#features of Consumer Protection Act

[stayask]

Features of the Consumer Protection Act 1986

Meaning of Consumer

👉🏻 Consumer Rights 👉🏻 Ensuring Safety 👉🏻 Transparency in Information 👉🏻 Fair Competition 👉🏻 Relief from Unfair Practices

[lyrefromthesea]

HELLLLLAAAAW THEEERRRE, LISTEN (or read), I've been thinking. THAT I LOVE UR WRITING A LOOOOT, and I've been waiting but before that, idrk if u take req rn so feel free to discard this request! anyway, back to main topic, I've been wondering how the hashira's would react to reader/their s/o, adoring their hands a lot, like i mean— obsessed with their hands, whether its holding hands in public (or privately, if the character does not really like showing affection in public), or maybe yk hold hands in bed HWGAHGAHWHS, maybe, something like soft nsfw, like with fluff! u get me? just the character, comforting their s/o when they get too tense during their sexual intercourse, andddddd more fluff if u want! thank u for taking ur time to read!!

Male Hashira x Reader - Hold my hands

author's note: my fever has killed me a few times during this post.

pairing: Tengen x reader, Obanai x reader, Rengoku x reader, Sanemi x reader, Giyuu x reader, Gyomei x reader

content warning: nsfw, sexual intercourse (Rengoku, Giyuu), mildly suggestive (Sanemi)

Tengen:

• who knows exactly what his hands can do to you and despite his teasing nature uses them for your comfort

• enjoys seeing you calm down because of his hands and though he doesn't want you to feel bad he certainly doesn't mind calming you down

he's been looking towards the sky for quite some time now, sitting under the tree with the person he adored most.

you were so strong, so sure of your actions-

and sometimes you felt insecure and the worry seemed to consume you. he understood it, he understood your fear of failure and the future that would follow.

that's why he had no problems consoling you when you needed it most, taking his time to sit with you in silence. words weren't needed in these times, only the comfort of his presence.

he allowed himself to glance down at you, feeling the tender touches of your fingers on his. you were strong, he didn't doubt that, but your body felt so fragile compared to his own.

the difference in the size of your hands proved it to him every single time. he knew you could protect yourself, but if you couldn't, he would be there for you.

"i think i'm feeling better." you said, your eyes finally focusing on his face instead of his hands. you had been touching and playing with his fingers for quite some time now, your hold on them decreasing.

"ya sure? you still look down." he answered, earning a hesitant nod from you. feeling your hand let go of him made him act, bringing his own hand up to the back of your head.

"i don't believe it and lying is not flashy in my eyes. let's stay a bit longer." you were quite surprised when he pressed your head against his chest, looking up at the sky again.

somehow he always knew what you needed, even when you didn't admit it. and with a gentle smile, as well as his hand running through your hair, you sunk into a deep slumber.

Obanai:

• who is surprised when he found out you were fascinated by his hands.

• someone like you adoring a feature of his? the mere thought made him blush when he was laying awake at night.

• who enjoys holding your hand just as much as you, often turning into a blushing mess.

he knew he wasn't as strong as most other hashira. he was smaller, physically weaker. of course it gave him one or two advantages, like a flexibility the tall males around him could only dream about.

yet he secretly found himself craving their strength - at least a part of it. he wouldn't complain about a bit more arm strength, but that would remain a dream of his.

the moment he found himself content with the lack of strength he possessed clearly came with you. you had been sitting next to each other, simply enjoying the time you could spend together. at least that was what he was doing, your mind had long drifted away.

he tensed up when he felt your fingers brush over his, holding his hand. your thumb brushed over his knuckles comfortingly.

he didn't dare look at you, only turning towards you when he felt you glancing, uncertainty rising inside you with his current expression. his hand reached out to you when he felt you pull away.

"i shouldn't have done that, i'm sorry." you said, trying to escape any rising feeling of shame. you just didn't expect him to hold your hand tighter.

"don't stop." he answered, his tone letting it appear much more like a quiet plead. surprise overtook you, quickly replaced by a comforting shyness.

your fingers interlocked with his once more, this time with switched positions. you felt goosebumps appear on your skin, your cheeks heating up.

"your hands are soft, [name].."

Rengoku:

• whether it's in public or at home, he enjoys holding your hand just as much as you like holding his

• however, one attractive thing he does is taking your hand after overstimulating you

"honey.." he pants, trying not to cum a second time from the way you were squeezing around him, body basically trying to milk him even in your current state.

it had started a few hours ago, when he came home from a long mission. he had missed you during his time in the snowy mountains, deciding that his arrival would be the perfect moment to show you how much he appreciates your body.

having to cum multiple times - first his fingers, then his tongue and now his cock - was just too much for your poor body.

of course Rengoku realized that, seeing you shake and tremble under him, small tears running down your flushed cheeks. you were still caught up in your orgasm, trying to even out your breathing pattern.

"it's okay, we're done. breathe, little flame." he panted, hands letting go of the sheets of your shared bed, sitting upright and looking down at you.

he didn't pull out, simply admiring your panting form laying on the bed. his hands snaked along your arms, holding your hands and pressing them into the matress.

feeling the warmth of his palm press against yours got your attention, a silent moan leaving your lips. "are you okay?" the question made you nod quietly, finally being able to register the world around you again.

"'m so sore.." you mumbled, watching the man above you laugh, squeezing your hands in response.

Sanemi:

• he absolutely loves it

• you clearly developed a liking to your hand and he's fully using that to fluster you

• taking you by surprise is his favorite

you've been standing in the kitchen, making sure all the medical herbs you've received were in their right place. you needed to make sure they're easily accessible when Sanemi came home injured.

in your concentrated state, you didn't notice the tall man approaching you slowly - lurking like a predator.

and then you shriek, feeling a slap land on your ass. out of reflex you leaned forward, your head quickly turning around to find Sanemi right behind you.

"missed me?" he teased, stepping closer until he was right behind you, hands placed on the counter on either side of you. he pressed his body against yours with a smirk, resulting in your face getting a lot warmer than before.

"Sanemi! you always do this!" you scolded him, trying to turn around from the sheer embarrassment you just faced or rather the excitement that pooled in your body.

"what can i say? can't resist you with a fine ass like that." he chuckled, letting go of the counter to squeeze your behind with his calloused fingers, earning a whine from you.

"and truthfully, i think you can't resist me either." hearing him whisper into your ear, hand traveling up your side, made you stare at the watch.

he was right, you couldn't resist him, nor could he resist you. besides, the herbs could wait for a while.

