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cinnaminhon · 1 month ago

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behind the seams | lee minho

idol!leeknow x stylist!reader

➵ summary: as a stylist for stray kids, with your main client as lee minho, you can’t resist dressing him in outfits that fuel your secret crush—tight fits, low necklines, the works. but leeknow knows more than he lets on. suspiciously flirty since the past few concerts, he is constantly teasing you with sly comments and lingering stares. it’s not until you put him in a dangerous outfit does he call you out on it, and boy you did not regret the aftermath at all

genre: smut!! mdni!!

warnings: profanity, explicit sexual content, unprotected sex, dirty talk, graphical descriptions of sex, leeknow and y/n go at it backstage, implied also at their dorm, also the dance practice room, eh they’re both whipped. mentions of voyeurism, mentions public sex, discussion of kinks and sexual fantasies but nothing is specified, a LOT of bickering and a hell lot of sexual tension.

wc: 6k

a/n: this is VERY self indulgent. it’s finals week and i came across this one compilation reel of angry leeknow vs his outfits and i had this idea ffsfsfssfs i couldn’t get it out of my head and HAD to write it. enjoy ;) also, UNEDITED

one

you loved your job. you really did! absolutely adored it with every inch of you. being a stylist for one of the biggest idol groups had always been a dream out of reach, so when you were finally extended that offer, you gladly left your previous one to work for stray kids instead.

you loved fashion and all things related to it, even as a kid, you would often dress your dolls up in your own creations and that was enough for your parents to enroll you into design classes. from a very young age, your keen eye for fashion was evident, and your skills only grew with each experience you encountered. after graduating from a prestigious fashion school with your B.A in fashion design, you got the best job opportunities which you loved.

the first few jobs had been tough, no lie, but as your expertise grew, you found yourself designing for luxury brands, and more and more celebrities reached out with personal orders. it wasn’t long before you were transitioning from mere designing to personal styling too, your eye for aesthetics always helping you shine in the field.

immediately becoming a favourite in the area, you had numerous opportunities to work and network with various celebrities, but nothing ever came close to the exhilaration you felt when your company revealed to you the latest offer: be a main stylist for stray kids.

it was like heavens descended on you, god himself knocked on your door and blessed with you with the only thing you’d ever dreamed of. of course styling celebrities was something you loved, but having the chance to style stray kids? it didn’t take you a week to accept the offer and by the next monday, you were at their company, signing the contracts with them.

you weren’t one to give your past up no, you would have stayed in your older position which paid really well and worked with your passion, had it not been for the client in question. approaches from kpop groups were not foreign to you, so when you finally accepted one by stray kids in one go, your boss was really surprised.

“are you sure you want to do this y/n? you’ll still be signed with us should you choose to, but you’ll be expressly under jyp’s terms and conditions. none of my powers will protect you there nor will you enjoy any protection or support form our company. you’ll be completely at their beck and call to do as they please.” she’d said in a concerned manner, letting you know all the pros and cons in a professional yet gentle manner. that and she also wanted to try and retain her top talent.

“i read the contracts, and had my lawyer go through it too. i understand the conditions and i am willing to work with them,” you’d told her, confident and firm in your stance.

this was new, really, and the look on your boss’ face told you just out of character this seemed. no wonder everyone would conspire if there was a deeper meaning, a more suitable reason to as to why you were suddenly accepting this offer after rejecting thousands of kpop groups.your politely dismissed all such rumours, simply citing that you wanted to try something new after 5 years of designing and styling other kinds of celebrities. the kpop scene would be new and you were excited.

so as you sat at the company, your lawyer in attendance. you couldn’t help but bite back the smile threatening to grace your lips. when you finally agreed on all terms and negotiated a few which you could, you picked the pen up and signed on the sheet.

oh really, there was no reason behind you picking this offer at once.

definitely not the prospect of getting to style lee minho up close and personal…. definitely not that.

——

two

you’d been with skz for about 8 months now, and styled them for multiple concerts and a few music videos too. you weren’t sure when your job stopped feeling like a job. it had became a part of your life that you now passionately adored and would never want to change. being a stylist for stray kids wasn’t just about picking outfits—it was about understanding their personalities, their moods, and sometimes the things they didn’t say. somehow, you always understood lee minho the most.

or maybe…just maybe… you liked how good he would look in anything you picked out for him. it was a silly thing really, how much it bothered you that what he was wearing had been decided by you, of all the people, you.

you wouldn’t admit it out loud, but dressing him was your favorite part of the job. every time you chose an outfit for him, it felt personal, like you were creating something just for him. and maybe, in a way, you were.

you spent more time on his outfits than you probably should have. you’d carefully consider every detail—what color would bring out his sharp features, what cut would highlight his broad shoulders, what style would match his quiet confidence. what would highlight those strong, toned thighs, bring out those biceps, his hard chest and his milky neck…. it almost felt illegal to be so invested in your client. it wasn’t just about him looking good for the cameras; it was about knowing that you were the one behind it.

but you were a professional. so every day, you pushed the feelings down and focused on your job—making sure the fabrics and fits were just right, making sure they all looked their best. still, sometimes your fingers lingered a little too long when you adjusted his jacket. and every time he looked at you, you couldn’t help but wonder if he saw more than just the stylist who made sure his clothes fit.

how could you not be absolutely obsessed with that walking god? the way he carried himself had you on your knees, and all he had to do was look at you to have you craving for him. it didn’t help that he liked your designs, even if he didn’t show huge reactions, you could tell it from the way he would take extra care to not ruin the look, stand and sit straighter, keep checking in the mirror to not ruin the style you spent so much time to perfect for him.

and his body oh god, you absolutely loved taking inspiration from the way he moved so gracefully. it wasn’t hard to imagine clothes for him, but you’d be lying if you didn’t admit….you liked putting him in slightly…dangerous clothes at times.

fabrics that would slip, shirts that would be tight at the arms, or necklines that would be deeper than what was defined for them. you couldn’t help it, there was something about seeing an angry minho trying to fix his outfit on stage that had you squirming in your seat.

it started out as a mistake, you ended up giving him longer than usual sleeves and he kept pushing them up his arms, naturally it made the stays go crazy and the fancam went viral. he didn’t say much, just asked you to be careful next time and you nodded. however, once he realised just how much his fans liked seeing him that way, he had other thoughts.

“you seem to know what the fans like” he said, entering the dressing room where the two of you were alone. he had just come back after performing his solo and had to get ready for the next group song. the members all had private changing rooms at their arena tour concerts for ease and privacy during their solo performances, and of course, you were minho’s designated stylist.

“that’s my job isn’t it?” you grinned, noticing that the shirt was doing hat it was supposed to, hanging meekly on his strong frame and exposing his sharp collarbones. you tried not to make it obvious but you were staring. how could you not when he was looking like that in front of you?

“true, in fact, i believe you know a little too much about how to dress me up for the female gaze.” he hummed, taking a towel to wipe the sweat around his neck and walk over towards you.

you looked away from the greek god before you and pretended to fix his jacket. “huh?” you stuttered, ignoring him as he leaned behind you, his chest pressing against your back and you did everything you could in your power to not melt into his hold.

“we both know what im talking about darling” he muttered into your ear as you heard him peek his sticky, sweaty shirt off, throwing it on the table. “come on, you’re so bold with the clothes you pick, what’s wrong now? cat got your tongue?” he teased at your lack of response, taking note of the way your ears turned red and chest raised and fell so quickly.

“i-“ you began, turning around meekly to hand him his next piece for the nest song, ignoring his naked body inches from you.

“it’s okay kitten, i won’t tell.” he mused, a sly smirk on his face as he took the short, brushing his fingers against yours to grab it. “in fact, i’ll let you” he winked, putting the shirt on in seconds and leaving you standing there.

fuck, that man would be the death of you.

——

three

the next time, you dressed him in a pair of pants just tight enough to reveal his thighs, the shape, the tone, the muscle….oh when he stood in that pose before beginning the performance, you swore you felt yourself shiver just looking at him. sure they were a little more tight and firm fitting than what he usually wore but he’d given you permission…right?

you couldn’t count the number of times you’d imagined what it would feel like to rub yourself on his thick thighs, how he would softly grab your waist, kiss your rough and talk you through it sweetly. you could picture him teasing you, smirking at you, making you feel things you didn’t think were possible.

the performance was a huge success, and the boys came back to the room, clapping along with the staff in joy and satisfaction. you greeted them all, celebrating for a while before you headed back to check on what they would have to wear for the rest of the program.

“thinking of other ways to make me appealing to stays are you?” minho chuckled as he entered the dressing room, leaning across the door frame.

it started as harmless teasing—at least, that’s what you told yourself. minho always had a sharp tongue and a smirk that could make your knees weak if you let it, but lately, it felt different. his comments lingered longer and the space between you seemed to shrink even when neither of you moved.

“come here” you said instead, grabbing the jacket he was supposed to put on.

he obliged a little too easily, not before locking the door after him, and you found it strange. no teasing or flirty remarks this time? that was new.

“you like dressing me up, don’t you?” he said, his voice low, almost lazy, as you adjusted the collar of his jacket.

“it’s my job,” you hummed, keeping your tone neutral even as your pulse raced. but you did notice that his eyes followed the movement of your hands.

“doesn’t feel like just a job,” he murmured, tilting his head slightly so his face was closer to yours. your breath hitched, and you quickly stepped back, pretending to fuss over a wrinkle that wasn’t even there.

“stop moving, or the jacket won’t sit right,” you muttered, avoiding his gaze.

but he didn’t stop. instead, he leaned closer, so close you could feel the faint warmth of his breath against your skin. “maybe you like it when i don’t listen,” he said, his voice just above a whisper, and you froze.

your eyes flicked up to his and there was something darker in his gaze, something that made your stomach twist in a way you couldn’t ignore.

“you’re impossible,” you said, trying to sound annoyed.

he just smirked. “and yet, you’re still here.” then he moved away, walking past you to go check himself in the mirror.

your eyes followed his lean body, unable to tear your gaze away.

“you’re staring,” he said once, catching you off guard as you watched him adjust his sleeves in the mirror.

“i’m making sure it fits right,” you lied, your voice a little too defensive.

he turned to face you, his smirk melting into a smile. “is that all it is?”

your throat went dry, and for a moment, you couldn’t find the words.

“minho, i—” you began, worried that you’d made him uncomfortable, scared that you’d taken this game too far and had crossed into the like of being unprofessional-

“relax,” he interrupted, stepping closer until there was barely any space left between you. “i don’t mind if you look.”

he reached out, his fingers brushing yours as he adjusted the measuring tape hanging from your hand.

“im your canvas anyway kitten” he winked before leaving the room once again.

——

four

this was a big award show for the kids, and you had to make sure they looked perfect. so you did what you had to, you picked out the perfect black zip up tee that you’d been saving.

minho had been working out, you could tell with the way his measurements changed and the way his muscles flexed underneath your hands when you dressed him or measured him. this tee would be the perfect fit on his body, it would highlight all the-

you stopped yourself from going too far.

as you put it on him, you couldn’t help but stare. it was a little riskier than usual, but you couldn’t help yourself. the way it clung to his frame in the fitting room was almost too much.

you adjusted the zipper just so, leaving it open just enough to give a hint of skin—teasing, but still tasteful. or at least, that’s what you convinced yourself.

“this works,” you murmured, stepping back to admire the way the outfit pulled together.

minho gave you a once-over in the mirror, his expression unreadable. “a bit much, don’t you think?”

“not if you can pull it off,” you supplied.

“it looks like it’s painted on,” he muttered

“exactly,” you teased, biting the inside of your cheek to keep from smiling too wide. “you’ll thank me when you see the photos later.”

it fit even better than you imagined, clinging to his chest and tapering perfectly at his waist. the zipper glinted under the dressing room lights, catching your eye as he adjusted it just slightly.

“you’ve got that look again,” he said, breaking your thoughts.

“what look?” you asked, playing innocent, though you could feel the heat creeping up your neck.

“like you’re too proud of yourself,” he said, smirking as he turned to the mirror.

you stepped forward, tugging along the zipper to adjust it. “it’s my job to make sure you look good,” you said, your voice quieter now that you were so close.

he watched you through the mirror, his gaze dark and steady. “you sure that’s the only reason?”

you froze for a second before stepping back, clearing your throat. “stop fishing for compliments, minho.”

he chuckled, “so... halfway, or all the way up?”

you tilted your head, considering. “halfway. it’s... more balanced.”

“more balanced,” he echoed, the corner of his mouth curling up. “not because you want everyone to stare?”

your cheeks burned “i’m thinking about the aesthetic, not—whatever you’re implying.”

he leaned against the counter, his arms crossing over his chest. “right. sure. just aesthetic.”

“just get out there,” you said, waving him toward the door and he laughed, “okay okay,” he nodded, “i’ll go and perform well in your outfit miss” he teased one last time before walking out to join the group.

oh he was insufferable.

five

fuck fuck fuck….you watched the performance as the song began, and a dread filled you. in all your teasing with him, you forgot to secure the zipper. fuck, no, what if,,, nah, case 143 choreo wasn’t that hard was it? it won’t slip down. why would it? it’s not like minho has a strong dance break in that song….

you were proven wrong right as the final leg of the performance began. the zipper, which you’d adjusted to sit slightly open for a teasing effect, slid further down as he danced, exposing more of his chest than either of you intended. the crowd went wild, the cameras zeroed in on him, and while the rest of the group laughed it off backstage, minho wasn’t as amused.

you were in the dressing room when he walked in, still flushed from the performance, his jaw tight and eyes sharp. you barely had time to open your mouth before he shut the door behind him with a little too much force. you knew the second he stormed into the dressing room that you were in trouble. he didn’t say anything at first, just shut the door behind him with a force.

“what the hell was that?” his voice was low, controlled, but there was an unmistakable frustration behind it.

“the zipper?” you asked, trying to play it cool even as your pulse quickened.

“yes, the zipper,” he snapped, taking a step closer. his hair was slightly damp from sweat, clinging to his forehead, and the way he looked at you—frustrated, intense—made it hard to think straight.

“it wasn’t supposed to go that far down,” you said quickly, reaching for an excuse. “it must’ve slipped—”

“slipped,” he repeated, his tone heavy with disbelief. his gaze dropped to your hands, and then back up to your face, his lips curving into a dangerous smirk. “you’re telling me this was an accident?”

“of course it was,” you shot back, though your voice wavered slightly under his stare.

“really?” he snapped, his voice rising slightly. “because it sure looked like you wanted every single person in that crowd to see me like that.” he moved closer so that he was inches before you.

your cheeks burned, and you took a step back, only to find yourself against the counter. “i was just doing my job,” you muttered, trying to sound unaffected, but the way he was looking at you—like he was ready to devour you—made it nearly impossible to focus on the unholy thoughts wrecking your brain.

“your job,” he repeated, leaning in until his face was inches from yours. his hands came up to rest on either side of you, trapping you in place. “you’ve been awfully hands-on lately, haven’t you? fixing collars, adjusting sleeves, picking out clothes that fit just right.” his hands came to grab the ends of the measure tape across your body, one that you used and hung around your neck.

you swallowed hard, your heart pounding in your chest. “minho, i—”

"you what?" he taunted, hands tightening around the tape and he pulled it slowly, deliberately till you were closer to him.

“is this part of your job too?” he murmured, his voice low and dangerous. his hand moved to the zipper on his chest, fingers brushing it as he tugged it down another inch, exposing more of his skin.

“minho,” you breathed, barely able to get the word out.

“what?” he challenged, his lips curling into a smirk that was equal parts angry and... something else. “you seemed to enjoy dressing me like this. or maybe you just wanted a better view.”

your cheeks burned, your heart pounding so loudly you were sure he could hear it. “that’s not—”

“don’t lie to me,” he growled, his hand slamming against the counter behind you, caging you in completely. his face was so close now, you could see the tension in his jaw, the way his tongue flicked over his teeth like he was barely holding himself back. “every touch, every look—don’t think i haven’t noticed.”

his words were sharp, cutting, but the way his eyes roamed your face made your knees weak. "minho i wasn't-" you stuttered, trying your best to ignore the way your panties felt more and more damp and uncomfortable to be in. subconsciously, you pressed your thighs together at the glare minho gave you. he was furious enough to make you lose your senses, you couldn't even think properly, much less speak.

this scene before you was straight out of your fantasies.

“you wanted attention?” he asked, his tone mocking. “you’ve got it. so tell me—was this for you, or for them?” he chuckled darkly, placing an arm around your waist, holding you tight as the other one came to pull your chin to face him.

“it wasn’t—” your voice cracked, and you swallowed hard, trying to steady yourself. “it wasn’t like that.”

"then what was it like kitten?" he tilted his head lower, lips brushing against yours and you sighed, melting into his hold. "can you tell me?"

"i-" you began, "i just wanted to dress you in an attractive manner-" you mumbled but he wasn't having it. he wanted to hear it, from your own mouth. hear you say how stupid obsessed you were with him and how it led you to do this.

he needed to hear that you wanted this as much as he did.

“you don’t get to play innocent after that,” he continued, his voice dropping even lower. “i saw the way you looked at me when you zipped this up earlier. you knew exactly what you were doing.”

his thumb brushed your bottom lip, and the slight, almost careless dominance in the gesture left you speechless.

“nothing to say now?” his smirk was sharp, dangerous, as his eyes roamed over your face. “you were so bold earlier, picking this out for me. so confident.” he breathed out.

“minho,” you finally managed to whisper, though it came out shaky, barely audible.

“what?” he pressed, his tone mocking yet laced with something darker. “don’t tell me you can’t handle the consequences of your little games.”

his fingers trailed along the edge of the zipper on his chest, tugging it down another inch as he watched your reaction. "i won't do shit to you until you admit it kitten, you're the one dragging this out." he hissed, his hand coming to grip your neck and tilt it back, while his knee pushed between your thighs, rubbing against your wet core. "at least pretend like you're not into this kitten, ive seen you push your thighs together thrice already.'" he scoffed lightly, his touch on your neck sending shivers down your spine. "admit it," he murmured "or i will you here like this, wet, desperate and needy" he hissed in your ear and you broke.

"go on," he teased, the challenge clear in his tone. "say it. i want to hear you admit exactly what’s been running through that pretty little head of yours."

"i...i did it on purpose" you choke out and he hums in approval. “i dressed you up because i liked seeing you in these kinds of outfits”

he lets out a chuckle, his grip loosening as he leans back to get a good look at you. “so my kitten admits it wasn’t for her job, but rather because she found me attractive?” he rose a brow, daring you to disagree.

the sheer confidence, the cocky arrogance had you folding already and you nod, placing your hands on his chest, desperate for his touch.

