#but I think the general point still stands

[sevsgiirl]

Omg okay I can't stop thinking about needy lovesick Sevika with a younger femme partner (you can totally do a continuation of the fic you wrote) so what if, she's a little needy&insecure for their age gap? That her girl gets bored/annoyed with her? (She doesn't have this type of thoughts all the time, but the seeds of doubts grows when she hears other people talk, not directly about her and reader, but in general but it does linger when others points out how different they are) or in her own way, she start craving more compliments, affections from her but dunno how to do it and at the same time she's trying to gauce if her girl still likes her (she does!!) yet just the thoughts/doubts hurts Sevika like so bad, because she would do anything for her darling, what she has to do to make her girl still love her and not leave her?

— sevika with a younger partner and feeling insecure

synopsis: sevika doesn’t have a type. whether they’re older or younger, just as long as they could keep up with her that’s all mattered. but ever since you two started dating, she starts to wonder if she’s the one who could keep up with you and how deep down, it scares her that you might find a problem with it eventually.

note: I just had to post this before going to sleep because the idea is too good. I love the way your brain works and again, thank you for sending in the req <3 love you and I hope you like this.

you were a beacon of light in the cesspool of chaos that is sevika’s life.

to this day, she still doesn’t understand how you and her got into a relationship but here you are now, going strong for almost a year and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

you two rarely get into arguments, when you did she never hesitates to reach out and fix the situation right away because she can’t stand being on bad terms with you for long.

you two are on the same mental wavelength, which sevika appreciates given how you’re a lot younger than her. she’s in her 40s and you were in 20s, but sometimes she forgets because conversations always run smoothly between you two.

but just because she forgets that doesn’t mean other people fail to bring it up.

when you started dating, it was a bit difficult given how it wasn’t received well by a lot of her peers. not that they judged her for it because they could never unless they wanted to have their face busted in. but it was the occasional remarks that had a hint of judgement in them that made sevika uncomfortable.

things such as “she’s a bit young, isn’t she? you better keep an eye on her especially because you’re always at work. it’s hard being in a relationship with someone who’s at a different stage in life as you.”

both of you had jobs but her work compared to yours was hectic. you work as a waitress at jericho’s meanwhile sevika is paid to get her hands dirty for silco. the job was tedious and draining and sometimes she comes home, tired to the bone that she could barely catch up with you. which she feels immensely guilty for.

you’ve reassured her that it isn’t a big deal and that you understand her status in zaun is far more important than yours. you’ve always acknowledged sevika’s role in the under city and why she was feared by many, that’s what attracted you to her in the first place. she was loyal, devoted and her endurance was insane.

but still, despite how sevika’s job is her number one priority, it still doesn’t slip her mind that she may accidentally neglect you and your needs without her knowing.

and she knows it takes a toll on you too, you just don’t want to bring it up because you respect her too much. and she was right because when she came home early one night you weren’t there, and it was almost midnight when you finally returned and you were shocked to see sevika sitting on your couch waiting for you. usually she’d be back around 2-3am.

“hey, you didn’t tell me silco would let you off the hook early,” you said but your words became background noise because she was too focused on your appearance. you were dressed up and from where she sat she could tell you’ve had a lot to drink.

it’s not that it upset sevika you went out, you could do whatever you want but it saddens her that you didn’t even go out of your way to tell her about it assuming she’d be coming home late. is this what you do when she’s not here? go out with your friends and have fun? it’s not that she expects you to wait for her in your apartment all day while she’s away for work.

still, the thought bothers her as she wonders what you must’ve been up to while she was gone. she tries to set the thought aside, not wanting to think bad of you because she knows you’d never go against her back. but certain thoughts crept up at the back of her mind. did you meet someone while you were out? were you offered drinks? did someone invite you out to dance?

“sev, baby, you there?” she didn’t even realize she zoned out until she felt you cupping her cheek “are you tired? you shouldn’t have stayed up for me.”

she shook her head “it’s alright. but yeah, silco let me off early and I wanted to surprise you.”

your shoulders sagged “I’m sorry. I assumed you’d come home late again so I decided to just go out with friends. had I known I would’ve waited so we can stay in and cuddle.”

despite your flattery words, the only thing that stuck to sevika was you implying she’d be late again. you didn’t mean it maliciously, there was no bitterness in your tone but instead there was just… acceptance. which frustrated her because people were right.

perhaps being at different stages in life does this. you needed a partner who you can home to and have fun with but instead you got her who’s always late, is already asleep when you probably want to stay up and have sex at night. she would force herself to push through just for you but she isn’t getting any younger and it shows.

maybe it’s because others have planted it in her head that you two are just far too different that’s why she’s overthinking like this, but it’s becoming more and more evident that they were right and if she doesn’t find a way to fix this, god knows before you start seeing the cracks and the dents as well.

and so in the following day she asked silco if she could cut off her usual hours at work to get back home early. at least for a few weeks and silco was shocked for a second because if there was anyone who’s extremely dedicated to their job, it’s her.

but it’s because of that he deliberates on the request “very well,” he answered “but if the matters are urgent I expect you to come in either way,”

well, it’s better than nothing, sevika thought. what matters is she’ll try to find some time to spend the following weeks with you and to hopefully regain the spark in your relationship.

not that she’s saying it’s lost but she’s scared it will. because if her days don’t consist of work, she’s either at the bar playing cards to blow off some steam, which isn’t exactly a productive way of spending one’s time.

unlike you, you have tons of friends who you go out with at clubs and sevika just doesn’t want to think about all the people you meet there, who are probably the same age as you, and have wanted to ask you out but you turned them down because of her.

meanwhile, she’s here and she can’t even keep you happy like how you deserve.

it eats her up alive that’s why as soon as she comes back from work a lot earlier than usual, she immediately engulfs you in a back hug when she sees you cooking in the kitchen.

you gasped, not expecting her “sev, you’re home.” you were surprised as you turned around “did something happen?”

she shook her head, smiling “no sweetheart, silco just let me off early again. plus I’ve been meaning to spend more time with my girl…”

you still weren’t used to the disruption of the routine, because she’s normally away at these hours, but you weren’t complaining.

and with that, you spent most of the evening cooking and catching up with each other. you didn’t miss the way sevika followed you around the house like a lost puppy when you started cleaning up to get ready for bed.

you raised an eyebrow when she wrapped her arms around your waist while you were washing the dishes, noticing how she’s awfully more needy than usual.

“baby, go rest. you just got back home from work.” you giggled and she just shook her head.

“I just want to spend more time with you. I feel like I haven’t been the best partner.”

that halted you in your tracks and you angled your head so you can face her “baby, what makes you think that?” your eyebrows were furrowed and she just held you tighter.

she lets out a breath, tired and awfully nervous about vocalizing her doubts. what if once she points it out you start seeing the red flags too? and then these affectionate gestures just won’t be enough? what then?

“I know with my job and the responsibilities I have, I haven’t been able to fulfill your needs. you have so much ahead of you and I’m always at work and I just don’t want to make it seem like I’m wasting your time.” she said and you just stood there, letting her words sink in.

“you’re young and you could be with someone whose head isn’t always stuck in a bunch of paperwork or is running around the lanes doing silco’s dirty work.” her jaw clenched and she starts to wonder if admitting to all of this was a good idea.

“I’m sorry, princess. I just don’t want to bore you by leaving you here at home all by yourself…”

you immediately swiveled around in her arms and took her face in your hands.

“sev, look at me.” you said, your voice stern “I could give less than two fucks about people my age. you think when I got into a relationship with you I didn’t know what I was signing myself up for? of course I did and I don’t regret any of it. I know you have responsibilities and I accepted all of your duties the moment you became mine.”

“I could never be bored of you, baby.” you told her, thumb caressing her cheek “you don’t treat me any differently because of my age so why should I? I love it that you’re so hard at work and that you provide for me. the fact my salary at jericho’s isn’t even enough to pay half of our rent but you don’t mind because you provide for us both, why would I find that boring? that’s fucking sexy.”

she couldn’t help but let out a snort “oh, so what you’re saying is that you’re staying with me because I’m basically your sugar mommy?”

you grinned “amongst other things,” you said before capturing her lips with your own.

the kiss was hot, heavy and slow as sevika gripped your hips and pulled you against her. pushing her knee up and sliding it across your thighs and she started rubbing against your clothed cunt, making you whimper.

“so you’re not bored of me? or mad?” she asked as she pulled away to look at you.

you rolled your eyes “you could be 23 or 75 for all I care and I still wouldn’t get bored of you.”

your finger drew circles around her chest as you fluttered your eyes up at her “plus you fuck me like you’re 23 anyway, so I don’t see why I would look for someone my age.”

she couldn’t help but laugh, swooping you up in her arms and you circled your legs around her waist as she walked you to your bedroom “god, you’re such a handful.” she said.

you smirked “but you love it.”

[motley-box-rose-1]

This is a really well thought out take on the show! I just finished the series, so I’m still mulling over the feelings and ideas that it left me, but the show as whole felt very…. Not just women-centric, but really focused on marginalized people. Which is probably obvious, because each character could be read in that way, but that aside there does seem to be a definite focus on Bride, Nina, and women in general. Honestly, I don’t think the show comes off as misogynistic at all—or at least not enough for me to get that read on my first watch. All of the female characters feel autonomous, multi-faceted, distinct from one another, visually unique, and are genuinely entertaining. just as importantly, they’re allowed to have moments of horror and vulnerability that reflect types of real experiences that people—and women—go through.

I guess I can admit that the show feels a bit *thirsty* at times, but honestly it feels way less creepy than some actual comic books I’ve read, the superhero genre notoriously being all about showing off abs and butts and boobs. I don’t think it crosses a line beyond in that area, or if it does then I wouldn’t say it focuses that lens exclusively on women.

However, getting back to talking about what you bring up, I’m still trying to piece together the over arching theme(s)—the WHY behind how each episode was structured. The show never gets preachy, but there are some specific moments that stand out as being there to SAY something.

To sum all this up, thanks for pointing out Rick Flag and WHY he was paired with Eric. It makes his role in the narrative much more clear, and also explains and gives context for how he chooses to handle Eric—Rick doesn’t care about Eric’s intentions towards Bride or whether she’d actually want Eric to find her. Maybe it crosses his mind for an instant very early on, when Rick visibly realizes that Eric is totally off his rocker, but he’s obviously willing to set that aside for the sake of pursuing what HE wants and considers more important. And while I wouldn’t label Rick as necessarily a bad guy who has malicious intentions, I don’t see him as a particularly strong character either. And by “strong” I’m referring to moral integrity and backbone. Rick has morals and good intentions, sure, but he neither sticks to his values either Ilana, nor does anything to really help the monsters despite acting like he views them as people and saying he wants the group to trust them. And maybe you could blame the Ilana thing as Rick just being lonely and naive? But that little dalliance and his reaction to Circe’s news comes off as kind of immature, especially when he’s supposed to be an older guy who’s been around the block.

Anyway, that’s just me rambling. Regardless, it’s nice to see some great posts related to this show!

Spoilers for Creature Commandos

I saw a post on her critiquing James Gunn’s portrayal of women in his show Creature Commandos. This post states that he usually does a very good job of writing women, but this just isn’t it and cites Princess Ilana’s sexual advances towards Flag, Nina’s nude portrayals in the bath, The Bride’s backstory, and Amanda Waller’s comments on Circe’s outfit. And while all these criticisms are completely valid I would like to raise a point that these scenes exist to critique the way women are viewed not just in society, but especially in comics

Creature Commandos hinges on women. Women are the center of everything.

Firstly, we have The Bride, who many point out does not even have her own name. She is made for a person who does not care for her or anyone yet feels entitled to her to the point of pursuing her for centuries, determined to capture her even if he has to knock her unconscious to do it. She is groomed by her father and taken advantage of. Eric’s continued pursuant of her leads to him teaming up with Flag.

Next, we have Rick Flag who initially comes off as a stand up guy. He doesn’t like the sexual advances of Princess Ilana… until he does. It’s repeated that he’s a much older man, which while he’s hot, leads to him infantilizing her. He views her as this innocent princess which is why Circe’s vision causes him to flip out and show his true colors. He immediately tries to accuse Circe of lying, and when no one believes him states that Themyscira isn’t event real, to which he has to be reminded that it is. His next action is then to team with Eric and try to discredit the expert on Themyscira. He refuses to see women outside of how he wants to see them, and while he’s not entitled and violent like Eric they are teamed up together thematically for a reason because they will burn the world down to get the girl they believe is theirs whether that girl exists or not.

On that topic, Themyscira is brought up as a recurring theme throughout the show. Almost every episode it is brought up in some capacity and it’s very existence is constantly called into question by the men of the series. The news anchor says it may not exist despite the fact that Circe is there in the present. Rick Flag denies it exists, and must be reminded it is. Despite this he stalks a woman and breaks into her house to prove that 1. She’s full of shit and 2. She’s not a real expert. When Themyscira is acknowledged to exist it is met with blatant misogyny.

The picture used on the news is of girls in bikinis. The Sons of Themyscira feel entitled to it because it is a land of all women. Even when Flag is corrected by someone about Themyscira’s existence that man then says that a land of women sounds like heaven, implying sex. Even Waller comments on the inherent sexuality of Circe’s costume.

To that comment, I think it is meant to point out how sexualized female characters are. Something we saw with Suicide Squad (2016) vs Birds of Prey, is a break down of the male versus female gaze. What does a woman’s outfit look like when it’s designed for sex appeal vs practicality. I think Waller’s call to attention to Circe’s outfit is to call into question would SHE dress herself this way? Obviously male artists are going to draw her that way, but why does SHE choose it. It meta-reflects how women are being portrayed in comics especially when most female costumes start out hyper-sexualized.

Finally, Nina nude. I think, once again, this is done intentionally and on purpose. Nina is the only character who does not want to kill. She hasn’t. She has no abilities outside of the water and really shouldn’t be on the team. She’s vulnerable, but you don’t see how vulnerable she really is until it’s shown her naked, cramped into a tiny bathtub. She’s alone and out of place despite literally being in her element, and she still has no protection. She is physically vulnerable the way the The Bride, Ilana, Circe and all women are vulnerable to the male gaze and men’s attitudes towards them.

