, he’s never been more thankful for modern medicine.

“You sure?” Eddie asks again, lips grazing yours as he speaks, chin resting against his fingers, rubbing delicately at your skin. “I need to hear you say it.”

“Eddie,” You chide softly, “I want you to fuck me.”

He laughs at that, your boldness startling him slightly.

And he doesn’t need to be told more than once, taking control of the situation as he lifts your hips, bracing you over the head of his cock, allowing you to ease down at your own pace. It’s nothing like you were expecting, more of a dull sting if anything—but the filling of fullness, it’s overwhelming.

You rock your hips gently, watching as Eddie’s eyes fell to the place where you were joined with him, dress lifted up slightly as he reached for your clit, rubbing gentle circles to distract your wandering mind—and it works perfectly, gasping when you feel him deep, buried inside you as the back of your thighs hit his lap.

“God, you’re fucking perfect.” He comments idly, eyes falling shut as he leaned back—and it’s infuriating that you can’t see his chest, hidden behind the buttons of his shirt; a ridiculous black button up, making him look well beyond his years. You yank at the buttons with steady hands until the skin peeks through and you can shove the shirt off his shoulders, hands placed firmly against his chest.

You’ve never seen his tattoos this close, not that you could focus much now, but your hand closes over the one of his chest and your blunt fingertips dig into the skin as you lift your hips and seat yourself just as swiftly, punching a ragged groan from the both of you.

“Knew you’d be this good,” Eddie admits, “Thought—thought about it every fucking night.”

“Oh?” You challenge softly, “Tell me?”

Eddie nods, though the struggle to remain cool is evident on his face, losing his focus every time you clench around him, grunting with every little movement you make.

“Just like this,” He admits, “taking me so fucking well, too.”

You nod in agreement, humming as you leaned forward to drag your lips along his jawline, “Like…I was made for you?” You ask teasingly, giggling at his airy groan.

“You’re fucking devious,” Eddie retorts, “not nearly as innocent as I thought you’d be.”

His hands grip your hips tightly, pulling you impossibly deeper, closer, and you can’t bother to keep yourself upright, letting him do the work, hips snapping into you with force.

“What—what do you mean?” You stammer through broken gasps, “I’m so innocent, Eddie.”

“Not a chance,” Eddie disagrees, eyes squeezing tight as he buried his face into your neck, sucking a faint bruise into the skin, “be honest with me.”

“I wasn’t—wasn’t lying.” You respond, words dying out on a desperate plea, his hand snaking between you both, rubbing insistent circles over your clit. “I don’t do this stuff—was waiting for the right person, you know?”

Eddie nearly comes then, panting desperately into your skin.

“You think I’m the right person?” Eddie asks redundantly, given your current situation—that was pretty goddamn obvious.

“Your cock is inside me, what do you think?” You ask playfully, eyebrows furrowing in anguish as Eddie makes a quick pass over your swollen bundle of nerves, driving you over the edge unexpectedly, clinging to Eddie out of instinct, letting him rock you through the duration of your orgasms until he’s coming deep inside you, legs shaking as he groans pitifully.

And despite his obvious exhaustion, he retorts a snarky, “I think I’m the perfect person, sweetheart.”

You smile, leaning forward to press a sloppy, passionately filled kiss against his lips, nodding slightly at his response.

“Same time next week?” You ask cheekily and Eddie chuckles in response, biting gently at your shoulder at your obvious playfulness.

Eddie hums thoughtfully, “How about tomorrow?”

And even if you had plans, they diminished into thin air, offering Eddie an affirmative smile.

Please consider a reblog if you enjoyed this fic! It’s makes a huge difference. ♡

[sebsbarnes]

jealousy || tangerine

tangerine x f!reader

summary: he knew you were fuming about his actions and he loved it. the two of you loved making the other jealous. it was a sick cycle.

warnings: mildly toxic dynamic, semi-suggestive (no descriptions)

word count: 900+

tangerine masterlist

your eyes followed the two figures amongst the crowd as if losing them was a sin. your fingers drummed against the now wet glass of your drink as the heat inside the club combatted with the ice. you were infuriated, to say the least. truth be told you were jealous, hungry for the attention not being provided to you, but to someone else. you wish you could blame the way your body was pulsating on the ear-ringing music but you knew it was because you were watching tangerine dance behind a girl, his eyes now piercing into your own.

tangerine and you were...messy.

there was really no solidified relationship between the two of you, however, it was evident that the late-night rendezvous indicated you two weren’t just friends. there were many nights spent staying up until the sun rose and many days spent tucked under sheets. he was still staring at you, whispering things into the woman's ear causing her to giggle and all you could do was suck your teeth, seething in anger.

"well don't ya look fuckin' jolly," lemon chuckled bumping into your shoulder, taking the seat next to you. you broke the staring contest to glare at lemon.

"i get we're on a fuckin' mission but jesus could it look like he wants to fuck her anymore?!" you spit.

"relax champ. let him work his magic and we will be outta here soon enough," lemon said patting your shoulder.

tangerine's back was now facing you and lemon and all you could see was the woman throwing her head back in laughter, her fingers tracing up and down tan's back. you could vomit right there or you could kill her, she was the enemy anyway what's the difference? you felt your throat constricting watching his arm move to grab her face, planting a kiss below her ear. with force you swiveled in your chair to face the bartender.

"three shots of tequila please," you almost begged.

"any of those for me?" lemon joked trying to suppress his amusement at the situation.

the first shot slid down your throat burning the entire way down to your stomach, "over my dead body."

the other two shots went down with ease and the fuzzy sensation was coursing through your body. it helped the jealousy subside even though you knew they were still dancing behind you. just as you were about to close your tab, a large hand situated itself where your neck and shoulder meet and a black credit card was thrown on the counter. you rolled your eyes so hard that it hurt.

"gettin' drunk on the job hm?" tangerine quipped bending dangerously close to the right side of your face. you could feel his breath on your ear.

"at least i wasn't trying to fuck on the dance floor," you retorted looking at tangerine through your eyelashes.

he let out a short fake laugh running his hand down his chest to smooth out his vest, "you know i only save that for you, love."

you ignored him and the warmth throughout your body and stood up wobbling a bit. from the other side lemon balanced you and nodded his head for the three of you to leave. you sauntered behind lemon, tangerine behind you which he liked quite a great deal. you could feel his eyes burning into every inch of your body and you purposely swayed your hips a bit more. he knew you were fuming about his actions and he loved it. the two of you loved making the other jealous. it was a sick cycle.

the three of you were now outside heading towards the car when you heard a pair of heels behind you and then two voices. turning around you saw the woman from earlier, the lady the three of you were here to steal information from, now talking to tangerine with a hand on his chest. their voices were quiet and tangerine's eyes quickly glanced over at you as he shot the woman a feigned smile. at this moment you didn't even care. you stalked over to the two pushing the woman to the side gripping tangerine's tie with such force it nearly ripped from the collar. the woman had stumbled to the side but she was now an afterthought as you shoved tangerine against the brick wall nearby.

you grabbed his face resting your palms on his cheeks and kissed him roughly. your fingernails scraped across his scalp, his hair knotting in between your fingers. his hands found themselves on your waist pulling you in closer. tangerine's tongue swiped across your bottom lip and you gladly let him in. he could taste the tequila and he couldn't tell if it was the alcohol or the kiss making his head fuzzy. but he loved it and he wanted more. he wanted every inch of your body on him. he wanted you underneath him, your nails marking his back as he kissed the special spot on your neck.

"we gotta get the fuck outta here love," tangerine grumbled against your lips swinging your body into his arms and trekking to the car.

as you retreated to the car in tangerine's arms you glanced over his shoulder. the woman had stayed where she was in shock and all you could do was wiggle your fingers at her in goodbye knowing she was staying here while you left with tangerine knowing soon enough he'd find home between your legs.

[fruchtfleisch-art]

kirashino in killer queen's pov

You know what, I almost didn't do this one, thinking I had nothing interesting to say, but it turned out to be the microfic I had the most fun writing. Fittingly, this is also going to be the last microfic for this round! Thanks so much to everyone who sent in suggestions. I'm going to get back to editing some longer stuff, and hopefully posting more art soon! ---

This is the way of things. First there was one: Kira. Then another: Killer Queen.

Kira is a man with a man’s heart, a man’s appetites, a man’s joys and sorrows and petty tantrums. He keeps a house, goes to work, eats and sleeps and shits and talks sweetly to people he would happily feed feet first into a wood chipper. When his urges bubble up, hissing and spitting like hot milk over the lip of a sauce pan, that is when Killer Queen comes forward.

Killer Queen is a tool. Since it first emerged from Kira some fifteen-odd years ago, it has not changed in any fundamental way: smooth, vaguely feline in form, adorned in skulls and samurai swords, symbols it does not comprehend the full meaning of.

Killer Queen’s primary task is of separation. Separating body from person, limb from body, hand from limb, all without damaging them too much. And when Kira is finished with these disparate parts, when they begin to leak and sweat and stink of corruption, Killer Queen devours them, leaving nothing behind. That is what it does.

There are exceptions, of course, times when Killer Queen is needed for other purposes. The destruction of the snotty-nosed child whose stand swarmed them like fleas. The schoolboy who had pinned Sheer Heart Attack in place, but more importantly, stung Kira with his words, sending Killer Queen lashing out, cat-quick. Kira himself, forcing Killer Queen’s hand to sever his own, an action as painful as forcing blood to pump backwards.

Sometimes, rarely, when Kira is sunk deep into the dark well of a dream, Killer Queen is called forth for no apparent purpose at all.

It is theorized by some that deep in the mazelike folds of the brain, neurons fire almost at random, tiny messengers ignorant of the messages they carry. These cells have no comprehension of their importance, and yet the slightest scratch in cortex can render a man blind, deaf, or amnesiac, unable to remember what he had for breakfast or the face of his beloved grandmother. The world outside the body is not, a place of objective fact, but utter darkness, illuminated only by the scant and scattered efforts of a few million thready gray tendrils.

Such is the same with Killer Queen. It does not emerge because it wants to, but because it is called. The higher purpose behind the summons eludes it entirely. It does not perceive time away from the world as anything other than absence; it does not long to feel sunlight on its face, or to fight, or to kill.

Kira asks, Killer Queen answers. That’s the way of things.

On this night, Killer Queen hangs in the air like a haze, moonlight limning the pale curves and angles of its body. Its arms hang loosely at its sides. This is not Kira’s bedroom, but some other place, a place he has been spending most of his time in the last month or so. There is nothing to destroy in this room. Kira is-

a cat, a most beautiful tomcat with a silky soft coat, with lovely whiskers arranged just so, with eyes like deep blue pools, and he is cradled in the arms of a woman as she strokes his head, his cheeks, his chest. He does not understand what she is saying, but the words are soft, and when he nibbles on her finger she coos, delighted. Saliva wells from the corners of his mouth and dangles from his chin in long pearly strings.   

- deeply asleep, eyelids twitching. His face is different, but his habits are the same. His dreams are the same.