“there’s my good girl” he smiled, leaning closer. “what do you want me to do then kitten?” he tilted his head, waiting for your approval before he took this far into the other line.

“kiss me minho, please.” you whispered and you had barely completed your sentence before his mouth had descended on yours.

the kiss was hot and heavy, laced with need and desperation. his lips moulded with yours with a strange urgency, as if he’d been dying to have you. his hands clawed at your body, struggling to feel all of you at once.

when you came up for air, he barely let you breathe for two seconds before he was kissing you again, knocking the air out of your lungs.

“mhh-“ you moaned into the kiss, eliciting a grown from the man kissing you.

“fuck kitten, you’re gonna be the death of me” he hissed, pulling away and grabbing your chin to look at the mess he’d made.

your lipstick was smudged, lips swollen, bitten, rightfully so, and covered in a sheen of his spit.

you looked beautiful.

“more- please” you whimper and he obliges, he would be stupid to say no.

“more? what does my kitten want huh? for me to touch her? where?” he played with you, pushing you up on the counter table and standing between your thighs as his hand came to run over your clothed cunt. “here?” he teased, watching you throw your head back and whimper a meek yes.

“aww, haven’t even done much yet” he cooed, pulling your skirt to your waist, eyes locking in on the wet patch on your light pink cotton panties. “fuck, have you been this wet since you dressed me up?” he said, his eyes blown wide with lust.

you gulped, your hands fisted at your sides and nodded softly, and that seemed to make minho lose his mind for he groaned and threw his head back.

“fucking hell” he whispered more to himself, “seeing me in this did that to you?” he chuckled, pulling you closer. “want me to take care of it kitten?”

you could only nod, lost in the situation that you’d wanted for god knows how long.

“not quite yet baby, you’ll have to get wetter for me yeah? show me how bad you want me” he winked, pointing to the zipper and your eyes lit up.

“can i-“ you began

“everything you’ve imagined baby, do it to me” he nodded, pulling you closer by your neck till your lips were against the zip. “use that pretty mouth” he ordered.

your lips wrapped around the zipper, taking care to not touch your teeth because you hated the feeling of metal on them, and pulled it down, all the way down, revealing his naked body before you to admire.

your lip nipped slightly in the process of keeping your teeth away and minho all but pulled you up to suck on the wound, turning it into a kiss that ended with his hands in your panties.

“shit baby, you’re so fucking wet, do you hear yourself?” he moaned, leaving kisses all down your neck while his thumb worked on your clit, two of his fingers curling inside your hot, wet cunt. “taking my fingers so well, i wonder if that cunt can take my cock that well too” he chuckled, earning a deep moan out of you.

“shh baby, don’t forget, we’re still in public” he warned, sticking his fingers inside your mouth to suck on while he pushed yet a third one inside your pussy, fucking you with them both simultaneously.

oh how you loved him being ambidextrous.

“shit” he grunted when you began to shudder around his fingers, and he pulled them out before you could cum, putting them inside his mouth at once to suck them clean.

“mhm, sweetest taste baby, was so fucking worth the wait” he groaned, kissing you and making you taste yourself.

“im going to fuck you now okay baby?” he rose a brow, laying you back on the table.

“please, please minho, i, i cant-“ you began, and he paused, eyes widening as he cupped your cheeks.

“hey hey, you want to stop? did i hurt you?” he asked, tender worry in his eyes and guilt.

your heart warmed and you shook your head. “no no, im fine, it’s just that…could you keep the shirt on while you fuck me?” you asked, tracing your hand down the shirt and leaning ahead to kiss it.

“aw baby fuck, you can’t just- you can’t do that and expect me to stay still” he hissed, hands coming into your hair once you gave him the green light again.

he let you play with him, kissing his chest, biting, licking, all you want while he played with your hair and mumbled how good you were being for him and how amazing you were making him feel.

“is my kitty satisfied?” he asked, pulling you back by your hair and making you look up at him.

“not yet” you pout, and he swears he loses it. how could you be so fucking hot and cute at the same time?

“what else baby?”

“cock.” you pout, a little huff leaving your lips and he swears he lost his mind. “want your cock min, want to suck your cock” you plead.

the shaky breath he takes tells you everything you need to know about how you were on the edge of his self control at that point.

“baby…” he breathes out, “as badly as i want that pretty mouth around my cock, i want to fuck that cunt before i have to be up on the stage again” he mumbles darkly, his hands on your waist as he lays you back. “is that okay with you? i promise kitten, i’ll let you do whatever you want once the program ends yeah? but i’ve only got a little time left and i can’t leave you needy here yeah? i can’t go out there’s without fucking that pussy with my cock after seeing it take my fingers so well baby i’ll lose my mind on stage” he grunts as you nod, letting him know you were okay with him going a little rough and faster than before.

“i don’t, i don’t have a condom though.” he said with a sudden realisation, pulling back to cup your cheek. “how about i just eat you out instead?” he offered, but you shook your head.

“im on birth control,” you said at once, “im clean, i know you are too,” you whisper, “staff privileges” you add with a sly wink and he chuckles.

“i really have quite the obsessed girl here don’t i?” he mumbles a little darkly as he kisses you this time.

“gonna take it yeah? gonna take my cock” he hissed as he unbuckled his pants, leaning down and licking a long stripe over your pussy. “sorry, couldn’t resist” he chuckled before grabbing his cock and placing its tips against your clit, pressing on it and making you whine.

“baby, quiet” he warned sternly as he slowly pushed in, letting his jaw fall open at the pleasure.

your hands came to grab at this shirt on his body, feeling your back arch from the sheer size and girth he carried. “you’re-you’re big” you choke out but you knew that. hey, you fitted his pants too didn’t you?

“but you know that already don’t you kitten? you’re not exactly subtle when measuring me” he cooed, teasing you as he bottomed out all the way, staying there to let you adjust. “fuck baby, you’re taking me so well, so fucking well, just relax a bit more yeah? you’re so wet and so fucking tight i don’t- i don’t want to hold back-“ he grunted, kissing you hard.

“you- you can move” you nod as soon as you feel him get all the way in, he’d worked you up well before and you felt your cunt suck him in.

“ah fuck” he hissed as he pulled out only to push back in, the loud squelch making you both groan. the sounds of his hips slapping against the yours, the creaking of the table, the squelch of your wetness coating him drove you crazy and you couldn’t help but feel your orgasm form earlier struggling to come back.

“min im close-“ you whine.

“already? baby we just started.” he chuckled, grabbing your thighs and pushing your knees to your chest, the angle pushing him deeper and you both moaned at the same time. his fingers came to rub at your clit in tight circles, making your whined get squeakier and your orgasm built up like crazy.

“go on, cum for me yeah? show me how good im making you feel” he cooed, and it didn’t take long for you to feel your orgasm hit you like a truck.

your body shook in waves, your eyes wet from slight tears due to how good it felt and how much pleasure minho was giving you all at once. “fucking goddess” he grunted, staring at you mystified as he kept fucking you through your orgasm, “gonna let me keep going? gonna let me keep fucking this cunt?” he hissed.

“yes, please, need more minho, need you, all of you please” you plead, looking up at him as he went harder, his rhythm losing pace as his own orgasm neared.

“you close min? you’re going to cum for me? cum inside my pussy?” you cooed, watching his expressions contort to one of pure pleasure and he nodded vigorously.

“fuck yes, keep talking to me like that’s baby” he grunted, “gonna fill this pussy with my cum”

“do it, please min, what your cum inside me so bad, want to watch you onstage in my handpicked outfit, with your cum dripping out of my pussy” you whine and that’s when minho loses it.

“cum with me, again yeah? once more please” he moans and you couldn’t say no, not when he was fucking you so good and so deep.

it didn’t take long before the two of you came together, your hands clutching the collar of the shirt as you both stayed close.

“fuck” he moans with sensitivity, slowly pulling out of you and cupping your cheek. “you did so well, so so good for me baby” he cooed, laying soft kisses on your tried face as you tried to catch your breath.

“so did you-“ you gasp, chuckling softly. “did you just tire yourself out before you last stage?” you point out and he just playfully rolled his eyes.

“oh please, my stamina is endless baby. you only saw a quarter of it because i fucked you right after performing three songs in a row. wait till we get back to the dorm and i have you to myself all night” he winked and your brows shot up.

“you want to do this again?” you ask with a slightly hopeful tone and he simply smiled, grabbing a few tissues to clean you up while you laid there.

“of course y/n, i know the order isn’t the best but will you let me take you out to dinner? and then can i be your boyfriend?” he chuckled at the play with words, ironically the lyrics of his own song when that zipper slipped down.

“i could never say no min” you smiled, pulling him into a kiss one last time before you’d both have to get cleaned up and dress him up again.

——

a/n- i hope i wrote it well and you enjoyed it💗

🏷️taglist : @ihrtlix @biribarabiribbaem @alexareawyn @hoes4lino @smlbch @iknow-uknow-leeknow @kissesmellow21 @icantpickabiasugh @wolfs-howling @katsukis1wife @ana-marais98 @lplondynnwoo @yaorzu-blog @still-a-stray @skzworldx @redstayrosie @inaribu00 @millseyes-world @itsacatastrophe-xo @krikalovesstay @harmony0724 @chrizrizz @hantaechan @banjjakbanjjaklurkingagain@emmxxsworld @smut-is-my-therapy @hyunjinsruinedpainting @skzenthusiastt @fairygirl18 @silencionyx @nightmarenyxx @cloudy-lilly @vampiirose @seunmong-in @chuuyaobsessed @0omillo0 @gaby105-skz @ardef38 @madamstay @need-life-motivation @inkandtension @knowytel25 @wh0reforthemarauders @stay1ngsane @skzfairyyydreamz @farfromsugafanfic

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fromchaostocosmos · 4 months ago

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Right now I can't fully article my feelings, and I haven't been able to for some, but I have big feelings on how much of the internet and tumblr was all of over Alex Hirsch, a Jew, and his creation, Gravity Pines, and specifically the new content when it came out, the Book of Bill all while they were being horrific and still are being horrific to Jews.

There is something about how goyim will consume us and consume that which we make and yet not for moment give a single care for us.

For all that they compare us to parasites and vampires the horrifying truth is that this is parasitic relationship, but we are not the ones doing draining here.

It is the most toxic radioactive relationship ever and any time we try to leave, try to point that out, try to do anything about we are the monsters.

When we say hey it is fucked to call us demons we are told that just proves we are the truth we are demons.

When try to fit what they want we are called duplicitous and deceptive.

When we try to embrace our everything that they have try to kill out of us we are called Nazis, white supremacists, and colonizers you know the names of those who have tried to murder us and still keep trying to.

They will take what we make, what we create, what we have, and what we are happy to share until there is nothing left and when they are done they want us to be silent husks who think nothing, hear nothing, speak nothing, do nothing, are nothing.

We should be dust. Stay down on the ground and be trodden upon.

We should be a broken people, a hopeless people, an empty people, who come from nowhere and have no where to go. Forever Strangers in a Stranger Land that is how we should be and we should accept that and be grateful for it.

But we don't and that is unacceptable to them. That we are an ancient people with deep ties and much history and Homeland is unacceptable. That we refuse to anyone's pawns is unacceptable.

That we do not forget and refuse to is seen as the great betrayal.

Our job in their eyes is to be things not people. That we insist on having our humanity recognized is a part of makes us evil and has been a key aspect of our struggle for thousands of years.

#jumblr #antisemitism #i'm having feelings

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notlongtolove · 1 month ago

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between the sand and the stardust

burnt toast theory. the butterfly effect. invisible strings. it’s only human nature to try and make sense of the senseless. for all the what-ifs and could-have-beens, the alternate paths and lives you could’ve lived, this is the reality you’re in. you know—effects, theories, strings be damned—that you would’ve found each other.

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader (second person, no y/n)

genre: fluff

content: reader is up contemplating what life would be like if her and spencer had never met. spencer has a few reassuring things to say about it.

word count: 1.8k

note: inspired by this! spent the entire day nursing the post nye hangover and woke up in a haze to write this. god me whennnn

a line: I’d pray to every god out there, in every language I don’t speak, to find you in every universe where I haven’t found you yet.

If you came to me with a face I have not seen, with a voice I have never heard, I would still know you. Even if centuries separated us, I would still feel you. Somewhere between the sand and the stardust, through every collapse and creation, there is a pulse that echoes of you and I.

- lang leav

The world has a funny way of looking at things. A knack for folding coincidences into neat little narratives that we, its ever-curious observers, insist on unspooling. Burnt toast theory. The butterfly effect. Invisible strings. It’s only human nature, you suppose, to try and make sense of the senseless. Things happen—things that are just things—and yet, we stitch them together into stories, pull meaning from the chaos, weave threads where there might not be any at all.

It didn’t make sense that you’d been eleven minutes late to the bus that morning, despite sprinting down the stairs with your laces undone. It didn’t make sense that Spencer’s train had broken down that day when the transit service proudly boasted a 92% on-time rate. It didn’t make sense that the last bus had rumbled away two minutes before you arrived, leaving you stranded at the stop with a dark-eyed boy and an easy smile.

And it certainly didn’t make sense when you, who always preferred to keep your headphones in and your gaze down, had turned to him in pure desperation and said, “Do you want to split a cab?”

Now, 845 days, 21 hours, and 23 minutes later—Spencer keeps count, of course—you lie in bed, his arms wrapped around you with such love you almost can’t remember what it felt like to navigate the world without him.

You think about that morning sometimes. Would it have mattered if you’d woken up on time? If Spencer’s train hadn’t broken down? You would’ve slipped past each other like all strangers are meant to. You could have missed him entirely. The very thought makes your chest tighten.

And then there’s everything that came after. Maybe you’d still be grinding away at that dead-end job if Spencer hadn’t nudged you—no, shoved you—into applying for that writing scholarship. Maybe he wouldn’t taken some time off to go into teaching if he hadn’t seen how much it broke you when he was shot last year, your sobs echoing in the sterile hospital waiting room.

It’s terrifying to think about. How this moment, this minute, your life is just a single dot in a universe of shifting constellations. One singular version of a story that could have unfolded a million other ways.

You shift slightly, feeling the soft brush of Spencer’s breath against your neck. His arm tightens instinctively, pulling you closer, like even in sleep, he’s afraid to let you drift too far.

“What’re you thinking about, baby?” he murmurs.

“Nothing.”

“Liar,” he says softly, and you can hear the smile in his voice. He presses a kiss to your shoulder, a silent reassurance. “Tell me.”

You shift, rolling onto your side to face him. The room is dim, illuminated only by the faint glow of the streetlight outside, but you can still make out the soft angles of his face, the curve of his lips, the shadow of his lashes against his cheek. His arm lifts briefly, giving you room to move, before settling back on your waist.

“Just...” You sigh, the words heavy as you trace invisible patterns on the blanket. “How we met.”

“Mm,” Spencer hums thoughtfully. “Dingy bus stop. Very romantic.”

You huff a quiet laugh, shaking your head. “No, I mean... imagine if I hadn’t woken up late that morning. Or if you’d been on the train that didn’t break down. Isn’t that scary?”

He shifts slightly, propping himself up on one elbow to look at you fully. “What’s scary, baby?” he asks, his fingers drawing idle patterns on your hip.

You hesitate for a moment, then exhale. “Like… there’s a universe where we never met,” you say, your voice quieter now. “We’d be living our own lives. Separate. Strangers.” The words send a shudder through you.

Spencer doesn’t answer right away, his gaze steady and thoughtful as he studies you. “That’d be a really sad life,” he says finally.

You hum in agreement. “Imagine it. Nobody to sort your shelves for you. They’d be an absolute mess.”

“No one to bring you tea in bed every morning. Tragic.”

“No Mugi,” you add, your gaze flicking toward the end of the bed where the cat lies curled in a ball. The mention of his name earns a soft purr from him, a sound of sleepy approval.

“To be fair,” Spencer muses, “there probably would still be a Mugi. He’d just still be at the shelter, waiting for some mediocre parents to find him.”

“Yeah, probably parents who don’t spoil him rotten with treats every time he asks.”

Spencer chuckles, glancing toward the cat. “Let’s be honest, sweetheart. You’re the one who can’t say no to that face.”

As if on cue, Mugi stretches languidly, front paws extending before he hops off the bed with a dramatic flick of his tail. He pads off into the other room, leaving the two of you alone in the quiet.

“See?” you sigh, your voice softer now. “Everything would be different. No tea. No Mugi. No you.”

Spencer’s arm tightens around you, pulling you closer until your forehead brushes his. “But things aren’t different,” he says simply.

“I know, I know,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. “But I... I don’t know. It’s so scary Spence. I just—”

“Any moment might be our last. Everything is more beautiful because we’re doomed. You will never be lovelier than you are now. We will never be here again,” he interrupts, his voice calm and steady. “Know where that’s from sweetheart?”

You pull back slightly. “The Iliad,” you murmur.

“Smart girl,” he grins, the dimple in his cheek making an appearance. His hand brushes a stray strand of hair from your face. “It's true,” he agrees. “A lot of things could be different. You could’ve been on time for the bus. My train might not have broken down. We might’ve never crossed paths.” His hand moves from your hair to your face, cupping your cheek. “You could’ve married your high school boyfriend if that asshole hadn’t cheated on you.”

“God, don’t remind me,” you groan, wrinkling your nose.

“And I,” he continues, his voice softening, “could’ve stayed in Vegas, never left, never thought there was anything more for me.”

You look away as you imagine these horribly bleak and sad alternate realities. Sure, it was hell catching your first love in the locker room with another girl but with the certainty you feel for Spencer now, it’s hard to feel anything other than grateful for everything that led you here. You think back to Spencer as a child—alone, hurting, and relentlessly bullied. Your heart twinges with the thought of the pain he’d endured.

“But I didn’t,” he says, breaking the silence. He takes your hand, his fingers threading through yours as if he understands exactly what you’re thinking. “I’m here. You’re here. And so is Mugi, who is probably tearing apart the couch as we speak.”

A soft laugh escapes you, though it’s shaky, and you squeeze his hand. Your chest tightens with something that feels an awful lot like gratitude.

“You know,” he says after a pause, his voice softer now, “I thank god every day that my train broke down.”

You glance at him, raising an eyebrow. “You don’t even believe in god.”