Female solidarity is what keeps the plot moving, and male Interference is what creates the drama and conflict. Circe views Ilana as a literal threat, not just a helpless princess. Amanda Waller believes Circe immediately, and when there are still doubts she calls in an expert. She trusts The Bride to lead the team because the Bride won’t fuck Ilana. The Bride looks after and protects Nina because she knows Nina isn’t supposed to be in jail or in a combat situation at all. However, Flag’s infantilization of Ilana + Eric’s violent entitlement towards The Bride has led to a horrible team which have jeopardized the mission and may have caused Circe’s future to come true.

In conclusion, let James Gunn cook.

[queenendless]

ÞŘỊPŁƏ ẄŒØ

A/n: As much as we all love current Jinwoo, every version of Jinwoo is precious. And SO!

All Jinwoos have romantic feelings for you but not for each other cause they're the same person.

Triple Sung Jinwoo x Fem!Adult!Reader

CW: MANWHA SPOILERS INSIDE! SPOILER ALERT: There will be a PT 2 to this one shot cause this got kinda long. So there's that.

BIG TIME What if AU. Angst, hurt/comfort, depression, chronic problems, sleeping anxiety.

NO PLAGARIZING, REPOSTING, TRANSLATING, USE OF MY FANFIC WORK IN AI STUFF ALLOWED. REBLOG, LIKE AND FOLLOW INSTEAD PLS N THNX.

You never imagined you'd become the light of your angel's life. You still have days when you think that it's all been one long dream and you'd wake up back in that grey lonely life you never want to go back to.

But no, waking up that afternoon in your shared spacious bedroom. Rolling in that King sized bed to detect his side had his scent lingering still. But empty. Meaning he hadn't returned from his guild work from yesterday.

The sound of the front door to your shared home opening got your heart racing with joy at the chance to see your dear Monarch again.

And yet, the ensuing situation that followed suit really did feel like walking into a dream. An unusual one at that, sure. But also quite intriguing.

“Neither a curse nor a status debuff, my ass. You'd think these new Monarch powers could undo this side effect?” The tallest Jinwoo grumbled under his breath, brushing back his hair in frustration, pacing back and forth in the living room.

“How are we supposed to be out in public now? Handle the guild? Seeing our folks? Our secret will be found out at this rate!” Post reawakened Jinwoo griped, pinning you in between him and pre reawakened Jinwoo like a sandwich, to your dopey smiling satisfaction.

“In any case, I'll be the one visiting the guild for those matters. Otherwise, you and I will tackle the dungeons ourselves, alone.”

“H-Hang on! Why should I be left behind?! I'm no male housewife!” Starter Jinwoo whined.

“Yeah, don't kid yourself, squirt.” Monarch Jinwoo ruffled his unruly mop of hair affectionately, his baby faced counterparts pouting and puffed up cheeks proving his point.

“Aw, please don't leave me alone.” You nuzzled his pink dusted face like a needy cat, that got him melting up.

“Uh – I – o – okay~” His bashful smile got you planting a big ol smooch on his lips. He couldn't stop smiling as he swooned over your lap.

Jinwoo #2 glared, a vein popping up on his head. “Hey, it's not fair he gets to hog our sweetheart all to himself all day while we have to work.”

“With no reawakening, he can't level up so he'd be putting himself at Death's door again like before. If even one of us dies, we'll all die and leave our family behind, including our beloved here. And they won't be defenseless.” King Jinwoo explained.

The sight of Beru appearing out of your Shadow got Jinwoo#1 trembling from fear instinctively at the imposing entity when Monarch Jinwoo stood between you two and his General.

“Should any harm come to these two, like getting distracted by your period dramas, you know what will happen, don't you?” The deadly gaze of his King spoke doom for the former Ant King.

Shadow Preservation will let him know the moment Beru fumbles.

“Yes, I do, my liege! I will not let you down! And if I fail, I will gladly accept my punishment! But please give me a chance to prove my usefulness to you all!” Beru weeped before his liege dismissed him, meshing into the shadow of —

“Jinwoo mochi.”

“ … Eh?” All three sweat dropped in sync.

The action of cupping OG Jinwoo's supple cheeks, kneading and pinching and rubbing your thumbs in circles on such pure smoothness had your eyes sparkle in wonder and your hums of content heard behind your smitten grin. The visual of pre Jinwoo's face going from pale to rosey red as his grey blue eyes had spirals of tipsy dazeness, incomprehensible sounds spilling out of his dopey smile.

“You are so fucking cute, I can't stand it!” Your playful growling as you indeed began chewing on his cheeks got his nervous laughs rumbling into your chest next, his heart in overdrive, matching beat for beat with yours.

The steamy blow of air through their noses was one warning signal that the other two Jinwoo were irked — envy molten auras in blue and purple another sign — that baby-faced them was getting your current attention.

“Don't you dare forget about me, beautiful~” Jinwoo the 2nd cockily purred in your ear, plopping behind you on the couch, nipping at your nape, his nose dotingly rubbing your cheek, keeping you struggling between focus on both bois.

“I'll engrave myself in your mind then~” The effortlessly hot deepness of King Jinwoo’s inflection had him gently grip your chin to raise your face to meet him over the couch in quite a devouring kiss.

“Hey, sharing is caring, you sneaky bastards!” Baby Jinwoo shrilled up. Breaking free just to save your deprived lungs, an all out argument between all three ensued, your light headed self slacking against the couch.

The cacophony of range these three voices could go filled in your now lively place.

And so, then began this unexpected arc in the story of you and Jinwoo times three.

Pre-reawakened Jinwoo.

While the other two would do their dungeon raids together, that meant you'd spend most of your time with him.

Stuck at home together meant you teaming up to manage it, whether that be folding laundry to even cook together. If you don't really cook, he's more than happy to teach you. Having his hands layer yours, pressed up against you from behind, is the best feeling. Course he'd melt in a puddle shortly after.

Taking walks together outdoors meant holding hands or intertwined arms as you spent hours chatting about anything, mesmerized in each other's eyes while admiring the flora and fauna of nature.

“Okay, I am the male wife.” He mumbled in surrender, slumping against you, both of you in your casual tees and shorts, binging your favorites together in the living room while sharing your snacks together one lazy day.

“He admits it!” You exclaimed dramatically, ruffling his already unruly shaggy mop to his giggling delight.

“I know I'm not like the other mes… but I will do my best to make you happy. I'll do anything for you. I love you with all my heart, saarang.”

You easily top him over, laying atop him, your bedroom eyes conjuring hearts in his grey blue irises. “Then I'll make sure you're reminded each and every day that you're just as well loved. You're all mine now, baby girl~”

His drawn out squeak was the only sign of him still alive from the embarrassment, slacking in your arms like a limp noodle.

He's the easiest to mess with, all out of love.

Post reawakened Jinwoo, still an E-rank.

You did most of your outings into the city with him. Usually he goes incognito, whether in caps and a face mask or keeping his hoodie on, hoping not to be spotted and mistaken for his S-rank self.

You both did the buying, groceries and window shopping. Your phone gallery was chock full of selfies with you and your bashful grinning hunter.

While Tank became his assigned Shadow in the meantime, he could serve as transport. But only when it was just you two around or unless it's an emergency. Besides, he still has his own speed skills. Hence, giving you piggyback rides before zipping away in a flash, leaving folk wandering nearby nearly falling over from the sudden strong gusts of winds he left in his wake. His cheeky grin looking back at you took your breath away.

Joining him in on his daily quest workouts nearly do you in, your physically ailing limits being the root cause. Your legs turn to jelly as you nearly collapse from fatigue but your dashing hunter lover makes sure to catch you in his arms, holding you tightly while riding on Tank for the trek back home.

While you can openly tease and mess with him, he's on even footing with you, even more so.

“It's a pain to be split in three and not knowing how long it'll last, so having you with me is a blessing. Now tell me, what will it take for you to make me the best Sung Jinwoo in your eyes? Come on, honey, let your angel Woo you over~”

That cheesy pun out of the blue sent you buckling over in bouts of laughter, nearly falling over but his arms enveloping you kept you standing within his grasp. “Wow. Can't believe that actually worked,” He murmured in astonishment, grinning confidently in response. “She has Sung her approval~!”

That got you cackling, clutching your aching tummy, as more puns came your way to leave you a breathless mess that went beyond his expectations, utterly convinced to be more silly from that point on, even after he hopefully becomes whole again.

And Shadow Monarch Jinwoo, the tenth S-rank hunter in Korea and the head of his own guild, is hands down the most possessive over you. The rare moments you get alone with him happen in his own private office when he takes you to work with him.

The selfie of him putting you in an explicit headlock rivaled every single photo you took with his reawakened past self. His vibrant violet eyes on his smug smirking face littered by your lipstick smooches, your blushing squished cheeks, those veins along that flexing bicep smothering your lip smeared shameless face.

Making a group chat with just the Jinwoos proved a bad call when the other two were driven up the wall with envy at their superior version laying claim to you when they weren't around. The stream of emojis from Jinwoo 1 merging with the countless threats from Jinwoo 2 made big boss Jin darkly chuckle in the entertaining response, the mirthful twinkle in his eyes rippling from spotting you red in the face like mush in his big leather desk chair.

Unwinding from the stress of his guild master duties and keeping face with his colleagues and family while also having to wait out however long this three in one problem will last. Taking rides together on Kaisel gave you both a much needed breath of fresh air. Updating you on pupil Jinwoo's progress leveling up although the Gates turn red whenever he joins in said gate all to challenge him. He assures you immensely that he ensures his other self’s safety while sharing the EXP.

“Sharing you with my other selves has been quite the test for my tolerance.” Tugging insistently on his tie, the taut muscle definition of his upper chest peaked out, his neck flexing those veins, flaring his collar out in the process. “However, I am resolved to remind them just who truly is in charge here.” Pinning you literally on top of his desk came just as quick as you did already feeling him brush up against your valley. “Including you~”

Chronic problems plagued your form. Daily migraines, tense knots in your neck, the works. Regardless of which Jinwoo does it, massages always come your way. Whether resting your head on your lap or laying down on the bed, you melted from their shared skill touch.

Of course not every day is sunshine and rainbows. With chronic issues also came depression. Of course, all three dudes come to an agreement on equally giving you space to unwind as well as teaming up to give you all their affection.

Jinwoo #1 gifts you single flowers that grew surrounding your home, placing them behind your ear after presenting you one each day. Home-cooked meals are a given at this point, keeping in mind your allergies and dietary restrictions should you have any. He helps prepare salt baths that you more than invite him to join you to keep your clingy self company. And he lends his hoodie for comfort on those moody grey days.

Jinwoo #2 gifts you during your shopping sprees together, purchasing plushies and apparel to even getting fried chicken that you make sure you have enough to share with all your bois at home. You and him game together when he comes home early from raiding. Although his fatigue relief skill kicked in, he still deflated in your embrace welcoming him back home in the foyer, nuzzling your adorable face like a needy feline himself. Plus, his rambunctious commentary sends you into a wheezing mess, handing him easy wins. The times you did dethrone him resulted in his stubborn self knowing he could do better, challenging you for another round.

Jinwoo #3 is the one most able to give you anything your heart desires. With such influence and connections on top of his limitless abilities as the reincarnated Monarch, he would make anything possible. But considering he was the busiest out of the three, all you really wanted was to spend more time together. He still gifted you the same items as his other selves, but he made sure to include a fancy dinner and a dance among the stars as an inviting bonus.

Sleep anxiety is also a struggle you face. Incidents from your dreary past late at night left their scars. So taking naps now and then throughout the day after sleeping in the morning was your norm.

Even now, comfortably sleeping through the night is difficult, anxiety making you uncomfortable on edge for the unpredictable and unknown.

One step, one night at a time, the secure embrace giving you reassuring squeezes in bed reminding you you weren't alone. Whichever Jinwoo it is, they all are perfect bedmates. Their cooing words became your ASMR.

“Ssh. There there. I'm right here. Listen to my breathing, my heart, my voice. You can rest easy now, sweetheart.”

Kissing your teary face and letting you rest on their cozy warm chests as they rubbed comforting circles along your back, the combined sensations slowly aided in your sleep, however long or short. For the moments you woke in the middle of the night,

So returning the favor only made sense.

All three Jinwoos suffered from nightmares. Mostly Jinwoo #1. Night terrors were his own sleep struggle throughout this story arc. Especially from dreams of the Double Dungeon. Breaking out in a cold sweat, tossing and turning, whimpering and weeping, before screaming out in awakening, heaving haphazardly, desperately reaching his hands out to you, clinging to you like the lifeline you are. Especially on nights when your other Jins’ are still out due to whatever reason.

Singing a lullaby song you heard from a show that really stuck with you helped a great deal in calming him down. Cradling him in your arms, brushing through those sweat matted bangs, your voice was the angel of music gracing his ears. It's too mesmerizing to ignore.

“You're okay. You're alright. I'll never ever leave your side. I will stay and I will fight with you~”

Unbeknownst to you two, Beru's shadow linked to both versions of his master, Jinwoo #3 swoons over your heavenly voice, smiling like a lovesick fool, Jinho silently hoping they finish work early so his big bro can get back to you, his one and only.

“Please don't leave me. Please stay, Y/n.” Your Jin baby's wish gets granted by your doting, utilizing the same exact methods they use to treat your night troubles.

Jinwoo 2 is less vocal when he wakes up from bad dreams. Yet you feel a sturdy heat envelope around you. His endearing gaze grew the more he stared at your peaceful face, his stare blurring from warm wetness, blinking them back before pecking your forehead. “You're my dream come true~” He whispers lovingly in your ear before cuddling up against your precious self, tears actually shed as you return the hug through your slumber, thoughts of you and only you lulling him into good old dream land.

Now Jinwoo 3 is something else. He usually sits up, lost in thought for a bit, before heading to the kitchen for a mug of water and maybe even preparing some food to keep him busy. And every time, he could feel you arising, finding him, and joining him all so he wouldn't be alone. He'd do the same for you. They all would, absolutely.

You can hear the aching vulnerability trembling with each breath he took as his towering frame draped over you, his shoulders shaking as his hands clawed at your back, your very existence grounding him in the here and now.