Giyuu:

• initially he was the one that liked holding your hands, it was the most simple form of physical touch he could come up with

• still a touch-starved man, WILL have his hands on you the whole time when you're making love.

• knows it gets you more exited, wouldn't judge you for it either, since he gets just as exited when he sees you

"Oh~ baby.." he gasped, head resting against the headboard of your bed. he watched you lazily bounce up and down his cock, trying to work yourself into ecstacy.

whenever you were sharing such passionate moments with each other, he could feel his fingers twitch with the need to hold onto your body - onto you.

they first slid up your thighs, holding onto your hips, guiding you to grind back against him. he loved the feeling of your warmth and he loved the reactions his hands could coax out of you.

he didn't miss out on the way your lips opened in a silent cry, begging to feel his hands run over your body, around your neck or anything else that allowed you to feel them.

and of course he'll answer.

"hold.. hold my hands.. i want to feel you.." he moans, letting go of your hips only to intertwine his fingers with yours, feeling your hips stutter.

he certainly knew how to exploit your weakness for his hands - especially since he was just as weak for you.

Gyomei:

• likes using his hands to calm you down

• they're like a security rope connecting the two of you when the situation makes uncertainty rise within you

"my dearest child, are you ready to serve as a hashira?" the soothing voice of master Kagaya usually managed to calm you down, but not today.

you sat in front of him, a private meeting being held between the two of you and a pillar of choice. naturally, you went with the one you trusted most - the stone pillar.

it would've been an honor to serve as a hashira, every demon slayer knew that, but being confronted with the choice of being one, you found yourself unsure.

the pillars were the strongest humans you had ever set your eyes on, you weren't sure if you could stand by their side.

lowering your head in shame, you were ready to decline the master's offer. however, you were stopped by the blind man next to you.

he placed a large hand on your back, the warmth seeping into your skin slowly calming you down, letting you think properly.

you weren't chosen without a reason, if the master wanted you to become a hashira, he trusted in your talent.

swallowing down your uncertainty, you nodded with little to no hesitance. "i'm ready."

next to you, still his hand on your back, Gyomei found himself smiling. if it was his presence you needed to make a decision, he'd gladly do this for you everytime.

[gremlingottoosilly]

I NEED MORE SEA BUNNY USER 😭🙏

You're a sleepy, fragile thing. Konig doesn't understand how you weren't snatched by some stray predator merhybrid, but he is glad you're safe now, fully in his grasp. He lets you swim sometimes, watching you over you carefully as you would get out of the murky cave and into the clean waters of the upper ocean levels. He can't quite follow you here - too bright, too noisy for his liking, his body isn't adapted to the levels of pressure, and his mind is not ready to meet the chaotic brightness of normal hybrids - but he knows you're way too weak to escape him now. You're drowning in his scent, his brood growing in your belly, with every mermaid you once knew now terrified of a pretty thing being slowly consumed by the darkness of eldritch merfolks. Konig knows he is corrupting you - making you sleepy and drowsy in his arms, dragging you down with him, inside the cave again. You don't even miss the sun or the warm water all that much - you just cling to him, pushing your pretty face into his muscular chest and asking him to make you a nest of softer kelp you gathered near the surface. He can't resist his mate's wishes, even if the sweet scent and soft texture make him sick. He isn't used to this - he'd be afraid that the children are going to turn out weak if only he wasn't planning to eat the weaker part anyway. Makes it easier to get you nice and pregnant again, slowly stuffing your needy holes with his tentacles until you can't nap without being filled by him anymore. He brings you gifts - something he stole from other mermaids, probably after killing and consuming them. Poor things, they forgot how to respect his territory...and they paid the price tenfold, making him laugh every time it gets brought up. You like to sort out through your growing collection, your every waking moment filled with either sex, food or playing - and sometimes everything at the same time. It was harder to adjust to bringing you some plants to eat and only sometimes mixing in some shrimp, but Konig knew you had to eat more in order to be bred properly...and to raise adorable little hybrid children that he could allow you to raise. Maybe. You sleep together in the nest he built for you, his tentacles wrapping around you in a protective hold. He makes his skin warmer, acting as a heater in cold, dark water, and you nuzzle your pretty face and even prettier pseudo-fluffy features against his chest, searching for the warmness you crave. You can't even rest without his affection sometimes, too attached to his body heat.

[jaythes1mp]

4277 words, 24103 characters, 279 sentences, 116 paragraphs,17.1 pages. Tag list: @zero-s-tea @chemicalsandghosts @yandere-enthusiast @starsdotalk @small-mushroom-fae @wpdarlingpan @dhanyasri @tojislvrr @phoenixgurl030 @mel-star636 @lilyalone @lavender-moony @nickey-diano

Your secrets are ours, kid

Yandere BatFam x Reader — CH10 -> CH9 -> CH8 -> CH7 -> CH6 -> CH5 -> CH4 -> CH3 -> CH2 -> CH1

Ideas for the name of the pet turtle are welcome and encouraged🙏

You groggily woke up, feeling warm and disoriented. You stretched out your limbs and shifted up, the sheets falling down your shoulders and pooling in your lap.

The warmth and comfort of your bed suddenly felt stifling as the memories of the night before came rushing back to you all at once. A wave of nausea washed over you, your stomach churning with a queasy feeling that threatened to empty itself. You felt a strong urge to vomit, the events of the night still fresh in your mind, like a raw wound.

The images and sensations of the previous night's events were stark and vivid in your mind. The fear, the pain, the adrenaline. Everything replayed in your head like a movie, each scene clear and horrifyingly real. The realization that you'd been in danger, that you could have been seriously hurt, hit you like a physical blow. You felt your stomach twist and turn, your body's natural response to the emotional onslaught.

You let out a sigh, the queasiness still lingering in your body. Deciding to distract yourself, you leaned down to get some turtle pellets and baby carrot slices from the small container you kept under your bed.

With gentle hands, you unclipped the opening of your turtle's enclosure, pausing for a brief moment as you looked at the small reptile. It was oblivious to the turmoil you were going through. You place the food into the corner where its small bowl was. As you did, the turtle stirred slightly, sensing your presence.

You let out a soft sigh, your fingers gently tracing the hard, bumpy shell of your turtle. You take comfort in the feeling of the reptile under your touch, appreciating its gentle presence in the moment. It responds by crawling forward ever so slightly, as if beckoning for more affection.

You chuckled softly, amused by the turtle's attempt. It was a small, innocent act that brought a momentary feeling of peace to your chaotic thoughts. You gently pick the little creature up and delicately press a kiss to its head. Its scaly skin felt cool against your lips, and you notice the slightest tilt to its head as if it was responding to your gesture. You carefully set it back into the enclosure, closing it quietly.