“I don’t,” he admits with a small smile, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand. “But I’d pray to every god out there, in every language I don’t speak, to find you in every universe where I haven’t found you yet.”

Your heart stutters in your chest. “Spence…” you manage, though his name barely makes it past the lump in your throat.

“I mean it,” he says again. “I pray that every version of me deserves to know you in every possible world. To have this. I’d find you, no matter how many lives it took. Because finding you was the hard part. But loving you? That’s second nature.”

Your chest aches. It’s a wonderful kind of pain, as if your heart is trying to expand but can’t quite manage it—too happy, too loved.

“I think I’d find you too,” you say softly, the words tumbling out.

“Think?” Spencer repeats, mock affront in his tone. “I pour my heart out, and all I get is a think?”

You giggle as you halfheartedly swat at his chest. “You know what I mean.”

His hand catches yours, holding it over his heart, his fingers warm against yours. Before you can say more, he leans in, pressing a kiss to your lips—deep and unhurried. It lingers, pulling you closer, tinged with love and longing.

When you finally pull apart, your forehead resting against his, you breathe out, “I love you.”

A soft smile spreads across his face, and he whispers, “I love you too, sweet girl.”

You close your eyes, letting the moment wash over you. “I think what we have… this… it’s more than fate, y’know?”

“Destiny?”

You shake your head, a small smile on your face.

“Oh, I’ve got it. Prophecy,” he teases.

You laugh, light and easy. “No, not that either.”

He quirks an eyebrow, waiting for your explanation.

“It’s like… it’s inevitable,” you say finally, searching for the right words. “You and me. No matter what. No matter where or when. It’s just… always supposed to happen. Even if fate didn’t allow it, even if destiny didn’t write it. I’d find you. I know I would.”

Spencer’s gaze softens. He cups your face in his hands, his thumbs brushing against your cheeks as he looks at you like you’re the only thing in the universe—To Spencer, you might as well be. It’s a gaze so tender it makes your chest ache all over again.

“You’re everything,” he murmurs, leaning in to press a kiss to your forehead.

“Technically, you have me to thank,” you say playfully. “I asked to share a cab.”

“And how’d you know I wouldn’t have just asked for your number?”

You catch each other's gaze for a moment and burst into laughter.

“Okay, fine,” Spencer concedes with a small smile. “I probably would’ve been a mess trying, but for the record, I really did want to ask.”

“Oh I’m sure, honey,” you tease, shifting closer to him.

“Let’s stop worrying about alternate realities and come back to this one yeah? It’s pretty damn good.”

You know Spencer’s right. For all the what-ifs and could-have-beens, the alternate paths and lives you could’ve lived, this is the reality you’re in. The one where he’s here, and so are you. You know, without a doubt now—effects, theories, strings be damned—that you would’ve found each other.

It’s a certainty that transcends time and space, a quiet knowing that runs deep in your bones. No matter the paths you might have walked, no matter the lives you could have lived, it doesn’t matter. You share a love that demands to be seen and to be heard—An undeniable, inevitable reality. The best kind of love.

It’s a love that insists on its own existence.

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ hi if you're here! thank you for reading! feel free to like or reblog or comment or reply!

ᯓ★ song recs if you feel like it: invisible string by taylor swift (bc how could i not) margaret by lana del rey feat bleachers

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid imagine #spencer x reader #spencer x self insert #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader fluff

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therealcocoshady · 1 month ago

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Request please🤗: Marshall x Reader, he's extra protective of her while she's pregnant

A/N : Hey ! I know you posted that Ask a while ago but I recently found it while sorting through them, and I wrote a little blurb. I hope you like it 💕.

Shields Up

CW : Pregnancy - Mention of past miscarriage - Marshall Mathers being protective

As a public figure, you were used to rumors. You had chosen this life and you were fully aware that it came with the territory. As a content creator, your job was literally based on your ability to get people’s attention, after all. After years of hard work, you had gathered a pretty huge following and you had quickly learned that the bigger you were, the more rumors would emerge. Collaborations, alleged feuds, made-up drama and, of course, dating rumors. Nothing seemed to be off the table for the media outlets and, even though it hadn’t been easy to navigate at first, you had grown accustomed to it. In fact, most of the time, you didn’t go out of your way to confirm nor deny anything. You just focused on doing what you loved, making good content and your fans were used to you being private on some parts of your life and you were often praised for your ability to be honest, sometimes vulnerable, without giving too much away. People seemed to like the fact that you weren’t ready to commodify your privacy and your relationships for engagement and clickbait.

So, when rumors started to emerge about you dating Eminem, no one was exactly surprised that both of you stayed silent. After all, you were both known to be notoriously private, focusing on your careers and preferring that the attention remained on your work you put out. That being said, none of you got out of your way to hide the relationship either, so anyone who was looking out for subtle clues could probably find them. You followed some of his friends and family members on Instagram, were sometimes spotted to events he would perform at… It was that kind of situation of something basically being public knowledge without ever being broadcasted.

After years spend together, you were in agreement that it was better that your relationship was kept separate from your professional, public personas. Both of you were known to have a strong work ethic and, though you didn’t have any expertise in music and he didn’t understand much about content creation, you respected each other’s career too much to let your relationship overshadow anything. You knew full-well that, no matter how good you were at your jobs, some of the attention would inevitably be focused on your personal lives. Detroit being a fairly small city, it wasn’t rare for you to attend the same events as him, but you always made sure to arrive separately and not engage in PDA. At most, you’d been spotted chatting on a couple of occasions over the years, but nothing in your demeanors indicated that there was any intimacy between the two of you. Until you got pregnant, at least.

As soon as you handed him the positive pregnancy test, Marshall instantly became more protective of you. You were both overjoyed by the news. Emotional, too. Almost a year prior, you had accidentally gotten pregnant. It wasn’t planned by any means, but you both agreed to keep the baby. Sadly, you ended up miscarrying a few weeks later, still in the early first trimester. Before then, you had always said you didn’t need to raise kids to feel fulfilled, and Marshall had been pretty adamant about not wanting more kids. But the event changed everything, stirring something deep within you, and it didn’t take long before you started actively trying. The miscarriage had been a tough pill to swallow, at first, but none of you really addressed it. After all, you knew it wasn’t a rare occurence, and that these things happened. But you didn’t realized how badly it had left its marks on Marshall until you got pregnant again.

He did not become overbearing of controlling - it just wasn’t him - but there was a new, unmistakable layer of attentiveness and protectiveness. It started with him making sure you were alright throughout the day, reminding you to eat, hydrate and rest, often checking in on how you were feeling. The second you expressed any discomfort, such as fatigue or nausea, he would step in, ready to do anything to make it easier for you. The thermostat would be perfectly adjusted, the fridge always stocked with your favorite snacks and he even got some of the specific teas the doctor had recommended. Of course, he absolutely refused to have you carry anything remotely heavy - not even your oversized tote - and whenever you started talking about deadlines for your projects, he reminded you that the last thing you needed was stress.

You thought he’d keep on maintaining his distance at public events - at least as long as you kept the pregnancy hidden. However, you were proven wrong when you both attended a fundraiser for some Detroit charity. As usual, he skipped the red carpet while you did the photo call but, as soon as you were done, you spotted him, waiting for you. Usually, he’d be in some corner of the room, talking to Paul or some acquaintances, but his attention was unmistakably on you. Throughout the night, he didn’t hover or smother you, but he kept closer than usual, and when you walked through the crowded room, he guided you with a hand placed on the small of your back, shielding you from jostling bodies.

« Are you alright? » you asked quietly, to which he hummed and nodded. « You don’t have to stay so close, you know, » you gently reminded him, your tone teasing and affectionate, a smile tugging at the corner of your lips. « Just looking out for you both » he murmured with a faint grin. Your heart swelled and you couldn’t help but find him adorable, so much so that it took a lot of self-control on your part not to kiss him right then and there. Instead, you simply stood there, smiling at each other. As the night event on, you were both solicited by friends and acquaintances, but you could still feel Marshall’s sharp gaze on you, scanning each and every individual that engaged with you, as if to make sure they weren’t a threat. As the night wore on, Marshall’s vigilance didn’t waver. He made sure you always had a glass of water nearby and checked in with you subtly, asking if she needed to sit or if you were getting too warm under the venue’s lights. At one point, when he noticed the press swarmed near the entrance, he positioned himself slightly in front of you, a silent barrier that made it clear you weren’t to be overwhelmed or bothered in any way. By the time you left, you were both exhausted and grateful. You expected to leave in separate cars, as you always did, but instead of sticking to the usual routine, he opened the door and helped you in. Cameras flashed, capturing the rare moment, but none of you really cared. You were simply looking forward to the perspective of heading home for some much-needed rest, and you could tell that he needed to have you close, at least for his own peace of mind.

By the next morning, the Internet was ablaze. Photos and videos from the fundraiser were everywhere, showing the two of you together in ways that left no room for ambiguity. People were notably crazy about one picture, where he could be spotted guiding you through a small crowd, one hand on your back. Twitter threads speculated wildly. « We’ve seen him with her before, but this? This is different, » one user wrote, linking to a clip of him helping her into the car. « I’m telling you, they’re not hiding it anymore. ». The speculation grew more intense with every passing hour. Was this your way of confirming the relationship? Were you going public after years of silence? Marshall, as always, ignored the noise. He spent the morning in his home studio, tinkering with beats, while you scrolled through your phone, half-amused and half-exasperated by the Internet’s obsession. You walked over, wrapping your arms around him from behind. « You know, you’re kind of bad at the whole ‘keeping a low profile’ thing lately. ». He tilted his head back, looking at you with mock indignation. « I’m just making sure you’re good. They’re the ones reading into it. » You laughed, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. « Well, for what it’s worth, I think you’re pretty amazing. »

#eminem fanfiction #eminem fluff #marshall mathers imagine #marshall mathers x reader #eminem x reader #eminem imagine

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lady-raziel · 10 months ago

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and alright, here's my last (let's hope) and boldest take yet. lots of people have been talking about the level of staff (around 25-ish people) at watcher, and whether downsizing that number could have been a potential avenue of reducing costs before just jumping to a subscription model. at first i was like yeah, i'm not sure that there needs to be 18 people involved in making a lets play. i was in the fucking trenches in the unus annus days and i'm still amazed how markiplier and ethan nestor managed to put out pretty well edited videos every day for a whole year with only a handful of editors and a couple people filming. what unus annus was trying to do and what watcher is trying to do are obviously pretty different, but the point is that you really don't need a whole crew of people to make lots of different types of content and do it well.

i still think there probably doesn't need to be a whole production crew involved with the creation of some of the simpler types of content watcher puts out. however, i don't think the size of the staff is the real problem. in fact, i think the staff of watcher probably should have been larger.

let me explain. if i begrudgingly go to one of my most detested websites (linkedin. *bleeegh*) and look up watcher, i can see that pretty much every person on staff is in a creative role of some sort by their own admission. at first glance, its like, oh, that makes sense. they're making creative products, it's natural that they should all be in creative roles. however, once you think about it for a little longer from a business perspective, that fact is really concerning.

after all, by watcher's own definition, this is a production studio. this is a company. So in this sea of creative roles, who's doing corporate planning? Who's managing finance? Who's doing payroll? Or brand outreach? Or human-freaking-resources??? you can hire outside groups for all this. i'm aware. but those services cost a lot of money to contract too. i'm just finding it concerning that there is pretty much no one on full time staff that is there to at least do some of this stuff. if watcher wants to be a big-boy company, that's fine, but that means you have to pay some people to be part of your company to do the not-fun business stuff like accounting. or resource management.

if they want to be a real company, they should actually have a lot more people on staff to deal with all the non-creative parts of running a company. even if they contract out most of it, you want at least a few people that are your people and don't actually work for someone else. that's how you don't get screwed over or end up in a contract you can't get out of.

which leads me to my last train of thought. like, as i go through the staff of watcher and look at what they do, it really seems like one of the ONLY people who's job it was to look at the business side of things WAS steven lim in his role as CEO. and thinking about that, i'm like god, can you imagine?? here's a guy who just wants to create cool stuff too but as one of the few people who has to think about the realities of Brand and the Business, HE has to be the one to burst the bubble. He as CEO has to say no to people and make decisions to make sure the company survives. In a group of creative people who just want to make things they're interested in, no expense spared, he was probably the guy who had to stay at least a little tethered to reality.

I'm not about to say that steven lim isn't to blame here. everyone involved in making the decisions that have led up to this point is part of this. but shit, it absolutely sucks to have to be the person at the end of the brainstorm session when everyone is coming up with their best ideas and to have to say "guys, i don't think any of these things are possible unless we make some big decisions."

is that what happened at watcher HQ? i don't know. at this point, with radio silence from everyone, speculation is all we've got. but if you follow the thread of a bunch of creatives striking out on their own to make their own business after being burned by their former employer, despite not knowing really how to run a business, and then only hiring fellow creative people and not other people who actually run business things... well, all of this starts to make slightly more sense in WHY none of watcher's actions make sense. everybody wants to stick it to the man and be their own boss with their own business, until it actually comes to the hard parts of doing that. at that point people start to realize, "oh, maybe some of the things that existed at my old job were there for a reason, actually."

all this is why lots of creatives striking out and starting their own businesses don't work in the end. they're thinking about in terms of creative products still, when they really need to be focusing more on the "business" part of the "creative business." it's sad. it sucks. it destroys a lot of good ideas and good people, because one person in every company like that has to be the one who thinks practically. could this have been avoided if watcher had been hiring people all along to manage this business and not just adding people to add to the creative output? maybe. even then it might not have been enough to curb other predictable impulses that led us down this path.

i feel bad for watcher, and i feel bad for the fandom. but i can't help but wonder if this was always the kind of situation we were going to end up in, and we just missed some of the warning signs because ALL of us were thinking, "well, that could never happen to us. we're different. not the Ghoul Boys."

#watcher #watcher tv #two stupidly long thinkpieces in one morning? wow! what a bargain!#just don't ask which of my responsibilities i'm ignoring by typing all this out

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auspicioustidings · 4 months ago

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You're not some super popular influencer or anything, but you have enough of a following that you were able to make content creation your full time job a year ago. It's bizarre to you still, you started out doing true crime videos because you genuinely enjoyed the research and the mystery of it all, you never expected people to like them so much.

Your most recent one makes you wildly sad. Nobody really knows what the hell happened to the Riley family. Dad who had overcome a struggle with addiction, mum who by all accounts was universally liked, young son who wanted to be a footballer when he grew up. There was so much unanswered, so many threads to follow that led to a suspicious void of nothing. The dad had a brother who had went missing only months before, who was later declared dead but nobody knew how.

Is it ghoulish of you to drag the story of this tragedy out and question the circumstances? Honestly you are sure it is. You want some sort of justice for them, but you're not blind to the fact you are making money off of this because people find tragedy entertaining. As always the majority of the profits from the video, and they are significant, go to helping the victims. In this case there isn't any family left to ask, so you donate it between a few charities. You never tell your audience it's what you do because it would feel sort of gross, like you're justifying what is a morally questionable style of content.

Still the story sticks with you. You've never involved yourself too much with the emotions behind these things, but this time you can't help it. You visit the Riley family grave, leave a toy for Joseph and flowers for his parents.

"You want to go grab a drink?"

The masked stranger who sneaks up on you when you're laying the flowers is massive and intimidating, but there is something so overwhelmingly sad about him. You say yes and Simon gives his brother's grave a raised eyebrow. It would be just like Tommy to set him up with some video essayist who referred to him as 'Thomas Riley's absent brother" and proceeded to be politely scathing about his line of work. He's watched the video more than once.

Suppose he'll have to set you right.

#mhairidrabbles

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todorokies · 2 years ago

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jjk characters as male thot jobs

including: satoru gojo, suguru geto, toji fushiguro, kento nanami

contents: sfw but very suggestive, jjk men acting like sluts, gn!reader but there is a fem term used once

a/n: you might not consider some of these as “thot jobs” but im here to hypnotize you ouuuuhhh *wiggles fingers around* .. this is so silly but i had a blast writing this one

☆ . . . since gojo’s brain is hardwired to find teasing others amusing and quite the pass time i could see him as a dentist. you go to your local clinic for a annual deep cleaning and this man purposely goes out of his way to make things seem inherently sensual but still manages to do his job professionally. he’ll coo and praise you for following the most regular orders “now open real nice and wide for me … that’s righttt, good girl.” and “bite down on this … mhm yes just like that, you’re doing a great job.”

he’d definitely be like the annoying ones who still try to have a conversation while knuckles-deep prodding in your mouth. “i can tell you haven’t been flossing as much as you should be, what’s up with that?” and all you can do is narrow your eyes at him. he always caress your jaw and cheek too even through the latex gloves his touches are so intimate and gentle at the end of your appointment you’ll be genuinely considering if you should fuck your dentist or not.

☆ . . . i had multiple options for geto but firmly decided on a ceramic artist. i can envision him owning a modern yet whimsical pottery studio —he wanted the modern look but nanako and mimiko insist on the whimsical interior— he offers free beginner classes twice a month. omgg the way his hands knead at the clay and skillfully sculpts on the wheel with his fingers meticulously bending, making his veins more prominent while delicately morphing the creation into a vase. he annunciates his instructions with melodic calmness but still has authority present in his tone i swearrr his voice is like honey.

you catch his eye in one of his classes and offers extended hours free of charge to help you “better your form.” he sits behind you, cradling your forearms directing your movements but still making room for you to assist your own creation. his warm minted breath tickles the back of your neck causing goosebumps “make sure to sit close to the wheel and anchor your elbows tightly against your body…” the sultry in his tone doesn’t go unnoticed with him slightly moving to your ear next “don’t be afraid to make mistakes it’s all about trial and error, darling.”

☆ . . . like the unemployed bum toji is, he seems like the type of man to pride himself as a ‘jack of all trades.’ which is why i see him in the freelancer field of work, specifically, a personal shopper. he has an app on his phone where he can either accept or deny requests. he’s quite picky with commissions when money isn’t running low, but don’t get him wrong, he’s willing to go the extra mile to please his clients. always prefers phone calls over text when discussing farther details knowing his gruff voice will have the recipient weak in the knees. he isn’t shameful to treat his full time employment as a part time hookup arrangement…if he’s lucky enough that is.