The woman, whose name does not matter, because she will be dead soon, is in the room too. She’s curled up like a pillbug next to Kira, face buried in the pillows. When he is awake, Kira wants very badly to strangle her, but he is not awake, so Killer Queen does nothing.

Outside, insects buzz and frogs peep. The dim orange light of the streetlamp flickers, throwing strange shadows over the sleepers. Devoid of intent, Killer Queen can only watch. Its unblinking eyes do not waver, its preternaturally muscular frame does not grow tired. Its focus is absolute.

It watches the woman stir and sit up, raise her arms in a stretch. It watches her leave the room, then come back with a glass of water. It watches her take a sip and place the glass on the nightstand, before sitting down on the side of the bed.

Kira sighs. The woman turns. She runs a hand through his hair, the movement slow and hesitant at first, until he shifts closer with a soft groan of contentment. His heart rate slows, his breathing steadies.

The woman says something to him, but it does not matter what, exactly, the words are. She sits and pets him, and gradually a soft noise begins to permeate the room, a noise only audible to the one person not awake to hear it. Kira-

knows her, this woman. This voice, this touch, the loose strand of reddish-brown hair tickling his fur, all are familiar. He stretches up to touch his nose to her nose, blinking at her, greeting her. His tiny pink tongue darts out to taste her. She laughs, and holds him close, and he feels content.

-is dead to the world, lost in his own private reverie.

The noise is like the idling engine of a well maintained motorcycle, or the deep-voiced treadle of an elephantine sewing machine, or the stuttering whirl and hum of a serpentine belt, spinning and spinning and spinning. It is like all of those things and none of those things.

Kira is the man, and Killer Queen is his tool, nothing more, nothing less. Nonetheless, tonight it purrs.

[sparklingchan]

The way I love you || Lee Minho (Stray Kids)

Pairing: Reader(fem.) X Lee Know

Word count : 4k+

Warnings : Sexual implications, making out, prostitution, mentions of alcohol, mentions of death, cuss words.

Genre : Romance, angst, royal AU, suggestive.

Description: He was a prince, bound by his duty. She was a harlot, longing for someone to love her truly. In stolen moments beneath the moonlit city, they dared to dream of a love meant to be.

A/N : HELLO MY TUMBLR FAM! I'm back again with the Royal fics haha. And this time it's my boi Lino<3 I hope y’all like this! It's one of my favorites!

And as I promised, I'll make a masterlist for all the Royal fics. Here is the link. Do check out the other fics in this series(the stories are not interrelated)!

Minho hates coming to the main market; he hates the sticky workers bumping into him, he hates the smell of burnt meat, he hates the sound of noisy instruments people play in the name of music.

The only things he does like about the market is the wine, and you.

"Here for y/n again, my Prince?" One of the courtesans-Taylor- asks him just as he enters the tavern. She wears the brightest of lipsticks and smells like jasmine.

"I'm here for the wine." He says, which is only half a lie.

"As you say, my prince," Taylor giggles, "Your y/n is on the third floor as always. She hasn't had any customers today."

He walks the flight of stairs without breaking sweat and knocks on your door, excitement bubbling inside him.

The door opens and he catches a whiff of your rose scented perfume.

"Well, hello there," you smile at him, "Long time, huh?"

He chuckles, "It's only been three days, y/n."

You pull him inside by his collar, shut the door behind him and immediately draw your mouth to his.

You'd missed him, clearly.

In your dark lit bedroom, many men entered everyday for the purpose of their pleasure. But Minho was the only who entered this room everyday only to please you.

"Excited, aren't we?" He asks you when you push him onto the bed and climb over him, "I missed you, y/n."

You kiss him again; this time with more force, more passion and a lot more tongue. He reciprocates your action with equal enthusiasm.

As the night grows colder and darker, you find yourself cuddling with the man under your quilt. The love bites on both of your bodies barely visible under the light of a single candle.

"I wonder what magic keeps me coming back for more everyday. " Minho says softly, his fingers playing with your hair.

"Oh, does the 'Perfect Prince' not want to be seen in a whore's bed? Does it embarrass him?" You ask, playfully.

His mouth twists into a smirk, "Never. Not even in a thousand years."

He kisses you again and again and again until the last candle dies out and the quilt finds its place in some corner of the floor.

*

"Taylor, it's too early to be bothering me with customers!" You yell first thing in the morning, still sleepy and still cold from the absence of Minho's body against you.

"Y/n, it's not a customer. I need to talk to you." She yells back, "Open the door."

Groaning, you push yourself towards the door.

"What is it?"

Her face lacks the usual cheerfulness. She looks grim. Sad, almost.

"Minho didn't wanna wake you up," she pulls an envelope from her pocket, "He asked me to give you this."

"Okay. I'll read it later." You mutter. It's not unusual for Minho to deliver love letters for you sometimes. What's so special about this one?

"Y/n, read it." Taylor says, "Now."

There's an underlying urgency in her words that she tries to mask but doesn't escape your notice.

You walk back to your bed and open the letter.

Hi, y/n.

This is probably the last time that I'm writing to you. I feel sick even just at the thought of being without you but I have to do my princely duties now.

I'm getting married to Princess Sophie soon. My father commands it.

Y/n, I hope you can find it in yourself to forgive me someday. I really meant it when I said I loved you.

Minho.

Inside the half empty envelope are a few coins of gold.

He paid you. For sleeping with him. For the first time ever.

It's as if the air is forced out of your lungs. You find it hard to breathe, hard to keep your eyes open, hard to even comprehend Taylor's questions.

You're not even in that room anymore.

You are by the river at midnight, with Minho. He'd set up a fire and covered the both of you with a quilt while he sung a soft melody.

You are in the rain, shouting profanities at each other. That was the day when he first told you he loved you.

You are at the tavern's terrace, kissing him for the first time.

You are at the Royal Palace. That's the day he first sees you, bold and loud, not afraid to say 'no' to sleeping with his monstrous father.

You are at the main market, buying a new pair of earrings when an injured Prince shows up at the shop. That's when you first see him.

You only had one regret at present.

You never got to tell him how much you loved him.

*

"Y/n, I know you're grieving but you cannot refuse customers anymore. You know this is what brings food to your table!" Taylor wraps a shawl around your half naked frame, "You always knew Minho could not just leave the palace and come live with you in this brothel, didn't you?"

You'd had another episode today; screaming and punching a customer while he tried to take your clothes off.

That's three days in a row.

If Taylor hadn't been there, the boss would have killed you with his own bare hands.

"I know," you say, "But I just...can't. I cannot bring myself to accept the fact that he burnt down the past year to the worth of a few coins. I have no lust for gold. I have no desire for a family, especially when my own father sold me here. I only loved him and now, he's fucking gone."

Taylor rubs your shoulders gently.

"Y/n, I know. But you have to get yourself together or you will only hurt yourself." She replies, "For all I know, he could be already married now. Sticking his fucking tongue in Sophie's mouth."

You look up at her.

"What do you mean? His wedding is today?" You ask.

She nods, "The city has been decorated like never before."

You force yourself out of her embrace and rush towards your cupboard.

"What are you doing, y/n?" Taylor asks.

"Going to crash a royal wedding."

*

Minho has developed a habit of looking for your eyes everywhere he goes. It's not a good one, but he can't seem to get rid of this habit.

And on his wedding day, as he stands at the alter, holding his fiancé's hand while the priest talks about loving, cherishing and honoring Princess Sophie for life, he cannot stop himself from looking for you in the sea of people.

Rich and powerful people from all over the world are present in the hall but somewhere in between these people, he sees a glimpse of someone he knows. Too well, in fact.

"Y/n?" He whispers to himself, heart pounding against his chest.

"Minho, are you alright? Your hands are getting sweaty." Sophie whispers but he just shrugs, his eyes glued to you.

As were yours, to his.

You didn't think he'd notice you amongst the velvet clad aristocrats but he did. And you wish he hadn't.

The bride and groom exchange wine glasses and have a sip from it.

"If anyone has any objections to this holy matrimony, speak now. Or hold your peace forever." The priest announces and the room goes quiet.

Of course no one would object to this wedding.

No one except you.

Minho sees a single hand raised among the crowd.

"Yes, miss?" The priest says.

"How could the prince marry another woman when his child grows inside me? What about the seed that he left behind? If I choose to give birth to this child, will it be your successor, my prince?"

Minho feels the blood drain from his face.

"You! How dare you?" Minho screams at you, his heart breaking into a million pieces. He would never speak to you in this way, but he has to. To protect you from this mess you'd created, he must be harsh.

He is the prince and he will be safe but you, they wouldn't spare you.

"How dare you?" You yell back, eyes bloodshot, "Do you think a few coins could make up for what you did to me?"

"Quiet! You whore! Dare you to disrupt a royal wedding with false accusations?" The king-Minho's father finally speaks. "Guards! Take her to the guillotine and bedhead her!"

"Father, no! I will deal with this in my own way." Minho says, almost losing his calm. "Guards, take the woman to the dungeons."

Your tears roll down your cheeks and you quickly rub them off with your hand as the guards take you down to the dungeons. You're sure he's gonna get you killed.

You take one last glance at the man you love and smile at him.

So long, Minho.

*

The wedding is called off and Princess Sophie storms out of the wedding hall along with her father. Of course, Minho's father was furious.

"I will kill her. I will kill her with my bare hands!" The king slams his fist against the table, "She ruined everything! Everything!"

"Father, please calm down." Hyunjin-Minho's younger brother says. "We have to think of a way to make up with Princess Sophie and her family."

"He's right. Being angry won't solve our problem." Minho says, twirling the wine in his glass, a playful smile on his face.

The king glares at his eldest son, walks toward him and smashes the glass from his hands.

"How dare you sit in my room, relaxed as ever, while you've fucked up so bad?" He yells, " You slept with a common whore, impregnated her and I have to suffer for it?"

Minho wants to defend himself but he knows it's of no use when the king raises his fist in the air and punches right at Minho's nose.

Minho smells the blood before he sees it.

Hyunjin tries to stop the king and mouths at Minho, leave now.

Minho does as he is told.

That night, as he cleans the blood from his face, he finally let's himself relax a little.

Today was a blunder, a total disaster but at least he didn't have to marry some other woman. He couldn't imagine life with a woman he didn't love. He considered himself a coward for not fighting for you enough, which is why you were in prison. Nevertheless, he swears to himself that he will save you from this mess. It didn't matter what he had to do, he would make sure you're out of prison by tomorrow.

"You're a reckless idiot, y/n." He mutters to himself, "But you're my reckless idiot."

*

You've never seen Taylor look this sad before. Her eyes are bloodshot and the tip of her nose shines red.

"I told you," she says to you, handing you some food, "I told you not to do this. Now look what they've done! Minho has you locked up and you can be sentenced to death any minute!"

"Well, it was worth a shot, really." You say to her.

Taylor snickers at your words, "Also, are you really pregnant or did you make it up to get his attention?"

You chuckle, "Of course I'm not pregnant. I just thought it would add a bit spice to the drama."