“Parts of me will never be the same, not after all I've done … yet you still choose me. How did I ever deserve you, huh?” His nose caresses yours, rocking with you side to side, as his submerging look sunk its hold upon your trembling soul. “Y/n, you truly are something else. My safe haven~”

While having three Jinwoos is indeed a handful, seeing every part of him that make up who he is reminds you of his empathy, sympathy, cleverness, tactfulness, and brilliance.

But you too hope that your three darlings become whole again soon.

And soon enough, at last, your shared prayers were finally heard.

The solution to this dilemma?

Well ...

What do you think~?

[revive-the-fandom]

You didn't have to go that hard in the tags of the jack post

this one ?

I will stand by my belief that Jack is a civilian, not a fighter. I mean, aside from the fact that he looks shit scared and completely out of his element whenever theres a threat,

(some exceptions notwithstanding) there's also his total lack of fighting technique.

He has maybe 3 moves, total:

standing in defence (staff raised in front of him, usually tight to his body with both hands gripping it)

2. using momentum or distraction to carry a hit (see how he's gripping the staff towards the base so he can give it a wider swing - generating more momentum which makes the hit harder)

3. sparkles attack

and sparkles attack is a very new thing for him, it's the only reason he has any confidence in a fight, because he thinks he's discovered the atom bomb of attacks.

but it's not actually that effective, it caught Pitch off-guard sure, it revealed Jack's potential, sure, but once Pitch knew what he was up against he countered it easy-peasy.

what the sparkles attack actually does is give Jack a ranged attack, which is where he's most comfortable.

(side note: rotg does have a continuity issue with the sparkles attack. It's supposed to be a new thing, as previously he was limited to using touch to summon frost/ice onto a surface,

even in the sled scene, he's still using touch by dragging his staff on the ground, summoning the ice and then directing it after the fact.

but there's two instances prior to the sparkles being discovered where he uses that ranged ability,

he shouldn't have that ability yet, hence, continuity issue).

so having that ranged attack allowed him a foothold in a fight, but he's still inexperienced, so you end up with those moments in the final fight where he's caught off guard,

and while I'm arguing here that it's because he's a civilian and is not trained to deal with these situations, there's also his overarching development coming into play here.

He's spent the rest of the movie relying on others, dodging responsibility, and the antartica/memory scene really signals a change for him where he accepts that he needs to hold his own weight a little more. Him charging into this fight solo?

to me, that's the warning signs that Jack's taken that lesson too far. He's aware that he needs to hold his own in a fight, but he lacks the experience to understand that he needs to do so in moderation.

but that's a problem for future Jack (and fics) to deal with.

I want to circle back for one last point,

the comfort staff. Jack is constantly holding his staff up like this - close to his body, both hands gripping it. But this isn't a good defensive stance, he's not ready for an attack here.

Jack's attacks have him holding the staff in one hand,

there are some exceptions, but in general, he's attacking one handed. Again, using the momentum of the swing to carry his shots.

A much better defensive stance for Jack would probably be, funnily enough, a more open one. But that's where confidence is needed, and confidence comes with experience, which Jack doesn't have.

Jack behaves like a scared civilian, because he is one as far as I'm concerned lmao.

anyway, I apologise for the tangent, I'll take any excuse to yap about my boy.

[teal-and-crimson]

— treasured map.

SUMMARY: After seeing what has befallen your beloved's back after your late night indulgence you were devastated. He wishes to put your mind at ease. After all, he is still a dragon at soul and dragons love to hoard. Even when it comes to marks you leave.

TOTAL WORD COUNT: 8k.

PAIRING: Sylus × fem!reader (afab)

TAGS AND GENERAL CONTENT WARNINGS. MDNI! 18+ explicit sexual content. porn WITH plot, some fluff is here and there too, established relationships, mentions of body marks, hickeys, love bites, bruises, and a lot of back scratches (kitten got claws), unprotected intercourse, AFTERCARE, oral sex (mentioned, both f & m receiving), freaking in the bathroom, a lot of sweet talk, mild choking, biting, brat taming if you squint, sylus is a bit of a switch, no y/n, not proofread.

A/N. first time writing smut. first time writing for l&ds fandom. first time posting my work on here. a lot of firsts, eh? also, english isn't my first language so I implore you to be kind ♡ if this gets anywhere near enough attention to feed my wounded ego I might consider writing something else, even a part 2, because my mind is infected with sylus and I need to express my love in some way. hope you enjoy!

When you were shaken from a peaceful slumber by a sudden feeling of falling, you found yourself tangled in the sheets, the only light source was a night lamp standing to the left of the bed. You couldn’t recall how exactly you ended up dozing off, but you were convinced there was supposed to be a certain someone to envelope you in a snuggle and warm embrace. Where was he anyway?

You reached with your hand to feel for your phone on the nightstand. The blackout curtains blocked sunlight during the day and moonlight during the night. The only way of telling time was with the help of the screen now illuminating your face.

2:06 A.M.

It’s too early for you, but for Sylus it’s the middle of the day. Well, rather, night. Judging by the sound of running water, he left your shared silken sanctuary for a steaming hot shower. You couldn’t blame him. Not after what you two have done earlier that evening.

You showed up at his estate quite late, Luke and Kieran saw you in before waving you good-bye reasoning their departure with a simple “bossman’s business”. Well, of course, what else could it be? But before they could leave, they told you that the boss in question had been waiting for you for quite some time. The revered leader of Onychinus was a patient man, but you decided against testing said patience, at least for today. Running up the stairs, and taking a few turns, you entered his office with a bright smile plastered across your face.

“Oh, kitten, you are here,” Sylus rose from his chair and reached for the record player. The pleasant melody suddenly cut off and a silence fell on the room, soft and quiet.

“Yes, Mephisto was circling outside my apartment, I figured you wanted to see me,” you walked towards him. “Next time, please, just call me and use your words.”

At that Sylus laughed, “Sweetie, I had nothing to do with it. Mephisto is probably still working off his previous code settings, since I haven’t put a new one in yet.”

“You are a terrible liar,” you said and poked him on the nose.

The gesture made the man furrow his brows as he focused his gaze on your outstretched finger.

“You wound me.”

“The twins told me you were expecting me. Admit it,” your finger was now at the level with his chest, pointing, but not touching. “You sent the crow.”

“I told the twins you would be coming in because I got an unrequested report from Mephisto about your whereabouts and figured that you’d notice him. Which you did,” the smug expression on his face made you squint your eyes. “And I also figured you’d think I am asking you to come and see me. Which you also did.”

“Oh, so now you’re calling me predictable,” you threw your hands up in the air and turned on your hill, with your back facing Sylus. “So, this is what I’m here for? To be insulted.”

You couldn’t put a few steps between the two of you before Sylus caught your wrist and spun you back around to face him. As your eyes met all the fight you had in your chest seemed to evaporate. The crimson gems now looking at you were piercing through your very heart, making the blood rush to your cheeks.

“I would never insult you, my darling,” he said in the most sincere and sweet voice you ever heard him use. “I’m glad you came. We haven’t seen each other in a while.”

“Yes, I’m sorry, there’s been a lot to deal with at work. The reports just do not seem to end,” you chuckled looking up at him. The position you were in was rather provocative, you would only need to pull at his neck and raise on your toes to reach for the lips you missed so much. But would he want that?

Sylus wanted more than just a kiss, as it turned out. Whatever business he had in his office was long forgotten as he pushed you towards the bed in his room, simultaneously unbuttoning the pants you had on.

“I’ve missed this,” he said, kneeling and tugging the fabric covering your thighs down. “I’ve missed you. You’re cruel for depriving me of your presence for so long.”

“It wasn’t me, there has been a surge of wanderers on the outskirts of the city and they— Ah…”

The searing trail of kisses he left from your navel and lower would have made you fall backwards, had he not pushed at the small of your back with his hand. Evidently, Sylus couldn’t care less about the reasoning for your absence. If only you knew that for the past week, he had been tracking said wanderers himself with Mephisto’s help, just in cases you needed any aid; he would have been there in a minute. Luckily, his girl had it all covered. Just like now, she had the most alluring thing in the world covered with the black silk and lace piece. His nose nudged at your right hip bone before traveling closer towards the centre as he inhaled the maddening scent of you.

“Tell me you missed me, too, kitten,” a plea, made in a growl created by the deepest part of his throat.

You looked down to see one of the hottest sights you laid your eyes upon. The pathetic, almost begging gaze Sylus tried to mask with a smile on his lips pulled a giggle out of your throat. That man looked almost at home with your black panties near his face. Black and red go hand in hand. You weren’t sure how he managed to look so in control yet so pliable at the same time.

“I did miss you,” you raised your leg and let it rest on his right shoulder, a gesture most welcomed by the man at your heels, while your hand travelled to tangle in his hair. “And this.”

You pushed his head against you centre and he obliged almost too eagerly. The fingers of his other hand pulled the fabric to the side and you could swear he hummed when his tongue came into contact with the wetness that had gathered between your folds. You were glad the twins were out for business, because you knew you wouldn’t be able to keep quiet for long.

The rest of the evening you spent working through every possible way of compensating for all the time you’ve been apart. There wasn’t a single part of your body Sylus left unworshipped and you made sure to return the favour. When you were laying on your stomach, too spent to turn, or lift yourself up, Sylus gathered you in his hands and carried you to the bathroom. There he made sure you relieved your bladder and then he cleaned you up using a warm towel, peppering your exposed skin with feather-like kisses. By the time he was done you were too languid to be standing and the dim lights of his bathroom were almost lulling you to sleep. You didn’t know how exactly you ended up back on the bed, but the sheets felt different, too crisp in comparison to what you felt before, when Sylus was pinning you against them. When you opened your eyes, you noticed the colour was also different and you looked incredulously at the man that cradled you in his arms.

“Didn’t want you to lay on stained linen,” he whispered kissing the top of your head. “Go to sleep, kitten. I’m going to stay right here with you, I promise.”

You didn’t want to question him, not when his firm chest felt so warm and so right under the side of your face. You wrapped your arm around his torso and tangled your legs with his, and just like that all the worries that were building the anxious wall of thoughts in your head throughout the day turned into dust as you let yourself to doze off.

Now, as you hear the sound of water coming to a halt, the bed started seeming too big for you. You tossed and turned until eventually your face was buried in a pillow on the other side. The fabric smelled too much of an expensive detergent and too little of what you actually craved.

“Liar,” you mumbled to yourself and started rolling on the bed in the direction of the bathroom. Near the edge of the bedframe, you noticed there was a silken bathrobe with a belt attached to it. Judging by the size, it was meant for you. As you raised your upper body from the mattress you couldn’t keep a sudden whine slipping from your lips. Your entire body was protesting against anything that involved you getting out of a horizontal position, but your persistence got the upper hand eventually. You slipped yourself into the bathrobe, loosely tying the ends of the belt around your torso and started walking in the direction of the light in adjoined room.

When you walked in you were greeted with the sight of Sylus’ backside clad in nothing but a white fluffy towel, as he was bending over the sink spitting out the remnants of the toothpaste. Crossing your arms you leaned against the doorframe as you took in the absolute eye candy that was now on display.

“A fruit vendor with a bakery business on the side I see,” you thought to yourself as a wicked smile was now sprawling across your face. With a view like that there wasn’t a slither of sleep left in your eyes. You were so mesmerized by the way the towel dipped and curved around his ass you didn’t notice that the man himself was now looking at you in the mirror, smiling as if he were a cat that caught a little mouse.

“Enjoying yourself?” he asked, straightening up and putting the toothbrush inside the hidden compartment behind the mirror.

“How did you kn—” your teasing response got caught in your throat when your eyes landed on Sylus’ back.

It was red. Screaming, angry, violent red. You uncrossed your arms and straightened yourself. You couldn’t do that? Right? You scratched at him in the heat of the moment but it was only a couple of times, not a hundred! But to counter these arguments the evidence was right in front of you. There wasn’t a single patch of skin on his back that didn’t bear your marks. Everything, from his broad sinewy shoulders down to the small of his back had lines, upon lines, upon lines left by your expressive fingers. You scanned it one more time, noticing there was no blood and a part of your mind calmed down a little. But the other part... Oh, it started eating at your very soul.

You took a step closer; your eyes didn’t leave his back for a second. The sight was so agonizing you couldn’t even blink. You stretched out your hand to trace along these lines but caught yourself before your fingers made contact with his skin.

“Sylus...” you began, your voice quiet, shaky. You could feel your eyes watering but you mentally slapped yourself across the cheek. This wasn’t about you. This was about what you have done to him and you had no right to cry. “I am so... So sorry. This— I never meant... You should have said something! I—”

Suddenly, you no longer saw the reddened skin in front of you, instead you were looking at his chest, but even that wasn’t for long, because he gently pulled you by your chin so you would meet his eyes.

“Stop that,” a command, solid and unyielding, yet spoken with the softest and gentlest of voices. “Don’t you dare.”

It was as if you couldn’t hear him. Words started spilling out like a wildfire after catching a stray spark, “Do they hurt? Why didn’t you stop me? I shouldn’t have... This is bad. So bad. I promise I’ll be more careful, please, forgive—”

You couldn’t finish your plea, because your words were caught by the thing your heart cherished the most — the feeling of his lips on yours. This kiss was brief and to the point, its sole purpose to get you to stop talking and it proved to be effective, because now Sylus finally had a say.

“If you apologize to me one more time, I’ll get mad, and you don’t want to see me in such a state, kitten,” his tone was not one bit teasing. He meant what he said, you could see it in his eyes, so you closed your mouth and just gaped at him. You weren’t scared, but there was a part of you that still felt guilty and Sylus sensed it. He rubbed your chin with his fingers and let his gaze soften, while his eyes followed down your body clad in the bathrobe he left out for you. With a simple hum he maneuvered you to stand in front of the mirror, with him behind you. Droplets of water were clinging to his biceps and neck, and you watched him wrap his hands around your torso as he started fiddling with the silken belt around your waist.

“You are so quick to make assumptions, kitten,” his voice had none of that commanding attitude left, instead it took on a more velvety and sultry quality that made you feel weak in your knees. “Seeing my body marked as yours and immediately jumping to a conclusion that I wouldn’t want it being branded as such?”