You stand in the hallway, having changed your clothes and brushed your teeth, but hesitating on your next move. You're unsure of how to approach Jason, unsure of how to explain what happened last night. Your mind is swirling, wrestling with the decision of whether to tell him or not.

The very thought makes you feel ill again, bringing back the familiar queasiness in your stomach. You chew on your lip, contemplating your options.

Jason is slumped on the sofa, the TV casting flickering shadows across his face in the early morning light. His eyes are red-rimmed and puffy from lack of sleep, his features etched with worry and concern. It's clear that he's been awake all night, his mind consumed by thoughts of your safety.

He had barely managed to stop himself from bursting into your room late last night when he heard about the altercation. The urge to go out and hunt the thugs himself had been strong, a fierce and protective instinct that had taken all of his self-control to suppress.

He sits up straighter when he hears your door click open. His ears prick up, straining to hear any signs of your footsteps approaching.

When he hears the sound of your door opening and closing, he leans forward slightly, his jaw clenching. He's been worrying all night, and the relief he feels at the sound of your voice is a mixture of reassurance and relief.

"Kid?" He calls out, his voice gruff. "Can you come here for a minute?"

You hesitantly walk into the living room, feeling a sense of foolishness for having lingered in the hallway for so long. You realize that Jason doesn't know anything about what happened last night. He would find it strange if he knew you had been standing in the hallway, silently hesitating.

You take a deep breath and summon up your courage, plastering a neutral expression on your face as you approach him where he's sat on the sofa. “What’s up, Jay?”

Jason's eyes instantly meet yours as you enter the room, a sharp, penetrating gaze, one that's immediately scrutinising you. He scans you up and down, no doubt looking for any signs of injury, or anything amiss. But his gaze softens when he doesn't find any.

He pats the cushion next to him, gesturing for you to sit down. "Come here. I want to talk to you about something."

You gingerly sit down on the couch next to Jason, the unease and discomfort you feel evident in your body language. You try to maintain a casual exterior, but the tension in your shoulders gives you away.

Jason glances over at you, his eyes narrowing slightly as he picks up on your uncomfortable manner. He turns the volume of the TV down, giving you his full attention.

He takes a moment to observe you, the slight tenseness in your body, the subtle shift in your expression as you try to maintain a facade of normalcy. He's known you long enough to know that something is off. He can practically smell the anxiety and fear radiating off you.

The silence between you stretches out for a moment, the only sound in the room being the low hum of the TV. Jason's gaze remains fixed on you, studying your expression like a hawk. It's clear that he has a lot on his mind, and he's still working out how to approach the topic he wants to bring up.

"You came home late last night." Jason comments, his tone carefully casual. He studies your face closely, searching for any signs of fatigue or discomfort. He's not one to mince words, and while he's trying to tread lightly, he still needs to ask the question.

"I waited up for you. I thought maybe you had stayed over at a friend's house, given you didn't come home last night. But here you are, at home and unhurt."

You visibly shrink slightly as you digest Jason's words. The thought of him staying up all night, worried about you, makes you feel guilty and regretful.

You hesitate, the memories of last night's events still fresh in your mind. The feeling of the cold barrel pressed against your head was still a vivid, haunting sensation. You let out a soft, deep breath, your hand unconsciously moving to rub at the back of your neck, a nervous habit. Finally, you force yourself to speak up.

"Something... something happened last night," you say, the words feeling heavy on your tongue.

Jason frowns at your wince, his expression hardening with worry and concern. He notices your nervous rubbing of your neck and the way you pause before speaking, the words reluctant and apprehensive.

Your voice barely above a whisper. As you spoke, Jason could see the way your shoulders tense, the slight shake in your voice. He doesn't miss the way you reflexively touch your neck, and his mind instantly jumps to the worst possible conclusion. Had it been worse than the demon spawn had described?

Jason's jaw clenches at your confession, his eyes darkening with anger. It doesn't take a genius to figure out what might have happened, so he doesn’t have to act surprised. The very thought of someone laying a hand on you, of hurting you, makes his blood boil.

He leans closer to you, his gaze sharpening. "What exactly happened? Tell me everything." If that little shithead spared even one detail he was going to kill him.

You inhale deeply, trying to maintain your composure, but the memories of the incident are still raw and unsettling. You shudder slightly, the fear and anxiety from the previous night returning with a vengeance. You rub your bruised wrists, feeling a phantom pain on the spot where the woman had been pressed roughly against you.

You told him in detail about what happened, having to pause during some parts, the reality of the situation having settled in. You could have died.

Jason's face hardens to stone as he listens to your account of last night's events. With each detail, his anger mounts, his veins practically bulging with suppressed rage. His hands clench and unclench in his lap, the restraint it's taking him to not go out and hunt for those women right then and there nearly more than he can handle.

When you finish recounting the incident, there is a tense silence as Jason takes a moment to process everything he's just heard. It was to a T what had been described to the family last night. His knuckles turn white in rage, but the way you fan over Robin even while telling such a traumatising experience causes his eyes to soften.

Jason's tone is firm and non-negotiable as he looks at you, his eyes locked onto yours.

"You're not going out alone anymore," he says, his voice leaving no room for debate or negotiation. It wasn't a suggestion, it was a command.

You can sense the protectiveness in his words, the raw, primal instinct to keep you safe and away from harm.

Your lips parted automatically, a protest forming on your tongue, but Jason cut you off before you could even speak. His gaze hardened, his eyes narrowing in a warning.

"No," he spoke, his voice leaving little room for argument. "This is not up for debate. Not anymore. You're not going out alone, period."

“Jason.” Your voice cracks with a hint of anger as you speak his name. Your voice strong and filled with determination. "You can't tell me what to do. I'm not a child."

Jason's expression darkens at your stubborn protest, his jaw clenching. "I'm not saying you're a child. But what happened last night shows you're not capable of protecting yourself."

His words are blunt, his tone harsh but there's an undercurrent of concern in his voice. "You could have been seriously hurt.. or worse. This isn't up for debate."

His eyes narrowed, the frustration showing in the sharp edges of his features. "... You think I like telling you what to do? You think I enjoy being the over protective brother who has to watch your every move? You're being stupid and stubborn." He does. He so desperately does, but he needs you to understand.

You freeze at his words, swallowing the lump that’s formed in your throat. His words cut you like knives. You had gotten so used to having him there to rely on that it hadn’t ever occurred to you that maybe he doesn’t want to look over you.

You never wanted to have to put him in that position. Your voice wavers. “Oh...” You hated how weak that sounded. You were better, stronger than this.