"Fine. Whatever. Just do not die on me, y/n. I swear. You're my.." Taylor sucks in a deep breath, "You're my only family. Please."

You blink your tears away before Taylor even notices. You take a spoonful of the porridge she made and stuff it in your mouth so you'd forget about her words. You're too weak for this right now.

"Y/n, just promise me-" Taylor is interrupted by the prison guard.

"Prince Minho is here to see you."

Even the porridge in your mouth does not stop your heart from aching and your eyes from tearing up.

Why is he here?

"Your majesty." Taylor greets him with the basic courtesy. You, on the other hand are looking at everything but him.

"Taylor, may I have a word with y/n alone? My guards here will take you up to my room. I have something important to discuss with you as well."

Taylor nods with a word and follows his guard.

Now it's just you and him. In a jail cell. While your heart breaks knowing he will serve you with capital punishment.

Is it the heavens punishing a common whore like yourself for loving the prince?

Perhaps.

"Y/n, are you okay?" Minho says in a soft whisper. His voice is filled with concern but you cannot look at him. Absolutely not.

If you even as much glance at those eyes you'd fallen in love with, you know you might lose all your will power.

"Fine." You reply sternly, "What do you want?"

Minho sucks in a deep breath, "I wish I had more time to explain but it'll all make sense some day, okay? For now, just trust me."

He offers you a vial of clear liquid.

"It's not anything bad, I swear. Just trust me, please. " He puts it on your palm.

His touch sends shivers down your spine.

And just like that, he turns around and walks away.

You stare at the vile in your hands and for a split second, you wonder if he'd handed you some type of poison. You wish he did.

And when you open the vial and gulp down that bitter liquid, you pray to the gods that you never wake up again because that's when your body hits the ground.

*

Hyunjin is anxious from the moment he wakes up in the morning.

He's anxious while he has breakfast, he's anxious while he avoids the eyes of palace officials to sneak into the old quarters of his mother.

He's especially anxious when he sees you lying on the bed, lips pale and stiff.

"I hope this works for God's sake." He pulls out a vial of purple liquid from his pocket and carefully, pours it into your mouth.

He curses Minho for handing him with the scariest possible task ever.

And as he paces the room, waiting for the antidote to work, he prays to every God, every spirit, every deity he's ever heard of.

Within a few minutes, much to his relief, your eyes open.

You look at Hyunjin alarmingly.

"You..You're his brother." You say, almost as if accusing him of a crime, "Aren't you?"

"Yes, I'm Hyunjin." He seats at the foot of the bed, "How are you feeling?"

"Fine. But my head hurts real bad." You reply, "Where's Minho? That bastard gave me a bitter drink and disappeared!"

Hyunjin notices your hopeful gaze go from the ceiling of the room to his face and then to his outfit. The mourning outfit.

"Why are you in mourning? And why are you wearing that badge with a dove on it?" Your voice is alarmed and you immediately sit up.

You remember Minho had once told you that the dove badge worn by the Royal family implies a death of a member of the Royal bloodline.

"Is Minho okay?" Your words are almost a whisper.

"Well, y/n, it's a little complicated, I will be honest but if you come with me now and trust me on this-"

"Why the fuck does every keep on asking me to trust them? What is going on? Either let me die in peace or let me leave this palace! I cannot take this anymore. And, for the love of God, would you tell me if Minho is okay or not?"

"He's alive." Hyunjin sighs, " Everyone thinks he committed suicide last night. The city is mourning the death of their crown prince. "

You're confused, "But he's alive, right?"

Hyunjin manages a smile, "Yes, he's alive. He staged his death and is waiting for you by the river bank. "

You jump out of the bed at once, heart pounding against your chest.

"Take me to him, please."

*

The river bank is the most beautiful place in the city, filled with shops and tourists and traders and singers and life. It's beautiful. Unlike your room in the brothel, which was as lifeless as anything could get.

The only one who made that room lively was Minho.

Minho who taught you to play cards, Minho who once beat up a customer because he was harassing you, Minho who promised he'd give anything to get you out of that hell hole.

Minho who loved you.

Now, Minho stands by a boat, wearing a straw hat and gripping his sword tightly. Taylor stands beside him, a brown package in her hands.

And when Minho's eyes meet yours, you run to him as if he'd run away if you didn't, disappear into thin air, leaving you alone in that cold dark room once again.

And oh! Minho is so warm as he wraps you in his embrace. He's warm like the sun on the coldest winter morning, warm like a cup of tea, warm like a freshly baked cookie. He's warm and he's yours.

"What..what is going on?" You sob into his embrace, "Please, will you stay with me? Minho, please?"

Minho is crying too, which is surprising because you've never seen him cry. Upset maybe , but crying never.

Yet here he is crying like a newborn baby, crying because a part of him knows he's managed to save you somehow.

"I'm not leaving okay?" He says, still crying, caressing your cheeks, "We're gonna go far from this city. We're never coming back okay?"

You can only nod as Taylor gently pats your head.

"This is a farewell gift. From me." She smiles at you, handing you the package, "It's a wedding dress that I made. I hope you can wear it when the day comes."

And you're crying again. But this time, you're crying into Taylor's embrace. It's hard leaving behind someone who loved you like a sister.

"We'll write to you. We promise. As soon as we find a proper place to stay, we will write to you both. " Minho says, to Taylor and to his brother.

"Sorry for burdening you with this country. " Minho whispers when Hyunjin hugs him, "I hope you forgive me someday."

"Bullshit. Really, I've always wanted to kill you and get this crown for myself. You only made my job easier." Hyunjin jokes, patting Minho's back.

Minho chuckles. The boatman catches his eye and points to the sun.

"We should get going now, y/n. They'll be holding a prayer in the afternoon and we cannot risk anyone seeing us before we leave."

You nod, kissing Taylor's head softly, holding her gift close to your chest.

"Do visit us sometime." You say to both of them and they nod in unison.

Minho helps you on the boat and hands a few coins to the boatman.

The soft current of the river pushes your boat farther away from the shore, Taylor and Hyunjin wave goodbye to you. You feel horrible leaving behind the city of your birth. You feel empty and cold.

But Minho wraps his arms around you and the coldness vanishes. Minho is warm, and from now on, he's only yours.

*

4 years later.

"Your baby is fucking killing me, Minho." You groan as you get up from the sofa in your bakery.

You'd been sitting and munching on cookies for way too long perhaps.

"Hey, don't curse in front of the baby." He hushes you, caressing your bump. You feel the baby kick again.

You both laugh.

"Come on." He takes you by the hand and drags you to the sofa once again, ignoring all your protests.

Ever since you'd entered the seventh month of your pregnancy, Minho refused to let you do any work. And by any, you meant any work that involved physical activity.

In the mornings, he forced you to watch him sweep the floors whilst you made him breakfast. In the afternoons, he forced you to sit at the cash counter of your bakery and watch him bake stuff tirelessly while you interacted with the customers.

In the evening, he gives you snacks while he cleans up the bakery for tomorrow.

In the night, he holds you close while he whispers sweet nothings into your ears.

It was a routine but you'd come to love this routine.

You wouldn't trade it for the world.

"What are you thinking?" He pulls you closer and plants a kiss on your lips.

"Just something. " You reply, embarrassed.

"Tell me, love. What is it?"

And how could you ever say 'no' to him if he used that tone on you?

"Well, I was thinking," you mindlessly fiddle with his fingers, "Do you ever regret giving up the throne for me? I mean, you're royalty. And here you are washing dishes and baking cookies every day. You could have lived a lavish life, you know."

You sound sad, guilty even.

Minho chuckles at you. But doesn't say anything.

Instead, he pulls your face closer and kisses you. Passionately. Softly. Lovingly.

When he pulls away, you feel breathless.

"Does that answer your question?" His sincere eyes look into yours, his hands on your belly, "I wouldn't trade this for the world."

You pull him back in for a kiss because that's all you'd ever wanted to hear.

And because Minho is warm and he smells like cookies and he's yours.

[viisoul]

MAKE IT UP TO YOU!

{dom!sanemi , sub!reader , degrading , overstimulation , use of the word ‘bitch’ , choking , modern au.}

when y/n’s new pair of shoes are ruined because of her clumsiness enemy, her enemy is forced to apologize and make it up to her, but it seems to go a little further than just that.

"you fucking asshole!"

"oh, shut up, you whiny bitch!"

"you ruined my shoes! i hope you die!"

"shut the hell up! the shoes were ugly anyway!"

y/n l/n, the forever enemy of sanemi shinazugawa, was currently fuming because of his clumsy actions. y/n was always a spoiled daddy's girl since birth. her dad bought her anything and everything she wanted. he was filthy rich, after all. she lived in a huge mansion with a huge bedroom just for her. she'd always gotten the latest designer clothes or bags, and the newest shoes.

today was yet another day in college, y/n and sanemi arguing over every little thing. however, it was lunchtime. sanemi doesn't usually eat lunch food, so he just got a red fanta out of the vending machine. unfortunately for y/n, she was walking towards sanemi and she hadn't realized it.

the poor girl bumped into him, the red drink spilling all over her brand new white shoes and her outfit. though, she was more concerned about her shoes.

"you shut up! i think they're cute! you just don't have any fashion sense, you tacky motherfucker!"

as sanemi was about to say something else, his eyes shifted over to his friends before he spoke. "tsk. you're embarrassing me. i don't have time for you."

sanemi purposely bumped her shoulder before walking over to his small group of friends, as she walked off to the bathroom to clean off her shoes as much as she could.

when y/n made it to the bathroom, she sighed lowly. she put soap on a tissue and wet it, scrubbing her shoes roughly. although y/n was spoiled, she was very appreciative. she was happy with anything her dad gave her. it'd hurt her deeply to know that the thing that was given to her from one of the only people that actually loves her had gotten messed up.

she exhaled, throwing her head back as she let the shoes fall from her hands and onto the ground. despite scrubbing as much as she could, there was still a reddish pink color on her shoes. now she had to deal with the embarrassment of walking around with dirty shoes. hopefully bleach would do the trick when she got home.

y/n slipped her shoes back on, throwing the napkins away in the garbage before walking out. as she walked out, she saw sanemi leaning against the wall next to the boy's bathroom.

"what are you doing, you creep?" she murmured.

sanemi pushed himself off of the wall, arms crossed over his chest.

"tsk. i already don't wanna do this."

"do what?" she stared at him in confusion.

"look, i'm sorry. okay? i'm sorry about messing your shoes up." his cheeks were tinted with the reddest color possible, and his expression showed his embarrassment.

"oh? sanemi's apologizing for once?" she teased.

"shut up!" he hissed. "if you want, i can... make it up to you."

she paused. "...who's telling you to do this?"

"shino— nobody! i'm doing this on my own! now, do you want me to make it up to you or not?"

"um... how?"

"i'll take you out to dinner—, to your favorite restaurant."

"ha! unless you're planning to spend a couple hundred dollars at least, i think not."

"...whatever. it doesn't matter. so, do you wanna go or not?"