His hands undid the belt of the robe and it parted slightly, revealing a thin line of your nude form in the mirror. Sylus bent down and put his head on your left shoulder, his eyes fixed on yours.

“You humour me, darling,” he huffed at your neck and straightened back up. “Let me ask you something.”

His hand turned your head to the side with a gentle push of his fingers against your chin, “Do you want me to apologize for this as well?”

When you were finally able to tear your eyes from his and look at your neck the air inside your lungs got trapped. A crimson red circle nestled itself comfortably between your neck and clavicle, and another one, but smaller, was right under it.

“And this?” Sylus’ hand gripped at the side of your robe that covered your chest and pulled it to the side. The skin of your right breast had a hickey and two distinctive bite marks, and the nipple seemed to be a darker shade than usual. When he bared your chest fully, sliding the robe off your shoulders, you saw a trail of love bites and red marks sprawled in a beautiful map all over your upper body and a shaky breath left your mouth.

“What about this?” Sylus gathered your robe and tugged it down to fall onto the floor, forgotten. He traced the marks on either side of your hips that resembled his fingers in a splatter of maroon hues and then he pulled at your inner thigh, prodding you to open your legs to reveal a bite that was blooming in a ruby red just below your cunt. “Your skin comes to its most tender when we’re away from each other for too long. Should I be begging for your forgiveness for all of this, my darling?”

“No,” the answer came naturally to you and so quick it subconsciously made you question things about yourself. Refusing his apology seemed easier than the act of breathing. Every mark on your body was telling you a story of the lovemaking you experienced with the man you so dearly missed during one of the busiest work weeks of your life. The one above your right nipple was when he uttered the very first proclamation of love that evening and the one above your hip, he gave you after he repeated himself for the fifth time. The bite on your inner thigh came when you were thrashing in his hands while he seemed to be devouring you whole, and by biting he attempted to persuade you to remain still. The traces of his fingers on either side of your hips were given to you when he grasped at your form as he fucked his release into you for the second time in a row, and you could have sworn this is what heaven would feel like if you were destined to see one. If you could frame this and put it on the wall, you would do it in a heartbeat.

Pulling you out of your trance, Sylus kissed you lightly on the shoulder, “Do you get it now? The marks you leave are my most prized possessions at the moment.”

His nose was now buried in your neck, as he breathed in your essence. The way he described it was so close to what you felt inside, but to you... All of the marks he left were just there. Even if they caused you any discomfort, they made you feel at home. The absolute massacre on his back couldn’t come anywhere near this feeling, right?

As if he could sense the formation of bubbling self-loathing thoughts dimming the brightness of this moment Sylus locked his eyes with yours once again.

“Well, if you’re going to be stubborn about it, I have no other choice but to prove my stance on the matter,” with that he spun you around and hoisted you up by the hips, making your rear land on a marble table adjoined with the sink. You yelped at the sudden change in positions, but still wrapped your legs around him almost instinctively.

“What are you doing?” your hands remained to either side of your legs while the man caressed your waist and back.

“I’m going to fuck you now and you are going to enjoy every second,” the bluntness of his words caught you off guard. He seemed amused by the way your eyes were blown wide, so he chuckled before continuing.

“I will make you claw at my back again even if it is the last thing I do on this damned planet, kitten. After all, there’s no such thing as too much treasure,” he started kissing your neck and guided your hand from the table to rest on his shoulder. When your fingertips met the hot skin of his back it was like someone emptied a bucket of ice-cold water over your head.

“Sylus, no!” you snatched your hand away from his grasp and put it on his chest, pushing firmly. “Those are too fresh, I don’t want to cause you pain!”

“The only pain I feel right now,” he held your hand and pushed it in the centre of his chest, “is here. The pain of my beloved refusing to ruin me.”

“Sylus, please...”

“Stop worrying and let me make you feel good,” the look in his eyes was full of love and raw unparalleled need. “Will you?”

He pushed himself between your thighs and when you looked down you could see the front of the towel bulging around his crotch. Did he get all riled up this quickly?

“Seeing your body adorned with my marks makes me want to leave even more of them. I just wish you’d return the sentiment,” the words were practically purred against your ear and if you weren’t wet and ready before, you definitely were now. He nuzzled his nose against your hair, inhaling deeply, and then he strayed lower, to the side of you neck that had the most of the marks. Before you could even think about containing your strangled moan it left your mouth in a breathy sensual manner, as he attached his lips to the reddened spot that was already there. As he sucked and nibbled at it, you put the heels of your feet into his back, pulling him flash against your bare cunt.

“Sylus…”

“Yes, dear?” The mark he disturbed was blurring your mind and you had to take a deep breath to focus your eyes on the surroundings.

Oh, also that feigned innocence in his voice made your blood boil. There he stood in all his glory, grinding his hard length against you, making you whine and hunger for more. The towel around his hips was surely ruined with how slick you were. You pushed yourself impossibly close to him and moved your hips, both hands now resting on his chest.

“If there’s something you desire, you need only ask,” he whispered in your ear and you went limp. How does he manage to pull at every possible string to unravel you in the span of a few minutes? This man was out of this world.

“Take this off,” your hand went down his abdomen and tugged at the white cotton cloth.

“Ah, I see, someone’s eager,” Sylus smiled down at you smugly and quickly undid the knot, finally freeing his erect length out of its confines.

“Yes, you are,” with that you wrapped your hand around his girthy hard cock and started leisurely pumping it up and down. The few drops of precum were forming at the very tip and you eagerly used whatever lubrication they provided. Sylus hissed at your little torture and bucked his hips into your hand ever so slightly, before he suddenly let out that rich, delicious laugh.

“As much as I love you doing that, this is not the part of my body I need your hands on now,” he swiftly freed himself from your grasp and started pulling your hand upwards. Your fingers brushed a splatter of white hair that were trailing up to his navel, then his hard abs, then it was his pecs, flexing enticingly and after followed the beautiful curve and dip of his clavicle and neck. And, when your hand reached the back of his shoulder, your body stilled.

“I think my kitten needs something else to focus on,” his hand left yours to stay flat on the top of his shoulder and then he moved his own south, between your bodies pressed tightly against each other. When the tips of his fingers touched your clit you grasped at his shoulder tightly, while your other hand flew to his bicep instead. “So wet for me, good girl.”

Sylus flicked at your bundle of nerves, drawing fast, hard circles around it before dipping his hand lower, allowing himself to sink into your welcoming heat with just a single finger at first. When your walls flattered around him and your head got thrown back, you found yourself pressed into his other hand, as he cradled the back of your head, not letting it come into contact with the cold wall behind.

“Careful there, sweetie,” he murmured as his ring finger joined his middle one in stretching you out. Every thrust of his hand felt like torture, his thumb circled your clit drawing more and more whimpers out of your mouth and Sylus just watched. Drinking in every expression, every emotion, every twitch of your face contorting in pleasure. When he curled his fingers inside you, prodding at that sweet spot, you had to pull every ounce of self-control to not dig your fingernails into his exposed skin. Instead, you dragged your hand into a fist and bit you lip.

“Oh, no, that won’t do,” he lowered his head and bit down on your neck, hard and angry. You wailed in his embrace, walls cramping around his digits as your hips were trying to get more friction than he was providing, but the feeling of his teeth sinking into your skin like a honey comb made your insides tremble.

“Sylus! Sylus, ah, please!”

“Hm,” he raised his head and looked at you through half-lidded eyes incredulously. “What was that, kitten? Do you want me to stop?”

At that you put the hand on the back of his head and pushed it against the other side of your neck, “Again. Do this again.”

“But you were screaming just now, I thought I accidentally hurt you, my sweet,” the sarcasm that was dripping from his voice almost made you snarl. What an arse. You pulled at his head again and crushed his lips into yours. Not wasting any time, you plunged your tongue into his mouth, lapping hungrily, while your hips kept riding his hand. Sylus chuckled against your lips, but complied and engaged in the dance you initiated. The hand he kept behind your head was slowly withdrawn, allowing you to cool against the marble wall, while he grasped at the back of your neck, pulling you closer.

Your hands remained still, caging his neck but not moving, only caressing his soft skin, and Sylus realized that you were still holding onto that wicked idea of restraining your primal urges. This annoyed him to no end, so he started parting his fingers within you, stretching your walls that were so snuggly enveloping him in their warmth. The moan you let out when you felt it almost made him spill right that moment and it took an insane amount of self-control to prevent it. He growled in your neck when his hips twitched, and the head of his cock prodded against your glistening folds. But what actually grounded him in that moment was the sensation of your hand, dragging between his shoulder blades. There. He had you.

Even though it was just the position of your hand and no actual pressure, he knew that you were close to caving in. He just needed to use the right push. He gave your clit a few more circles with his thumb and freed his hand from its warm prison and the disappointed huff you let out was easily the sweetest thing he ever heard.

“You are being mean,” you whined looking up at him, not even realizing that both of your hands were now touching his back.

Sylus raised the hand he was pleasuring you with to his lips and opened his mouth. The way he started slowly sucking at the slender digits put you in a sort of trance. Even if a wanderer burst through a near wall, screaming and wailing, you wouldn’t be able to tear your gaze away from his blissed-out expression as he tasted your wetness on his fingers. This was diabolical, filthy, lewd and so. damn. sexy.

When he was satisfied with the clean appearance of his hand, he freed his mouth and looked down at you hungrily, “I wish you could see yourself right now, sweet thing. You look absolutely ravishing.”

“Ravish me, then,” you called, you voice coming out more needy than you intended.

“Bold kitten. I like that,” he lowered his head and pressed a chaste peck on your lips. “But I need you to promise me something before I comply.”

“Anything,” if he wanted the world, you would give it to him. If he wanted the world to burn, you would char it until nothing but ashes remained.

“Do not,” he looked down and took his cock in one hand, positioning it right at your entrance, “hold yourself,” the tip smeared against your folds, getting coated with a good layer of slick that covered them, “back.”

When he finished the phrase you choked on a sob, eyes wet, and round, and pleading, “I won’t, I promise. Sylus, I need to feel you, please. Please…”

“Alright then,” and finally, finally you felt it, inch by agonizing inch of his hard member entering your greedy pussy. There was no point in containing your moans, not with him. You pressed your forehead against his, seeing his eyes pinned to the sight of your body stretching out to accommodate his girth. That in itself was a work of art for him, your body a perfect fit. When he bottomed out, he felt your hands on his back digging into his skin ever so slightly and in that moment, he swore he could see stars.

“Remember, darling, you promised,” suddenly his hands were on your hips and his eyes were locked with yours. He started pulling his cock out slowly, almost lazily, before slumming his hips back inside with a hard thrust. And still, your hands remained motionless, even when your eyes rolled back in extasy. That wasn’t enough. He needed more. Sylus put his other hand on your breasts, massaging it and making your nipple pebble, then he dipped his head and sucked it into his mouth. Your walls spasmed around his cock and the sensation made him straighten back up to look into your eyes.

“You are so fucking tight, sweetie,” he breathed out heavily. “So fucking good for me.”

“Sylus, please…”

“What is it, my heart?”

“Harder…” was all you could manage to say. The way he was rocking your world with every movement should have left an impression of being “too much” if someone were to look upon the two of you, but in reality, it was hardly enough. The hunger you felt for this man could never be satiated, not even when you felt like his cock was sure to pierce you all the way to your throat.

He laughed, one of your favourite sounds to come from him, second only to that little moan you once heard him letting out when he fucked you from behind.

“Insatiable little thing,” he left your breast alone and pressed the tips of his fingers to your clit instead. The pace he built was brutal, not fast, just brutal. With every thrust he seemed to enter deeper and deeper. “You are not holding up to your end of the deal, my love. I don’t want your nails digging into your palms,” he took one of your hands, tugging it in front of your face. It was true, the hand was clenched in a fist, knuckles white, and it was only then you felt the pain seeping through your skin. Sylus straightened your fingers, his hips not slowing down for a second, and then he placed your hand on his back once again. “Ruin me. Ruin me and I will ruin you.”

You pulled at his head instead and crushed him with your lips. Biting hard, you hungrily sucked on the bottom one as he returned the favour by going for your top lip. He started moving your hips with his hand, letting you fuck yourself on his cock, every vein and ridge made you moan into his mouth. You weren’t kissing him; you were trying to eat this man alive. Merge him with yourself, mould him against your own body so you would never part. He would let you, he would gladly be yours, but at the moment he was quick to figure out the game you were playing. Suddenly, his movements stilled and he tore his lips away from yours. You looked at him, squinting and tugging at his neck once again, but he didn’t budge.

“This is not what I meant,” he exhaled sharply when your walls spasmed around him, urging him to move again, but he persisted, staying still, his dick nestled inside you, torturing you by the lack of motion. “You probably still think that the marks on my back cause me pain. Well, allow me to put your mind at ease, sweetheart. I want to feel it. I want to feel my skin burn every time the fabric of my shirt touches it. I want your marks to sink so deep into my back they never fade away. I need every breath I take to be a reminder of how good I made you feel,” the fervour with which he was saying it made your heart beat faster. “Can you do that for me? Please, darling. Be a good kitten and use,” he pulled himself out of your heat almost entirely, “your,” both of his hands lifted you off the table by your hips, “claws,” and with that last word he quickly hoisted you up and just as quickly he dropped you down on his cock. That new angle alone made the entire room go white; you screamed so loudly it left ringing in your ears.

Instinctively, your hands went to steady yourself on his shoulders and when he dropped you down again you lost your balance and fell on him from above. Your hands slipped, and now you were clinging onto his back like a marionette, whose every string was pulled by the very man who was rearranging your insides with every thrust. Your hands gripped, and ripped, and clawed, the cries coming out of your mouth lost all sense and meaning. You screamed every word that came to mind. Please. Yes. There. More. More. More. And then, there was his name. Oh, his name was the most frequent on your lips. And in return you heard your very own called by the deep and demanding tone. Every time your nails scraped at his skin, he hit the spot inside you a little harder, his pelvis rubbing your clit with more precision, so you indulged him.

The deep red of his back went deeper still, as you clung to the only thing that could ground you right now. As you went all in on the expanse of his back, Sylus groaned and stepped towards the wall. One of his hands left your body. He was insanely strong, as he still managed to fuck you up and down on his cock with just one arm. As he cradled your head once again to ensure you wouldn’t hit your head on the impact, he threw the two of you against the wall.