“here’s your stuff, pretty.” the quite taller and muscular man at your porch hands over a brown bag containing your groceries. you don’t miss the way his hands graze yours in the exchange, his sharp eyes examine you like you’re his prey; awaiting for your next move in a game you involuntarily started playing. words of gratitude try to slither past your lips but ultimately couldn’t: you’ve officially peaked his interest. “hey, why don’t i help you unload your items?” at that, you nodded making way for the sleazy man to enter your home and eventually your bedroom as well.

☆ . . . what differentiates nanami from the rest is that he’s unaware of how insanely attractive his profession as a baker is. he truly doesn’t understand the appeal of a man in an apron kneading dough and decorating pink frilly cupcakes. he co-owns a bakery with haibara !! they even enrolled in culinary school together. the interior is quite morden with wisteria and other succulent plants hanging from the ceiling; most of the time he’s clueless to very clear advances from others or kindly shut them down saying how he’s “not looking for anything serious” which is a lie he himself started to believe.

but on a faithful sunday autumn morning you stroll in just salivating at the thought of warm dewy chocolate filled croissants, fresh from the oven, when you see him; clad in a bulky knitted cream sweater tying a black apron around his slim waist whilst his becipes bulged slightly through the thick material of the sweater. “good morning, what can i get for you today?” one thing lead to another making you leave with not only a croissant but the blond man’s phone number —due thanks to his cheeky younger coworker, yuji, who wrote the number on your receipt including a note that read: ‘he’s soooo into you :)’

reblogs & feedback is extremely appreciated !! <3

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un-lawliet · 8 months ago

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“Fit For an Archon”

— in which the Hydro Archon is fascinated by you

a/n- happy pride month to all my wlw, i wrote this for us <3 im sorry for how long it is (gasp)

word count (7.1k)

You are the worst seamstress in Fontaine.

You’re sure of it.

Your hands seem to repel fabric, your needle poisoning the thread in which you clumsily stitch with and leaving you with a truly horrendous looking frock.

Chiori, bless her soul, had hired you as a a request from your Father, who, in Chiori’s defence, was a fantastic tailor, renowned for his intricate stitching and detailed attires- Truly a renaissance for Fontaine fashion.

And so when he left Chioris business, set to start his own amiss the bustling harbours of Liyue, you found yourself tucked away, working in his place for Chiori, who was currently frowning pensivly down at your work, as if it had personally offended her.

“…It’s bad isn’t it?” You state, looking intensely at your boss who chewed on her painted bottom lip, head cocked, wondering how in Tevat you were your Fathers daughter.

“It’s not…Awful” She tries, although not very well, her gaze fixed on the uneven stitching and the deplorable match of colour.

“Better than last time?” You question, a terrible sense of hope clouding your voice, hopeful that maybe, just maybe you were improving-

“No, no, definitely worse.” Chiori mutters, and your face falls.

She sticks a hand out and touches the skirt you had presented her with, lifting it up.

The seams fall and the skirt halves in her grasp, and you cringe silently, eyes closing in embarrassment.

“Hm.” She ponders, turning to stare at you from over her shoulder, an eyebrow raised.

“It’s…Meant to do that?” You try, shoulders raising in contention, only to be silenced again at the shake of her head.

“Take a break Y/N.” Chiori says, tired under attempts to support your terrible creations.

You don’t argue with her, immediately fleeing the boutique as if you were being hunted down by the God King Remus himself.

The bell on the door dings as you exit, waving goodbye to your co-workers who scoff at your exit, whispering words under their breath that you chose not to render.

You just needed to stick this job out until you had enough income to quit.

But- with the state of your designs and the even worse execution of said designs, you doubt you’d ever make enough to follow through with your intentions.

And really…You barely make ends meet as it is.

Oh God.

You kick a stone and watch as it skims across the tarmac, bouncing up and down until skidding to a stop metres before you.

You hate being a seamstress.

Making it to the manufactured river, you slump down, lazily throwing your legs off of the sides, your boots delicately touching the water surface below.

The same way they always did when Chiori sends you away.

How ridiculously boring.

Fontaine’s a-lot quieter in the evening, most people finding themselves at the Opera Epiclese to watch a spectacle, faces tinged red with excitement.

You prefer it when it’s quiet, when the streets are empty. It means you can lie backwards on the hard ground without too much judgement from your fellow citizens.

Your legs still bent down towards the water, with your back on the concrete dock, you allow yourself a breath.

You hear footsteps somewhere off to your right but pay them no mind. After all, passing judgement is only ever passing, and you’re sure whoever it is will waltz past you, giving you a confused once over before immediately forgetting your face.

You stretch one of your legs and break the surface of the river, feeling the tip of your boot soak up the water briefly, before you’re lifting it back out, shaking it gently to dry it off.

Someone cleared their throat behind you and you sign with the frustration of interrupted serenity.

Can you truly not have anything?

Pushing yourself up with your elbows, you turn your face the perpetrator, eyebrows drawn down to a frown.

You were gonna stare them out until they left you to mope at this stupid river, politeness be dammed!

It’s Focalors behind you.

Lady Furina.

Every retort resting on your tongue is swallowed up, getting stuck in the back of your throat and you choke on your words, chest heaving in shock.

The Hydro Archon stares down at you, watching your struggle, her arms crossed over her chest and a smug smile on her lips.

Her hair sways in the breeze, tickling her leg and she seems to be quite fascinated in the dress encasing your figure.

A long ruffly mess of colour and mesh with a corset that one would barely call fitting, you look like a run away mannequin, pathetically thrown together before your God.

“Lady Furina.” You wheeze, propelling yourself to your feet, dropping into a bow, your skirt following comically behind.

Why is she here? Is she not fond of the Opera house? Archons people wait half their lives to meet her and here you are face to face with God through pure circumstance.

She waves a gloved hand in your direction, dismissing your bow entirely, eyes still drawn to the fabric of your gown.

“Your..attire is quite interesting.” She states bluntly, walking two steps to the left to capture your dress from all angles.

Your face flushes, “Thank you Lady Furina, it’s an honour to be complimented by-”

“Were you supposed to be in the opera?” She cuts you off, turning her body in the general direction of the Epiclese.

“What?” You answer before finding your manners, “I mean n-no it’s my….” You sigh, shoulders slumping, “I’m a seamstress.”

Lady Furina pauses, her head lifting you look at your face, studying it with such precision that you feel yourself bite back the desire to look away.

“..A seamstress?”

“Unfortunately.”

“Oh.”

The pair of you look at each other for a moment before she throws her head back and laughs. It echoes around the empty streets of Fontaine and reverberates right into your ears.

“I suspected as much!” She guffaws, clapping her hands together.

You cock your head, confused, “No you didn’t?” You reply, unable to stop the offence in your voice.

Sure you weren’t good at your job but you liked this dress! And you were definitely not apart of any play!

Lady Furina’s laugh trails off and she stares at you, her lip between her teeth, holding back a grin.

“Tell me!” She begins again, and you shudder at the volume of her voice. “Why is it that you look so sad?”

“Huh?” You question, eyes widening in confusion.

Furina smiles, it brightens her face, before pointing at you then back to herself, “As your Archon it is my duty to right the wrongs of Fontaine, and you appeared so gloomy that I had no choice but to journey off my path to check up on you!”

Shame forces its way through your body and you shake your head, holding out your sweaty palms to face her, “Lady Furina you do not need to trouble yourself with my issues, trust me.” And you shiver against her unblinking gaze, “Please, continue on your way..” You awkwardly laugh, gesturing to the street, dying inside.

Furina blinks at you, “You don’t want to share problems for me?”

You take a step back, bashfully shaking your head, “I mean no offence…”

It’s awkward.

Furina tilts her head, studying you, confused.

She is far too use to Fontainians requesting her opinions on trivial matters so much so that the blatant avoidance from you is baffling.

You scratch the back of your hand in the silence.

Lady Furina watches you, dissecting you with her eyes, trying to go over every woe that past Fontainians had brought to her omnipresent ears.

You chuckle, trying to force her gaze off of you before you melt and join the water behind you.

“You’re not watching the play?” You say, gesturing in the general direction of the Epiclese, pleading silently for her to stop looking at you like that.

She shakes her head, closing her eyes, “I’ve seen it before, it gets quite tiresome seeing the same thing over and over again.”

“Oh”

Lady Furina grins, her opposing eyes still gracing your face as if you were so easy to figure out.

“Do you…Hate your job?”

You gawk at her.

She smirks.

Jack pot.

“I’m right aren’t I? You can save your praise, I know I’m truly otherworldly when it comes to intuition.” She fans her hand up and down at you, throwing her pretty head back dramatically.

“Must be a gift from Celestia then.” You conclude, turning away from her and sitting back down at your river side.

You’re slightly peeved at her reaction and would rather not disrespect an Archon so early in your life, so you do not face her with your glare.

“Come now.” Lady Furina says, strolling over to you, “I only joke.”

The Hydro Archon was now sitting beside you, kicking her feet in the water.

This truly cannot be real.

You sigh.

Well, if she’s asking, you may as well answer.

What’s another sinner to an Archon anyway.

“Do you ever feel trapped by the wishes of another?” You ask, defeat clouding your senses as you speak.

Lady Furina stills, but you do not notice.

“My Father, asked me to keep on his legacy in Fontaine, he’s a brilliant tailor, I mean, it’s like he was born to be one…”

You trail off, and splash your foot into the water, “And I just- I’m terrible at being a seamstress, I can’t even pretend to enjoy it because I am so utterly rubbish at it.”

She’s watching you, you can feel it. It’s as intense as your emotions, you almost shy away.

“Sorry.” You mutter, “I don’t know why I’m asking. It’s not like you have to struggle with these “mortal issues.”

You laugh bitterly in the silence of your confession.

Lady Furina’s hand slightly brushes yours and you wonder if she notices.

The pair of you sit quietly for a moment, your face growing warmer in the seconds.

You’re about to apologise again, your words on the tip of your tongue before she speaks, ripping the pages from your mouth.

“I always find it fascinating to hear how Mortals think.”

“Hm?”

“How they can voice their feelings so freely, it has always struck me.” Her voice is a lot quieter, you almost mistake her for someone else.

You glance, taking in the side of Lady Furina’s face, her soft features seem burdened, you hope silently that you were not the cause of her worries.

“An Archon admiring her subjects…” You say, slicing through the quiet, “That’s quite comforting actually.”

Lady Furina tilts her head, narrowing her dainty eyebrows quizzingly, “Pardon?”

You smile, and hope it reaches both your eyes and hers. “You care. It’s kind.”

She’s watching you again, her chest rising and falling in tandem to the gentle swish of the water.

You place an arm on your knee and rest you head in your palm, feeling bold.

“It must be lonely being a God.”

And her eyes grow wide, for a split second, before she’s blinking and resuming her facade of impassive control.

“What ever do you mean?”

“There’s no higher being to think about you.” You reply, introspection fluctuating in your words before it slaps you back into reality with a cold hand.

“Uh- Pardon me, I don’t mean to call you lonely I just-”

“It’s quite alright.” Lady Furina says, straightening up, her hair brushing your shoulder and her hand moving from yours. “You did not mean any harm.”

She moves to stand, and you watch, perplexed.

“You have the freedom to quit.” She says simply, “There is no higher deity forcing you to stay.” And she smiles, “All will be ok.”

She leaves as fast as she had arrived and you’re left alone to think.

Strange you think.

You hope you didn’t offend her.

—

When it’s not raining, the sun has a habit of overstaying her welcome.

It’s absolutely roasting in Fontaine, and so when Chiori asked if you would stay behind to finish your garment after work hours, you jumped at the opportunity to relish in the cool breeze of the back rooms.

Besides, you feel less embarrassed working by yourself, with nobody around to mock your gowns.

You flinch as you pierce the skin of your finger, watching as a maroon red slides into your palm.

You wipe it on your dress, it clashes with the colour.

“Do you always make a habit of wearing the most..peculiar garments?”

You jump, dropping your needle onto the sickly pink fabric, you wince as it falls, sure to be lost forever.

“L-Lady Furina?” You gasp, turning your body towards her, your dress swishing in your movement as you try pathetically bow your head in her exuberant presence.

“Yes “tis I.” She replies, her arms opening dramatically but her eyes stay focused on your choice of apparel. “Honestly.” She muses, “It’s no wonder they keep you back here…”

Lady Furina glances around your cluttered work room, taking in the flurry of vibrant coloured ribbons dripping out from their boxes, half finished corsets falling apart at their seams and the tatttered fabric unevenly pinned to a mannequin standing just inches away from her.

You step in-front of her, your eyes wide as you try conceal her vision of your failures, a sheepish grimace on your face.

“Um, we’re closed today, it’s only me in- uh how did you get inside-”

“I am the hydro archon.” Furina’s voice booms out, the exaggerated drawl making you cower away from her slightly, “I merely walked in.”

“I thought I had locked the door?” You questioned, taking a step back from her.

“A locked door is no enemy of mine!” She laughs, regarding you with a look oozing with pride, her chest puffed out and head raised.

“Right..” You mumble, picking at the skin on your fingers, nervously swaying back and fourth.

Your fingers are adorned with pricks from your needle, they would bleed should you continue your childish picking, yet you persist, unable to stop your absentminded jittering.

Lady Furina watches your movement, satisfaction appearing to glow in her eyes.

“Now!” She exclaims, wondering over to the only empty surface in the room, an old blue chair, faded with age.

“I need a new ribbon for my hat.” The chair creaks when Furina sits, crossing her legs and staring at you expectantly.

You think the chair isn’t even worthy enough for you to sit on, let alone the God Of Justice.

“I can..Write an order down for a ribbon for when Chiori returns?” Your voice trails off, thwarted by the dull look she regards you with at your suggestion.

“No, no, no!” Furina shakes her head, her actions reminding you of a child, “I want you to make it!”

“I beg you pardon?” Your eyes widen, and you glance around, taking in all your terrible, terrible works of fashion.

“Me?” You breathe, “Lady Furina, if I may- I clearly lack the talent to create anything, let alone something in which an archon should wear.” You hands shake slightly as she stares at you, willing yourself not to blink or look away in her ever present intensity. “You know this.”

“But I demanded it?” She cocks her head, reaching up to take her hat off, outstretching her arms to look at it intently.

Her hair falls down, it cascades down her shoulders like water and you hold yourself back from counting the waves between each strand, instead choosing to look away.

Ribbons are simple, you remind yourself.

You’re not entirely deficient in the art of fashion, you’re just…Well- you’re just you.

“So?” Furina says, her voices drags you from the inner monologue whispering in your ear, she pushes the hat in your direction, twirling it so you can view its simplicity from every angle.

Your clasp your hands together, head tilted like a dog.

“I’m thinking.. here.” Her finger rests on in the space between the crown and the brim, “A blue ribbon thats doesn’t blend in with the rest of the hat but adversely will not stand out…”

You nod, it’s curt, Furina smiles, it stretches her face and she all but glows, cheeks flushed.

“You’ll do it then?”

You scratch your arm, and sigh.

“It will look horrid.”

“It will look like it was made by you.” She replies, sweetly, her voice like the silk in which she adorned, you take a second to truly feel the implications behind her words and suddenly feel yourself become quite bashful.

Your heart ticks within your chest and like clockwork you reach your hands out for her hat, avoiding her gaze.

“A blue that doesn’t blend in but also doesn’t stand out?” Your voice is whispered, trying to act assertive but failing all the same.

“Indeed, a ribbon fit for an archon!” Furina appears to get louder the more she reminds you of her status, you cringe at her volume but turn so she does not see.

“I’ll try my best.” You hum, glancing at the box you pathetically labelled “Ribbons”.

You reach out and touch the cardboard confines, pulling it towards you and shuffling some fabric under your finger tips.

Red, yellow, green…the most hideous shade of pink ever- Dear God did you supply this?

Furina sits, twirling a strand of her hair as she watches you, taking in the chaos of your dress and your work space respectfully.

You really had such a unique flare to you.

Your dress was terribly put together, fabric seemingly falling off the skirt, which, in Furina’s opinion, was much too puffy for an average day at work.

When she leaned closer, she could see how the seams were pathetically stitched together, a bundled mess of experimentation that clearly did not work, the sheer fact she could see the stitching was enough of a sign to tell her that you had made this dress yourself.

Furina raises a hand to cover her the genuine smile that ripped across her features.

You truly were fascinating to observe.

“You chose to stay here then?”

You look back at her, a small frown on your face.

“Yea.” You say simply, “It’s just easier.”

She scoffs.

“What?” You reply, indignantly, “I’m still getting paid.”

“You’re staying for the money?”

“I’m staying to save up the money.” You retort, “As soon as I have enough I am gone, you’ll see.”

Furina laughs, you can help but feel melodic, almost sad.

You don’t know what else to do, so you smile, watching as Furina breaks eye contact immediately, coughing into her glove.

“I hope I do.” You hear her say, and you try to ignore the giddy sensation that seems to course through your veins and into your heart.

—

“Lady Furina what an i-interesting bow.”

“I know, I know! Isn’t it just fabulous.”

“It’s um rather…big?”

“Yes? Is there a problem?”

“N-no! I was merely voicing that-”

“If there is no issue then I must bid you farewell. I have a meeting with a most important diplomat, I assume you have already placed the pastries?”

“Yes Lady Furina…”

“Good.”

—

On days when you aren’t in the boutique, you write to your Father.

You write pages upon pages of frustrated scribbles, voicing your resentment of his craft and the comparison to your own, writing furiously about how much you wish to be freed from your job and allowed to travel with him to nations far and wide.

In the end you send none of it, opting instead to write false truths about how honoured you are to work in the darkest parts of his shadow, and how gracious you are for his talents.

You lick the envelope seal and pop it thru the post office window, smiling softly at the old lady behind the glass.

It’s raining in Fontaine today, dark clouds pulsing in the sky, above you, soaking the fabric of your skirt.

It always seems to rain after a trial.

You shake your head. Damn, you should have brought an umbrella.

When you pass by a group of children you hear their yells, pitiful pleads of; “Hydro dragon, hydro dragon don’t cry!”

And you smile and whisper it under your breath as you look to the sky.

Your thoughts circle back to Furina, you hadn’t seen her as much, especially not with the growing fears of the flood of Fontaine.

You wonder if it’s true, wonder how she’ll solve it.

You have faith in her, you think.

There’s no way you’ll drown before you can leave to travel.

There’s no way Fontaine’s Archon would let you all perish under the power of Hydro when she herself is the embodiment of the element.

You have faith.

—

There’s nothing you truly dread more than presentations to the Archon and her people.

And there’s nothing you hate more than how Champvallon, who was standing in for Chiori due to her endeavours in Inazuma, was currently mumbling under his breath at your choice of dress.