Jason's eyes soften as he sees the pain in yours, his own frustration shifting into understanding.

"Hey," he speaks, his voice gentler now, his features softening slightly. "I do this because I care about you. You know that right?"

He studies you, a small frown on his face. You look so.. vulnerable in that moment. So unlike your usual self. He hates it. He just wants you to understand where he's coming from. He needs you to understand.

"I don't want to control you... I just want you to be safe."

He sighs and runs a hand through his hair, his frustration still evident in the clenched jaw and tensed shoulders. “I don’t want to have to tell you what to do. But you make it impossible. You’re stubborn and reckless. You don’t think before you act. You take unnecessary risks."

Jason pauses, his words catching in his throat as he realises how familiar these words he's saying sound. They're the same words Bruce used to say to him. The same lectures. You were turning him into Bruce.

He swallows roughly, the realisation of becoming the very person he swore he wouldn't be weighing heavily on him. He takes a deep breath, struggling to control the mix of emotions rising in his chest. Frustration, anger, worry, and a strange sense of deja vu.

"This isn't about control," he continues, his voice slightly strained, "It's about keeping you safe. Alive. If I have to tell you to not do something, if I have to force you to do something, then I will. Because I'd rather you hate me and be alive than love me and be dead."

Jason's eyes lock onto yours again, the intensity in them unmistakeable. He would do anything, everything to keep you safe. Even if it made you hate him.

You swallow heavily, your heart feeling like it's been squeezed by a vice. The depth of emotion in his voice, the intensity in his eyes, it's overwhelming. You know he means every word he's saying. You know he cares.

But you can't help the anger that's rising up in you. You're not some fragile porcelain doll that needs to be locked away and protected. You're a person. A person that can think for themselves and make their own decisions.

You grit your teeth and let your voice hang low, unemotional. Detached. “Fine. I’ll call Tim to meet up with me at that new arcade between the theatres. Happy? Huh Dad?” You won’t. You just need to get out of here. You don’t want to be around anyone right now.

Jason's expression darkens as you speak, his jaw tensing at the coldness in your voice. Your use of the word "Dad", the sarcastic and detached tone you had used, it was like a slap to the face.

He can see through your facade. He knows you're trying to get him off your back. But knowing that doesn't make it any less painful. It makes him angry. You, acting like he's the bad guy in this. You not understanding the hell he's gone through, the hell he's still going through. It's so frustrating.

But he doesn't snap. He doesn't rise to the bait. He keeps his voice even, controlled.

"Fine."

The anger is evident in the way he bites out the word, but he tries to keep his expression neutral. He knows you're just trying to push him away. But he's not going to let you do that. He's not going to let you put yourself in danger again. Ever.

You huff in frustration and stand up from the couch, your hands balling into fists at your sides. You want to storm out of the room, but you can feel Jason's gaze on your back, watching your every move.

So instead, you settle for walking away from the couch, putting some distance between you and Jason. The room feels too small, too claustrophobic. You need to get out. You need fresh air.

With a final, silent look at Jason, you grab your phone and keys from the side table near the door. You don’t have a destination in mind, you just need to get away. Away from the suffocating atmosphere in that apartment.

Without another word, you open the front door and stride out into the hallway, letting the door slam shut behind you.

You walked through the streets, the cool evening air doing little to cool your temper. Your mind replaying the conversation with Jason over and over again. You knew you were being stubborn, childish even, that you were in the wrong. But you couldn't help it. Right now, you didn't care. The frustration and anger were still bubbling inside you, fuelling your every step. You needed space. You needed to be on your own.

You were an adult, capable of making your own decisions. You’ve had to since you were very young. It wasn't fair for Jason to suddenly start treating you like a helpless child, just because of one isolated incident.

You walked for what felt like hours, the anger and frustration propelling you forward. Night settled over the city, the streetlights casting an eerie glow on the empty streets. Your phone buzzes occasionally in your pocket, but you ignore it. You weren't ready to talk to Jason yet. You weren't ready to face him and his over protectiveness. You just needed to breathe. To think.

You were so lost in thought, so consumed by the storm of emotions roiling within you, that you hadn't noticed the figure until it was too late. You collided with a solid, unmoving object, your forehead connecting with a hard chest.

The impact snapped you back into reality, a small gasp of surprise escaping your lips. You stumbled backwards, your hands instinctively coming up to rub at your sore forehead.

Your eyes widen as you look up, your gaze meeting the man's face. His expression is friendly, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth as he stuffs his phone into his pocket. It's a sharp contrast to the dark, brooding anger that's been gnawing at your insides.

Your eyes widen in surprise as you look up, your heart jumping in your chest. Standing in front of you is none other than Bruce Wayne, his tall, imposing figure easily recognizable even in the dim street light.

You were so absorbed in your own thoughts that you hadn’t even noticed where you were walking. You stumble backwards, a mixture of surprise and shock on your face.

"Mr... Mr Bruce?" you blurt out, your voice wavering slightly.

Your eyes widened in surprise as you recognised the man in front of you. Your voice laced with shock. You took a few steps back, trying to stabilise yourself and put some distance between the two of you.

His eyes narrowed momentarily at the action of you backing away. A soft chuckle passing his lips. “Mr? I’ve told you to just call me Bruce.” Your name slipped past his lips so smoothly you’d think he’d rehearsed it a million times in the mirror.

It wasn't a coincidence that you ran into Bruce Wayne on these empty streets. Jason had informed them about the situation, updating them all on every detail. But you weren't aware of this fact. You didn't even know that the family knew of each other, let alone the extent to which they kept track of your life.

His gaze is steady as he looks down at you. He seems to be analysing your movements, your expression. He's probably noticed your frustration, the way your shoulders are tense and your face slightly flushed.

His smirk is still in place, his head tilted to the side. Playing his thoughts off as if he was amused by your appearance and not that he’d been standing there the past half an hour waiting for you. Watching the blinking red dot as it turns around each corner on his phone intently. He takes a step towards you, closing the distance you tried to create.

"What are you doing out here? At this time of night no less. It’s not safe.” There was a dangerous undercurrent to his words, a hidden warning. But there was also a hint of concern in his eyes, whether he liked to admit it or not, he did care about you and your safety. He wasn't here to reprimand you or give you a lecture, although it would probably come afterwards. He just wanted answers.

You huff in resignation and look down at Bruce's shoes, finding solace in the simple task of staring at them. The sight of the expensive leather and polished toes seems almost absurd. How did it come to this?Standing on a cold, dark street, staring at the billionaire's feet, after running into him like a clumsy fool.