You scratched his back one more time, and his cock bullied its head against your cervix, now hitting impossibly deep within your quivering walls. Then, you buried one of your hands in his silver locks, pulling on them and making his lips pop with a loud noise while you practically dragged him away from your neck. You knew there would be a new mark blooming when the sun rises.

“Is this what you wanted?” you asked with a ragged breath and another drag of your nails across the plain of his back. His eyes... Oh, these gorgeous red orbs rolled back in ecstasy and you almost came undone by the sheer sight of pleasure contorting his face.

“Ye— Yes...”

Your pussy cramped around his cock involuntarily. You never had a chance to hear him sound this desperate, this needy, this pathetic. Now that was the hottest thing to be heard, you were certain.

“I’ve ruined you, my love,” you placed a gentle kiss on the corner of his mouth, not stopping the rolling motion of your hips, as you rubbed yourself against him. “It’s only fair you return the favour.”

He released the back of your head gently, only to wrap his fingers around your throat, squeezing lightly, as his lips collided with yours in a fervent, searing kiss. His tongue invaded your mouth, moving in and out, matching the pace of his hips, swallowing every moan you had to offer. If you thought the pace he set before was brutal, now it just got downright vicious. You were glad you had a break from work, because tomorrow you won’t be able to stand, let alone walk. Sylus lost himself completely, with your hands now under his arms, clawing at the middle of his back and your lips so soft on his own, he felt not like a man, but a sacrifice. A sacrifice to the most divine creatures of all in his world — you.

The hand on your neck travelled down and down, past the valley of your breasts and your navel, to tangle in a splatter of hair you had above your cunt and then he found you clit, stimulating it with a few flicks of his fingers. Your entire body tensed and you tore yourself away from his lips.

“Sylus! Too... Too much, I can’t—”

“Relax, you can handle it, sweetie. Here, bite down on my shoulder,” you didn’t stop to think about his proposal, you just went for it as his hand guided you lower. In the state you were in right now he could have told you to do a handstand and you would oblige. You sank your teeth into his skin and it did help you steady your spinning mind, but the groan that fell from Sylus’ lips went straight down to your soaked cunt. The release that had been building up in your lower stomach for quite some time suddenly erupted, and hot tears fell from your eyes as you felt his hips stutter. Your walls spasmed, and clenched, and begged for him to fill you up, while his cock dragged, and moved, and prayed for them to keep on going. In that silent exchange of pleas, you found yourself limp against his moving form, but still desperately clinging to his body. He kept rubbing your clit to prolong the waves of orgasm that shook you. You dropped your head on his shoulder, one hand in his hair, soothing your man tenderly and the other still on his back.

“I’m close,” he huffed through gritted teeth and you knew it was true, because his thrusts had grown erratic and unpredictable.

“Please, Sylus,” you whispered in his ear. “Please, come inside me. I need to feel you. Now,” you dragged your hand from his left shoulder to the right, leaving a new trail of red lines on his back and that was enough for Sylus to press you flat against the wall as he emptied himself inside your flattering cunt. He was coming for a long time, probably the longest you’ve ever felt him come and it inflated your ego to a whole new level. He filled you so deliciously, the warmth that bloomed inside your stomach made the world around you spin. When he finally stilled, dump forehead pressed against your shoulder, you cooed and kissed him on the temple.

“Thank you,” you said, your voice rasp from all the screams he had pulled out of your sore throat. You felt the mess you made between the two of you, because his release was now dripping from your hole, still stretched around his softened length.

“No, darling, thank you,” he kissed you tenderly on the mouth and brow, before looking deep into your eyes.

You were standing there in each other’s embrace, eyes locked in the soft and quiet exchange of love. You smiled and he licked his lips, looking at you, mesmerized. That was your favourite part of having sex with Sylus. The moments after. In the fading heat of pleasure, the flares of love you shared were almost palpable. When he shifted ever so slightly under you, you winced. Yes, in the fading heat there was also the aftermath of your activities to consider, because your plump and tender folds seemed to be screaming for a break.

Sylus saw the expression on your face and caressed your cheek slowly with a thumb, “I’m going to pull out now, brace yourself on my shoulders and I’ll carry you to a bath.”

You did as he bid you and soon you found yourself seated in a bubbly warm water, while Sylus hugged you from behind, tenderly washing away any sweat and cum that still remained on your body. When he washed between your thighs, he was extremely careful, whispering sweet things into your ear, pulling all of your attention to his words, and not the tingling sensation that gathered there. You were still sore and he couldn’t allow you to seduce him into another round, for your own sake.

“I want to wash your back,” you said after a while. He hummed and pushed you away from him, so he could turn around and kneel in the bath. When you saw his skin, your jaw dropped. Every line, every scratch and every mark screamed ‘mine’ scribbled in your writing. The pang of guilt still remained, nestled deep within your heart, but it wasn’t as loud as when you first entered the bathroom. Now, to counter it there were the sounds Sylus made as he slammed you harder into the wall every time you touched his back, and that little “Yes” that he whimpered… Some day this will be your undoing.

You ran the water from the shower head nearby, cold and soothing, and he murmured something about it feeling nice. You gingerly patted his shoulders, the middle of his back and then lower, as the markings turned light pink. You tried to hold yourself off, but the urge to kiss them was stronger, so you lowered your head attaching your lips to the centre of his back, tenderly.

“Kitten…”

There it was, that smooth voice you would die for.

“Yes, my love?”

“What are you doing?”

“Admiring my work.”

His head snapped to the side as he tried to catch your eyes with his, attempting to find a single hint of lying, but there was none. It was true, the idea of him being in any sort of discomfort because of you still rubbed you the wrong way, but the fact that he himself enjoyed it. This allowed you to enjoy it a tiny bit as well.

The two of you got out of the shower some time later, Sylus wrapped you in a towel and directed you to find another bathrobe in the closet he specifically filled with every possible thing you could have a need to wear. You picked the white nightgown and a robe that was going all the way to your ankles, foregoing the underwear. Who knows, the night is still young.

Sylus came out of the shower completely naked, drying his hair with a towel. As he entered his closet and secured a bathrobe with a belt he walked up to you, a soft smile on his lips, “Are you hungry? It dawned on me I haven’t fed you anything since you stepped into the N109 zone.”

“Well, technically, you did feed me something,” you teased, reminiscing the way he had you on your knees earlier that evening.

A throaty laugh reverberated in a dimly lit room, “That can hardly count as nourishing, sweetie. Come, I’ll cook something for you.”

As you were sitting on a kitchen counter Sylus sliced at vegetables and herbs he planned to add to the meat that was searing on the stainless steal skillet, periodically checking on the water he left to boil for pasta. You hummed the lines of the song that has been stuck in your head for a while…

“Through the cold, I’ll find my way back to you… Oh, please, give me mercy no more…”

Your melodic singing was abruptly cut by a grating assault on the next set of notes, “That’s a kindness you can’t afford…”

You decided to let the singing part slide and instead focused your attention on the line Sylus chimed in with, “You know this song?”

“That’s my favourite one on the album,” the smile on his lips was almost suggestive, as he dropped a box of farfalle into the boiling water.

“You’re kidding!”

“No, he’s not,” two voices cut in. The twins marched into the kitchen with Mephisto flying in after them. The bird landed on a table and cawed loudly.

“He blasts it each time it comes on queue,” Kieran said matter-of-factly.

“Boss, the deal is done.”

“Yeah, we gathered all the intel you required, the papers are in your office.”

“Good,” Sylus tossed the vegetables in for a sauté. “Wash your hands now, the two of you.”

“Oooh! You’re our chef tonight! What’s for dinner?” Luke hopped to Sylus’ side on one foot. Despite the fact that these two were dealing with some dangerous things on the daily, they seemed to be still very childish and carefree; you found it endearing.

Kieran walked up to you and said, “Bossman loves to sing that particular song in the shower. See, the vents go right under my room, so I know what I’m talking about.”

You almost choked on the water you were sipping. Good thing the twins were out for business, because them hearing what you and Sylus had been up to in his shower was the last thing you’d want.

“Ahem, wow, poor you,” you said, setting the glass down.

“Poor? Kitten, he should count himself lucky! I don’t often give off private concerts.”

“Yeah, I’m lucky alright,” Kieran said aloud before adding a strangled whisper only for you to hear, “Lucky to survive.”

“Remind me to cut your allowance in half,” of course Sylus heard that.

“No need, bossman, your voice is my favourite sound to wake up to,” Kieran said it so sweetly you almost believed it yourself.

You stifled a laugh and watched the twins leaving the room, presumably to change and wash their hands. When Sylus served the three of you the dinner, he so attentively prepared, you finally realized how hungry you were. The plate was clean within minutes. When everyone was done with their supper the twins started working on cleaning the kitchen while the two of you watched as Mephisto walked from one end of the table to the other, cawing every so often. When the bird walked up to Sylus he patted its head with his finger.

“Thanks for assistance, buddy, she appeared here according to your meticulous calculations,” he whispered under his breath.

“Hey, I heard that! So you did sent him after all!”

“Guilty as charged,” Sylus laughed, mockingly throwing his hands up in the air. “Are you cross with me, sweetheart? There’s always a way for you to take it out on me.”

His right hand reached across his chest and Sylus patted himself on the back. Your cheeks turned bright red.

“Animal,” you huffed and rolled your eyes.

“Don’t let it in with no intention to keep it, sweetie.”

“Seriously? I thought we gave you enough time,” Luke cried from the side of the sink.

“Don’t eavesdrop!” Kieran hit him on the head with a wooden spoon and the two of you sitting at the table burst out laughing at their banter.

When Sylus and you retreated back to his room you collapsed on the bad exhausted, the soreness between your thighs finally let itself known and you complained loudly.

“I have a few things in mind that could ease the pain,” Sylus suggested cheekily.

“Do any of these things involve your face buried between my legs?” you asked settling yourself comfortably as Sylus spooned you.

“A couple of them do, after all I haven’t had any dessert after such a filling dinner,” he murmured in your ear.

“Sounds tempting but right now I just want to sleep. Don’t leave my side,” the last sentence was a command and it made the man chuckle.

“As you wish. Do you have anywhere you need to be tomorrow?”

“No, I’m free till twenty-fifth,” you mumbled.

“Oh, that means we’ve got the whole week!”

“Yeah, that will get my hole weak,” the words fell from your mouth before you could catch them. Damn the internet and damn those witty comments.

“What was that?” he laughed in your ear and you squirmed.

“Nothing! Go to sleep!”

“Alright, alright. But as soon as we wake up, I’ll start planning a quick getaway for us, just you and me. You deserve a break after all the work they’ve put you through,” he kissed the top of your head. “Sweet dreams, kitten.”

“Good night, my love…” those were the last words you uttered, blissfully content with the feeling of the warm body pressed against yours from behind. The marks on your skin were tingly and hot, but they felt like a map leading to the discovery of your treasured love, whose soft breath was landing on your head every other moment and whose hands were holding you like you were the most important thing in the whole wide world. So, you didn’t mind them. You didn’t mind at all.

A/N p.2.: is sylus a masochist? idk don't ask me. well, he did ask mc to kill him once, just saying.

© All rights reserved. You DO NOT have my permission to translate, plagiarize, copy, modify, republish my work or repost it on any other platform in any way.

[ukulelegodparent]

I think a thing that is criminally overlooked in a lot of fantasy world building (and when it's done it's often done badly) is dancing. Like dancing was such an important element of polite society. It played such a huge role in people's lives. Like literally for a lot of European history you really didn't have someone who'd explicitly teach you manners (as a noble/upper class person) bc that was the job of your dance teacher. In the baroque era how to walk properly, how to sit properly, how to greet people on the street, that was all considered a form of dancing.

And it was in many ways considered almost a more important skill for men than for women at times. On the one hand because dancing teaches you a lot about balance and if you are living at a time where sword fighting is in any way still considered a relevant prestigious skill for men, you should really have impeccable dancing skills. A lot of sword fighting manuals explicitly talk about how it is good for a fighter to also be able to dance well BC it will drastically improve their footwork. And also all that complicated footwork in many dances? If you're wearing a long dress nobody is gonna see what your legs are doing. But if you're wearing pants or (more likely) hot pants and stockings, people will see what your feet are doing and judge you for it.

It was considered the thing that teaches you how to move your body with grace. How to keep your posture.

I am exhausted by the amount of times I've had to read about feasts in novels without there being any mention of dancing. My brother in Christ THE DANCING IS LIKE THE MAIN REASON FOR HAVING A FEAST. Dancing was how you met people, how you snuck in a conversation. When Elisabeth Bennet complains, that Mister Darcy doesn't talk while dancing this is BC that is what dancing was for. Especially Playford Longways are notorious for this BC in most of them one couple has very little to do while the other is dancing a lot. These days many dancing masters use variations of these dances where couple two has more to do, because these days the balls where these dances are danced are generally not to find a potential partner in marriage but rather BC you enjoy dancing.

So please please please, make your characters dance more. And don't make them not dance bc they are not 'girly' and don't make them be bad at dancing without there being a good reason for it and without other people making it a thing. (Aka if they can't dance BC of a disability that is fine. If they can't dance bc of their low standing or BC they can't be bothered to learn this will be considered a moral failing). They can not like dancing. They can be bad at it BC they have two left feet and no sense for rhythm. But please make them dance. And if you point out particularly bad dancers, please, maybe consider also pointing out incredibly good dancers.

For some examples through the ages: we have Lo Spagnoletto, a 16th century Italian dance written down by Cesare Negri, La Bourgogne (one of the more important dances of the Baroque era, here without period clothes, but notice both the arm and foot work. I am learning this one right now and even the feet alone are so difficult to get right) or the Quadrille Francaise, one of the most important dances of the 19th century, here in a version that is like I learned it, although very ballet-like (and I am told very Italian, but the person I learn 19th century dancing from is on a lot of balls in Italy so it makes sense that he has that style of dancing. This is another thing: even when dances themselves were widespread different styles still emerge and are still present/redeveloping today. 19th century dances are danced very differently in Russia compared to say the UK) or here in a version that doesn't require quite as much waiting by having all four couples do everything at the same time.