You had been running late, quite literally, the ends of your dress stained with dirt, dying the pale blue fabric brown and green.

“You’ll have to stand in the back girl.” He grumbled, his moustache dipping slightly into his mouth, pushing your shoulders and making you move behind your fellow seamstresses, grey eyes pinched into slits as he chastised you.

You heard one of your coworkers giggle from behind her hand, whispering to another about your ill fashioned garments matching your deplorable creations of fashion.

You bit your tongue and glanced at the wooden floor beneath you.

She isn’t wrong, you think, thank Celestia that your tailoring would never see the light of day.

Lady Furina and her entourage enter the room moments later, you think Furina appears to glow and wonder if your eyes are playing tricks on you, or if this is some strange phenomenon one achieves when becoming an archon.

You shake your head and join your party’s collective bow.

You and Furina had grown closer, although, the margin of closeness was confined between her passing by the boutique window and waving in when she saw you, smiling cheekily as she took in your plethora of dresses that just appeared to get more ridiculous with time.

You had begun to crave these moments of seeing her, positioning yourself closer to the window, as to ensure you did not miss her.

You don’t understand why.

Maybe you just liked to see her smile.

…“Lady Furina, we at Chioriya Boutique thank you for allowing us to present our garments for you today.” Champvallon declares. You cringe at his sickly sweet voice that deepens in tone as he continues his speech.

The man behind Lady Furina is Neuvillette, you’re sure of it. High and mighty, his stature as impressive as his title.

And under your breath you repeat the pronunciation of his name, dragging out the syllables from under your tongue.

Lady Furina allows a moment to pass before she prompts, “Ah yes! Only Fontaines best is suited for your justice party.”

The presentation from the boutique takes hours.

Furina catches your eye a few times, and smiles, it’s subtle enough that you almost believe it’s not aimed at you. Ignoring the flutter of your heart everytime her eyes meet your own.

The final designs are being brought out when suddenly you see a creation that makes your heart drop.

Sitting on a cushion, is a broach.

An ugly, bedazzled broach that you were sure you had thrown out.

And it was being carried over to the justice team by a worker who stares at it confused.

“And here we have a broach for the Archon herself.” Says Champvallon, who is still yet to turn his head to view your horrendous work.

You’re paralysed, hands shaking trying to think of a way you can remove the jewellery without causing a scene.

“We hope you adore it as much as we adored making-” Champvallons voice trails off and he looks at the cushion, his eyes widening as he finally see’s what he’s presenting.

You hear the party behind Furina collectively stop their idle chatter and stare.

Everyone looks.

Nobody says anything.

“And who is behind the creation of this…thing?”

You want to die. Truly.

Your heart is in your throat and feel sick, raising a trembling hand as you step forward, your eyes stuck to the ground.

You’re sweating, palms clammy as you take a breath, preparing to be fired in-front of Lady Furina and her circle. Shame appears to drip off your brow and onto the crevices of your cheeks.

“It was me Sir.” You mumble, your voice weak, “But it was an accident I swear!”

Looking towards Lady Furina, you bow your head, pleading silently for her forgiveness, “I never meant to offend.”

“You foolish, troublesome girl.” Hisses Champvallon, his eyes narrowed as he walks towards you.

You bite your lip, and apologise profusely although you know it will not matter.

“Lady Furina.” Champvallon says as he reaches your side, plastering an ugly smile on his furious face, concealing his bitter dissatisfaction.

“I will send someone immediately to retrieve your actual broach, please, hand that one over to one of the maids, I will dispose of it as soon as possible.”

“No need.” Lady Furina says, halting the conversation instantly with a raise of her glove covered hand.

She glances at the miserable looking broach and then towards you, you hold her gaze for a moment before she smiles, recognition flickering across her decorated eyes, finishing her examination of your face.

“I’d like to keep it.”

“Lady Furina?”

Holding the broach in her hands, she raises it to her face, almost as if fascinated by the shameful stitching and the odd colour scheme.

“Lady Furina.” Champvallon stutters, moving away from you, “Your kindness knows no bounds b-but surely you would prefer something a little more..well pleasing to the eye?”

You stare at the back of his head as he leaves your side, counting the freckles on his neck to steady yourself.

“It’s unique, it’s different, Fontainians are known for their eloquence, and I as the God of Hydro must always be challenging these trends.”

Furina peers over her hands to stare at your boss, a dainty eyebrow raised.

“You wouldn’t dare to challenge an Archons will, would you?”

Champvallon splutters, his face warming to a putrid red, his arms rising up as if pleading to surrender.

“N-No I merely thought that-”

“Then it is settled.” Lady Furina laughs, leaning back in her chair and glancing at you.

In your daze, you barely register the tiny wink she sends you way, eyes too focused on the way you broach was now sitting snug, amongst the fabric of her outfit.

It stuck out like a thorn grips the side of a rose and you grimace.

It was ugly, inarguably so.

Neuvillette clears his throat, eyes sweeping over your trembling figure.

“It was you who made this?” He ponders, head tilted slightly.

Your eyes snap to his, and you nod, it’s clumsy and awkward and you hate yourself.

“Um, yes your Honour, I made it.”

“It’s very interesting.” His voice is light, as if trying to filter out the tension pulling the conversation to a standstill, “The yellow and the pink are an unusual yet unique combination, very bright to the eye.”

You breathe out a small smile, as Lady Furina nods her head. “Yes, yes, indeed.”

“Thank you Monsieur Neuvillette, Lady Furina.”

You’re bowing again, chastising yourself for never taking the time to learn how to properly bow for an Archon, and then you’re leaving, hands still shaking, but head lifted just a little bit higher.

Furina doesn’t see you leave, too busy tracing the colours of her broach, smiling down at the terrible stitching as if it were weaved in silk and gold.

The presentation finishes with an awkward finality, with all eyes subconsciously darting down to look at your broach on Furina chest, wondering what in Fontaine their Archon was thinking.

—

You don’t know how, but Lady Furina had became a regular in your life now.

Always managing to catch your eye when you’re walking the streets of your home land.

Popping up randomly behind you just to greet you before leaving.

It appeared she worked in patterns, as if she was use to working by a routine.

You almost assume she appears there on purpose, it’s always far too convenient for it to be by chance.

“Y/N!” You hear one day, you’re sitting outside enjoying your lunch break as Lady Furina approaches you.

You hear a bustle and suddenly Fontainians are flodding the streets, clamouring over to her, crowding her.

You smile as she appears to soak up the attention, flaunting her hands in every direction, acknowledging everyone, one by one.

The people don’t seem to think about the prophecy when Focalor herself is before them, too busy trusting her with their lives to care.

You catch her gaze after a moment, and she puffs out her chest, as if trying to impress you.

Your heart aches.

You blink.

…That’s a strange feeling.

“Now now, my faithful subjects.” She begins, “I must take my leave now, I have very important business to attend to!”

You hear the groans of her people, as they beg her to stay, but reluctantly they remove themselves from her and walk away.

It’s just you and her now and she gestures for you to follow her.

You grow nervous, knowing there are watchers.

You hear them whisper behind their hands, hear them questioning why the “crazy girl from the boutique was the centre of the Hydro Archons attention.”

You cringe, but follow her anyway, your steps timid under eyes.

You think you’d follow her anywhere, but that could just be your adrenaline talking, your heart thumping within the confines of your chest.

“Lady Furina,” You say when you reach an empty alleyway, away from the eyes of Fontaine.

You pause, taking in the cracked bricks in the surrounding walls. “This is…Well- I’ll be honest it’s creepy.”

“Huh.” She says, turning to face you, “It’s more private no?”

“It’s a dark alleyway.” You deadpan.

Furina laughs, taking your hand in a wild moment of humour.

Dear God you hope you aren’t sweating.

“Never fear!” She declares, “As long as I’m here, nothing can harm you.”

Her words draw out a feeling that you don’t allow yourself to delve into, choosing instead let her hold your shaky hand without pulling away.

“I never got to thank you.”

“Thank me?”

You blush.

“For saving my career the other day.”

You see Furinas eyes move, as if trying to recall.

“Oh! The showing.”

You nod, “Thank you for…being so kind.”

You smile at her, and her eyes drops to your teeth in one fast, graceful motion before travelling back to your eyes.

“Always.” She replies, as if it was the simplest concept to her, like washing your hands or falling asleep.

Your face is on fire.

Gods your hands are definitely sweaty now.

Lady Furina shakes her head, as if pulling herself together.

“Now! I’m inviting you to tea.”

What.

“Sorry?”

“Tea. With me, together.”

“No, no I-I got that.”

She smiles, “So?”

“Why in Teyvat would you want to have tea with me?” You question, hope blooming in your chest, overpowering your habit of avoidance.

Furina stills, her face filled with confusion that you don’t get.

“You don’t want tea with me?” Shadows seem to cover her face, and you pull your hand from hers to frantically wave them in front of you.

“No no! Don’t misunderstand me! I’d love to, oh my God there’s nothing I’d enjoy more it’s just that-”

“Just that what?”

“You’re an archon?”

Furina frowns.

“What does that have to do with anything? I’m asking you to join me as a friend, not as an Archon.”

Oh.

“Oh.”

You know of your less than extraordinary appearance, and the simplicity of your life. You know that imagining anything more with an Archon is a fantasy so baffling that it even embarrasses you.

But you still can’t fight the disappointment resonating in your chest at the stupid word “Friend”.

Furina doesn’t seem to notice your deflation, instead probing you for an answer. Her hand reaching up to hold your arm, tugging you closer to her.

There’s a hopeful, cheeky look in her eye that you think could persuade even the most hellish of Demons to stand down.

“Well? You’ll join me?”

You sigh, and try to throw on a smile.

You feel like a puppet, your grin has to be ugly, repulsive, even so, you maintain it with cracked continuity.

“Sure.”

—

What does one wear to a date visit with an Archon?

You hate everything you own.

You almost rip your nails off in frustration after the fourth attempt to dress yourself fails.

This is terrible, everything is terrible.

Archons why do you own such ugly clothes!

You hear a knock at your door, and you jump, lifting your head to see Chiori staring at you, her unwavering gaze filtered with confusion.

“Chiori?” You ask, trying to hide the mess of your room.

Or well, her room, saying you were technically leaching off of her house until you could save up enough money to move.

She raises an eyebrow, a silent question of your antics, and you sigh.

“I have nothing to wear.”

“Hm.” Chiori responds, her lip going between her teeth as she takes in the mess of your clothing.

“And since when do you care what you wear?”

You scoff, offended.

“I always care!”

“Right…”

—

You think Chiori was sent by Celestia.

No really, you do.

Especially now when you’re twirling infront of your mirror, admiring her artistry on your body.

“It’s beautiful Chirori.” You whisper, your finger tracing the delicate stitching, enamoured by the sheer amount of detail on your gown.

“It’s hardly my best.” She replies, batting your hand away to finish the seam, “But all my other work is being used for the Fashion festival.”

You grin.

“I get the leftovers then.” You say cheekily, daring to wink at her.

Chiori shakes her head, “You get what I feel is right for you, and this…” She gestures to your dress, “Does look beautiful on you.”

Thank you Celestia you repeat in your head, Thank you for finally giving me a break.

—

You meet Furina at the Palais Mermonia.

She spots you as you walk in, and beckons you to a room across the hall.

Tiny Melusines greet you, and you smile at them, reaching down to pat their little heads.

Furina stills as she takes you in, fully looking at you.

“You look different.” She states, and you stop your movements entirely.

“You’re dressed…” Furina trails off, and your face warms.

“Nicely?” You finish, a teasing smile on your lips, “For a change?”

She shakes her head.

“You always look nice, it’s just jarring to see you wear something so well fitting.”

Her eyes trail along your figure, and you flush, your mind unable to comprehend your compliment.

Furina suddenly pulls herself out of her trance and smiles, putting out a hand for you to take.

“Never-mind that now!” She beams, “Desert time! Come, come!”

And you’re alone with Furina, your hand in hers.

She leads you over to a table adorned with confectionery to last over a hundred life times.

“Do you drink tea? Or would you rather Fonta?” She asks, turning her head to glance at you, and you rip your eyes away from your conjoined hands.

“Uh, tea, tea is good.”

Lady Furina looks at you, her eyebrow raised, “Alright, sugar?”

“Huh!!?”

“Sugar? As in, do you want sugar?”

“Oh! Yes of course!”

You pause, and Furina continues to look at you.

“Well?”

“Well what?”

“Are you taking sugar?”

Dear God, how are you so pathetic?

“Yes please.” You say silently, embarrassment morphing your face, forcing your head to fall to look at the floor.

Furina sets your tea in front of you, before pulling a chair over to sit next to you.

She watches the way your body seems to shrink in on itself, you hand fiddling with the loose fabric of your gown.

You nervous, and Furina scowls.

She doesn’t like this.

“What’s going on hm?” She asks plainly, and you restrain yourself from jumping at her forwardness.

“I-I’m sorry?” You attempt to delay, taking a sip of your tea, burning your mouth.

“You seem..off.” Furina says, her voice slightly drawn out, a frown on her features. “Have I done something?”

“What? No! Absolutely not you haven’t done anything…” You stammer out, a fake laugh breaking the barriers of your teeth as you try to compose yourself.

“Then why-”

Your eyes dart around the table, choosing to make eye contact with the bread than with her.

“It’s just a lot like wow I’m having tea with a God!”

Furina stirs her tea slowly, her eyebrows furrowed.

“I thought we were past this?”

“Sorry?”

“You seeing me as a God?”

You blink, and Furina takes a sip of her tea.

“You..You are a God though, you’re my God?”

Furina thinks the tea turns sour in her mouth.

“Technically, I suppose so, but I believe us to be friends?” She sets her cup down, and looks at you, her cheeks slightly red. “Am I mistaken?”

You clamour to explain yourself, your arms reaching out as if trying to slow time, ignoring the painful tug of your heart at that stupid word again.

“N-No of course we’re friends!” You stammer, “It’s just…Well I-”

“Then there’s no reason for you to be nervous.”

You nod.

And then something happens.

Something switches.

And suddenly Furina isn’t merely looking at you,

She examining you.

“Unless.” She starts, and you feel a truly dreadful sinking feeling within your chest.

“Unless there’s..Something else bothering you?”

And every facial expression you display is analysed before you, every twitch of your eyebrow, the way your eyes widen and the way you seem to stop breathing.

Furina leans forward, an emotion so humanly desperate flickering across her face.

An emotion she is yet to understand.

Your lips part and you truly do not know what to say.

It’s foolish, to ever consider yourself worthy to share a reciprocated love with your God you remind yourself bitterly.

You’re confused, anguished, disheartened by her referral to you as a friend and yet, you do not know what to say.

So you clear your throat.

And breathe in.

“I do not know what you mean Lady Furina.” You whisper, and it’s wrong, wrong, wrong.

And Lady Furina waits only a sheer second, before she’s leaning back in her chair and raising her head.

Somethings off.

“Then let’s us drink together as friends.”

You could swear then, that Lady Furina looked human.

You would stand trial on the fact that you saw her deflate with disappointment in the most mortal like way. You’d swear an oath.

But then you blink and the Hydro Archon blinks back.

And you’re sure you were mistaken.

—

There’s rumours in Fontaine.

There’s rumours everywhere, this isn’t a new concept to you.

But this is different, this rumour makes your blood freeze in your veins.

You heard it after you walked home from the boutique, a group of local Poisson men whispering under their breath.

“Lady Furina isn’t Fontaine’s Archon.”

You pause, turning your head as subtly as you could, creeping closer as to listen to their words.

You’re not a silent stalker and so they see you immediately.

They glare at you as they leave and you’re left confused as they made their way back to Poisson.

The next you hear of them, they’re dead.

Dissolved in the rising water.

You throw up when you see their faces in the paper, along with the heading “Fontaine’s Archon Fails Her People.”

You have faith.

—

Your faith dies with your Archon on the day of her trial.

You don’t go, you never go to trials.

But you know the happenings as if you were there to witness.

You find yourself running towards the Opera Epiclese, tripping over your own feet when the words “Death Penalty” reach your ears.

It’s silent.

Oh so silent.

And then the rain starts, and the tides grow.

And you can’t make it to the staircase of the Epiclese due to the water filling your lungs.

You’re drowning.

Screaming out bubbles of prayers to an Archon that isn’t yours.

Betrayal wrecks through your body and you’re drowning.

You’re drowning.

—

Furina cries on her watery throne.

Mourning the loss of her people, her home, her facade.

She thinks of you, briefly, thinks of your face, your clothes, your eyes.

Letting herself smile gently, she allows her tears to wash away her role.

It was nice to play a God.

If only she could save them.

—

You’re nervous.

You keep pacing back and fourth, pathetically trying to figure out a way in which you can knock on the door of Furina’s house, and speak with her like humans.

After the flood, you found yourself bed bound, your lips tainted blue and breath engulfing you so vigorously that you coughed until your eyes stung red.

The man who saved you kissed your hand when you woke up, crying out that he thought you wouldn’t make it.

You smile at him and thank him.

“I owe you my life.” You had whispered.

Lady Furina was no longer Fontaines Archon.

Gone into a state like hiding from the public, terrified of their outrage.

The nurse that cared for you, informed you of as much, recounting how the Iudex Neuvillette had saved Fontaine, saved you.

And you cried when she left you, tucked up in a hospital bed, weeping over the unknown.

You can’t face her. You conclude.

Not because you didn’t want to but because you had absolutely no idea how to begin.

Would she still regard you with such kindness despite you knowing everything?

How do you convey how you feel for her, when you truly do not know who she even is?

You heart sinks to your stomach and you walk away, hands dropping to your sides. Forcing yourself to move on, and to let fate guide you as far away from Fontaine as it could lead.

You hear a door open, but don’t make the connection until you hear your name being called from behind.

“Y/N!”

You freeze, glancing over your shoulder timidly, staring towards the very God woman you had grown so fond of.

Staring at you humbly on her doorstep.

“Lady-Miss Furina.” You reply, your hands trembling and voice shaking, turning to face her fully.

Her cheeks were flushed as though she made her way to the door in a hurry, eyes narrowed and yet you could not see a trace of annoyance in the depths of her pupils.

“You-” She starts, breathless as if realising that her action of following you would lead to confrontation for the first time, “I saw you.” She pointed up to her arched windows and your face flushes, mortified.

Of course she had.

You say nothing, trying to think of an excuse, anything to dissipate the tension you feel in your bones.