“... I’m sorry.” You’re not sure why you’re apologising. For running into him, or for being out, maybe...

Bruce is surprised by the apology that escapes your lips. He wasn't expecting you to feel guilty or to even address it. He remains standing a step away from you, watching you intently, waiting for an explanation.

He crosses his arms over his chest, his shoulders relaxing. His voice is lower, a subtle playful warning. "Apology accepted. But that doesn't answer my question."

He takes another step forward, trying to catch your gaze, but you're stubbornly keeping your eyes on his shoes.

He hums in thought, then holds out his larger hand. His expression softening. “Come on. It’s late. Let’s go get dinner, hm?”

A moment of surprise crosses your face at the sudden change of tone. From the firmness and authority to the gentleness and affection in his voice. He holds his hand out to you, his expression a little more tender than before, the hint of a smile on his lips.

He gently taps your chin with his knuckles, trying to get you to look at him. "Come on, I'm not going to bite."

You finally look up at Bruce, a small, ironic grin spreading across your face. Despite everything that's happened, despite the situation you're currently in, you can't help but find some slight humour in this unexpected encounter.

You've had more than your fair share of chance meetings with the billionaire, almost all of them have involved a cozy dinner or lunch together.

Bruce's smirk only deepens as he catches a glimpse of your grin. Despite the situation and the frustration that has been gnawing at you, he can't help but think it's adorable the way your expression changes. The perfect child, unaware of the dangers the rest of the family have to face to keep your wondrous innocence. It softens his heart slightly and makes him want to take care of you more.

"What's with that smile? It's like you're enjoying yourself." He quips, his voice a hint lower as he steps even closer, gently tapping your forehead this time.

You snort, squeezing the elder man’s hand in response. “Is that such a crime?”

He laughs softly at your response, shaking his head as he leads you towards a black limousine that's parked near the curb. The doors are opened by his chauffeur, Alfred. The man looking vaguely familiar to you, but you can’t put your finger on it.

Bruce motions for you to get inside before following suit, settling down on the luxurious leather seat next to you. The door closes and you’re engulfed in the comfortable silence of the car.

Bruce rests his arm on the headrest behind you, turning to look at you. “You didn’t answer my question. Why were you out so late?”

The interior of the limousine is as extravagant as you might expect. Soft leather seats, tinted windows, a mini-bar, and a small flat-screen TV. It's all very impressive and almost overwhelmingly luxurious.

Bruce's eyes are fixated on you, his gaze never wavering as you settle into the seat next to him. He waits patiently for an answer to his question, a knowing look in his eyes.

“Just... needed some air.” It’s not a complete lie.

He hums in acknowledgment, his eyes roaming over your face, trying to decipher whatever thoughts might be going through your head.

Instead, he simply shifts closer, wrapping his arm around your shoulders, pulling you gently against his side. The action is so natural and so like him that you just find yourself relaxing into the touch.

The arm around your shoulders feels warm and comforting. Somehow, despite your earlier frustration and anger, being tucked into his side makes you feel safe. The familiar smell of his cologne and the steady thump of his heart against your ear grounding you.

Bruce remains silent for a moment, just letting you sit there, feeling you relax against him. His fingers idly toy with a strand of your hair, gently brushing it back from your face.

His hand is warm and firm, a paternal, protective gesture. It's a feeling you've come to associate solely with him and him alone. It's never been an overtly affectionate gesture, but it's one that you've grown used to, one that you've come to appreciate.

You've never told him how much it means to you. How comforting it feels, like a silent reassurance.

You hated to admit it, but you missed this. This warmth, something you never got from your mother nor the countless men she’d have over.

You only ever got it from Bruce. So you can't help but feel a strange sense of comfort in his presence. You missed this, the warmth and care that he naturally seemed to radiate. It was almost fatherly in a way, but you never dared to think of it like that. You didn’t want to overstep his boundaries. You’ve always assumed it's just a part of his nature, something he does for all the people in his life. You wouldn't dare to read too much into it.

“Where are we going?”

Bruce feels you relax against him, the tension leaving your body as you lean into his side. A small smile tugs at the corner of his lips. He continues to toy with your hair, his fingers gently brushing through the strands as he responds to your question.

"I thought we could grab a bite to eat."

He pauses for a moment, his eyes shifting to look out of the tinted window. The night is silent, the city's lights a blur as the car glides smoothly through the streets.

“A buffet restaurant maybe?” It’s worded like a question, but he’s already booked out the place.

You nod against his side. Your hands fiddling with one another in your lap. “That sounds nice.”

No use of y/n, no descriptive features for the readers appearance, no gender mentioned.

Seriously please send in requests, they’re heavily appreciated🙏

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Wicked Games 9

Warnings: non/dubcon, cheating, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Steve Rogers

Summary: you had a one night stand. Or did you?

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

You sit in the front room of Steve’s apartment. The vague recollection of that morning you fled tugs at your mind. You should have left Barrett then. Maybe if you hadn’t been such a coward, he would still be alive. 

It’s not just your mistake you ran from. It was reality. You put off the inevitable for far too long. You didn’t want your relationship to end. Not like that. On top of all that mess, you ignored yourself, your body, for too long. 

By the count of it, you’re nearly two months along. There’s no question who the father is. You and Barrett barely slept in the same bed, let alone got anywhere close to intimate. 

You drop your head and shiver. 

A shadow approaches and something clinks gently on the polished coffee table. You wince and glance up with only your eyes. You don’t move as you feel him looming over you. 

“Tea. Uncaffeinated. Gotta be safe--” 

“Why are you doing this?” You drone to the floor. 

“It’s been a long night. I figured it would help--” 

“Not the goddamn tea.” You lift your head and glare up to him. “We don’t know each other. I don’t want to know you. I don’t want this baby inside of me--” 

“You’re emotional. It’s hormones.” He says calmly. “I can recognise that. You’re not speaking from a good place right now. A lot has happened. You got big news and you’ve lost someone you loved. Once.” 

“You killed him. You—you murderer!” You stand and he shifts to meet you. He’s big. Not that you didn’t notice before but face to face, it’s even more obvious. You’re no match for someone like him. Not for Captain America. 

His jaw ticks and his eyes narrow. “I protected you. He was choking you. I could hear his pulse. He was full of adrenaline. He would’ve killed you if I hadn’t stopped him.” 

“And? All my problems would be solved--” 

“Don’t say that,” he snarls. His veneer cracks and his face contorts in anger. “You won’t talk like that when you’re carrying my child inside of you.” 

“I’m not keeping it--” 

“It’s not your decision.” 

“It’s my body,” you snip. 