Now, do note that these (except for the Quadrille) are generally considered to be the more difficult dances of their time. At least in the modern historical dance community. Many people dance only Arbeau (a French 16th century dancing master who wrote perhaps the most well known 16th century source on dancing, the Orchésographie) and John Playford (who published the Arbon dancing master, which is a very important source for baroque dances, although it should be said, that Playford is often danced with very simple steps, BC his descriptions are very minimal but in the scientific community it is generally believed that this is BC it was assumed that people knew the proper steps that are described in more detail in other dancing manuals of the time)

If you have any questions about dancing please feel free to ask me. I am far from an expert but I have been doing this for many years now, I have read some dancing manuals and I have experience with dances spanning several centuries.

[indigosfindings]

(a) i'll confess that my phrasing was hyperbolic & that may have impacted clarity, but i still think it rhetorically sums up the thing that undertale spends most of its runtime trying to be--deploying the aesthetics & accoutrements of RPGs as the frame for what is principally an experience of narrative, humour, & character where game mechanics generally take a backseat (and to repeat myself for clarity, i dont think any of that is a bad thing--avowed VN Enjoyer) & (b) i mean, im not gonna deny that i like challenge & think it's a noble ambition in game design, that's something ive been pretty consistent about over the years. there are enjoyable qualities of the sans & undyne fights that are not strictly "They Are Challenging", but those traits are admittedly difficult to extricate from challenge considering that "they demand your attention (via difficulty)" is a huge part of what makes them shine so much, which i think is something special & artful--but even if i didnt think they were the *best* parts of the game, my point that they are fun (& generally agreed to be fun) in a manner that undercuts the central theming still stands. your grievance seems to be with the semantics of my rhetoric rather than the substance of my argument

like, im not gonna fault you if your prerogative is making the rpg equivalent of, like, a walking simulator or whatever--that's a perfectly viable ambition. but if youre willing & able to compose a genuine challenge for that game, i think it's strange & inadvisable to limit it to (what great effort is taken to remind the player is) the Worst Route. the eclectic didacticism of that route is at odds with its actual contents--like, if you're trying to make the (agreeable!) assertion that the completionist max-stats overleveling approach trivializes & monotonizes gameplay & challenge, you probably dont then want to lock the best parts of your game behind doing that, right??

[redroomreflections]

Paint It Black Chapter Six

Teen Natasha Romanoff x Teen Reader

Masterlist | General Masterlist

Summary: Natasha Romanoff has never known love—or at least, that’s what she tells herself. During her time in the Red Room, she encountered a girl whose memory was forcibly erased from her mind. Now, as an Avenger, she faces a new enemy who turns out to be more than just a threat; they share a tangled history that challenges everything Natasha thought she knew about herself and love.

Chapter Summary: Natasha learns that she and R aren't friends

W/c: 3.9k

Warnings: This is a dark story, so read at your own risk. Mentions/hints of SA, violence, guns, and abuse. We're exploring the Red Room and Natasha's origins, kind of. MENTIONS OF STERILIZATION

Dreykov was, by all means, a busy man. With a facility of over two hundred girls to keep track of, he needed precision in every aspect of his "business." The girls rarely saw him unless he found one interesting. And as you knew, you were his topic of interest, along with Natasha.

On days like today, he'd pull you into his office and have you sit with and observe him. It was all part of his game, and it was working. You were scared shitless, and you tried not to show it. You sat up straight, shoulders squared and hands folded on your lap. The air in his office was tense, but you wouldn't give him the satisfaction of seeing your fear.

You weren't a scared little girl. Not anymore. There were papers stacked in neat piles on his desk, reports on training progress, mission briefings, and names with numbers beside them—statistics, not people. You didn’t have to look closely to know what they meant.

You were looking at him, watching his hands shuffle through the files, and he was aware of it. His gaze was trained on the paper in his hands, and you didn't miss the ghost of a smirk on his face. You were staring again. You knew better.

You tore your eyes away, pointing to the glass case on the wall beside his head. This was also a part of his game. Making you wait there. Making you sit with him and keep your attention on him. It was all part of making you afraid, and you knew that. So instead, you focused on the objects in the glass case, the shiny things inside. A gold ring, a necklace with a ruby pendant, and a gun.

You heard the shuffling of papers, then silence.

"You understand, don’t you?" he mused, flipping a page without looking at you. You hadn't realized he'd even spoken. You directed your gaze to his. His eyes were still trained on the paper, and a chill ran up your spine. He finally looked at you, and there was something dark in his expression.

"I do, sir," you told him, your voice soft. "I understand."

"Do you?" He leaned forward, folding his hands on the desk.

You nodded, swallowing thickly.

"My Widows are some of the best in the world," He mused to himself mostly. He truly didn't care if you responded, you think. You nodded. It was always better to agree."This is how control is maintained. Not through brute force alone, but through order." He gestured vaguely to the reports. "Through strategy."

He stood, the sound of his chair scraping against the floor cutting through the silence. He walked around the desk and came to stand behind you, placing his hands on your shoulders. His breath was warm on your neck, and you shuddered.

"Your training has been going well," His voice was soft and low, and he pressed his lips to your ear. "You're useful to me." He said.

You knew he only said these things to make you feel good, but it worked. The praise washed over you, and you suppressed a smile. You had to fight the urge to lean into him and instead sat still as stone.

"Thank you, sir," you replied, your voice quiet.

He hummed, his fingers brushing the back of your neck. He was so close.

"I think I need two things from you," He whispered, his breath tickling your skin.

"And what are those, sir?"

"I will be sending Natasha Romanoff on her first mission," He continued, and you tensed. "I would like for you to watch her. You're a valuable asset to me. If she fails, it could jeopardize my operation."

"Yes, sir." You wondered why he didn't just send one of the older widows.

"You'll leave tomorrow," he said. "I have a few other matters to attend to." He looked down at you with a heavy gaze. "And I want to speak with you privately."

"Yes, sir," you replied, meeting his stare. His hand was still on your shoulder, his thumb tracing circles into your skin. You felt goosebumps rising where he touched. He was so close. You wanted to move away from him. You wanted to shrink away from his touch.

But you didn't.

You were trained not to.

So you sat there, waiting for him to move, but he didn't. He just watched you, his eyes raking over your form.

You shifted under his gaze. "Is there something wrong, sir?"

He blinked as if pulled from a thought. His grip tightened, fingers pressing down until the weight of his hand became unbearable—until it felt like he was pinning you to the chair.

There was a knock at the door, and the tension snapped in half. Whatever pain you were about to endure by his hands could wait.

Dreykov pulled back, his expression unreadable. "Enter."

"Antonia and Georgina are here, sir," A soldier announced.

He exhaled sharply as he had already forgotten this interruption was coming. He gestured the soldier away. "Send her in."

The woman who entered wasn’t much older than you. Maybe seventeen. Maybe eighteen. Former Widow. You recognized her. Not her name, but her face.

In her arms, she carried a little girl.

Brown hair. Brown eyes. Wet cheeks.

Antonia.

Dreykov’s daughter.

The child clung to the woman’s neck, her tiny hands fisting into the fabric of her shirt. The woman didn’t look at Dreykov or even acknowledge his presence. But the moment her wide eyes landed on you, her expression darkened.

She knew you.

And she didn’t like you.

The woman set the child down on the floor and stepped away. Dreykov didn't take his eyes off you, but he spoke to the girl, his tone stern. "Come here, Antonia."

The child obeyed, shuffling her little feet over to the desk. She stood before it, staring up at her father. Dreykov turned to the child, and the corner of his lips tugged upwards.

"How was your lesson?" he asked her.

Antonia didn't answer. She was staring at her shoes, her face a mess of tears. "I didn't like the teacher." She mumbled.

Dreykov chuckled. "You mustn't cry, my dear," he said, reaching out and placing his hand on the girl's head. She flinched at his touch but didn't pull away."It's a weakness." He finished.

His hand fell from the child's head, and his eyes flickered to you. "You can go," he said, nodding toward the door.

You stood quickly, practically tumbling over your feet in a rush to leave the room. It felt weird seeing Dreykov be almost fatherly to the little girl. You moved quickly, your legs carrying you out of his office before you could even process the tightness in your chest. The door clicked shut behind you, sealing him in with her.

Antonia couldn’t be older than five. Still small enough to be carried in someone’s arms. Still young enough to cry without shame. But even now, she was learning that weakness wasn’t allowed. Learning that flinching at his touch meant nothing if she didn’t pull away.

She was the spitting image of her father. The same sharp features. The same cold eyes. But there was something of Georgina in her, too, softer and fragile.

Not that it mattered.

Not in this place.

You clenched your fists, trying to shake off the unease creeping up your spine. Why was it bothering you? You’d seen Dreykov take an interest in girls before—handpicking, molding, turning them into weapons or something worse. You knew what happened to the women he kept.

Would Antonia be any different?

Would you?

The thought made your stomach churn.

There was no leaving. No, after this life. You had always known that. You had never wanted to be one of them. The women who stayed by his side. The ones who weren’t discarded but kept. The ones who belonged to him in a way that no mission, assignment, or Widow ever could.

Georgina had once been like you. A favorite. Chosen. And now, she was nothing more than an extension of his will, an obedient shell.

You swallowed hard.

Would that be you one day?

Would there come a time when you stopped fighting? When you let him own you completely?

*******

Natasha didn’t particularly have a least favorite lesson until she was introduced to the different aspects of beauty.

She had been inducted into makeup.

It was a class for the older girls—a technique designed to make them appear more mature, polished, and useful. A skill not just for blending in but for becoming exactly what was needed.

She sat stiffly in front of the mirror, her expression carefully blank. The instructor, an older woman with hard lines carved into her face, stood beside her. Her voice was sharp and clinical, rattling off step-by-step instructions like they were assembling a weapon.

“Foundation first.” A compact was placed in front of her. “You need a flawless base.”

Natasha dipped the sponge into the powder, pressing it against her skin. It felt foreign, suffocating. The fine dust clung to her, sinking into the grooves of her face. She tried not to grimace.

“Now, the eyes.” A pencil, cool and sharp, was handed to her. “Liner should be subtle. Just enough to make them striking.”

She dragged it along her waterline, the unfamiliar pressure making her blink rapidly. Her fingers twitched to wipe it away. She wasn't sure she was doing this correctly. Her hands were unsteady and uncoordinated.

"Good. Now mascara. Don’t blink too much."

Natasha obeyed. She always obeyed.

Lipstick came last. A deep shade of red—bold, adult. She hesitated for half a second before pressing it to her lips, dragging it across.

"Perfect." The instructor stepped back to assess her. Natasha met her gaze in the mirror, and something cold settled in her stomach.

She looked different. Older. Sharper. Someone else entirely.

"How does it feel?"

The words sat on the tip of her tongue. Wrong. Too much. Like I can't breathe.

Instead, she answered, "Fine."

The instructor nodded approvingly. "You'll get used to it."

"Madam," Natasha pondered. "Can I be excused?"

"For what reason?"

"I don't feel well."

The instructor's expression softened a fraction. She was not heartless. "Of course. Go. We'll continue this lesson another time."

Natasha slid out of the chair, careful not to smudge the lipstick, and fled. She didn’t know where she was going but needed an out. She was headed for the infirmary, hoping she could feign a headache to receive a little time away, when she noticed you walking into the room. She moved herself against the wall, making herself as small as possible to avoid seeing you. She was still upset about the other day. You'd told her to bomb the match so she wouldn't be sent on a mission. In theory, it sounded great. Missions weren't her favorite thing to do here. But then she'd gotten punished for not putting in her all. The instructors weren't happy, so they gave her extra work and made her clean the training rooms. She didn't have a problem with doing it. It was the fact that she hadn't known she'd be moving up a rank.

Moving up a rank in the Red Room meant something rare—trust.

Not freedom, not really, but a loosening of the reins. It meant she had proven herself competent and reliable. It meant fewer eyes watching her every move and fewer punishments for the smallest missteps. It meant they expected her to succeed now.

And she hadn’t even known.

Her stomach twisted. She pressed tighter against the wall, watching you disappear inside the infirmary.

You hadn’t warned her. Not about that.

You had told her to throw the match—to lose on purpose. And like a fool, she had listened. She thought she was playing it smart and avoiding something worse. Instead, she had humiliated herself. She had been reprimanded, punished, and set back. And yet, somehow, they were still sending her on a mission.

Natasha moved like a shadow, silent and unsure, as she pushed open the doors to the infirmary. There were no guards here at this time, and it seemed you knew, too. She pressed close to the wall, edging toward the cracked door like she had months ago. It wasn't like her to spy, but still, she needed to know more about you. She needed to know what she was dealing with.

******

You didn't know why your first stop was Nora's office. She was much too busy for your dramatics. But you needed the slightest bit of comfort she offered. The slightest bit of touch she would give when you would allow her. Nora was your favorite person in the Red Room. She wasn't stiff and cold like the other widows of her age. Nora was the closest thing you had to safe.

She wasn’t warm, not exactly—no one in the Red Room was—but she wasn’t cruel. She was blunt, whereas others were deceptive and awkward, and others were polished. She had been cycled through this place more times than you could count, yet somehow, she still had pieces of herself left.

That was why you came to her.

She didn’t coddle, didn’t pretend. She didn’t try to pry you open like a puzzle to be solved. She let you exist, let you take what you needed—whether it was silence, a brush of fingers over your wrist, or a conversation where neither of you said exactly what you meant.

"What is it?" she asked.

"Do you have any aspirin?"

Nora sighed. "Are you feeling unwell?"

"Yes," you told her, but it wasn't entirely true. Your head hurt, but it wasn't a physical ailment. It was the pressure, the constant fear, the unease. Of course, you couldn't tell her that. You hopped up on the exam table, watching as she typed away on her computer, and tried to steady your breathing.

She stood, rifling through the cabinet. "You're not supposed to have those," she told you, glancing at the screen. "But I think we can make an exception."

"Thank you." You reached for the pill bottle, but she shook her head.

"I'll get it," she said, handing you a small cup of water. She handed you the cup, all the while studying you closely until you drank the entire thing. "You're worried about something."

"I'm not," You said through clenched teeth.

She raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms.

"I'm not," You insisted. "I'm...tired."

She watched you closely. "It's not like you to ask for pain medication."