"um... sure." she replied quietly, thinking that if she said that, it'd change his mind.

"give me your number. i'll pick you up at six." he held his hand out, expecting her phone.

after exchanging numbers, y/n left to go home early with her dad. she ranted to her father, who was off of work that day, for what felt like hours on end about sanemi. her father could only awkwardly listen to her as she paced around the spacious living room.

y/n's father was used to listening to her rants. especially about sanemi. he'd suggested switching schools, yet, for some reason, she always insisted on staying.

"his dumb white hair and those ugly scars all over his disgusting face—! i hate him!" she groaned, holding her head in her hands.

"listen, sweetheart, i'll just buy you another pair."

she sighed. "daddy, that's not the point. he ruined my shoes on purpose!"

"mmh. did he apologize...?"

"w-well, yeah. he said he'd take me out as an apology..." she said lowly. "it's not something he always does."

"maybe he finally realized what he did wrong." her father smiled, though, on the inside, he was raging.

how dare someone as poor as him make his sweet baby girl so angry like that?! he was just as furious as she was, if not worse. he wanted to pounce on sanemi as soon as he got the chance.

"okay, fine." she exhaled.

"where's he taking you out at?"

"i don't know. he said he would take me out to my favorite restaurant—, but you already know it costs a couple hundred."

he pinched the bridge of his nose, shaking his head. "that boy... i'm gonna have to give him a good talking to."

"what time is it?"

he checked his watch. "five thirty."

"ah! he said he was gonna pick me up at six!" she rushed to leave the living room, hurriedly going to her bedroom.

she looked through her huge walk-in closet, looking for a dress that wasn't too over the top, yet fancy enough. she wore a tight black dress with a slit going up to her thigh, that had a black belt with her first initial in gold on it, laced with small diamonds. the dress had spaghetti straps and was quite low in the chest area. she'd also worn some black heels to go with her dress.

for her accessories, she wore some expensive gold hoop earrings and one necklace that had a famous brand on it. lastly, a gold tennis bracelet and her watch.

she then put on a small amount of makeup, having the thoughts of impressing no one—, not even sanemi... maybe just a little. she glossed her lips and stared at herself in her vanity. y/n couldn't help but take a picture and post it.

"y/n!" hearing the loud calling of her name, she stood up. she checked her watch, seeing it was already six fifteen. she was fifteen minutes late

the boy had just arrived at y/n's house, and god, was he shocked. he knew she was rich and all, but to live in such a large house? he'd almost thought she lived in a castle. he whistled as he got out of the car.

sanemi then walked up to her porch, which that alone was big.

he rang the doorbell.

not long after, her father came out. his eyes were practically piercing into sanemi's soul. sanemi swallowed thickly.

"hi—." his voice cracked. he then cleared his throat. "hello, sir. i'm here for y/n."

"why are you here for my daughter?"

"to take her out."

"on a date? so, you think you're worthy enough for her?"

"uh... it's not really a date. i'm just— making something up to her."

"you messed up her brand new shoes, didn't you? the ones that cost more than you could ever afford?"

sanemi clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth, deciding not to respond.

"however, not many people would do this for someone they dislike. i appreciate it. i'll handle getting her another pair, just make her happy tonight. you understand?"

"yes, sir."

in an instant, her father grabbed sanemi's collar, pulling him close to him.

"and you better have her back home by nine. even one minute later than that and you're gonna get a piece of my mind. i want her here like she was before she left. i may not be here by nine, but i have cameras everywhere outside and inside of the house besides her room and a gps on her phone. if she comes back pissed off like she did today, you better fucking believe your life will be over and you'll see the rusty gates of hell. you hear me?"

"y-yeah, i hear ya." he muttered, nodding his head slowly.

"y/n!"

after her father called her name, the girl rushed down the stairs and to the front door. the sound of her heels clicking against the floor indicated that she was close. the clumsy girl bumped into her father's back, rubbing her nose.

"ouch..." she muttered. "sorry, dad."

"mmh. it's fine."

she stepped away from him, standing right in sanemi's view. sanemi could feel his cheeks grow hot upon seeing her.

"hi, sanemi."

"hey, y/n."

"well, i guess we should hurry and go now. i know my dad has some type of curfew for me."

"yeah, nine pm. any later than that, sanemi. remember what i told you."

"yes, sir. i'll bring her back by nine."

"good. that's what i like to hear. now, let's see if you'll make it happen."

the man then kissed his daughter's cheek, hugging her side.

"love you."

she giggled. "i love you too, dad."

she walked off with sanemi, as her dad watched her leave.

sanemi opened the door for her, and then went inside of the car himself. she looked through the tinted windows, watching as her dad closed the front door.

"sanemi,"

"huh?"

"honestly, i'm not that hungry. if i ever do get hungry, i could just go for a fast food restaurant on the way home."

"what are you implying?"

"i don't wanna go out to eat. i wanna do something fun."

"like?"

"let's go to a club." she grinned.

"hold on, your dad has a gps on your phone. what if you get in trouble? no, wait, i'm gonna get in trouble."

"oh—, come on. don't be such a pussy."

"i'm not being a pussy. if you think i'm gonna get in trouble because you wanna get drunk and party your ass off, you're thinking wrong."

"you're so lame."

sanemi rolled his eyes. "fine."

"there's one across the street from my favorite restaurant. it's less expensive, too. on ******* street."

"oh... that one."

"hm? you been there before?"

"yeah, once. it was fun, i guess."

she smiled. "well, come on! let's go!"

—

as the two arrived, they were greeted by the blaring music, colorful flashing lights, and people talking loudly. she grasped his hand, pulling him over to the bar.

when he sat down, he stared at her confusedly.

"i wanna have a couple drinks before we party, 'kay?" y/n said, taking off her jewelry and placing it inside of her purse.

"i didn't know you were a drinker."

"i don't do it much. i just have two or three before i stop. it's pretty rare of me to drink anyway."

"so, what's with the change now?"

"i just wanna have fun. take this night as a night to forget about what happened today, i guess."

he sat there quietly, lips pursed together as he stared at her. whatever this swelling feeling was in his chest, he wanted to get rid of it immediately.

when the bartender took their orders and gave them their drinks, they had a quite nice conversation with each other. honestly, the two realized they weren't as bad as they'd thought. however, they were only convincing themselves that it was just the drinks getting to their heads.

after y/n's third drink, she let out a relieved sigh.

"that was good. you drunk yet, sanemi?"

"i should be asking you that... but no. i'm nowhere near drunk."

"okay, let's go party, then!" she grinned, running off to the dance floor.

he paid and tipped the bartender, rushing after her. sanemi grasped her shoulders, stopping her where she was before she could get any further.

"calm down! at least wait for me."

"okay, sorry. come on."

she walked with his hands on her shoulder towards the dance floor in the huge crowd of people. she then grabbed one of his hands, bringing him in front of her. the smile on y/n's face made sanemi's heart flutter. he shook his head.

he was embarrassed to be seen with y/n, being that she was dancing nonstop to the loud music. he just stood there awkwardly, arms crossed over his chest.

"sanemi~!" y/n groaned. "you're being lame again!"

"uh? how?"

"why aren't you dancing?"

"i don't dance."

"okay—? no one's gonna judge you if you try."

"no."

"please?"

"absolutely not."

"i'm not having fun if you won't dance with me!"

"oh, well."

"i'll tell my dad."

"okay, okay! how am i supposed to dance?"

"want me to show you?"

"um? how're you gonna do that?"

"just do whatever your mind tells you to do, 'kay?"

"what do you m—?" his cheeks began to get red as he watched the girl stand in front of him, the slight contact of her hips on his his making his adam's apple bob when he swallowed. "w-what're you doing?!"

she laughed. "dancing, duh!"

she danced in front of him, their bodies touching and grinding against each others. sanemi could only awkwardly try to follow what she did. feeling her pressing against his dick made him horny, however. he wasn't thinking about dancing.

he was getting turned on, and so was she. she could feel his hardness pressing against her inner thighs. sanemi moved his hand down, grabbing her waist and pulling her closer to him. they followed each other's movements, enjoying the fun of dancing until he moved his hands down a little too far.

"y-you—! stop, you dickhead!" she turned around, glaring daggers at the boy.

"mm? you don't like it?"

"we— we're in public...!" she stammered, not wanting to admit that she did, in fact, enjoy it.

feeling sanemi's big bulge in between her thighs made her even more turned on.

"so... you do like it?"

she crossed her arms, refusing to answer.

he could only smile arrogantly. "you do."

sanemi grabbed her leg, placing it on his hip. she struggled to keep her balance, but he kept his hand on her waist.

"what time is it?" he muttered.

"it's only seven..."

"mmh. you wanna go back to your place?"

"huh— why? we've barely even been here!"

that cocky grin on his face told her exactly why. she swallowed the knot in her throat, smiling right along with him. she put her arms around his neck and brought him in closer.

"you wanna fuck me?" she asked him.

"hell yeah."

she pursed her lips together. sanemi removed her arms from around his neck, grasping her hand as he walked out of the club.

—

stumbling inside of her room, sanemi kicked it closed without departing his lips from hers. he pushed her against the wall roughly, items on her shelves rattling and some even falling over. he groaned, hands roaming up her dress. the mere contact of his cold fingertips on her skin was enough to get a moan out of her.

he pulled away from her, unzipping her dress. he gave her a look before gradually tugging it down. she stepped out of it, kicking it elsewhere. sanemi unclasped y/n's bra, letting it fall from her shoulders. his calloused hands immediately grasped onto her breasts, kissing her once more. she let out a dragged-out whine at the feeling of his fingers pinching at her nipples.

he moved his lips down her jawline and her neck, sucking on her skin harshly. his teeth scraped at her delicate skin as he bit on it, the flat of his tongue pressing against the spot he'd bitten. she could feel herself getting wet at his touch, getting more turned on than before.

"sanemi—," she choked out, instinctively placing her hand on his chest. "let's go to the bed."

he then scooped her up in his arms, walking over to her bed. he dropped her down, her eyes widening in surprise as she stared at sanemi's expression. y/n's lips curled into a nervous grin as she sat up, only to have him crawl on top of her.

he grasped her jaw, forcing her to look at him.

"you havin' second thoughts?" he raised an eyebrow.

"w-what—? hell no."

"mmh. thought you'd chicken out."

"i'd never. even if i did, you probably already came in your pants from just kissing me." she said with an arrogant grin on her face.

"oh, is that right?" he smirked, looking down at her bare chest before staring into her eyes.

she nodded. he roughly pressed his lips against hers once more, the two falling back onto the bed. she wrapped her arms around his neck. he moved his hand down her abdomen and between her legs. he played around with her underwear, leaning back down to kiss her.

before he could, she spoke up.

"go on, take them off. you know you want to."

hearing her words, sanemi unabashedly ripped her panties off, throwing them across the room. he dipped down to kiss her, spreading her legs out wide. he unbuckled his belt and unzipped his pants, rushing to get his garments off.

he pulled his pants down, palming his erection through his boxers. he ogled at her rather vulnerable figure, grinning to himself.