He takes a deep breath and his nostrils flare as he lets it out. He considers you and his features ease. “Like I said, you’re not thinking straight right now. Sit down and have your tea.” 

You stare at him then look past him to the door. He puts his hands on your shoulders, drawing your gaze back to him. He pushes until you sit. Enough to warn you of his full force. You gulp as your butt meets the couch. 

“Stop acting like this is the worst thing that could happen to you,” he drags a hand away and grabs the tea. “I’d say it’s the best thing you could hope for.” 

He hands you the cup, holding it by the body even as it steams. You take it by the handle and watch him. He releases it as your knuckles touch the searing porcelain and you tremble.  

“Besides, where are you going to go?” 

His question breaks the last of your resolve. Your shoulders slump and you look down into the depths of the pale herbal brew. You blow over it and drink without feeling the singe on your tongue. That simple act keeps you from devolving into a new fit of horror. 

He turns and sits beside you. You want desperately to move away but you don’t have the energy. You’re not sure if it’s acceptance, fear, or just complacency.

You’re done. It’s over. Each time you close your eyes, you see the blood pooling under Barrett’s battered head. 

“That’s it, deep breaths.” He reaches to rub your back. “All that excitement, you gotta be exhausted.” 

You don’t react. Not even a twitch. He caresses your shoulder and his fingertips flutter across to your neck. His touch creeps up and he pets your hair. 

Your eyes search and land on his shield. It hangs from the wall. The edge is still dark red. Your vision blurs as you fixate on it. 

“Wash it off.” You grit through your teeth. 

“What?” He winces and runs his index and thumb along your neck, resting his hand across the back. 

“His blood. His fucking blood!” You slam down the mug and it sloshes, scalding your hand. You yelp and wrench away from him. You stumble to your feet and storm across the apartment. “Get rid of it! Gone! Gone!” 

You grab the bottom of your shirt and wipe the reddened metal. The blood chips away and flecks onto your hand. You whimper and drop the shield, recoiling. You cover your face and heave. 

“God! Just make it stop!” You shriek. “This can’t be real. It can’t!” You spin and stagger around dizzily. “No, no, no--” 

“Sweetheart,” Steve’s footsteps mirror his placid tone as he approaches. “Stop it.” 

“What is wrong with you?” You tear your hands away from your face and growl. “Why don’t you care? You killed him!” 

He stares at you. His expression is tepid. His head tilts as the corners of his lips curve, just a little. 

“Why would I care? I got you.” He shrugs. 

[rubyin-wonderland]

Bodyguard

opla!Zoro x reader

Summary: when out and about, there's only one person you trust to protect you from harm

WC: 1.7k

Warnings/tags: kidnapping, blood, injuries, implied death, protective zoro

Another day, another town. Another piece of the big, wide world to be explored. Today, you find yourself in the bustling streets of a city.

Bustling isn't quite the right word. The streets are completely packed from one side to the other with people. And there's a constant flow of people in and out of buildings all across the street, blocking the view of the stalls set up for the farmer's market, which is where you are trying to get.

You had paired off with Zoro for grocery shopping, which you tended to do whenever possible. Besides being in a cute flirtation with him, you enjoyed how easily crowds typically parted when faced with a man wearing three swords on his belt. He was at the very least, intimidating, which was good when you were walking down busy streets and wanted some personal space.

The way he stood next to you gave the impression of a bodyguard, arms crossed, always looking around for signs of danger. You had to admit it made you feel a little special when he acted that way. Like he actually was your bodyguard, and you were something precious, to be protected.

You managed to find a way out of the crowd of people, moving to the sides of the road, leaning against the wall of a building.

Zoro followed, standing next to you in this brief moment of peace before you would be forced to go back into the crowd, and hope you would be carried to a stall that sold what you needed.

You glanced at Zoro's perfect posture next to you. "At ease." You joked, nudging him gently. He went along with your bit, loosening up and leaning back against the wall next to you.

"What do we need?" He asked as you pulled out the list Sanji had given you. His eyes remained scanning the heads of the people all around you.

You opened the list, which was short and featured quick drawings of the items, a likely jab at your accomplice.

"Lettuce, onions, celery and strawberries." You read out loud. Zoro continued his perusal of the crowd.

"Any danger?" You asked, following his gaze across the insanity of the crowd. "Not with me here."

You hummed at his response, patting the dagger concealed at your side. "You're the best bodyguard in the whole world." You complimented. He returned the smile.

You worked up the courage to go back into the crowd, Zoro following closely behind as you spotted a fruit stall across the way.

The crowd raged like a storm around you, a swirling mess of elbows, feet and tight squeezes.

It was so bad, that at one point, Zoro reached out with the hand not resting on his swords and grabbed your wrist to stay with you.

You pulled away at first, believing the grab to be from a stranger in the crowd, but relaxed when you saw Zoro. You rearranged your hands so that they fit with each other properly, before continuing to your destination.

When you reached the stand, the rush continued right behind you, but no longer jostling you and tossing you around. The stalls on the side of the road seemed untouched, despite the mass of consumers dashing back and forth across the crowd.

You would soon learn from the lady working the stall, that people rarely ever came to stock up on supplies, and prefered to save their money for the array of artisanal wares they had for sale within the buildings.

Your hand still clasped in Zoro's, removed itself soon after he let go in order to inspect the produce, trying to hide the smile that was threatening to overtake your face.

Zoro continued to watch the hustle of the street while you shopped, so focused on the insanity in front of him, that he neglected the danger behind him.

A man approached you, sauntering towards the stall while the owner's back was turned.

"Well hello there." He smiled. "What brings you to the finest stall at the market?" He leaned against a pole, attempting to look suave, but it failed. You played along nonetheless, hoping that if you made the right moves, you could avoid paying for the fruit yourself.

"Just buying some strawberries. Unfortunately I can't get very much." You looked downcast, attempting a pitiful smile before you looked back at the berries.

They were red and shiny, most definitely sweet and juicy as well, perfect for any of Sanji's culinary masterpieces.

In all honesty, you had more than enough to pay for the strawberries, but that wasn't the point of your little game. The point was being tricky. And you could do that.

You looked back at Zoro, ever focused on the crowd, and decided to go for it.

"Could you please help me out?" You asked, lowering your voice to a sultry whisper. "I'd be ever so grateful."

He looked away, a smile spreading across his features, as his hands reached into his pockets, revealing the money for your fruit.

You reached out to receive it, but he stepped away before you could grab it. He wanted you to come closer.

"Of course, I'll need some payment of my own." He said quietly, his eyes alight with a mischief you weren't sure you liked.