"I had a long day," You replied, looking down at your hands.

She nodded slowly, her eyes lingering on your face. "You've been tired a lot lately."

You shifted, avoiding her gaze. "Well, you try being fourteen and learning to be a Widow."

"I've done it three times," She muttered playfully. Nora hummed, letting the conversation settle for a moment before switching gears. "Andrey was asking about you again."

You barely held back a grimace. Of course, he was.

"He’s persistent," she added, her voice laced with something unreadable. Amusement? Annoyance? It was hard to tell with her sometimes.

You exhaled sharply, shaking your head. "He’s disgusting."

Nora’s brows lifted slightly, but she didn’t look surprised. "He’s useful."

You scoffed. "To who?"

"To you," she said simply. "Boys like him are predictable. You should use that."

You clenched your jaw, fingers curling against your palms. "I’d rather not. All boys his age want is one thing, and I'm not interested in giving it to him."

"That's not always true," Nora argued, her tone flat. "They're easy enough to control."

"Easy for you, maybe," you grumbled.

"And easy for you."

You sighed, shifting. "I don't want to do that if I don't have to." You mumbled, knowing that she would understand. "If I get too close, He'll take what he wants anyway."

Nora was quiet for a moment, her sharp eyes scanning your face. Then, she sighed. "That’s the way of things, isn’t it?"

You didn’t answer.

She leaned back slightly, exhaling through her nose. "I won’t tell you what to do. But I will tell you this—you should never let them see what you hate."

You swallowed, pressing your nails into your palms. "I know."

"And if he ever steps out of line—"

"I’ll handle it," you cut in.

Nora gave you a long look, then nodded. "Good."

After a beat, you asked, "Why does he like me so much?"

She could tell you weren't talking about Andrey anymore.

"Because you're special," Nora said, her tone softer than before.

You looked down at your hands before looking at her with shining eyes. "I don't want to be special." You shook your head. "I want the procedure." You said suddenly.

Nora’s expression didn’t change, but something in her eyes flickered—understanding, maybe, or something close to sorrow.

"You don’t mean that," she said, but there was no challenge in her voice. Just quiet certainty.

"I do," you insisted. Your throat felt tight. "I don’t want to be looked at like that. I don’t want to be wanted like that."

Nora exhaled slowly, studying you. "It won’t change everything," she said finally. "Not the way you think it will."

You swallowed hard. "But it would change something. I wouldn't end up like Georgina."

"It's too early," Nora denied you. "You've not graduated yet. You have two more years."

"And after that?" You pressed, trying to hide the desperation in your voice.

Nora frowned, her brow furrowing. "Why is this coming up now? What's happened?"

You didn't answer her.

"Y/N," She pressed.

"He's sending me on a mission," You muttered, looking down at the ground. "With a new girl. Natasha."

Nora's frown deepened. "I'm sorry," she said quietly.

You didn't speak for a moment. Then, you nodded, exhaling slowly. "It's okay," you told her. "I just...want something to change."

Nora didn't say anything for a moment. Her eyes were fixed on you, her expression unreadable.

"Have you ever wanted to be a mother?" you asked.

She blinked, taken aback by the sudden change of topic.

"I can't say I have," She answered truthfully.

You sighed. "Neither have I."

Nora didn't reply, just stared at you.

"Do you think my mother is still looking for me?" You asked. "If she could find me. If she were alive?"

"You've had a long day," Nora said instead of answering.

You let out a shaky breath, nodding.

"Go to your quarters," She instructed. "Try to rest."

"Yes, ma'am," you said, standing from the table. You glanced at the bottle of pills in her hand.

"One more," Nora said, placing it in your palm. "It will help you sleep."

"Thank you," you murmured.

She didn't reply; she just returned to the computer.

You made your way out of the room and back towards the hallway. You stopped short when you heard a shuffling behind you. You turned your head, glancing back towards the doorway.

Natasha was standing there.

Her eyes were wide, her face flushed.

"I knew you were there," You sighed, disappointed. "You really should work on being more subtle."

"What happened back there?" Natasha asked. "What procedure are you talking about?"

You studied her. She was curious. Always too curious.

You shook your head and walked away instead. When you first began talking to Natasha, you thought you could be close. You thought she was someone you could befriend. It was a stupid thought. A childish one.

No one here was your friend.

Not even Nora.

You weren't going to make the mistake of getting close to her again.

She was only a mission.

***

Natasha sat in the darkness of her room, the sound of your footsteps still echoing in her mind.

The procedure.

What was it?

And why did the thought of it terrify her?

It wasn't her business. It was none of her concern. And yet, it gnawed at her. Like an itch, she couldn't scratch like a splinter stuck beneath her skin.

You were a mystery to her. One she had thought she was slowly solving. But now, it felt like she knew even less than before. She exhaled sharply, shifting to sit cross-legged on her bed. Her body ached from the day's training, but she barely noticed. Her mind was elsewhere—on you, the secrets you carried, and what Dreykov wasn’t telling her.

And the mission.

Her first real mission since Ohio.

In just twelve hours, she’d be leaving the Red Room for the first time, sent into the world like a knife drawn from its sheath. Dreykov hadn’t given her many details—only that it was necessary. If you were going, that meant it mattered. You were almost two years older than her, more experienced, more trusted. You had done this before.

Natasha had not.

She could only hope she did well. 

******

A few hours later, Natasha hadn’t anticipated what would happen before the mission. Her briefing had been minimal. Cryptic at best.

She stood at the foot of her bed, head bowed, eyes lowered, waiting. The footsteps of a soldier approached, steady and unhurried. A blindfold was secured over her eyes—tight, rough fabric pressing into her skin. She didn’t flinch. She would have to get used to this.

Hands gripped her arm, guiding her forward. She followed without resistance. She was pushed into the back of a van, her body colliding with another.

Your voice came, low and steady, near her ear.

"Don’t panic. It’s just to keep us from knowing the way out."

She swallowed, forcing her breath to stay even.

She wouldn’t panic.

But she hated this already.

The van jolted forward, the engine rumble masking the sound of breathing around her. Natasha kept still, her body tense, fingers curled into fists in her lap. The tight blindfold pressed into her skin, forcing her to rely on her other senses.

She could feel your shoulder against hers, solid and unmoving.

She exhaled quietly, focusing on the weight of it, grounding herself.

She hadn't anticipated this.

Minimal briefing, little preparation—she had expected that. But the blindfold, the silent transport, the feeling of being nothing more than cargo—was new.

"How long?" she murmured.

A pause. Then, your voice was softer than before. "A while."

She nodded, shifting slightly. The van was crowded—she could hear the steady breathing of at least two others. Maybe more. It smelled of steel and oil, the faint trace of sweat clinging to the air.

She focused on the movement, counting each turn and each stop, trying to map the route in her mind. It didn’t take long to realize how impossible that was. The roads twisted, and the speed changed at random as if you were deliberately being disoriented.

You sighed beside her as if you knew exactly what she was doing. "Don’t bother."

Natasha turned her head slightly. "You don’t want to know where we are?"

"I already know what matters," you muttered. "In a few seconds, you will feel a pinch. Don't fight it."

"What?"

"Now," you whispered.

A hand seized her shoulder, and she felt the sharp bite of a needle sinking into her neck. She froze, fighting the instinct to pull away. The pressure released, and the grip on her shoulder loosened.

"What was that?" she hissed.

"Just a precaution," you murmured, your words slightly slurred. She couldn't ask the next question on the tip of her tongue before she felt the world around her become unsteady. She leaned against your shoulder, unable to hold herself up any longer.

"It will be alright," You assured her.

Natasha nodded, though her movements felt heavy and slow. The last thing she heard before her world went black was the sound of your voice saying

"Rest."

----->

[kooppss]

Fucking Kim Taehyung (teaser)

Teaser for a still unnamed Taehyung series. This is from the first chapter — their, sort of, first meeting after many years.

word count: 500

He looks in your direction with a slightly amused expression and a crooked smile.

He looks a little surprised, but definitely not as much as you look. He raises his glass subtly as if motioning hello to you.

It can’t be.

Does he recognize you? Does he even remember you?

“You know him?” Sohee whispers in your ear, noticing something is going on with you.

It snaps you out of your shock a little.

You nod as you turn to look away from him. “Yeah, we knew each other in high school,” you reply quietly.

She gives you a questioning look as if saying, ‘That’s it?’ you shrug and turn back to look at the chairman and the new director.

Fucking Kim Taehyung.

From this point, you have no idea what the speakers are talking about. You just try to calm your beating heart and stop blushing like a stupid teenager.

You down a second glass of champagne as if it’ll help you to wrap your mind around the fact you’re standing in front of Kim Taehyung. You feel like you should pinch yourself, to make sure this isn’t a wild dream. How is that the reality of your life? How is it even possible?

When it’s his time to talk, you feel like you spiral even more. His deep voice fills the room. “Thank you, Mr. Roberts for your kind words. I’m excited about this new opportunity. I hope to lead the department through the challenges we have the following year.” He continues talking, you try to listen, you really do. But your mind is in haze. His voice has a calm confidence quality. He commands the room’s attention easily with his gentle charisma and natural charm. And probably the way he fucking looks, because normal people don’t usually look that good. It’s like he didn’t change at all.

He raises his almost-empty glass and smiles. You feel like he’s looking directly into your eyes as he says, “I can’t wait to get to know and to work with all of you. Thank you for coming.”

But you might be delusional. You probably are in delusion. You’re in some sort of hallucination. Because it can’t be happening.

Why does he have this effect on you? After all these years?

Everyone is clapping. You blink a couple of times and snap back to reality.

Sohee is looking at you with an amused look on her face while she’s slowly clapping.

“I never saw you blushing like that for a guy.”

You frown at her. “I’m not blushing. It’s just the alcohol,” you shoot back too quickly for it to be normal.

She chuckles and raises her hand in mock defense. “Okay okay, so will you go to say welcome?” she motions her head in his general direction.

You look to where he stands and can only see the sea of people surrounding him.

“Nah, I need to head out. I’m meeting Gabby at some bar.”

It’s not a lie. Mostly not a lie. You are going to meet Gabby. But if you head out now, you definitely will be there earlier than you told her you will.

Yet you know you need to get out of here.

So you say quick goodbyes to the people around you and deep out as soon as possible. Practically fleeting from the event.

Running away from facing a meeting you're not ready for. Not right now.

This is a very small taste of the story and the vibe. Let me know what you think and if you have some name suggestions ❤️

[laundryandtaxes]

It's insane that Columbia bent the knee in terms of cracking down on its own students and faculty for the sake of making peace with the Trump administration. For the purpose of appeasing wealthy donor alumni, it is at least entirely reasonable as a method of self preservation, if still disgusting. For the sake of appeasing an administration that hates academia in general, it's just stupid, for two major reasons. The first is that the executive branch does not control the country's purse strings, and no president has the right to withdraw funds already allocated by Congress, or to rewrite contracts in which both parties are already engaged- this is obviously quite the gamble, but I think it is clear that this Court would give them their money back because it already belonged to them and I suspect that John Roberts is physically itching right now at the chance to have his juridical legacy include preventing America from developing a king. However, it is no bigger gamble to take it to court than it is to simply cross their fingers and hope that the Trump admin backs off after appeasing them once, which leads to the second point of obvious idiocy. Now that Columbia has behaved as though the Trump admin has a legitimate right to withhold already allocated funds from them in exchange for certain concessions, it is entirely reasonable and predictable that the Trump admin could come back with a new set of demands at any time and it would be reasonable for them to expect compliance. What's to stop them from demanding, in 6 months, that Columbia eliminate its women studies courses, for instance, or eliminate certain texts from their syllabi, or even include specific texts the administration wishes to promote?

Obviously, it would have taken time for them to get their money back because the courts are slow, but the notion that they've done anything by buckling other than signal that they're entirely willing to play an entirely illegitimate ballgame for the sake of peace which is not guaranteed to last any amount of time is nonsense. It would have been a tough semester or year or several for Columbia without their allocated funds, but the fundamental problem that the institution relies on federal funds and the federal government changes very regularly will not be solved or ameliorated by simply shrugging and hoping that Trump doesn't ask for further concessions when he now has absolutely no reason not to. They're not going to be able to get around the fact that the executive branch is going to be in the hands of a party that hates them and everything that they stand for for several more years.

[givetomurasomechapstick]

(LoV) Incorrect quotes

Just thought it be funny. (Also has baby/child reader)

♪~°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°~♪

Toga: Hey Dabi, check out this funny .GIF I found! Dabi: It’s pronounced “jif”. Toga: Huh? Dabi: “Dot jif”, like the peanut butter. The creator said so. Toga: That’s dumb, it’s Graphics Interchange Format. Dabi: The P in .JPEG stands for “photographic”, but I bet you don’t say “J-pheg”. Toga: “P” on its own isn’t pronounced like “F”, that’s totally different! Dabi: It’s exactly the same. Toga: Name one word that starts with “G” pronounced like “J”. Dabi: Gentrification. Toga: Shoot, should have thought of that. I was just in San Francisco. Dabi: For your logic to be consistent, you’d have to say “skuh-bah” (scuba) or “lah-seer” (laser). Toga: Yeah? Well, you’d have to say “J-pej”! Toga: …Wait, “laser” is an acronym? Dabi: Light Amplification by Stimulated Emission of Radiation. Toga: Huh. Didn’t know that. Dabi: You’re still wrong, though. Toga: You just hate me because I’m right. Dabi: I just hate you in general. Toga: You mean in “geh-neral”? Dabi: Ugh, I’m “joing” to kill you!

♪~°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°~♪

Tomura: Could you guys at least try to see this from my perspective? Dabi: *crouches down* Toga: *kneels down* (Y/N): *sits on the floor* Tomura: Tomura: I hate all of you.

♪~°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°~♪

Spinner: Problem, I can't tell if this food is over-sauced or undercooked. Dabi: Solution, just pop it back in the oven for another 10 minutes. There's at least a 50% chance that'll fix it, right? Tomura: Result? Food has somehow become unpleasantly soggy and unpleasantly crunchy at the exact same time. (Y/N): No better time than this to pull out my favorite word! Slunchy! Tomura: ...put it away.