"you're kinda hot."

"yeah, i know." she replied. "y'gonna fuck me with your eyes or?"

"nah, i'm gonna fuck your brains out."

"i'd sure like to see it."

"oh, you're gonna see it." he began pulling his boxers down, only for her to grasp his wrist. he raised an eyebrow, confused at her actions. "what?"

"can you uhm—... take your shirt off?" she muttered, eyes trailing off elsewhere.

he hummed, unbuttoning his shirt. he let his shirt fall from his shoulders and down on her bed. she stared at his abs and the scars going across his chest. it was so hot. she could barely keep her composure.

"yeah, i know." he repeated her words. "don't cum yet, i haven't even put my dick in you."

she rolled her eyes. "uh-huh, okay."

sanemi pulled his boxers down, his dick springing out and tapping against his abdomen. digging in the pocket of his pants, he pulled out a condom. she watched as he opened it, getting ready to slide it on. she could only grin, giggling at him.

"what's funny?" he asked, grasping his cock in his hands.

"you were planning this, huh? i'm that irresistible?"

his eye twitched. "shut up."

"make me."

sanemi grabbed one of her legs, holding it up so he could align himself with her entrance. he pushed himself in without a second thought, a loud squeal coming from her mouth. she covered her lips with her hands, staring up at him. the two locked eyes, a cocky grin growing on his face. he laughed derisively, sending a light slap to her thigh as he shoved himself in deeper.

"ha! you should see the look on your face right now!"

"s-shut the fuck up!" she said, her voice slurring and a string of expletives coming from her as he began moving his hips back and forth.

he chuckled, mocking the noise she made. feeling her clench around him, he groaned and picked his pace up. she grasped onto the sheets, feeling pure bliss at how deep he was inside of her. he didn't hesitate to touch all over her, grasping onto one of her tits while his other hand was tightly holding onto her thigh.

he bent down, kissing her lips sensually. she moaned into it, her stomach getting butterflies once he forced his tongue in her mouth. their tongues pressed together, mixing their saliva with each other's as he relentlessly thrusted into her.

pulling away, he stared her in her eyes while he began to speak. "y'like me fuckin' this slutty pussy? hm?"

y/n nodded absentmindedly, the feeling of her being pounded against the bed by sanemi much better than she'd ever imagined.

"use your words, bitch."

she choked out a 'yes', her eyes beginning to roll back. his hand suddenly went around her neck, squeezing it tightly, but not enough to hurt her. the feeling of sanemi's rough hand around her throat was turning her on even more.

y/n would have never thought she'd be in a position where sanemi was fucking her brains out.

"s-sanemi," she mumbled.

"what?" he asked, the pace of his thrusts not ceasing.

"rub my clit." she said.

"you really are a dirty slut." he said with a laugh, moving his free hand down so he could find her clit.

once he did, it was like paradise for y/n. he was balls deep inside of her, pounding into her like there was no tomorrow while he choked her, called her names, and added more stimulation by rubbing on her clit.

she was a moaning mess, whining and practically screaming his name and several different curse words.

"it feels good, yeah?" he asked her, slightly panting.

her eyes were squinted shut and her face was a bit scrunched, biting down on her lower lip.

"yeah—!" she nodded quickly.

"you're a whore for me, right?" he circled his fingers faster on her clit, making her whimper loudly.

"mhm~!"

"say it." he tightened his grasp on her neck, making her chest raise.

"fuck, i'm a whore for you! i'm a slutty little whore just for you!"

"that's what i like to hear, bitch." he let out a throaty groan, his adam's apple bobbing when he swallowed. he stared down at her, seeing how vulnerable she was just for him.

she heaved a short, yet rough exhale. "sanemi!"

"what is it?"

"m-make me cum, please." she blurted out.

"mmh? you wanna cum on my dick? is that what you wanna do, bitch?"

"yes!"

"don't worry, i'm gonna make you cum, whore. more than once, too."

"d-do it then."

and so, sanemi was like a monster. he made her bed rock back and forth, creaking as it tapped against the wall with his movements. he'd also successfully made her scream and claw at him for mercy. it was quite a sight for sore eyes, if someone were to ask him.

moving his fingers around her cunt, he gathered some of her wetness on his fingertips and continued rotating them at a face pace. it was then he let go of her neck, holding one of her legs up close to her chest. it was then he'd hit a whole new spot, making y/n's back arch.

"oh, god, sanemi! t-there, right there! m'gonna cum!"

"right here? that's what you want? you want me to fuck you just like this? yeah?" he questioned her with a grin, thrusting into her pussy harder. it'd created a squelching sound, along with the sound of their wet skin clapping together.

she yelled out a curse, sanemi tensing up as she clenched around him. he grunted, slowing his quite animalistic pace and staring down at her. she breathed heavily, covering her eyes with her arm.

"holy shit." she muttered. "that was so—..."

"it felt good, didn't it?" he laughed.

"very."

"i could say the same with you... but we're not done yet." narrowing her eyebrows, she moved her arm away from her eyes and stared at his cock that was still rock hard.

she swallowed thickly, a smile growing on her face. she didn't mind. nodding her head, she spread her legs once more, welcoming him for a second round.

—

y/n's hands rested on sanemi's shoulders as she bounced mindlessly on his dick, her head thrown back to give him space to kiss on her neck. his hands were grasping on her ass and he couldn't help but laugh at how worn out she was.

she was so sensitive, she'd orgasmed several times that she lost count. honestly, she'd probably gotten all of her hate for him fucked away. she let out a drawn out moan, biting her lower lip.

she rolled her hips against his, going so slow so she could calm herself.

"sanemi~." she slurred. "it hurts... i can't take it anymore."

"you can. you can take it." he mumbled against her skin, leaving yet another mark. "i think you just need help."

"then help me, dumbass." she said, stopping her movements.

tightening his grip on her skin, he began bouncing her up and down on top of him more roughly, and she could only whine at how sensitive she was. it hurt so bad, but the pain felt great.

pressing her lips against his, she moved her hand down in between her legs and began rubbing her cunt unrelentingly. they shared a sloppy, yet slow kiss, both of them getting tired and ready to finish things off for the night.

their lips smacked together as sanemi moved his hands off of her, hoping she'd take the lead. curses slipped from her mouth as her eyes were shut closed, eyebrows furrowed in concentration, and beads of sweat fell down her body. their chests would press and stick together as they leaned in closer to each other.

they were unable to resist one another's touch. he hummed, moving her hand away from in between her legs. she opened her eyes, watching as he licked her fingers, soon sucking on them. her eyes widened, her stomach tingling.

"tastes so good." he muttered, tensing up and groaning. "keep riding, baby. i think i'm close."

her heart fluttered at the name, but she nodded and continued moving her hips so slowly, but in a way that felt so good. her moans were like music to his ears, so melodic, and not the mention how good she rode him. he knew that after this, no one could compare to her.

staring at her figure, he saw one hand down on her bed while the other gradually massaged her cunt at the same pace as her riding. her eyes were closed and her lips were pressed together, so concentrated on getting him to reach his climax.

he exhaled, feeling his orgasm creep up on him. he groaned, catching his lip between his teeth. he cursed, feeling his cum spurt into the condom. she smiled, reaching her own with a soft, drawn out whine.

they panted, y/n's hand going on top of his. she leaned her forehead against his, kissing him gently as she slowly inched off of him. he caressed her face, deepening their kiss. it felt so romantic and meaningful.

sanemi sucked on her bottom lip before they pulled away with a smack of their lips, y/n falling onto her bed. she stared at the ceiling, trying to catch her breath. it was then that sanemi sighed, staring up along with her.

"y'know, your dad's gonna fucking murder me?"

"yeah... i know." she mumbled. "good luck."

♡

[deadpresidents]

If I recall correctly, weren’t you a pretty big fan of Bill Clinton for some time? I recall a lot of posts from you about him that were fairly favorable. When did you finally accept that he was a creep? Do you think there’s finally a chance of accountability? I am truly asking from a place of empathy as I know what it’s like to have someone you looked up turn out to be not so great.

No, you're 100% correct. I was a fan of Bill Clinton for a long time. He was President from the time I was 13 until I was 21, and for a kid who was into Presidential history and Democratic politics, he was a major presence in my life. I still think that he is probably the most naturally-gifted politician of my lifetime. Nobody that I've watched has been able to explain public policy or instantly breeze through complicated press conference questions like Bill Clinton. For years after he left office, I said that he should just be the guy who explains how things work to America; he's remarkably smart.

One of the craziest examples of Clinton's intelligence is that he had to figure out ways to make it look like he doesn't have the answer to everything immediately. Clinton's political advisers thought he came across at times like a know-it-all and that it wasn't a good look on the campaign trail. You know how one of the famous mannerisms of Clinton is how he'll pause while he's speaking and bite his lip, like this?

Well, that was done on purpose. Clinton's advisers thought that his quick, completely formed answers to complicated questions was unnatural and that he needed to make himself seem more thoughtful, so he'd pause and bite his lip almost as an intellectual speed bump. Paul Begala, one of the most important architects of Clinton's 1992 campaign explained:

"He was so smart about so many things but also could connect. The whole thing about his biting his lip -- that was coached. Because he would answer so fast. We'd say, 'Take a beat. Pretend you're thinking about it. Pretend you haven't already got an answer.' It was a studied thing to give himself a second to force himself to slow down."

So, things like that were why I was always so impressed and appreciative of Clinton's skills and political gifts.

But, obviously, as I've gotten older and come to understand his personal actions a lot better, it's really hard not to consider him a creep. I mean, the Epstein thing is obviously impossible to reconcile. Even if it there hasn't been any suggestion of Clinton actually abusing any of the girls in the way that Epstein did, he spent a lot of time around Epstein and it's gross. I think one of Epstein's victims said that Clinton was a "total gentleman" and didn't do anything wrong to her, but that photo of a very young girl giving him a neck message in what looks like an airport terminal is a really bad look. That was clearly after he left office, so that was post-Monica Lewinsky and Clinton should have had the awareness to not even put himself near that type of situation with a girl that young (or any woman who was not his wife) -- even if it was just a neck massage that lasted a short amount of time. Even if the girl offered to do it willingly and had no issues with it, that's not a situation that Clinton -- who was impeached and could have been removed from office because he had an affair with a young woman -- should have have felt comfortable with.

But beyond that, as I've gotten older and as we've all gotten better about recognizing these things, his relationship with Monica Lewinsky is what bothers me because of the position that he put Monica in. She was in her early 20s -- barely older than Clinton's own daughter at the time -- and he was President of the United States. Listen, I don't have any room to criticize someone for dating younger women (seriously), but it's the power dynamic and the manner in which he treated Monica when things started to get difficult for him. That poor girl was in such an unimaginably nightmarish place because of what Clinton did and how he -- the incumbent President of the United States -- spoke about her publicly and treated her privately. When you think about it in terms of a relationship, it's just a crazy situation. And the poise that Monica Lewinsky had then and now speaks volumes about the person she is and has become, so it just makes Clinton look that much more terrible in comparison.