“…You weren’t going to come in?” She questions, her voice small, unbefitting for a woman who use to bellow to the masses with the unfiltered confidence of a Deity.

And you stare, and stare and stare . Your eyes moving over her face, her attire, the stupid bow on her hat.

You’re utterly speechless, profoundly so.

Unable to say anything of value to the woman in which you swore that you-

Furina sighs, her shoulders dropping, hat slipping forward on her head.

Taking your silence for resentment, she accepts your unfettered anger as atonement for her sins.

“I see.” She mumbles plainly, turning to go back inside her house.

And it’s said with such bitter regret and vile disappointment that you find words spilling from the confines of your lips, desperate to call her back.

“I quit.” You frantically say, voice meek.

And Furina stops so you continue.

“Working for Chiori.” You clarify, taking a step forward.

The sun appears to intrude on your conversation, the early morning light presenting itself from behind the brazen buildings of Fontaine, eager to listen.

It makes her complexion golden, the blue strands of her hair, now short, appearing to glow in its wake.

Furina opens her mouth, then closes it, shaking her head defiantly before he’s facing you again, and you’re so close yet so far.

“I needed a change.” You whisper, and she appears to lean closer to hear you, to read the way the words fall from your lips.

You don’t know why this is the first thing you wish to discuss with Furina.

There’s countless other things you could spew, the mirage of questions you have resting in the back of your throat, the confused, recount of events, yet you chose to say none of it for sake of talking about yourself.

You’re selfish, perhaps cruel, but God you just wanted to talk to her.

Furina looks at you, her eyes wide, the sun catches the blue and draws out the sparkle as she looks at you. You drown.

“I’m…I’m glad.” She whispers, “You hated it there.”

“I did.”

You step towards her, keeping your hands still, resting at your sides limp.

“You-” You start, clearing your voice, terrified to overstep, “I mean- Did you hate being an Archon?”

Furina doesn’t move, her cheeks painted rouge with the mention of her role.

Then slowly, subtly, she nods, once up and once down. You almost miss it.

You smile, your eyes crinkling trying to express your endless empathy through one look.

“Then I’m glad you stepped down.”

And Furina wants to kiss you.

She feels it in her mortal soul, amid the beautifully soft way you voice your smile, the desire to be human with you and to make you hers.

She breathes and you watch.

“I’ll miss your silly clothes.” Furina sighs, and you giggle.

“I still wear my silly clothes.” You bite back, and she shakes her head before moving a finger along the underside of your jaw.

“You’re beautiful.” She says, and you take her role of silence, stunned.

Furina lifts her hand, and places it on your cheek, looking down avoiding your eye. “And so boundlessly fascinating.”

“I can’t quite explain it I just-”

You cut her off when you kiss her.

Breathing in her confession and replacing it with your own.

Two mortal souls intertwined as one on her doorstep.

She responds by pulling you closer, trailing her hand to the back of your head and smiling against your lips.

You’re not a seamstress and she’s not an Archon and yet, in this moment that’s okay.

Everything is okay.

feel free to leave a request!

Masterlist <3

artwork credits

A/N- when i say i have been wanting to write this for MONTHS i mean it- i am just so BOUNDLESSLY sick of wlw fics being fetishised and the lack of like a good wlw comfort fic in any character x reader was bothering me ! so thank u to anyone who gives this a try and reads it ! i appreciate you so so so much !!!

ALSO when i say the reader’s fashion is strange or unflattering I HAVE BEEN OBSESSED with insane 19th century dresses so i made a collection of outfits PSA when i say she (the readers) fashion is questionable I MEAN IT <3 i imagine my lovely little failed seamstress makes her own clothes from time to time bc although she’s not good at her job, she still enjoys being creative

if ur interested i made a post of her outfits here :)

thank u so so so much for reading i love u i love u i love u

#furina #furina x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact #nuevillette x reader #genshin smut #genshin fluff #hurt comfort #hydro archon #wlw post #furina x female reader #AHHH

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warabidakihime · 7 months ago

Text

Rules and Roses Chapter 2

★ characters: kibutsuji muzan x reader x akaza

★ plot summary: Kibutsuji Muzan has finally decided to expand his empire, and the way he intends to do so is by running for the highest political position. With you, his darling wife, at his side, he believes he can achieve and have everything the world has to offer. He is, after all, the Phoenix of Phario.

★ fic playlist: sometimes, same day, as time stops, wolf’s song (this is also the vision board for the fic).

★ content warnings : implied violence and abuse, profanities, toxic relationships, smut.

★ Previous Chapter

a/n:

hello!!!

first of all, i am so sorry for taking so long to update this story. ٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و ♡

life happened and i got sooo busy. the time i uploaded this fic was when i just started at my new workplace and shortly after a few weeks, i was already preoccupied with work. at first, i was laser-focused on getting used to my new work and the culture. then later on, i found myself playing a more important role in the office that required my undivided attention lol. besides that, so many things happened in my personal life as well that i didn't have the time and energy to write.

btw i'm now a writer by profession as well so oftentimes i would feel drained af after writing corporate write-ups. tbh, i also got hit by writer's block, especially for this fic because the plot i have in mind for it is lowkey intricate, and for the most part, i haven't decided on what route i should take story-wise. so during those 2 years, i was constantly trying to reconstruct the story in my head, and here we are!

i'm back but i'm not so sure about updating regularly as i'm still incredibly busy, but i will do my best! the latest kny seasons inspired me to write again (aka my crush for muzan lol).

hopefully, everyone is still here to read this. ٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و ♡

as always, comments and kudos are highly appreciated!

happy reading!

"Can you outline your key policy platforms should you be elected President of Phario? Given your extensive background in the human resource industry as well as your rich connections owing to your business ventures in Obelisk Kibutsuji, do you first plan to address the pressing issue of the national unemployment rate?"

"Indeed, that's correct. As President, one of my top priorities will be to strengthen our nation's workforce, which is crucial for advancing our economy. I have a comprehensive plan focused on job creation, vocational training, and support for small businesses. These initiatives will not only reduce unemployment but also stimulate innovation and competitiveness within our economy.

I also aim to implement policies that ensure equal access to education, equipping our citizens with the skills needed for the evolving job market. Healthcare reform is high on my agenda. I'll ensure healthcare assistance is accessible to everyone, public hospitals are well-maintained, and healthcare workers are fairly compensated and protected by the state in any dire situations. Additionally, I'll push for technological advancements and infrastructure development to attract both local and foreign investments.

Addressing social issues is equally important, and as a devoted ally of these communities, I'm committed to fighting all forms of discrimination, especially against women and the LGBTQ+ community. We must ensure everyone, regardless of gender, sexual orientation, or identity, has equal opportunities and protections under the law.

Moreover, I'll advocate for the rights and welfare of people with disabilities, ensuring they have access to the necessary resources and support to lead fulfilling lives. This includes improving accessibility in public spaces and promoting inclusive employment practices.

Animal welfare will also be a significant focus. We need to enact and enforce laws that protect animals from abuse and ensure humane treatment.

Lastly, I'll champion the rights of minorities and immigrants. Our nation is built on the strength of its diversity, and it's imperative we create an inclusive society where everyone feels valued and respected. This includes reforming immigration policies to be fair and humane and implementing programs that support the integration and empowerment of minority communities.

In essence, my administration will be dedicated to creating a sustainable and inclusive economic environment where every Pharian has the opportunity to thrive and contribute to our nation's progress."

Muzan stood confidently at the podium, a modest yet proud smile gracing his face after addressing a journalist's question amidst a room bustling with media personnel.

Today was the day where presidential candidates shared their platforms, which also served as an open forum for engaging with the press and fielding inquiries on a wide array of topics—from current events to personal matters.

With his seasoned composure before cameras and crowds, Muzan navigated the spotlight effortlessly. His articulate delivery drew admiration from all corners as he outlined his plans for the presidency, filling you with pride as you watched from the audience.

Among the attendees, your smile beamed with pride and unconditional support for him. Akaza, who is sitting right beside you, maintained a stoic demeanor outwardly, though inwardly, he couldn't deny a hint of impressed regard. Muzan's comprehensive platform and commanding presence left an undeniable impact on him.

Eloquence had always been Muzan's forte, a skill honed through years of being a businessman and somewhat of a public figure, as among his peers and in the business landscape in general, he is well-revered and widely celebrated.

Beyond his ability to articulate ideas, he possessed a magnetic charisma—an invaluable trait for navigating the intricate world of politics and public service.

Several hours later, the policy speech slash press conference finally ended, and now you were on your way to meet up with Muzan at the lobby of the hotel where the gathering was held when a few journalists spotted you among the sea of people who were also exiting the function room.

Akaza was right behind you and is also on full alert, an important instruction your husband told him when he appointed him as your personal bodyguard a few years back. Committed to his duty, he stood there in a stance where he is ready to take action should anything happen that is out of the ordinary.

Mics were stretched out and placed within just a few inches of your face, and one of them took the liberty to ask you a question: "What are your thoughts on Kibutsuji Muzan's campaign platforms?”

Very much like your husband, you also wore a modest yet confident smile on your face as you held eye contact with the journalist who asked you that question before displaying your own version of eloquence as you answered,

"To say that I am proud while listening to him share and advocate for the causes he wholeheartedly believed in would be the biggest understatement of the decade," you said with a fond chuckle before continuing, "even before he filed for his candidacy and even way before he became the man we all know now, he has always been outspoken about these things. He would always share with me his desire of making significant changes in the world, hoping no more children would have to endure what he did. As many of you know, Muzan, my dear husband, came from very humble beginnings, and unlike me, he has faced challenges far beyond my own. His vision and intuition surpass that of most, and so, as cliché as it may sound, his words and strong convictions carry a weight and authenticity that are strong enough to enable him in doing the impossible and inspire others to believe that a better future is within our grasp."

Akaza listened intently to your answer, finding himself captivated by your words. The way you addressed the press made you sound like a candidate yourself who's also sharing her platform. In that moment, he couldn't help but feel an overwhelming surge of pride as he continued to absorb your statements.

The journalists surrounding you mirrored his sentiment, clearly impressed by your response—no surprise from the esteemed Ballerina Queen of Phario.

It had been quite some time since you last entertained interviews, having retired and chosen to stay away from public engagements.

"Among the plethora of initiatives he wishes to take action on once he's elected, what resonated with you the most?"

You paused, contemplating the list of campaigns your husband had presented earlier. Just as you were about to respond, an arm encircled your waist and gave it a tender squeeze.

It was Muzan.

"Knowing my wife's love for animals, I'm certain she's most excited about what I have planned for animal welfare," Muzan interjected warmly.

You playfully rolled your eyes, eliciting amusement from not only your husband and your respective bodyguards but also the press. "You say that as if it's a bad thing," you quipped.

Muzan chuckled fondly. "Not at all, my love. Your passion for animals is one of the many reasons I fell for you."

The same journalist who had asked you the second question now directed his attention to Muzan, eager for his response. "Based on the most recent public survey, you're likely the most favored candidate to win the elections. What can you say about that, Sir Kibutsuji?"

Muzan smiled bashfully at the reporter, his eyes reflecting a mix of humility and determination. "I'm incredibly honored and thankful that our fellow countrymen have placed such faith and confidence in me. It's a humbling reminder of the trust they have in our vision for a brighter future. This campaign has always been about bringing real change to Phario, addressing the pressing issues our nation faces with innovative solutions and inclusive policies. The support we're seeing reflects not just my efforts, but the collective desire of our people for progress and unity."

He paused briefly, his gaze sweeping across the room, before continuing with renewed conviction, "Though I would like to emphasize that I don't take this trust lightly, it actually fuels my commitment to serve with integrity and purpose, to listen to the voices of every Pharian, and to lead with compassion and foresight."

By now, the press was highly satisfied with the answers both of you had given, granting you the freedom to depart. Clearly spent after the eventful day, you exchanged farewells and well-wishes before going your separate ways.

With Muzan's arm still draped around your waist, he guided you towards the grand entrance of the hotel. Meanwhile, Akaza made his way to the basement parking lot to retrieve your car, preparing to drive you both home. Kokushibo remained close to Muzan, ensuring your security as you awaited the car's arrival.

Turning to Muzan, unfazed by the bustling activity around you, you placed a tender kiss on his lips, smiling warmly. "Great job out there, my love. You did so well today. I'm incredibly proud of you."

Clearly elated, Muzan mirrored your smile and returned your affection with a gentle kiss on your forehead. "Thank you, darling. Your support means everything to me."

"Truly, I was beaming throughout your speech. You were absolutely amazing. Phario is fortunate to have such an admirable leader like you," you praised sincerely.

Right there and then, Muzan couldn't help but raise his eyebrow and playfully smile at you, prompting a confused raise of your own eyebrow.

"What's that look for?" you asked.

Muzan shook his head with a playful smirk before replying, "You're not showing favoritism now, are you, my love? I know you adore me, but let's keep it fair, hmm?" he teased, his tone light-hearted and affectionate.

You rolled your eyes at his playful accusation. "Ha-ha. Very funny, Muzan. I'll take it back, then."

Muzan laughed wholeheartedly, drawing attention once again. "I was just joking!" He then smiled warmly at you, his eyes reflecting pride. "Thank you," he said sincerely. "Hearing that from you means more than any applause, you know?"

You reached out to pinch his cheeks. "You play too much sometimes, you know?" you said with a chuckle before continuing, "But like I said, hearing you speak today—and in all those times you shared your aspirations with me from when we were students up to now, as you finally have the opportunity to make all come true—it's evident how deeply committed you are. Beyond your skills and capabilities, your passion is what makes you so compelling, Muzan. It's what makes me believe in you, too."

Minutes later, while waiting by the entrance, Akaza finally pulled up with the car. You and Muzan bid farewell to those around you before stepping into the comfort of your vehicle.

As the city lights blurred past the windows, you reflected on the day's events.

"You know," you began, glancing at Muzan beside you, "I have a feeling your speech today touched more hearts than just mine."

Muzan smiled softly, intertwining his fingers with yours.

"I hope so. Though the election is still months away, and who knows how things might shift, that's why I don't want to take any of this for granted. I'm in this for the long haul. You'll be there with me, won't you?"

He looked over to you, and in that moment, despite his big words, he looked absolutely adorable, with his ruby eyes shining at you and his lips slightly pouty as he waited for your response, which you gladly provided through the means of placing yet another sweet and passionate kiss on his lips and squeezing his hand reassuringly.

"I'll always be here for you, Muzan, through every challenge and triumph."

"I love you," he whispered lovingly, his expression sincere and heartfelt.

"And I love you," you replied with equal affection.

With a comforting squeeze of your hand, you nestled against Muzan's shoulder, feeling a sense of contentment as the car navigated through familiar streets towards home.

Meanwhile, in the driver's seat, Akaza's face remained unreadable. He was outwardly indifferent to the tender exchange between you and Muzan, but inwardly, he was seething with rage.

You think you're so clever, spouting all those promises and pretty words, playing the saint for the public eye. But I see through you. You're nothing but a manipulative snake, a liar wrapped in a facade of righteousness.

His gaze hardened and his grip on the wheel tightened as he stared ahead, the streetlights casting shadows on his determined expression.

One day, your mask will slip.

I will fucking rip it off your face, even if it's the last thing I do.

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mysteryanimator · 2 days ago

Text

Breaking down "Even the Iron Still Fears the Rot" (almost) shot by shot!

The fan-animatic can be viewed here!

youtube

HEADS UP: This is a fan-made content. I am a fan. I just love Castlevania/animation a lot and I love storyboarding nuances and making people cry over character dynamics. Also apologises for any grammatical/spelling mistakes!

I wasn't planning to do another breakdown of my own work, simply due to imposter syndrome but I genuinely put so much love and care into this animatic! I want to talk about it! Also, people have been really open to hearing about my inspiration and notes, and why I take the directions I do for my work, even if it's fan-made, so here we go!

(Also the reciprocation of my animatics has been so kind and uplifting, and I'm really glad that there's a lot of love for them as much as I love doing them! I learn and grow with every single board I make, it's been really fun! I hope I get to shine this much passion in the future in actual work!)

Since this is also an adaptation of a fan one-shot by Aquila, (which you can read here!) I knew I wanted to evoke what they had written and interject some of my own nuances/personal readings to their story to elevate what they had! In turn, kind of created this monster (positive) of a fan creation haha. There are some changes/rearranging the placement of aspects of the one-shot to strengthen the existing tension going on!

With this out the way, let's begin!

(heads up, for any shots I completely skip over, it is because I'm reaching image limits here)

I wanted to evoke that strong halo light you see in a lot of media. Often than not, this visual is used to depict the character as a divine force of nature and/or when a character is bobbing in and out of death. It can also be a very very terrifying image, as, for example, s02e8, Mizrak is literally all dark with a brightly lit background. It is scary- BUT people will say hot because it's Mizrak but hey, look, all I can say is I fully understand haha. It all depends on your intentionality and what follows before and after to give context to your scene!

Mizrak is dead. Well, undead now. Olrox is the so-called angel giving him life and love and this halo of light gets repeated a few times!

By the end, not only do their literal positions switch, but their roles shift too so I hoped to convey that visually by also giving Mizrak that halo glow for the second last shot. At the start, Olrox consumes Mizrak’s love, and then it ends with Mizrak consuming Olrox’s love. Guh I love blood themes in vamprisim.

This shot honestly took me a bit to do, since I was going a lot cleaner than usual, the expression for Mizrak was super important for me to get right. I wanted him to look like he was about to die- yet still have an unwavering amount of life in him. (Also I hadn't warmed up drawing in this cleaned-up style so it definitely was me messing around). It was important for me for this to feel like a POV shot to contrast the first scene so we can get inside the mind of Olrox!

This too is where I only have sound effects since I can't have voice so I limit my SFX to the only most vital things to elevate things I personally find better elevate the scene with audio. It only happens TWICE. The heartbeat. His wrist is shown and from context clues from not only S01 of Nocturne with Tera's turning, but a whole bunch of other vampire media- the wrist is a place where the dead accept their new life of immortality!

Also, the pulse effect was definitely inspired by the transformation of Sekmet! I'm not sure personally if this went to a further stage I'd want to keep this since I'd personally want something more unique for vampire turning, more specifically for Olrox, HOWEVER, I think it still does a good job conveying the supernatural pull for the time being!

Wow who saw this coming HAHA

Immediately when I saw the line where Olrox said he went to straddle him immediately, my mind went to go and try to parallel this scene again! I don't have much to say about this shot rather than the feet are purposefully cut out for animation convenience's sake HAHA.