♪~°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°~♪

Toga: How do you connect with a fictional character? Dabi: What? (Y/N): What? Tomura: *pulls up a 500 slide presentation* I'm glad you asked.

♪~°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°~♪

Spinner: You’re too later, Superdorks! You'll never stop me now! (Y/N): That’s where you’re wrong, evildoer! We WILL stop you, with the powers of: Toga: Friendship! Twice: Harmony! Tomura:Incredible violence. (Y/N): And love!

♪~°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°~♪

Dabi: Time for plan G. Tomura: Don’t you mean plan B? Dabi: No, we tried plan B a long time ago. I had to skip over plan C due to technical difficulties. Toga: What about plan D? Dabi: Plan D was that desperate disguise attempt half an hour ago. (Y/N): What about plan E? Dabi: I’m hoping not to use it. Compress dies in plan E. Compress: *OOC screeching*

♪~°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°~♪

Dabi: Where's (Y/N), Spinner, Twice, and Toga? Tomura: They're playing hide and seek. Dabi: Where? Tomura: I don't think you get how this game works.

♪~°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°~♪

(Y/N): You really put aside everything and came all this way for me? How did you even get here so fast? Spinner: Several traffic violations. Dabi: Three counts of resisting arrest. Tomura: Roughly thirteen cans of energy drinks. Toga: Also, that’s not our van.

♪~°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°~♪

Compress: Why do you act like we’re three year olds? Spinner, exasperated: WHY?!? Spinner points at Magne: YOU TRIED TO HYJACK A VAN! Spinner points at (Y/N): YOU NEARLY JUMPED 20 FEET OFF A CARPARK! Spinner points at Twice: AND YOU ATE MULTIPLE DRIED LEAVES AND ROCKS OFF THE GROUND! Spinner: AND YOU ASK ME WHY????

♪~°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°~♪

Twice: We have fun, don’t we, Shigaraki? Tomura: I have never been more stressed out in my entire life.

♪~°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°~♪

Toga: I feel like everyone on this island is suspicious, (Y/N). Except you! (Y/N): But Toga, I think you're suspicious! Toga: NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

♪~°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°~♪

(Y/N): What’s it like being tall? (Y/N): Is it nice? (Y/N): Can you reach comfortably for the cupboards? Spinner: We live in constant fear of the short ones who, in my experience, will climb 4 chairs, 2 boxes, a small coffee table and 6 oddly placed stools to get what they want. Toga: It was one time!

♪~°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°~♪

Spinner: Oh (Y/N), we have a visitor! (Y/N): Don't tell me it's Dabi. Spinner: It's Dabi.

♪~°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°~♪

Spinner: Good night. (Y/N): Sleep tight. Dabi: Don't let the bedbugs crawl up to your ear and whisper threatening things that make you question yourself. Tomura: Great, now (Y/N)'s crying.

♪~°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°~♪

Tomura: What's this? (Y/N), hugging Shigaraki: Affection! Tomura: Disgusting. Tomura: ...Do it again.

♪~°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°~♪

Kurogiri, filming: So, are you two friends? (Y/N): Yes. Tomura: No.

♪~°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°~♪

Toga: You tricked me! Compress: I deceived you. ‘Trick’ makes it sound like we have a friendly relationship.

♪~°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°~♪

[endlich-allein]

Not all are against Till, but as always, the loudest voices dominate. Those who still love the band as a whole or argue calmly get drowned out. Sadly, haters often struggle with nuance and the simple concept of grey areas. I tried reasoning with some bloggers, but they just missed my point and threw the you must be a Till stan card at me, which is honestly annoying.

There is no point in trying to argue with them.

I'm sorry that people have made you feel this way and you're right, it's impossible to argue with them, they're so convinced of being right, of being on the side of the "good guys", that they don't listen to anyone any more.

I think this fandom has become very unhealthy, I say it but I've been defending it a lot lately, telling some new fans "you'll see the people in this fandom are generous and open-minded, a bit like the band". But I realise that it's only me who thinks that way. I got stuck in the old fandom, the one where people were positive and caring.

Personally, I'm going to carry on doing my own thing, feeding this fandom with photos and videos of Till and Rammstein, trying to ignore certain people here and elsewhere and their unpleasant presence. I remain and will remain a stand of Till and Rammstein, nothing and no one will make me change that.

[tending-the-hearth]

"the chosen" season 5, episodes 1-2 commentary + overall review

so i went to go see the release of episodes 1-2 in theaters today and ohhhhhhh my god

i was dumb lmao it was 2 episodes and just about 2 hours not 3

a full spoiler review will be below the cut, but without spoilers:

hands down the BEST season opener that the chosen has done

i love how fully fleshed-out the characters are at this point, because this season is obviously the catalyst as everything is happening

absolute BANGER apostle-bros content, they are a family now my beloveds

jesus :( he's so sad :( but oh my god jonathan roumie the man that you are

i can already tell this will be my favorite season

below the cut is literally all spoilers for the first two episodes so read at your own risk!!

general comments:

PETER <33333 MY LOVE <333333 he's so silly and goofy and his moments with andrew and matthew are my FAVORITES

oh john <3 he really is the beloved apostle i love him so so very much

absolutely adore how both episodes open with moments from the last supper + i hope they continue that for all the episodes

episode 1:

OKAY WOW

first off the last supper opening killed me, the close-ups of each apostle, judas being so noticeably absent from the table, everyone being on the verge of tears??

yussif :( tamar holding out her hand to him so he joins them on entering jerusalem and he shakes his head, ohhhhh

the apostles + disciples being SO excited and singing "hosanna", and jesus just smiling as he listens to them??? i was so giddy during this moment

mary mags and mama mary holding onto each other???? favs

ZEE AND JESSE REUNION AND VERONICA HUGGING EDEN OHHH BELOVEDS

I RECEIVED A SINGLE SHOT OF ZEE AND JESSE AND VERONICA STANDING TOGETHER THEY ARE SIBLINGS YOUR HONOR

joanna!!!!!!!! love her sweet friendship with tamar

yussif changing clothes so that he could still listen to jesus, oh i love him

mary mags and john being the only two who fully understand what is going to happen to jesus my heart hurts for them

just in general john being so attuned to jesus' struggle and realizing his pain

OKAY SO THERE WAS A GUY IN BLUE THAT HAD A HUGE FOCUS FOR PART OF THE EPISODE AND HE WAS VERY NOTICEABLY WRITING THINGS DOWN SO MY GUT TELLS ME IT'S EITHER MARK OR LUKE I'M PRAYING I'M RIGHT

atticus >:(

shmuel >:(

kafni >:(

jesus making part of his bridle a section of the whip???? amazing

episode 2:

last supper opening had jesus calling peter "simon" right before the line about him denying him and both andrew and peter looking SO hurt and shocked by this oh my jonah boys

peter wanting to preach and being so worried and andrew and zee and phillip being there for him and giving him hints oh they are the brothers ever!!!!!

MALCUS THE SERVANT WHO GETS HIS EAR CUT OFF ARE YOU KIDDING ME I LOVE THAT HE'S CONNECTING WITH JOHN IT'S GONNA MAKE HIS CONVERSION SO SO GOOD

AND LEANDER MY BELOVED DARLING HE'S BACK

tamar's connection with the shopkeeper had me genuinely thinking it was going to be revealed that it was her brother esp because he said she reminded him of his sister

THE RAMAH FLASHBACK WHAT IF I DIE WHAT IF I THROW MYSELF OUT THE WINDOW WHAT THE HECK

SCREAMING CRYING ON THE GROUND THAT'S NOT ALLOWED I MISS HER SO MUCH

but also ohhhh thomas getting a full moment for his grief with ramah's mom, and him saying specifically that he does NOT blame jesus for her death, and though he does not understand everything he believes in jesus???

THE TEMPLE SCENE WAS SO GOOD I LOVE ANGRY JESUS

they did NOT hold back and it was perfection, jesus was PISSED and absolutely losing it

the last shot was of him staring down caiaphas and shmuel and it was SO good and SO powerful

judas >:(

overall this was an insane start to season 5, and i am so ready to see the next three episodes next week! i'm looking forward to seeing judas actually fall and betray jesus, because it's hinted at in the trailer for part 2

i'm also looking forward to seeing if we get more flashbacks or flash-forwards (BEGGING for a flash-forward to john alone on the island)

[arcane-ish]

>and it got me thinking about ‘bed poverty.’

Yesssss, I continue to be fascinated with just what a modern and probably city based idea it is that kids should have their own bed or even each kid should have their own room.

And when you watch like historical movies particularly about rural settings not only do people have a lot of kids, of course multiple kids sleep in the same bed.

3+ kids sleeping in bed with the grandma in Mother India:

Traditional european farmers' childrens bedroom

It's also really fascinating if you read like old books where larger families are the default and how like a lot of concept like being the overlooked middle child or just the issue how to split the inheritance between so many children and see that all children are still being taken care of just do not make sense in modern families where there's usually just 1 or 2 children.

If in your setting Silco was somewhat atypically for his class an only child that would really affect his point of view. (if his mother was the sidepiece of Piltie that would maybe also make the Piltie want his privacy and be in favor of there being two rooms. Another question would be if there were grandparents involved or if his mother had any siblings, if she fell out with the family etc)

It's of course interesting particularly in context of show canon where Silco seems to idolize the time period where their movement was like brothers and sisters.

Which makes me wonder whether Silco didn't have any brothers and sisters, whether maybe he got a chance to live with brothers and sisters for a short while, but then it was ripped away from him and he found that again with the revolutionaries. (it's kind of easier in the fics where Silco is an orphan and you can picture the non blood related orphans to have a sort of family bond, but not as tight as the revolutionaries)

Anyway, bed poverty:

People having their own bed = definitely a luxury topic Multiple people in the same bed = a lot less upper class but at least you still have a bed Sleeping were you stand/not even having a bed = hardcore outcast (reminds me about stories about homeless shelters and how the reasons people don't use them can vary, but fears for personal safety being one)

But then I generally love the subtle class differences in your fic and that there Silco has had both, that he was both a bit above but also below in the social ranking to Vander. And of course that even when he was "prom" he would have looked like "above" to Vander, but still considered "beneath" by Piltover.

(I still hope somebody at some point does idealistic "prom" or at least educated Silco going down into the mines for political reasons/to recruit, cue culture clash but Silco being Silco of course doesn't let up and falls for miner!Vander there. Mostly because I want somebody to do Vander meeting and being confused by promenade parents XD and particularly promenade not Piltie because there is still bonding over hating Piltover while acknowledging how differently they live)

I was reading this fanfic and I came across this line

While Silco let himself be pulled to Vander’s bed, he immediately claimed the spot against the wall and faced away from Vander so he could curl into himself, even his hands tucked to his chest as he protectively closed himself off. Vander didn’t take it personally. Silco sure as hell should know now that he can trust Vander to watch his back, and if that’s what makes him feel safest after a pretty screwed up day where he easily could have been killed… that makes sense. 

It made me realize that I also headcanon Silco sleeping curled up. (this is from a fic I once tried to write:

They don’t know of the way Silco’s features slacken or the way he furrows his brow in his sleep. They don’t know that every night, Silco starts out determined, fists clenched and on his back. That however, as long as sleep lasts long enough Silco always ends up curled up inwards on himself like a scrawny boy trying to protect against a kick. They don’t know what it felt like the first time Silco curled towards him and how Vander spent all night barely breathing, afraid that the smallest movement would make his wiry comrade jerk up from his sleep.

)

So, what's your Silco sleep headcanon? Is he a hugger? Somebody who sprawls out possessively all over the bed? Somebody who sleeps stiff and regal and poised? Curled up into himself?

[sistersorrow]

I'm gonna preface this by saying that I know that Games Workshop are not fascists and that Warhammer 40k is openly intended to be a criticism and parody of fascism and other forms of authoritarianism

However, GW has still kinda stumbled into a similar issue that The New Order did, that issue being what I'm gonna call The Problem of the Reasonable Fascist because pretending I'm doing something clever makes me feel special

So, The New Order: The Last Days of Europe is a mod for Hearts of Iron 4 set in a timeline where the Axis won WW2 and things are to put it lightly not going well

Over time, the setting's lore has gone through a bunch of revisions, with a pretty big one being the removal of Esoteric Nazism as a distinct ideology group

In early versions of the mod, there was Fascism (ie. the ideologies practiced in real world Germany and Italy in during WW2) and then there was Esoteric Nazism, which was basically Batshit Insane Fascism, which takes Fascist ideology in darker or downright bizarre directions (eg. A vaguely 40k-inspired Russian Imperial Cult that believed that Alexei Romanov was still alive and would return once the country was "cleansed") and represents some of the worst possible excesses of Fascism

These ideologies still exist in TNO, but were moved into the same ideology group as the non-esoteric fascists and went through revisions because the developers concluded that when you have groups like the Order-State of Burgundy wanting to trigger global nuclear war so True Aryans will inherit the Earth (ie. the ending of the Turner Diaries), the 3rd Reich seems a bit less crazy

That's what I'm referring to as the Problem of the Reasonable Fascist, the way some anti-fascist narratives are written can create something so over the top that it accidentally makes less extreme forms fascism seem not as horrible

40k runs in to this same issue due to the way it handles characters and the pre vs post-Horus Heresy Imperium of Man

The Imperium of Man in the 40th millenium is a theofascist hellhole so incomprehensibly vast that the death of billions each day to keep the war machine running isn't even a statistic, it's a rounding error, but it's also repeatedly presented as an empire in decline whose existence is a mockery of the Emperor's vision, which runs into the exact problem I'm talking about

The pre-Heresy Imperium was authoritarian, xenophobic in multiple meanings of the word, and openly hostile to any schools of thought that wasn't their own, but in comparison to the post-Heresy Imperium, it was a golden age, and those who fought in defense of it are generally written as pretty reasonable even though they're still authoritarians

Hell, the Horus Heresy happened in part because Horus saw a vision of the 40th millenium and thought that was the Emperor's end goal

The bar is set so low in the modern Imperium that if you aren't the kind of zealot who shoots someone for stuttering during prayers, you are basically treated as a pillar of rationality by the audience

Again, GW and its writers are not Fascists, but this is an interesting phenomenon I've noticed

[shimmershy]

Undertale Month Day 5: Ruins