It is disappointing because I was a fan of President Clinton for most of my life. And, like Richard Nixon, he was so gifted when it came to his intellectual powers and, in Clinton's case, his political skills, that his flaws and his actions were overlooked for too long. I don't know what kind of accountability there might be for Clinton now that he's been out of office for nearly 25 years and is a few years away from his 80th birthday. But I can say that I feel like I know who he is now and "creep" seems like a pretty fitting description.

[catcas22]

So I’m Pretty Sure Hyetta is Vyke’s Maiden

            Or at least her reincarnation. Maybe this was already super obvious and I’m just late to the party, but I’ll write it down anyway.

            Let’s start with the Shield of the Guilty description.

            Shield made to venerate a maiden whose eyes were crushed by Briars of Sin before being reborn in these lands.

            Given it’s placement on the Weeping Peninsula, we seem to be meant to assume that the maiden in question is Irina. According to her dialogue, her eyes have been weak since birth. After her revival (?) as Hyetta, she says the same, her blindness was a congenital condition, not the result of an illness or injury. Based on the Dung Eater’s questline, we know that killing someone in a specific way (or tampering with the body after death) can inflict a curse that persists into the next life.

            (Side note -- I’ve seen some theories proposing that “Hyetta” is actually the corpse of Irina being possessed either by Shabriri or by the Three Fingers. However, unless she is a phenomenal actress I think we can rule out both of these options based on her horrified reaction to the truth about Shabriri grapes. While I do think that Irina is dead and her body is being possessed, I think that the entity in question is one of her past lives, not Shabriri.)

            So who was this maiden who was executed via the Briars of Sin? I think we can make an educated guess.

Assassin's Approach Description

            The assassins were charged with eliminating Tarnished who had strayed from guidance.

Crepus’s Vial Description

            A ritual implement used by Roundtable Hold assassins. There was a time when Tarnished who had strayed from guidance feared nothing more than utter silence.

            Confessors are tasked with hunting down and assassinating the enemies of the Golden Order, with a special emphasis on Tarnished who strayed from the guidance of Grace. They almost certainly would have gone after Vyke, a very high-profile Tarnished who chose to follow in the footsteps of the most reviled man in history.

Fingerprint Set Description

            No other Tarnished was closer to the throne of the Elden Lord than Vyke. But without announcement, Vyke traveled far below the capital, and was scorched by the flame of frenzy. Did he make his choice for his maiden, or did some other force lure him with suggestion?

            We find Vyke’s berserker shade guarding the Church of Inhibition, within which we find the body of a dead finger maiden. At this point in Vyke’s journey, I think we can confidently say that he did not intend to become the Lord of Chaos, and still hoped to control the Flame of Frenzy to serve his own purposes.

            The description of Vyke’s War Spear (which we gain by defeating the berserker shade) describes Vyke as “tormented by the yellow flame of frenzy from within.” And the ghostly figure at the base of the hill has this to say:

            Ahh, Lord Vyke, it seems that you were no lord, after all. Then where is he? Our true Lord, our Lord of Frenzied Flame. We beg of you, incinerate all that divides and distinguishes. Ahh, may chaos take the world!

            Clearly, this man was a worshiper of the Frenzied Flame. When he says that Vyke was “no lord, after all,” he is not referring to Vyke’s failure to become Elden Lord -- he is referring to Vyke’s refusal to become the Lord of Frenzied Flame.

So, my proposal:

            Wishing to spare his maiden, Hyetta, Vyke accepts the mark of the Three Fingers. However, he keeps his armor on during the Fingers’ embrace, hoping to blunt the effect and maintain control of himself.

            The Roundtable Hold hears of Vyke’s heretical actions. Assassins are dispatched to kill him.

            Vyke and Hyetta are ambushed at the Church of Inhibition -- or, if you want to get really tragic, Vyke sent her away after his meeting with the Three Fingers so that she would not be incriminated by her association with him, only for the Confessors to hunt her down anyway.

            The Confessors execute Hyetta via the Briars of Sin. Vyke proceeds to lose his shit so hard that an echo of his rage (the berserker shade) still guards the church centuries after. For the first time, he gives in to the Flame of Frenzy.

            After massacring the Confessors, Vyke attempts to rein himself back in. He finally manages to wrest control back from the Flame of Frenzy by tearing out his fingerprint eye (which we can later find) and throwing it away.

            He rejects the influence of the Three Fingers and heads for the Mountaintop of the Giants to finish what he started. Vyke remains in control -- for the time being.

            Many years later, Hyetta is reincarnated as the maiden Irina. Due to the manner of her death, she is born with damaged eyesight. After Irina’s death, Hyetta slips back into the driver’s seat (albeit without any memory of her past life) and more or less picks up where she left off, acting as a finger maiden to one who would become the Lord of Frenzied Flame.

[noddytheornithopod]

The Fireside Girl Whose Flames Grew so Large She Burned Herself, and the One She Loves

So I just realised something about Act Your Age and a certain aspect of it that always bugged me and was a major factor in my frustration with the episode.

"Boo!!!!!! Shut up!!!!!!! You've talked about this episode to death already!!!!!!"

I don't disagree. I'm pretty tired of it, myself. To the point where I see "AYA sucks" takes these days I just roll my eyes and move on, even if I agree. But what I am posting about is a new insight that just occurred to me. As much as I hate to admit it, Act Your Age might be a train wreck, but it's a train wreck I can't take my eyes off of. It's a disaster, but it continues to fascinate me with the implications it has, even if they drive me up the wall.

So basically, one of the big things that bothered me is that Isabella and Phineas' relationship regressed, but in the main series, they seemed to be getting closer as the seasons progressed. Pretty weird to have the main show suggest one thing, only for Act Your Age to go "actually Isabella gave up once high school came around and basically kept her distance from Phineas as much as she could" and Phineas being depressed and thinking he's not good enough for Isabella (which I'd argue was made worse by Isabella's actions I just referred to, but that's a story for another time).

I could go on about how this was a barely thought out way to throw in some cheap angst that is immediately swept under the rug despite opening huge cans of worms, but that's not what I'm here for. I'm here because I think I might finally understand how this seeming contradiction now works.

Isabella grew distant from Phineas in high school BECAUSE they got closer.

This is all pure conjecture. The show could prove me wrong some day, and other people might have completely different ideas, but this is what I'm thinking.

As I mentioned, with the show, Phineas and Isabella seem to be getting closer overtime. Isabella might be running into bigger challenges to confess her love (still not over how it took a literal zombie apocalypse to stop her when she decided to just straight up confess), but Phineas also grows more comfortable around Isabella, something she obviously loves, I mean he even seems to care about her in a unique way (again, Pharmacists, the moment he realised she wasn't with him, he grew OBSESSED with finding her, risking his and everyone else's safety just because he feels that guilty and worried about their separation).

I don't know what the revival will do with Phineas and Isabella, but I expect more of the same. Mostly the occasional gag, maybe a sweet moment here and there, Isabella maybe tries something here or there even if it can't be a full confession. But for the purposes of this theory, I'm assuming that would happen, and they would continue to really like each other.

So yes, they're closer friends than ever. The spark has lit a fire. There's a line I like in Star Wars Jedi: Survivor where the character Merrin talks about how fire will warm you and keep you company, but left unchecked it will burn everything, leaving only ash. I'm paraphrasing, but in the context of the game, it's referring to protagonist Cal Kestis' struggle of growing more obsessed and passionate over fighting the Empire. This obsession indeed grows and consumes him to a point where he ends up in a very dark place by the end of the game.

So basically, what I'm saying is, Phineas and Isabella might grow closer, but that closeness will bring out their feelings more. Phineas ultimately realises how he feels by high school, of course. That is one part of the fire that has grown. But Isabella? She's probably getting more and more mixed messaging. Despite Phineas' growing love and affection towards her, she still can't just spell out how she really feels, which is what Phineas needs to understand. She might have her courage growing, but we've seen the Mysterious Force in Phineas and Ferb - Phineas remaining oblivious to Isabella's true feelings for him is part of the show's status quo. She's literally doomed to fail. Also, if she's even closer, she's going to feel even more afraid to ruin what they have. As brave as she is, this one anxiety is her Achilles' heel, and she's even more afraid of failing. It's too much pressure.

The Fireside Girl is burning.

She can't handle all of this. So what does she do? Give up. Phineas is her best friend? Doesn't matter, it hurts too much to even be around him. Is it contradictory that she's afraid of destroying what they have, but she does this out of hurt anyway? You bet, humans are messy like that. Always thinking she just might be there only to find he has something else distracting him, or anytime she makes progress, cosmic forces set her back. This fire is raging, affecting not just her, but Phineas, too. Her choice to grow distant makes him miss her. Worst part, he doesn't even understand why it's like this.

In the end, there is only ash. The relationship they had burned to a sliver of what it used to be. The saddest part is, I can't help but think Phineas would try to amend what was wrong, but that clearly fails too, leading to how he probably just thinks Isabella is above him and he doesn't deserve her love (oh hey, that part actually became relevant after all). He too enters a despair over their relationship, just accepting that she's not around anymore despite having stronger feelings than ever for her. He even seems to have a harder time inventing. The last of the fire goes out.

Lucky for them, a phoenix rises from those ashes. In Act Your Age, they finally talk (albeit briefly and in a very rushed scene that sweeps so much under the rug), and they can truly be open with each other again. A new fire is born, one that they can hopefully keep under control.

So what can we gleam from this? I feel like Phineas and Isabella actually could've had a real chance to get together earlier, but as things grew stronger between them, that made things more delicate, too. Not only did the circumstances of their ruthless status quo, but their own flaws ruined thins. Phineas' struggle to understand complex, hard to define emotions like love and his singular focus on what to do, not realising his love language is incomprehensible to Isabella... maybe his own love being incomprehensible to himself (see "I know cute when I see it on my cute tracker" lol). But more importantly, Isabella growing closer but still misreading what Phineas does, her own personal expectations AND fears being heightened by their closer bond, and expecting him to just get what she does. If they DID become closer, more time where he doesn't focus on her probably hurts even more.

In the end, Act Your Age had ideas, but they were afraid to commit to them. They somehow did both too much and too little. I actually think if they had a stronger vision, this episode could've been great, but it would also risk being too serious for Phineas and Ferb, and then people would be mad for DIFFERENT reasons. They didn't think it through, but well, some of us fans are just obsessive enough to pick up the pieces and try and make sense of it all. Because of our own burning fires of passion for this show, and for some of us, this relationship.

[fullsunrise]

Midnight Dare

Word Count: 1.5k

Pairing: Haechan x Original female character

Minor Characters: Johnny, Mark

Genre: Humor, Romance

Warnings: Sexual themes (very suggestive), mentions of alcohol, Haechan has a big dick (oops)

A/N: Happy New Year! Here's a oneshot I manically wrote after reading a prompt posted here that says "Their friends dare them to kiss a stranger at midnight and they are just tipsy enough to actually do it."