Jumpscare for sudden Olrox character layout (even though he's really off model and sketchy here HAHA)

I was again, wanting to depict Olrox BATHED in light and since this animatic is purely in greyscale (with accents of colour), I could really push for dramatic lighting when it called for it! This is also why some of the scenes just do not have backgrounds at all. I wanted to make some of the scenes as "heavenly" as possible and for Mizrak to be embraced by the light because Olrox is giving him a new a life.

If this were to ever be animated (I won't be since it would take too much of my time, but it's still a good thing to note when boarding anything... maybe I'll do cleaned screenshots since those are a breeze, or animate ONE scene from this animatic... we'll see what I have time for. I unfortunately don't have proper time to try and figure out the layout of s02e8 bgs and paint them. I did consider quickly doing a 3d mock-up but no haha), the light in the background can probably be lit with candles since it was already pre-established in s02e8! Also, the windows can reflect light into the room so there's that too since Mizrak was backlit in that episode too!

Fun fact, this entire scene was the first thing I ever thought up and why I started even making it. I thought about how cool of a visual it would be to have Mizrak's eye in the reflection.

I wanted to imbue the fact that Mizrak does not fear Olrox holding a blade, hell, he's not even looking at the blade. He's looking at Olrox. What is described as a relic from a terrifying past, Mizrak is not scared. Mizrak is not scared of Olrox.

This is where the heartbeat occurs AGAIN. This is mostly to signal to the audience what Olrox actually has planned. He's not feeding Mizrak from his wrist but from his actual chest, especially with how gently Olrox runs his hands over it.

I debated a lot on where the initial cut should go. The heart, for sentimentality, under the breast in the same way Christ had been pierced, etc etc- however I landed on just dead set in the middle so it could form a cross that would grow bigger and bigger as the animatic went on. (Fun fact, the blob of blood turns into a little heart as he squeezes his chest)

I wanted to put some weight to the repressed catholic guilt, so I thought a cool visual way to showcase that Mizrak has only known how to love is via worshipping God which has consumed his entire being and self. God has given him faith, a companion in the hardest of times when the world has abandoned him.

Now, once again, his world has abandoned him. The Hospitaller Order of Saint John of God is gone. In the face of death and fearing the devil will be waiting. Olrox has given him love, and he will be a companion in the hardest of times. He will not abandon Mizrak.

This aspect of the cross in the animatic gets expanded upon as time goes on. Both literally as the cross literally turns into a pool of blood more closely to the symbol Mizrak bares, but also it slowly expands upon Mizrak feeding off Olrox's love! I'll add some more of my personal notes when we get there!

Also by far one of my favourite scenes I've drawn. It's still rough but it decidedly made me go a lot cleaner with the rest of the storyboard!

This is supposed to be suddenly jarring because it cuts midway through Olrox in a midshot to a close-up of a hand! We need to see him actively halt Olrox for just a moment, but also to show that even when it's sudden- its not hostile, it's gentle.

This shot does a couple of things!

It showcases how gently Mizrak is reaching out to Olrox

It helps to continually establish Mizrak submission to vampirism. He is constantly placed on the bottom from the composition, or we as an audience, are always looking down at Mizrak! Seeing parts of Olrox here really cements this fact as Olrox towers over him to the point we don't even see him fully!

It helps to lead into the Fallen Angel reference!

This shot makes me sob because it is so gentle. Despite being placed constantly much higher in the composition in the animatic, therefore making him the most powerful in this dynamic- in no way Olrox is intentionally made out to be an intimidating figure. He is comfort. He is a companion. He will not abandon Mizrak. The act of turning Mizrak might be read as selfish. It may be read as cheating the natural cycle of life, it may be everything wrong and doomed as your mind makes it to be, however, it is done out of love. Morals, whether good or bad, no longer matters because Olrox is in love. Love has such a strong chokehold on this series, so I'm shoving as much love into these characters as I can. Both literally make these characters so sickly desiring love that it will be their doom and saving grace, but also me as an artist deeply putting love and thought into this board because care a lot about how to convey these complex emotions! Sure it is quite easy to churn out boards without care, but without putting care into your boards, your characters and stories lack life (in my personal opinion).

Immediately, this animatic shook me and told me to put in a reference to The Fallen Angel by Alexandre Cabnel!

Also, how does one portray the soul? EYES. Eyes are the window to the soul. Mizrak’s eyes are also considerably the most important/crucial part of his design. His eyes in both seasons ‘glow in the dark’ due to the highlights in his eyes. Mizrak is considerably really emotive too and that was important to me to emphasize. I wanted to capture his essence, his soul if you will, into this shot.

This is also why this shot is done really prettily if you will.

The reflection of Olrox's eye in Mizrak's is important here! Olrox is here to act to comfort Mizrak. Even when Olrox is not on the screen with us, he is majorly present here. He will not abandon Mizrak. Also, since it is coupled with this line, people can choose to infer what they wish with Olrox! It can symbolize Olrox does have a soul, it can symbolize how Olrox and Mizrak are now intertwined together, it can symbolize Mizrak reciprocating Olrox's love. The list can go on! I give that room for open interpretation (same as the rest of the animatic, the only reason I'm going through, breaking down almost shot by shot is that I deeply care about this sort of thing, and I know other people do too!)

This shot, is deceptively simple but it's here to actually initiate a bunch of scenes I wanted to happen after this!

Firstly, I needed a very nonchalant but easy way for Olrox to let go of Mizrak's hand without needing to overcomplicate. I needed something that gave it just enough importance for the hand kiss BUT not too much where it is the sole focus on the shot.

Secondly, I needed a way for Olrox to lean down to Mizrak and initiate him being way closer to him.

Thirdly, it acts to parallel another shot that happens with Mizrak where instead of going diagonally down, he goes diagonally up!

This is one of the points where I visually slightly deviate from the one-shot! I really REALLY wanted to emphasize Olrox's dialogue here so I chopped up and elongated the scene to make it that much more intense and tender. Which is why we get the next two close up shots!

Look it was very VERY important to me to have Olrox cup Mizrak's face and intentionally cut off his eyes. The important part I wanted to focus on solely was his hand and Mizrak looking up because genuinely, Mizrak's eyes are 'distracting' and it would remove the focus on the gesture! Also I am saving Mizrak's eyes for the next shot haha

After this shot too, you may notice the blood from his neck disappears for the rest of the animatic. This is because, after this, it began to take too much of a visual focus away from the blood on Olrox's chest since it is bright red against greys in the shot. We can chalk it up to Olrox wiping the blood off when he goes to cup him.

"The most beautiful soul a vampire can posses."

It was so important to me that we get a BEAUTIFUL shot of Mizrak. I needed the audience to see his entireeee face close up, unobscured by anything. Olrox is holding a beautiful soul in his hands. He's holding Mizrak. Actually makes me sob.

This shot by the way has been repeated 3 times with slight variations by this point. Yes, this is a very pretty shot so how could I not help but repeat it? HOWEVER, I was trying to make a reference to how Mizrak has said Olrox's name only 3 times in the show with a variation of what was said around it. After that, Olrox calls him my love, basically unlocking a new stage in their relationship.

So here, three times when he looks at Olrox, he's mentally calling out his name. After this, Olrox brings him to a new stage in the relationship.

Also in Catholicism, a lot of things are in 3s. One of the major ones is that three times, Christ fell over carrying the cross. On the third hour of that day, he died and on the third day, he was resurrected from the dead. The three sacraments that welcome someone into the Kingdom of God are Baptism, Communion, and Confirmation as they all build off one another! I could go on both those are the main points AND I feel you might get the gist now!

It was very important to me that when Olrox makes this promise, we HAVE to see his full face. This is why it's a close-up.

It lets for no shadow of a doubt that Olrox means what he says here. He's looking AT Mizrak. He's telling the truth to him.

This is a parallel to a much earlier shot of Olrox! He moves closer to Mizrak by going from top right to bottom left, while Mizrak moves closer to Olrox by going from bottom left to top right! You also both see them exit the screen too!

In this shot, we bring back that halo vibe but also this is a reference to S01E04 and S02E08! The curtain! It is BOTH their first-ever shots to establish a new scene, so I wanted to go “Hey this is establishing a new scene- a new life for Mizrak and Olrox.”

The camera is super purposefully cut just below the eyes. You can see them open then closed, but we will never ever get to see the look he had in his eyes, the single decision in his brain that let him indulge. That’s only for Olrox, and only Olrox will know.

From here on out, A LOT of the shots of Mizrak get segmented/have his face hidden for that reason too (except for one shot, also done intentionally).

When Mizrak actually closes his lips around the blood- it’s on the growling sound in the song. Mizrak has turned into the animal that he’s been calling vampires. In this new life, he is now given the choice to be freed from the man-made shackles of shame and guilt. To be untamed and unrestricted. A wild animal so to speak!

Honestly, I spent a lot of my time here (besides the pretty Olrox frames) because I was super particular about how I wanted to portray Mizrak giving into sucking the blood. The way he accepts vampirism is vital because it sets the tone and mood for how the rest of the board feel since his face gets hidden and you now have to infer from when you saw his face last.

If you have seen my analyses or my work before, you will know how much I enjoy having a frame within a frame. I loveeee my boxes! They're in the box! TOGETHER! THE CENTER TOO! There are no real divisions with the exception of Olrox's head which is important because it's not Mizrak we're focused on at this point in time, it's Olrox~

This is because the one-shot, even in third person, is mostly through Olrox's perspective!

Also, the camera is moving around in this shot, and the following subsequent shots! It hopefully gives off the "hand-held" feel, which often is associated with feeling as if you're right there in the moment with them.

Why pillows?

This is me shaking you to say how the blood-drinking is an allusion for sex if that wasn't already obvious enough. So showing pillows coupled with Olrox groaning really goes "Yes they are technically doing it."

Originally this shot (and the previous shot) was supposed to be way more pulled out, but I was saving it for the very last shot of the animatic so I went to pillows with the tinest hint of their body in the frame to make it seem super scandalous. Like what on earth could they be doing for me to cut them mostly out of the frame? Also also, the pillow was supposed to have an embroidery of a painting from 1790s or earlier BUT, for the life of me, I could not decide what I wanted and I did not want to keep reusing the same references I have had in past work. I didn't want to fuss about it for too long since its more of an easter egg rather than adding to the story. The main point is pillow = fucking HAHA.

Side tangent, you can get away with SO MUCH by having blood drinking be an allusion to sex. Like obviously when you have an age rating you must abide by, you must be creative with how you go about mature topics (my age rating is YouTube hahaha)! Not only is blood drinking in vampirism just inherently queer-coded, but the intimacy of it can convey so much more if it was just a regular ol' sex scene! I actually deeply enjoy conveying nsfw topics into art because you can discuss character dynamics at a much more vulnerable, raw state that literally bares them to just their essence and their current desires/needs. However I am getting off-topic, let's get back to it!

This shot was actually heavily inspired by the statue Adoration by Stephen Sinding!

While there are a lot of differences now simply because Mizrak is at Olrox's chest, I still hope that the vibe of that statue is still imbued. It also gives the sense of not only Olrox adoring Mizrak in this very moment, but Mizrak is too despite not seeing his face. Again quite intentional because it's only for Olrox to see.

Also, a lot of people have been telling me how Olrox is breastfeeding him, and in technicality, they're not wrong, he's feeding blood, from his chest. It is the funniest thing ever LOL

This shot was important to really focus in on his throat and how, much like in the one-shot, Mizrak is literally not taking breaths and is just continually consuming Olrox.

Wet sounds fill the room as his throat bobs with each steady gulp...He doesn’t stop, doesn’t take a moment to gasp for breath.

I also just wanted to make this scene feel very slow in order to contrast with a much more passion-filled desire that consumes Mizrak in this animatic! Also hopefully the descent of blood and the descent of the camera helps to strengthen the idea of Mizrak descending into vampirism!

It felt really cheesy to have this close-up shot of his eye HOWEVER at the time, I thought this was by far the clearest way to convey the immediate switch from gentle devotion to devouring devotion and how suddenly rapid it is. In my brain, the stylization for his eyes open would be textured and pulse in the same way Olrox's wrist did, which is why it's just outlined. I'm once again not 100% set on the pulse look and it probably needs some iterations if I ever came back to it again.

Also, the green hearts in his eyes only come through when he's actively consuming blood from his chest! The heart motif comes back later when Mizrak ends up throwing up the blood!

Here's the cross again, except it is growing bigger. This was very important to me that you see how "gentle" the blood-sucking is at first. A gentle devotion despite the "terrifying" shadow of Mizrak. Also, super an excuse to have kiss marks in my animatic, I love painting them in my art because it can say a lot with placement and how aggressively smudged they are!

Also, I thought it would be SO FUN to have Mizrak's turned self literally have his eyes overlay where Olrox's eyes are. It conveys how Mizrak and Olrox are now switching roles in this animatic! For the first half of this animatic, Olrox has been placed pretty high up in the shot composition, or where the camera looks up to put him in a high place of power! It makes him appear way more etheral and otherworldly, while Mizrak was placed lower in the composition, always looking up at him! Which I'm hoping invokes religious imagery of a God and his worshipper/follower!

When Mizrak's transformation is set, the dynamic switches up. For the rest of the animatic, Mizrak is now placed at a more supernatural/otherwordly position, while Olrox is just there passively, letting Mizrak BE in this position. He does not fight it, he embraces it, embraces how Mizrak reciprocates his love, his desire, and all his messy complications, much like how earlier in the animatic, Mizrak embraces vampirism.

Also if you slow it down enough you can see how I accidentally left my perspective grids in it HAHA, but it goes by fast enough it doesn't really matter! (I guess it's also kind of indicative of my natural style when it comes to digital painting too, I genuinely like having my sketch still peek through into the final painting!)

Wow even more shots to cement the new role switch AND how much much of the passionate need to consume is controlling his urges! Free to consume at his leisure, he is no longer bound by human nature (for now)!

This shot and his leg shot help to really strip Mizrak of his humanity. Faces in a shot really help to connect people to the characters because we see the emote, we see them breathe, we see them live. Especially for a character like Mizrak? He's super expressive face-wise and I'm purposefully not showing you the defining features of Mizrak. Here I am basically going "Mizrak is no longer human."

This is why in horror/thrillers with antagonist characters, we don't see their faces much and are saved for only key moments (usually, again your intentionality matters). It doesn't allow us to connect with the character on a much more human level. Think of Count Orlok from Nosferatu (2024). Purposefully a lot of his character is shrouded in darkness, focusing on his hands and other aspects, never his face, and even then it is really hard to make out because so much of him is obscured. It makes him that much of an imposing intimidating character! Otherworldly and something that we cannot fully understand.

This is a flipped version of Mizrak's close-up eye shot much earlier when he asked if his soul would remain. Again to hark on how Mizrak and Olrox are switching roles in this animatic! Olrox is looking at Mizrak's soul as we speak.

Despite us not seeing Mizrak's face, we as an audience noticing how unhuman Mizrak has suddenly become, Olrox looks quite gently at him and that was important to convey!

Woo! Lot's of horizontal lines here! While the camera is moving towards the left, Mizrak is moving right!

Originally this shot was going to have Mizrak's teeth sinking into Olrox like a very cool Olrox throwing his head back and Mizrak's fang reveal HOWEVER, I want to leave the "carnage" and bloodshed of the feeding out of the frame and only have it show up in very specific moments so I can have those moments actually have their proper impacts. I did not want to show any part of the front of his face at all since it would dampen the effect later on, so I opted for this instead. The legs give a sense of "something is happening but we don't know what, but it's to a point where Mizrak's entire body is moving oh jeez." Won't lie, this looks very sexual and I'm purposefully toying with that line again because blood drinking is an allusion to sex.

Also, I'm continuing the concept of having aspects of Mizrak's face only for Olrox's eyes. What does he look like when he's actively consuming him with such passion? Idk, Olrox you tell me.

This is everything I was building up for when I introduced the small crosses! The physical manifestation of how Mizrak reciprocates.

My thought process here was that Mizrak only knows how to love by fully devoting himself because that's all he's done for God. So he applies it here. He is reciprocating love, but it is FULL ON. It is intense. It is all-consuming.

The face once again is obscured for all the reasons I have mentioned before, but also it REALLY helps to really hard cut to Mizrak choking on the blood after because before it seemed like he was doing just fine. He is literally looking DOWN at Olrox, he takes up A LOT of the screen with just his back and head. He literally gets pulled into full focus while Olrox is blurred in the background. He appears like he is in control of the situation, however it could not be further from the truth.

Also, I was mostly inspired by the insane amount of bible verses talking about blood, so I'll drop some of those here!

John 6:53-56 ESV

So Jesus said to them, “Truly, truly, I say to you, unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink his blood, you have no life in you. Whoever feeds on my flesh and drinks my blood has eternal life, and I will raise him up on the last day. For my flesh is true food, and my blood is true drink. Whoever feeds on my flesh and drinks my blood abides in me, and I in him.

Ezekiel 16:6 ESV

“And when I passed by you and saw you wallowing in your blood, I said to you in your blood, ‘Live!’ I said to you in your blood, ‘Live!’

Matthew 26:28 ESV

"For this is my [Christ's] blood of the covenant, which is poured out for many for the forgiveness of sins."

Absolute contrast to most of the other shots, not only because I decided to add way more character acting here, but it's because we actually see his FULL face. It's intentional because Mizrak realizes himself now so we need to see him have this reaction. I wanted to show that he is still a person. He still has a soul. He may not be human, but he does have a mind that can think and a heart that can love. He still retains human qualities.

He's choking on all the blood (a physical manifestation of love) and his body is rejecting it. He's not used to consuming this amount of love and he's not used to being self-indulgent. It's deeply overwhelming.

I wanted to say I LOVED drawing blood it is SO FUN, planning the camera movement, and how Mizrak coughs at specific moments was sooo fun. I wanted this to be MESSY AND INTENSE. I wanted the audience to feel the weight of Mizrak's sudden distraught. I wanted to throw him around and to really hark on this line from the one-shot.

What has he done? What has been done to him? What has he become?

It helps to deeply contrast with how still and gentle the next scene is!

Yes, that is right, Olrox's pupils are DILATED :)

Coupled with the fact that the blood splatters are hearts! They're outlined in cyan! Olrox has a massive heart-shaped blood splatter on his cheek while Mizrak has a few heart-shaped splatters BUT there are gaps in his bloodied mouth that create heart shapes as if Mizrak spewed out those hearts!