For a second, you debated not going along with it. It would be easier to just pay for the fruit yourself, and then go get the rest of the items on the list. And yet, you wanted the challenge just a little too much. Besides, Zoro was right there, he would notice if you were gone.

"What payment does a man like you want?" You asked, taking a step away from the stall.

The second you moved away from the stall, you felt strong arms pull your arms behind your back as the man pounced forward, shoving a cloth into your mouth, silencing your cry for help before it escaped you.

"You will do quite fine." He grinned.

You attempted to fight this attack, but the arms holding you back were strong. Your attempts to escape were futile as you were escorted into the alley.

You jerked your body back and forth, trying to free yourself, trying to kick your way out as you disappeared down the alley, the fabric gagging you.

You wriggled in the grip of your captor as the man knocked rhythmically against a door embedded into the wall. He then turned back to look at you as you kicked the shin of your captor.

"It's good to know that pirates will fall for this trick." He smiled, just about to caress your cheek when a shadow drew across the alley.

"What do you think you're doing?" Zoro asked, looking at the entrance of the alley, briefly setting eyes on you before setting his glare on the man attempting to touch you.

The man dropped his hand, facing Zoro, looking bemused, before his eyes trailed across the three swords dangling off Zoro's hip.

"You're..." "Roronoa Zoro." Zoro's face was serious, a deadly glare set on the man. "Let go of them."

The grip on your arms weakened a small bit, but not enough to free yourself.

"So, the great bounty hunter has stooped to working with pirates? That's tragic." The man taunted. "Let go of them. Now." "How the mighty have fallen." The man sauntered towards Zoro, looking sympathetic.

"Let go of my crewmate." "Make me."

The order from the man forced one of Zoro's blades from their sheath. A flash of the metal, and suddenly an angry red line was drawn across the man's face, a drop of blood beginning to trail down his face. Zoro held the blade against the man's face.

"Let them go or you'll lose something next." He ordered. The man said nothing, challenging Zoro's order. And so, Zoro followed through, one quick swipe, and the man's hand was freed from his body, falling to the ground with a solid noise. Completely severed with one stroke of the blade. There was a scream, but the endless crowd outside hardly seemed to notice, the scream fading into the din of footfalls and chatter. Soon the man was quietly sobbing, which was less attention grabbing for the situation.

The man holding you let you go and you immediately pulled the cloth from your mouth, tossing it on the ground.

The man who had held you back was now looking between Zoro and his companion, nursing the bloody stump where his hand had been.

You walked up to Zoro. "Leave them. They were smart enough to not hurt me." You insisted, putting a hand on his shoulder. "Luffy's probably waiting for us and we aren't done shopping." You put your other hand at his elbow, guiding it down. The sword descended.

"I should cut their heads off." Zoro hissed. "I don't think our captain would approve." You tutted, crossing your arms and leaning on his shoulder. "It's one less hunter on our trail." "There's two of them, and have you forgotten the hunter we work with?" You pressed a kiss to his cheek, smiling playfully.

He frowned in return. "Let me handle this." You raised an eyebrow. "I won't kill them." He waited a second to see if you'd let that go. "Please." You sighed, but walked over to the entrance of the alley. "Be quick about it. And be clean."

You heard the commotion, but you saw none of it, looking out at the road to make sure nothing drew any attention, and to maybe see if any of your crew had wandered over.

After a minute, you felt a gentle kiss pressed against the crown of your head. "All done?" You asked, turning to face Zoro. "Yes."

"Good." You took his hand and guided him back over to the stand, looking at the strawberries again, taking a basket of them and paying for it.

The rest of your trip was uneventful, and mostly spent jostling other people while trying not to get trampled.

On your walk back to the ship, Zoro was still holding your hand, keeping you close.

"Promise you won't get kidnapped again." "I was going to get us some free fruit. You're welcome." He gave you a look. "And I'm sorry."

"It's fine." He sighed. You reached up to kiss his cheek. "I knew nothing was going to happen to me, by the way." He hummed as you leaned against him. "I have the best bodyguard in the world."

[lagoonalake]

Could you do ideal type for Ateez please?

ATEEZ IDEAL TYPE

!!!Trigger warning!!! mention of depression and other heavy topics especially in Jongho's reading

SEONGHWA

Personality: 9 of swords, 7 of cups, 2 of pentacles

He tends to be drawn towards anxious types, people whose mind is a bit of a mess, chaotic or who feel overwhelmed and he wants to help them cut through the confusion with his assertive and decisive energy, make them feel safe. He is attracted to his opposite. In return this person would be more moderate than he is, more nuanced and realistic, more intellectual and communicative, this is someone who thinks a lot, too much actually. Thoughts are always swirling in their mind, and they can visualize so many possibilities that it’s hard to be more centered. This is giving genius energy a little bit, very intellectual. This is a person who is also quite fast paced and efficient, good at multitasking. air signs especially gemini and aquarius, mercury, virgo, cancer

Appearance:  the hierophant, 9 of pentacles, the star

Traditionally beautiful according to Korean standards, slender, smooth pale skin, silky hair, well dressed, clean, sophisticated and who wear quality clothes, luxury brands, but nothing too flashy. Someone who can looks a bit vulnerable and sensitive, soft features, full lips, big kinda droopy puppy eyes, cute face. A mixture of innocence and a more corporate/classy sort of look.  virgo, libra, capricorn, cancer

Turn offs: 7 of wands, temperance, 7 of pentacles

Masculinity, people who are domineering, unrefined. People with poker faces who don’t express any vulnerability and seem to be in complete control of themselves, who seem devoid of human emotions and act more like robots. He clearly prefers a more vulnerable, feminine type who needs his protection. It’s not (only lol) because of traditional gender roles, but because he has a genuine strong masculine energy to offer, so he wants someone who can appreciate that. aries, saturn, aquarius, capricorn, mars

HONGJOONG

Personality: the chariot, the star, the sun

Someone with a very positive energy, focused on the future, who wants to make the world a better place, to connect with people most likely through their art and creation, as this is definitely a very creative and artistic person. Deeply engaged in their cause, inspiring others and using their charisma and visibility for a good cause. Someone who has a very radiant, warm, shining presence, leadership skills, authority but always used in a guiding and protective way, never to dominate or put themselves above others. Someone who feels like a rush of energy. Bravely and boldly moving towards their goals undefeated. Passionately following their heart and ideals. Dynamic vibrant personality full of ideas and dreams.  sagittarius, leo, aquarius, uranus, jupiter, pisces