“You know, it's actually really hard having such a fat cock,” He said, letting out a dramatic sigh. A few forced laughs and groans followed.

Tessa wasn't eavesdropping, but it was difficult to ignore him even from across the room. It was at least the third time that night she heard him mention his dick. It had to be on purpose, because he always brought it up the moment she was within hearing radius.

“Does this guy ever shut up,” Tessa said quietly to herself. Taking a swing from the bottle, a sour taste filled her mouth. Either the beer was clearly skunked or her body was having a visceral reaction to the man sitting on the couch a few feet away from her.

“Ah, there you are!”

As she turned her head to the familiar voice from behind her, her heart immediately dropped. She’s rudely greeted with Mark’s shit-eating grin and Johnny’s soft smirk. This pair never sits well with her, and Tessa can feel the beer rise up in her throat. Flashbacks from almost every single party in college came flooding back instantly. With these two, there was never a dull moment. They would always come up with a plan to make the night more interesting. It seemed they’ve never left their scheming ways behind.

“Why do you two look so happy? Finally get laid?”

“Actually, it's you who is going to get laid,” Johnny corrected her.

Operation “get Tessa laid” was apparently well underway, and she knew she couldn't stop them if they’ve already put their minds to it. Maybe it's best to just hear them out, she thought. How crazy would their idea even be?

“And why is that?”

“Cause we have a dare for you,” Mark adds, his smirk never faltering.

Tessa was never one to back down from a good dare. And what was the harm in acting like a bunch of college kids again, for old times sake?

“Hit me,” she replied, tilting the bottle again for another sip. The sour taste was still there. Tessa knew she needed a stronger drink than this to get through the night. She could pretend that she wasn't nervous, but Mark and Johnny didn't need to know.

“Okay so you know “Fat Cock” guy over there, right?” Mark gestured over to the couch, but Tessa didn't need to look. Regret bubbled up in her stomach and she thought her beer might come up any second.

“Unfortunately,” she muttered, waiting for him to get on with it already.

“Well it doesn't look like he's getting much action tonight, so we thought we could help him out,” Johnny continued where Mark left off.

“And where is my part in all of this?"

“At midnight, we dare you to give him a New Year’s kiss,” Johnny said, and she waited for the punchline. But it never comes, because the look on his face is one of sheer determination.

“So are you in?” Mark added, trying to make it come out as a question. But it was more like a command.

Ah, the illusion of free will. Tessa never really had a choice, because one of them always made sure not taking the dare was the worse option.

“Sure,” she said with a smirk, “You know I’m always in.”

Tessa tried to keep her false confidence from showing, worried that they might see right through her ruse. As she glanced at the couch, he was still there. No longer boosting, but instead smirking. As if he knew what was being conjured up right under his nose. She definitely needed another drink.

“That didn't take a lot of convincing,” Johnny noted, trying to bite back a laugh.

He was right, normally Tessa would fight a lot harder than this. But it was just a kiss, nothing more. Harmless.

“It’s the most tame dare you've given me since college,” She reminded him. He didn't respond, but instead simply nodded in acknowledgement. A comfortable lull in the conversation fell, and Tessa took this time to let the dare soak. It was going to be easy. As she started to formulate the plan in her head, Tessa was interrupted when the silence was broken.

“So why are you still standing here?” Mark questioned.

“It's not even close to midnight,” she quipped. “Plus, I’m going to get another drink.”

“You might want to reconsider doing that,” Johnny warned as he quickly checked his phone before clicking it off and shoving it back in his pocket. “It's t-minus two minutes until midnight.”

Only two minutes? Was her sense of time that altered? And how the hell was she going to pull this one off? No introduction, just kiss him and walk away like nothing happened?

“Oh, and let us know if he's lying or not,” Mark said in a tone that definitely was way too serious. Johnny let out a snicker, and her eyes went wide.

“Don't keep your hopes up,” Tessa narrowed her eyes before giving Johnny and Mark a disgusted glance. It was just a dare, but it felt like she was walking into her grave.

There he was, in all his glory. The man, the myth, the legend? He lounged on the couch, his arm draped over the cushions as he analyzed the crowd. Thankfully no one was around him. Tessa couldn't go forward with the dare with an audience. But that was incorrect. She did in fact have an audience of two and suddenly she could feel their eyes bore into her back. Were they waiting for her to crash and burn? Of course they were.

Without warning, the countdown around her began. Counting down her slipping sanity like a chanting cult. It was all so silly how easily embarrassed she was about a simple kiss. But there was no time to think. With her heart no longer trusting her brain to take control, her body seemed to move on its own accord.

As she sat down right next to him, her thigh pressing against his own, his attention was instantly pulled into her orbit. This close, she could see his deep brown eyes and how the light danced within them. He seemed shocked at first, but he quickly composed himself. As if he knew. As if he’d been expecting this.

Fuck. He was better looking than Tessa thought, then again she only peeked at him from afar. A safe distance. But safety was thrown out the window when she closed in on him, pressing her lips to his the second everyone cheered.

Shouts of “Happy new year!” rang throughout the crowded apartment, but time seemed to slow. His lips were unbelievably soft, melting into her own like a popsicle in the blazing summer heat. How could it be this warm in the winter? She could feel him bringing her in closer by her waist. Then a familiar heat started to grow between her thighs. It didn't take long until she wanted more and more.

A safe distance, what was that? Desire clouded her judgment as he deepened the kiss. It was tender, yet filled with need. Her body was on fire. Just as she was about to snake her hand up his thigh, to find out if he was telling the truth, he pulled away with a knowing smirk. As if he caught her red-handed.

“Happy new year,” she said breathlessly.

“What's your name?” he softly asked.

Was this the same guy from earlier? Mr. Fat Cock? She should’ve felt repulsed, but her body failed her. A warm heat crept up in her cheeks. Maybe it was curiosity that kept her by his side. She completed the dare after all, maybe she could indulge in her friends’ inquiry. Just for tonight. Because who was she kidding? They weren't the only ones who were curious.

“Tessa,” she told him, and waited for his reply.

“Pleasure to meet you, Tessa.” he said, and it felt like his voice was bewitching her. “I’m Haechan.” His smirk never left his face. He didn't say another word and left his eyes to speak for him. Like he was saying I know why you’re here, do you want to find out?

And like a moth to the flame, Tessa couldn't help but take his invitation. What was the harm in finding out if he was just bluffing? Haechan slowly rose from the couch wordlessly, his eyes never leaving hers. When he stretched his hand outwards for her to reach, Tessa took it without a second guess. Because there was no time for thinking. Not when he guided her through the crowd and down the hallway. She could only hear the distant laughter and conversations mixed with her loud heart beat.

No time for regret as he pulled her in the empty bathroom and cornered her between his body and the door. His arm raised above her head to shut the door as quietly as he could, like he was making sure no one suspected they had disappeared. The noise from the rest of the party was muffled, and Tessa wondered if they would be able to hear her cries of pleasure. Because when he pressed his body into hers for the second time that night, she could feel that he was definitely not lying.

[purplerakath]

Descendants 4 - Purpose vs Plot

Going to go into Spoilers for Rise of Red as I unpack what this movie was. I'm going to cover a lot, but the biggest one is 'what this film is doing' vs 'how this film does it.' As my teaser earlier suggested, the concept is good, the execution is... not so much.

First though...

Descendants is Kind of Weird

Descendants works far more than it has any right to. It is a quick merch cash grab on the part of Disney that through cast, costumes, and director is a much better film. It still doesn't fully work, but it just shouldn't work at all. But more than that each film has a handful of ideas that are just amazing. Never explored further, but amazing.

Audrey's explanation for why she thinks magic is bad is a very good temperature test of Auradonian self-importance and refusal to let others become nobility through pure hearted goodness. Forcing everyone not already in the uppercrust to stay out, and that's horrifying as a concept. Which we don't really explore later.

So that said, what's the good stuff here?

Relationships

So I don't feel the plot of Rise of Red was ever the priority, the priority was Red and Chloe, Chloe and Ella, and Red and Bridgette. The whole thing exists to do a look at our new leads learning how their mothers became the women they love.

These are where the film shines, when any two of those four are interacting we're good. Chloe's rules vs. Red's actions. Chloe realizing Red isn't a villain, so she can tell Red that. So Red might believe it. Ella's pragmatism vs. Chloe's idealism, when compared to Chloe's mother being the bastion of lawfulness that is Queen Cinderella. And then Red's skepticism with Bridgette's earnest nature. Which in turn is mirrored by the Queen of Hearts being a calloused tyranny.

That's what this film is about, and when it's doing this, it's pretty great. I have very few notes about this.

Fun aside: Red and Chloe are doing sort of a mix between Mal/Ben and Mal&Evie. Which means I don't think the plan is romance for them... but they feel pretty romantic as they do a lot of the Ben and Mal plot beats.

The Other Characters

Outside of those four, the rest of the cast is fine. Nothing sticks out as 'bad.' (Maly feels underused but the past VKs are there to serve looks and that's all. Which they do, very well.) Uma is very on the ball for her characterization prior. I expected to see more of Past Fay given how hesitant present Fairy Godmother was about Red, but nothing here is wrong.

They feel hollow because they aren't truly the point.

The Plot AKA Cowardice and Anti-Subversion

So the main comment I've seen is 'this film feels unfinished' which I can fully see. But I think it comes down to two significant issues. The first of which I've summarized up there as Cowardice.

The first Descendants the things that almost ended Auradon were almost always systemic issues in Auradon pointed at the VKs (making things worse). Jane's insecurity wasn't made by Mal, Mal exploited what was already there (because she's an 'ordinary' girl when she isn't allowed to learn magic). Jane wanted her mother's wand because of the ideals espoused by Audrey. And what saved Auradon was that Ben and Lonnie treated the VKs like people, and they choose to stand against their parents over that.

The second one toes a line between 'Uma is the villain' and 'Uma is right.' You can't extend this to Gil (a moron) or Harry (chaos incarnate), but when Uma and Ben talk, Ben realizes he is wrong and that's a pretty subversive take. Uma's methods are bad, of course, but her motives are great.

The third one, in spite of it's problems, has the final messages of 'fear is not the answer' and 'you don't sacrifice the future of nine people just because the tenth might be dangerous.' So it's still a message of breaking systems that are, by nature, cruel for cruelty's sake. Another pretty subversive answer.

...and here our villain is the villain, her act was meant to be cruel, and there's nothing further to it. It lacks the moral greyness of the other three films. That room between black and white they each need. That message is there, it's what Chloe learns from Ella about Red. But it isn't the plot.

Which is the first problem.

The Plot and Narrative Flow

So in the climax of the first film we see someone grab the wand and break the barrier. We assume it's Mal, because we're expecting Mal. Mal is struggling between her mother and Ben all film.

And it was Jane, who just wanted to be pretty and special.

The second film's twist come from Uma spelling Ben, shifting the dramatic weight away from 'Uma is right about Auradon' to 'Uma did that thing Mal did but she doesn't feel bad about it.' It switches gears and takes the momentum out of things.