Firstly this is because Mizrak literally eats at his chest where the heart is. Secondly, I'm again pushing for Mizrak to consume and throw up his love due to how overwhelming it is. Not only is Olrox's love for him literally beyond his imagination, but Mizrak is trying to love back in with that same amount of passion and utter devotion. A lot is happening for this new-born vampire that is pushing and pulling at him. His emotional state is so overwhelming that it is manifested in physical form.

The green reflections are shown to visually communicate Olrox anchoring Mizrak back, as, throughout the animatic, it is one of the things that ease or calm him down. I could not portray it through voice BUT I can portray it via visual (guys walk with me here, imagine the insane combo of audio and visual, it would be so tasty). The sole reason why I did not have hearts in his eyes here is simply because I reserved the heart motif for when he's actively drinking out of Olrox's chest (so he's literally consuming his love) or when he's spitting out the blood!

Also, the reason why I cut to his eyes rather than pan to them is purely because I wanted the violence of his mouth to be suddenly jarring to the gentleness in his eyes. I didn't want the slow reveal, I wanted the "OMG the blood- aw Mizrak...."

"Lulled into a sense of hazy compliance by Olrox’s voice, the former monk carefully lowers himself and continues though not for long."

This final shot was soooo important to me to include. The “musty inn room” was mentioned much earlier during Mizrak’s transformation but there was a poeticism by having what is considerably the blossoming moment of their complicated relationship be the final shot. With the lyrics also ending with "Take me back to Eden" how could I not? Clearly, both the rooms between s01e4 and s02e8 are parallel to each other. The only difference is that s02e8 has the room be both red AND GREEN, while s01e4 is just earthy/green. Olrox has taken them both back to their earthly paradise. This is their Garden of Eden.

Woo ok and we're done! Also yes I do thumbnails for these, it's half the reason why I'm fast (this entire animatic, cleaned and everything, was done in 3 days good lord. Is that fast? I can't tell) I make the barest of bones chicken scratch of sketches to get a feel of pace/vibe, then I do my roughs/cleans and add/take away shots necessary for the story that needs to be told. I normally would not let this see the light of day because these are AWFUL BUT, this post is also half a documentation of my personal process so I'm going to close my eyes and share this HAHA

If you got this far, thank you for reading me geek out about this! I find a lot of joy in the visual storytelling medium. As much as I do enjoy animating, (wow could you guys tell in the name?) I have a deep love and passion for storyboarding personally and I get sit back, and enjoy crafting the entire picture! I still have a long way to go but I'm having fun and I'm pursuing my passions of storytelling!

I desperately want to make more animatics, dealing with different tones, pace etc, but I genuinely have to go prioritize other things for now that will help me build these skills hahaha. I say this but who knows, seeing my current track record haha, look I can do both. I follow wherever my creativity takes me. I may have missed a few things but I have to wrap this up now!

Thank you again! The final takeaway, go watch Castlevania again and go be inspired by animation <33333

#castlevania nocturne #artists on tumblr #mystery talks #i love storyboarding to death it brings me much joy #hopefully ill learn how to apply this to action scenes #all ppl on yt scare me in a positive way they're so nice #olrox/mizrak #castlevania spoilers #olrox #mizrak

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clarkeyhill · 19 days ago

Text

Crawling Back To You | George Clarke Part Two

Fluff. Smut. Angst

"George" Katie replied

"Okay, any description?" You reply

"No, he said you'd know who he is immediately" she chuckled

"Right okay" you laugh

The next day came, you were preparing for the night ahead. Organising your outfits together, unsure of what vibe it would be. You went casual. A light pink cropped tee & ripped flared mom jeans; some Nike dunks to pair. It wasn't a night out, so the need for all the glitz and glam didn't seem necessary. Although, Katie made the effort to be over the top as usual, to keep Chris' eyes on her.

"You ready?" Katie calls from the hallway

"Yeah, just tying my laces" you beckon

You emerge from the bedroom, your hair slightly waving as it cascade over your shoulders. You added a touch of silver jewellery to sort of spice up your look.

"You look great" you say to Katie

"Thanks, it's not too much is it?" She replies

"Never!" You giggle

You arrive after a short walk, Katie was nervous as was I, don't get me wrong Chris seemed nice, but she'd only met him a day before. So I was skeptical.

"I'm not sure about this, it seems a little rushed?" I add

“You know him already,” she said as we walked to the bar. Her boots clicked on the pavement while I stuffed my hands into my coat pockets against the cold. “And he’s bringing his friend George for you.

“I don't see why though” I said, half-laughing.

“Because Chris swears you two will get on like a house on fire,” Katie said, grinning. “Something about your ‘energies’ matching.”

I rolled my eyes. Chris—he was nice, laid-back, and honestly, great for Katie—but his matchmaking instincts were about to be put to the test.

We arrived just as Chris waved us over. He looked genuinely pleased to see Katie, his easy smile lighting up his face. Beside him stood George, a tall guy with an unruly mop of hair and an equally easy smile.

“Hey, good to see you again!” Chris said, giving me a quick hug before motioning to his friend. “This is George.”

“Hi,” I said, offering a polite smile.

George extended his hand. “Hey you must be y/n, Chris has mentioned a lot about you" he says with a warm smile, a slight chuckle leaving his mouth

“Oh, has he?” I said, raising an eyebrow at Chris.

“All good things!” Chris assured me, laughing.

The four of us settled into a booth near the bar, and before long, the conversation started flowing. Katie and Chris were clearly in their own world, leaving George and me to talk.

“So,” I said, sipping the cocktail Chris had recommended—a zingy blend of gin and elderflower, “what do you do?”

“I’m in social media,” George said. “content creation, that kind of thing. It’s a weird job, but I love it.”

“Social media, huh? What’s the weirdest project you’ve worked on?” I replied

George laughed, his eyes crinkling in a way that caught me off guard. “Oh, that’s easy. A campaign to make adult diapers trendy on YouTube after a tuk tuk race in Sri Lanka" he rolled his eyes as he laughed

I couldn’t help but giggle. From there, the conversation took on a life of its own. We swapped stories about work, shared opinions on movies, and debated the best cocktails on the menu.

“You have to try this one,” George said at one point, sliding a drink across the table toward me.

“What is it?”

“No idea,” he admitted. “But the bartender said it’s a ‘surprise.’”

I took a cautious sip, then winced. “That’s…strong.”

He grinned. “You’re welcome.”

The more we talked, the more I found myself surprised by how easy it was to be around him. George had this unassuming charm, a way of making everything feel fun without trying too hard.

“You know,” he said as the night wore on, “Chris wasn’t wrong. Our energies do match.”

“Guess I’ll have to give him credit for that,” I said with a smile.

By the time the bar started to wind down, George and I were still chatting while Katie and Chris had moved on to discussing their favorite hiking spots.

As we got up to leave, George turned to me, his expression soft but hopeful. “This was fun. Would you want to do it again sometime? Just us?”

I hesitated for only a second before nodding. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

On the walk home, Katie couldn’t stop grinning. “Told you,” she teased.

“Alright, fine,” I said, laughing. “Chris has better instincts than I gave him credit for.”

What had started as a night to support my friend turned into something I hadn’t expected—but something I was glad I hadn’t missed.

🫶🏻

Let me know if you want to be tagged in the parts! 🩷

#george clarkey #youtube #george clarke #british youtubers #arthur hill

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schrodingerscougar · 11 months ago

Text

It took Simon some time to learn how to deal with your “job”. He had a hard time accepting that being an influencer paid well enough to live a comfortable life; promoting products brought you a lot of money, and there was a company that chose you to be their ambassador.

It was a hotel chain that was present all around the world, so you were paid to go to exotic places to just chill and make some videos and photos. You even put it in your contract to give you the chance to take a plus one with you, so whenever Simon was home, he could travel with you.

He knew many men were following you for your beauty, some probably drooling over your photos and regularly jerking off to the thought of having you. It did bother him, but as long as they kept their distance, he tried to understand it. It was something out of your control.

At the beginning you posted as if you were still single, but then things turned serious and you wanted to share photos of the two of you. “You know it's impossible because of my job, love,” he told you, causing you to think of a solution.

What he was willing to agree to were photos you took of parts of his body. Hands, back, or his bare, tattooless arm. He was very clear about his tattoos being a taboo as they could easily be recognized. The last thing he wanted was an enemy putting the pieces together and targeting you to get to him.

Your most successful post became the photo of your engagement ring. People went crazy, either because they were happy for you or because they were jealous of the lucky bastard who would marry you. The haters didn't bother you, but Simon wasn't happy to see some assholes harass you.

“Simon, it's okay. They're desperate trolls who probably live a miserable life. I knew people like this would be a part of this life,” you once explained while the two of you were sitting on the couch next to each other.

He leaned over to give you a soft kiss. “Let's get out of the city, away from everyone. Just the two of us. Come on, let's go off the grid for a week,” he suggested.

Smiling, you rested your head on his shoulder and took his hand. Simon didn't want you to stop doing what you loved, he just wanted to teach you how to take a break every once in a while. When you agreed, he was truly proud of himself. One week away from constant content creation.

#ghost #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #modern warfare #mw2 #mw3 #call of duty

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spenceragnewfics · 8 months ago

Note

spencer shower sex!?

I hope you all enjoy! Love ya💕

SPLISH SPLASH | Spencer Agnew x F!Reader | 18 MINORS DNI!!

TW: Oral (f receiving), penetration, usual smut stuff.

Word Count: 1.9k

Description: After a very long and stressful shooting week, Y/N needs a little stress relief and luckily her boyfriend, Spencer, knows just how to help.

Working at Smosh is one of the best things someone could do. The people, work, and fans are all amazing but it’s also very stressful.

The company is huge! So it’s obvious that it would come with stress but some people don’t seem to understand that. They think it’s all just fun times and chillness because you work at a content creation company.

As the main PA for the gaming channel, Y/N is a very busy person. She’s always running around getting things for shoots, lunch orders, helping the cast and crew when they run into things, and many other things.

This is a role she has had for a few years and loves it. She loves being able to meet new people, be creative, and hang out with an amazing crew. Plus, she gets to spend everyday with the love of her life, and boss, Spencer.

The two got together before he became the director of the channel but got to work even more together when he was promoted two years ago. So if anyone knows how draining the job of PA can be, it’s Spencer.

Who is currently watching his girlfriend help Chanse and Angela figure out the rules of the latest new game for Board AF. “So, you just have to be quick and clear…right?” Angela asks, confusion in her eyes.

“Basically, it’s a lot easier to understand as you play. Which, I’m so sorry you two weren’t at the practice game but you know how last minute cast changes work.” She says, smiling softly at the two.

Usually, when there is a new game to be played on the gaming channel the cast, who are going to be playing the game, sit with her, Spencer, and Alex T to learn the game. Well it was originally supposed to be Shayne, Courtney, Tommy, and Arasha but Tommy and Arasha had different things come up so Chanse and Angela were pulled in.

“I think my problem is, the overall concept is a little weird.” Chanse explains, unintentionally making Y/N die on the inside. She’s been explaining the game for 20 minutes but they still can’t seem to understand.

Noticing her distress, Spencer walks over, putting a hand on her waist. “Hey, honey, how about you go take a little walk and get a snack. I’ll try and see if I can crack them.” He suggests, squeezing her waist in a comforting manner as she looks at him sad.

“Are you sure, because I can keep-”

“I’m sure, now go before I make you.” He kisses her cheek, sending her off the set as Chanse and Angela shout apologies.

Pushing open the set doors, Y/N takes a deep breath as she starts her walk to her desk. She smiles at people she passes by on her short walk until she gets to the gaming pod. Her desk is across from Spencer’s, and under it is a little mini fridge. She opens it grabbing the leftover iced coffee she put in there from the morning and some random snack she had.

She sighs as she sits at her desk, laying her head on it. She doesn’t understand what is making her so stressed lately but she's starting to get annoyed with it. Her phone buzzes as she lifts her head up, reading the text from her boyfriend. She’s needed back on set so they can film.

Walking back to the set, she sighs when she gets to the doors then puts on her best fake smile. “Who’s excited to shoot?” She asks, walking in and grabbing her stuff. The cast cheers as she walks over to stand beside Spencer, he puts an arm around her waist and kisses her temple. “Are you okay?” He whispers, “Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” He can tell the smile is fake but decides to ignore it for now.

The shoot goes well and without a hitch except for the usual silliness that happens in a gaming video, but that’s what makes the shoots so fun.

Once the shoot is finished, Y/N helps get things cleaned up when Angela walks over, “Hey, Y/N.” Looking over her shoulder, she smiles at the woman, “What’s up, Ang?”

“I just want to apologize for earlier.” Angela says, her face sullen. “What? What are you apologizing for? Don’t worry about it, sweets.” She assures the girl in front of her. Placing a hand on her shoulder, “It’s just been a very long shoot week, and things have been crazy lately. It’s not your fault or Chanse’s, be sure to tell him that because I can see his sad puppy dog eyes from here.” The two laugh and Angela gives her a hug before walking away.

Not too long after, Spencer walks over as Y/N sits on the new couch, her eyes closed as she tries to enjoy some quiet time. He sits next to her and she lays her head on his lap. “What’s wrong, my little kickstart?” Y/N giggles at the nicknames before opening her eyes and looking at his blue ones. “It’s just been a very long week and I’m super tired.” She looks at him with a pouty expression that brings a loving smile to his face.

“How about we head out early? The only thing we have left today is to do some editing but we can do that at home.” He leans closer to her face, “After we have some fun of course.” He whispers, a cunning smirk on his face that perks Y/N up a bit.

“Oh really? You think we can work that into the schedule?” She jokes and he rolls his eyes, “Come on, let’s go home.” Y/N slides off the couch and follows Spencer, holding his hand as the two get ready to leave.

Once the two get to their shared apartment, Spencer pulls Y/N in for a kiss as the door closes. The kiss is gentle and sweet, something that makes her heart feel warm. He pulls back after a moment, “Go get in the shower, take some time to yourself.”

“Aw, you don’t wanna join me?” She asks, wrapping her arms around his neck. “Do you want me to join you?” He asks, wrapping his arms around her waist. “I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t want you to.” She teases before giving him a quick peck and walking to the bathroom.

Spencer waits until the shower turns on to follow her in, he takes his clothes off as he walks so that way he can go straight in. The bathroom is starting to get steamy when he walks in and the curtain is closed, hiding his girlfriend from his sight.

He moves the curtain to the side, his eyes are met with the beautiful sight of his girlfriend’s naked body. Stepping in the shower, he closes the curtain and wraps his arms around Y/N’s waist, giving her shoulder a gentle kiss.

“Took you long enough.” Y/N says, turning around so that her front is against his. “I thought you could wait just a bit longer.” He teases before leaning in to kiss her. His lips move gently against her as his hands roam her body, they move smoothly against her wet skin as she tangles her hands in his hair.

Moving a hand down, he slips it between her thighs and rubs her clit gently. Pulling back slightly, breaking the kiss, she moans at the feeling, a little of tension finally being released.

“Don’t tease me, you know I need this.” She practically whines as his hand continues to rub. “Just calm down, babe, you deserve this.” He says before gently pushing her against the shower wall and getting on his knees. “Legs on my shoulders, my little kickstart.” Y/N giggles as she does what he says. Her sounds quickly change to soft sighs as he kisses her inner thighs.

“Spence, what are you-” Her voice stops as he starts to suck on her inner thigh, using the same motion as he does when he’s leaving a hickey on her neck. “Need to make sure whenever you wear shorts people know you’re mine.” He says when he gets done with the hickey on her thigh.

Not wasting a second, his head moves to her core and a long strip up her slit brings out a long moan. Her hand finds placement in his hair as he works magic on her. The two have been together so long they know how the other ticks, what makes them feel best and how to get them to feel fuzzy.

His lips find place on her clit which makes her eyes roll back. He groans when her hand grips his hair, sending vibrations onto her clit, making her moan his name.

“Spence, please, I need you, now!” She whines, pulling his head away from her. His beard is glistening along with his lip and his eyes are looking at her innocently. “Please.” She begs and it’s enough for him to give in.

Carefully putting her legs back on the ground, Spencer gets up and spins her around. Spitting on his hand, he gives his dick a few strokes before sliding inside Y/N. His hips start slow as he grabs her hair and pulls her against him, “Fuck, baby.” She moans, the feeling of him going in and out hitting just the spot she’s needed for days.

“You like that? Finally being able to feel what you’ve wanted for days?” He whispers in her ear, his thrusts slowly becoming faster. “Yes, yes, yes. Spencer! Yes!” She moans, laying her head against his shoulder, giving him perfect access to kiss her neck.

“Don’t hold back, please.” She begs, needing more as she feels the stress slowly melt away. “Anything for you.” He says before speeding up his thrusts, the sound of wet skin hitting skin resonates in the bathroom along with their moans and groans of pleasure.

Sneaking a hand down, he rubs her clit with the same pace of his thrusts. The feeling of being full and the pressure on her clit starts to make Y/N’s brain feel fuzzy. A feeling that Spencer has been the only to make her feel. She feels him smirking as her legs start to shake from the feeling.

He moans as she tightens around him, making him see stars for a second. “Fuck, I love when you do that.” he groans into her neck as he continues his thrusts.

It doesn’t take much longer for the both of them to get close. His thrusts start to get sloppy as she starts tightening around him more and more. His hand speeds up on her clit as he nibbles on the sensitive part of her neck, “Spencer! I’m coming!” She screams as the knot in her stomach pops.

“Just like that baby, just let go.” He coos in her ear, holding her against him as her legs shake even more from the feeling. “I’m gonna come too.” He moans as he pulls out. Stroking his dick fast, he has it position on her ass as he moans out her name, releasing on the plump area.

A few moments pass as the couple comes down from their highs. Shaky breaths, water falling on them, and the two holding onto each other. Y/N turns to look at Spencer with a sheepish smile, “You know, for only one ball you do cum a lot.” She jokes with a small laugh. “Eh, you gotta compensate where you can, dude.” He says while chuckling before kissing her sweetly.

Resting their foreheads on each other, they take a moment to just enjoy being together. “How about we clean up and then go cuddle and watch a movie?” She asks, rubbing his arms. “That sounds perfect.” He agrees before kissing her forehead. Both of them feeling much more relaxed than before.

#smosh #smosh cast #smosh games #smosh mouth #smosh pit #spencer agnew #spencer agnew x reader #smosh imagine #smosh smut #smosh x reader

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