The third film doesn't have any zig-zag like this, being the most narratively weak, but it also has like six plots going on vying for attention so it does shift gears every so often.

Having your first suspect for the big bad of your film be the correct suspect without any change in momentum feels wrong. So a lot of people picked that up, even if the girls did beat the bad guy, it feels too easy (because it was).

Equally, the ending feels like it's missing the... chaos, that comes with changing time. At the End of Teen Beach 2 there's a huge shift in everything after the timeline resets. Which poses a lot of questions the film can't answer, but it does make those questions obvious and visible.

This film? Not so much. Fundamentally changing the Empress of a walled off kingdom is a drastic change to the world and the final scene didn't suggest anything came of it. That's a pretty glaring omission on the plot.

Which paired with the lack of the plot shifting gears, and the lack of subversive message, all comes down to a hollow feeling at the end. Even if a lot of the film was good.

The End...?

And I want to be clear, I enjoyed this. Every practical set, prop, and costume felt good. The songs were great. It felt more musical-y than the previous three. It's a good ride except for that huge problem it has.

The special effects also felt really good, especially compared to the previous three. The lack of the previous characters (other than Godmother and Uma) didn't feel like a hole, it felt like just the story. A lot of this worked, and worked pretty well.

Just... wish they could do the stuff that worked, and give the plot a better ending.

Aside 2: Rotten to the Core is a better song. Red is a better character intro. It firmly sets up who Red is and her conflict far better than Rotten to the Core does for Mal. It also allowed Red to do far more crime and make her feel more proactive as a hero.

[wicked-witch-for-hire]

The Artifacts of Karsus and the Crown Of Horns

This post was inspired by several things:

- u/lookitsnichole 's question: if Mystra is melding together with Midnight, why don't we say that Karsus is melding with Gale

- what are the tasks of archmages and Chosens, which made me think about eldritch artifacts thanks to u/Valetheera

- and I would lie if I would say that the situation with Anders & Justice or rather Vengeance was not also in my mind.

What I posit is this:

The idea of Ascension may have been planted in Gale by the Orb & the Crown when he was in close proximity to both of them.

The changes in GodGale are just partly due to ascension and shedding humanity - he is at the minimum greatly influenced by these artifacts. It is possible that they are slowly melding together, or that in time the "Karsus" part can take over completely.

First what are the orb and the crown, and what became of Karsus?

Karsus became a god for an infinitesimally short time, and is considered to be a demi-god. Mystryl sacrifised herself, thus cut all magic and stopped Karsus's spell in the process, and transformed Karsus into stone. Karsus died but he did not go to the Fugue Plane (where souls normally go), but stayed on the Material Plane. His vestige can be called upon by powerful magic users. (Neverwinter Nights: Shadows of Undrentide).

From the Annals of Karsus

My great spell of transcendence is mine alone, not to be committed to ink and parchment, but I have also forged three supreme enchanted items that are the physical embodiments of my wizardry, and of them I shall make record.

There is a Crown, an Orb, and a Sceptre, each night-alive and with its own power and purpose, and these I call the Regalia of Karsus.

The Crown of Karsus: to attract and absorb magical knowledge, and give the wearer dominion over himself so that he remains his own entity apart from the Weave.

The Orb of Karsus: a storage device or battery that condenses mystic power, ever-gathering so that it must be syphoned at intervals of its excess.

The Sceptre of Karsus: an instrument of projection, a focusing utensil for the precise wielding of unimaginably vast forces. (in Mystra's possession)

Know of these items you must, for if I fail to achieve immortality, they will persist, and I dare say, 'live' on beyond me.

The next question is do we have any other example of something created by a god for nefarious purposes, an evil & intelligent artifact which was capable of corrupting and even transforming the minds of its wearers? Even after the death of its forger?

Say hello to the Crown of Horns!

It was very likely forged by Myrkul (or reforged by him from an ancient Netherese artifact).

This artifact is possessed by Myrkul, sentient and it is capable to interfere with the minds of its wearers.

Following the god's destruction, the vestiges of Myrkul could strongly influence the actions of whomever wore the Crown of Horns, making suggestions within their consciousness, possessing them outright, and even altering their moral and ethical outlook to more closely resemble his own (this is fancy D&D talk for "this artifact will change your alignment to neutral evil"). No individual could remove their crown unless Myrkul's essence wished for his artifact to find a new host.

Laeral Silverhand was one of the Seven Sisters - one of the mortal daughters of Mystra (2.0), who was also a Chosen of Mystra. She was an incredibly powerful mage, and she was specifically gifted in creating artifacts, until she donned this Crown. In her own words:

"We found an artifact, the Crown of Horns, and I in my pride decided that my powers of will and magic were sufficient to counter the evil I sensed within it. I wore the Crown, and it claimed me as its own. Years went by, terrible years during which I lost Laeral and became the Wild Woman, the Witch of the North. I remember little of those years, which in many ways is a blessing."

Theorycrafting time & conclusion

When I look at GodGale I see remnants of Gale in him - he comes back for his love - but I mostly see the terrible, unsatisfiable hunger of the Orb personified as a God of Ambition. HumanGale had ambitions yes, but these ambitions had served a purpose, he wanted to achieve something, he had an endgoal in his mind. GodGale might help a follower to achieve something but that follower won't feel any satisfaction - they will endlessly run after the next thing like a little hampster in their wheel until exhaustion & death.

And I don't think this is truly Gale - this is a vestige of Karsus. The Crown was influencing and corrupting Gale from the moment Gale has got close enough. The Orb would act like a homing beacon to the Crown, and it could amplify its effects.

These artifacts are both capable of being sentient, containing the remnants of their forger - we have precedents for this in the lore, and the Annals of Karsus can be interpreted as proof (see the bolded part.)

And when he ascends? I see an amalgamation of them. I think the Gale part of GodGale is still mostly in charge, but this can change.

There is an interesting thought - we know that Raphael can have an ominous monologue about Mystra if she has the Crown. In that case Mystra had the Sceptre & Crown, and possibly the orb too (we don't know if she simply destroys it or pulls it out of Gale - it might still be intact.) I don't think this will bode well for her for the long run, but we'll see...

[squib-2006]

like a month and a half ago I wrote about Ninjago for a school essay and it has been itching at my brain cuz my teacher gave me an 80 on both the draft and final despite me adding three new paragraphs to it like he suggested and also having three people proofread it and say it was good. he didn't even tell me what I did wrong and it's driving me insane. so I thought I might share it here because I put a lot of effort into it.

(will include spoilers for Dragons Rising season one but not season 2 cuz this was written before it came out)

Ninjago Dragons Rising and How to do a Soft Reboot

When a show goes on for a while, it can become pretty stagnant. The way showrunners and creators try to fix this problem is with a soft reboot. They introduce new characters and locations to spice things up, or in the most extreme cases, they reset the entire story, but still try to acknowledge that everything that happened before still happened. This can have a polarizing effect on fans of the show, and it may, or may not, drive some fans away. In the case of Lego Ninjago, a show that has been going on for fifteen seasons as of 2022, the writers have a challenge in trying to do a soft reboot, while not sacrificing the history and appeal of the show. This is the first time I have seen a soft reboot that has managed to keep the heart and soul of a show while making things fresh and new.

One of the first things that they improved was the characterization. A lot of the time, if a show goes on for a while, the characters can suffer from Flanderization. “The act of taking a single (often minor) action or trait of a character within a work and exaggerating it more and more over time until it completely consumes the character. Most always, the trait/action becomes completely outlandish, and it becomes their defining characteristic, turning them into a caricature of their former selves” (“Flanderization”). This is often quite common in media that has gone on for a while. For example, one of the characters Kai started out as a hot-headed brave person, but as the show went on, he became more stupid and reckless.

The show fixed this by giving the characters a new purpose. Kai became a mentor to Wyldfyre, a new character in the show, and he became more levelheaded and enjoyable as a character. He isn’t the only character to benefit from new characters being added. All of the new characters serve a purpose to the show. Arin is one of the new main characters, he acts as an audience surrogate, specifically for the returning fans of the series. To put it in simple terms, Arin is a super fan of the main cast. This background allows him to make references to the older seasons, without it sounding forced or out of place. On the other hand, his counterpart Sora has the exact opposite role. She is the audience surrogate for newcomers. She isn’t from the original world where some of the main cast came from. Thus, she is able to ask questions that will fill in newcomers to the show on old lore from previous seasons.

Another thing that they did, that I haven’t seen in other shows, is expand the world. In the world of the show, there exists sixteen realms. The whole plot of the soft reboot is that all of these realms merge together, which makes one massive new world. This opens up a lot of possibilities, and the world that the show existed in before the soft reboot was already thoroughly explored. Adding the new area definitely adds a new layer of excitement to the show.

The show also had a problem with stale villains. They have recycled villains multiple times, and most villains are pretty bland. With the new show, they added the kingdom of Imperium, which has its own villain empress Beatrix. Her lackeys, Ras and Rapton, are both unique in their own ways. Rapton is a dragon hunter, who is obsessed with capturing dragons for fun. While Ras is a mysterious outsider from another realm, he has an allegiance to another unknown person, and this adds mystery to his character.

I have watched this show since I was in third grade. It has been an important part of my life for years. Every time there was a new trailer, I would spend hours looking over every little detail and theorizing what would happen next. Up until season 10, all the episodes would air on Cartoon Network, which was unfortunate since my family used streaming services instead. I was so excited to go to my grandparents and watch the episodes since they had cable. Eventually with season 11, they moved the show to Netflix, and I got to watch them as they came out instead of binging them all at once when I went to my grandparents’ house.

Unfortunately for me season 11 was extremely disappointing. The season had a good concept, but a poor execution. It also used a lot of tropes for the characters and failed to resolve the conflict in a satisfying way. This season is known amongst fans as one of the worst seasons to ever come out of the show. It was so disappointing to me, that when I saw the trailer for season 12, I just lost interest. The plot seemed boring, and I didn’t care for the character they were focusing on. So, I dropped the show and ignored it for about two years, until I saw a clip from an episode I had never watched. To my surprise, I liked it, and it was actually funny for once. I ended up looking up more clips and episodes, eventually watched the seasons I missed, and regretted giving up the show. Season 11 was just a rough patch, and due to me dropping the show, I had missed two of the best seasons the show had ever had, seasons 13 and 14. Season 15 was an ok season all together. Looking back a year and a half later, it was definitely made to tie up any loose ends that the show had before the soft reboot happened.

All this change and improvement is great for the series. When the creators first announced that Ninjago was getting a new TV show, and that it would be a soft reboot of the show, I was concerned. Soft reboots have a history of not really benefiting a show at all. It often ends up falling back on old ideas or introduces new ideas that don’t fit well with the show. As more trailers and clips started releasing, I was once again reminded why I love the show so much. The world and characters are amazing, and the story never fails to reel me in. This new TV series is a promising new step in a good direction. I personally can’t wait until the next season.