Appearance: the tower, 4 of pentacles, the world

Someone with a big presence, who could even be big in some way physically, tall, wide. Who can have a incredibly intimidating yet incredibly reassuring presence that would wrap around him. Someone who most of the time is very awake, very vibrant yet very calm and stable, but you feel the heat boiling under the surface and if you piss them off then they would explode. Just a LOT of energy. A more masculine style, square jaw, strong bone structure, sturdy body, strength. Black hair, tan skin. sagittarius, leo, scorpio, capricorn, taurus, aries

Turn offs: 3 of cups, 9 of cups, the wheel of fortune

Laziness, people who leave everything to chance, who always had it easy in life and can just chill and wait for things to fall in their lap. People who don’t take action. Passivity. People without direction or vision in life. People who party all the time. negative pisces, neptune, taurus, leo, sagittarius

YUNHO

Personality: the devil, 10 of wands, 3 of wands

People who are very driven, potentially who could even become consumed by their ego and ambitions, quite selfish. The kind who could do pretty much anything to achieve their objective. This could be a specific person he’s currently involved with, but it’s also a pattern that repeats itself in his relationships. He also tends to let himself be taken by partners who use him because of his status to further their own career, people who seduce him, who are very sexually magnetic, but who hide this fierce and ruthless energy underneath a smoother more sensual facade. Vampiric people who suck him dry and exhaust him and who will get extremely defensive if he calls them out on their bs. negative libra, aries, leo, scorpio, pluto

Appearance: 9 of pentacles, 3 of pentacles, knight of swords

Sensual earthy beauty, very attractive body shape, curvy, alluring smile and laugh, I’m hearing giggling, but with something sharp in their eyes, smile, could have a seductive smirk, long nails… Coyness, something cunning about them, witty, a bit mischievous. Beautiful thick curly or wavy hair, burgundy/brown/gold/green earthy colors. Feminine sophisticated style, silk, velvet, lingerie. Elaborate makeup. Enticing perfume. Very lush overall appearance.  venus, mercury, earth signs in general especially taurus

Turn offs: king of swords, 6 of pentacles, ace of wands

People who are cold, detached, too serious. Equality in relationships haha, he sees love as something all consuming, so there tends to be power imbalance in his relationships, it’s just not as intense and exciting if everything is perfectly healthy and balanced for him. Too much spontaneity or masculinity, someone who makes decisions. Although he tends to attract people who control him, they do it in an indirect way, not in a direct masculine assertive sort of way. giving him the illusion of being in control. aries, libra, aquarius

YEOSANG

Personality: king of pentacles, the empress, 6 of swords

I feel like he has this plan of a perfect life and marriage. Basically he intends to have enough money to then live in abundance in his big house with a very loving, beautiful doting partner. The image that comes to mind is of this serene, peaceful, quiet, dreamy, environment, surrounded by birds and flowers, nature and possibly having babies. He likes the idea of making a woman pregnant. Definitely he is attracted to a more traditional housewife sort of partner, someone beautiful, loving, kind, who would enjoy all the stability and riches he has to offer. He wants a calmer life after the chaotic idol lifestyle too, away from the entertainment industry.  taurus, libra, cancer, virgo, pisces

Appearance: ace of cups, ace of wands, the fool

Definitely a youthful and expressive type. Possibly younger than him. Very innocent, spontaneous, a face that you can read like a book. Big, emotional eyes, sensitive, vulnerable, soft. But it become very noticeable when they get angry or embarrassed too, maybe they become red, have blood rushing to their face. Just very untainted, childlike sort of energy. NOT a poker face. Brighter colors, milky white skin. Petite. Likes a nice butt. Eyes that smile, just someone who laughes a lot in general. Could cry easily too. Feminine and cute.  cancer, mercury, leo, aries

Turn offs: the hermit, 5 of cups, queen of wands

Cold, super private, somber types. People who are depressed, who have too much history, too much baggage. People who are not very sociable. Loners. Overly spiritual people detached from material life. People who are always negative, pessimistic, who are always complaining about something, always have a sad story to tell. People who are domineering, too independent, bossy, controlling.  scorpio, saturn, pisces, sagittarius, mars

SAN

Personality: 9 of pentacles, page of pentacles, strength

A very strong, sturdy, physical type of person, more masculine energy. The type who could live in the countryside and chop wood without being afraid of breaking a nail or messing up their hairstyle. Tough, more rustic, hardy type of person. someone very grounded, who enjoys a simple lifestyle, but very stubborn, very opinionated. A simple person, bit loud, direct, not the most refined type. Funny. Someone with a specific routine, disciplined, organized. Someone who enjoys life and every pleasure it has to offer, hard working and hedonistic. Youthful and optimistic. A breath of fresh air who would help him relax and at the same time match his lifestyle and desires. taurus, leo, aries, jupiter

Appearance: 2 of wands, judgment, high priestess

Someone who would make a strong impression on him. Muscular and strong, especially when it comes to the legs. Intense aura, subtly seductive and who does not reveal their sexual energy but he’d be able to feel it very strongly. Apart from that strong physique (could be attracted to a dancer or an athlete) there isn’t much about looks and specific features I’m catching, mostly that this person is self assured, intense, has strong sexual energy but keeps it in control, and would magnetize him. I’m also getting that he tends to fall in love pretty quickly. mars, sagittarius, taurus, pluto

Turn offs: 3 of swords, knight of pentacles, king of swords

Someone who would betray him. Slow, cold, hyper controlled energy, someone who seems more machine than human. Someone detached, overly intellectual. Stubborn, boring, who never allows themselves to enjoy life. Someone manipulative, always strategizing and never sharing their thoughts. Lack of trust in relationships in general, he really prefers someone who is kinda chill, warm and open. saturn, aquarius, gemini, capricorn

MINGI

Personality: page of pentacles, 5 of pentacles, queen of pentacles

Very stable, grounded, patient individuals. Here again we have money as a theme. He wants to be a provider. So someone who can appreciate that, and who is good at managing money, organized. Calm, soothing energy. Secretary vibes. Very practical, efficient. Someone with integrity, devoted to him. Sensual, he wants his partner close. The physical and sexual connection is very important. Not just the sex but actually to be able to touch, hug, hold his partner. Someone who can handle his clinginess and reassure him.  earth signs

Appearance: 6 of wands, justice, 2 of swords

Someone he can show off to the world, so who fits beauty standards in his own country and environment. Harmonious, balanced, symmetrical features. Classically beautiful. Could look a bit haughty or uptight, but very charming, lovely, agreable. Nothing too extreme, but still someone who stands out for their beauty. Slender, on the taller side or with “a small head/face”. The color white, white clothes, clean, flawless, immaculate. Someone with good manners, “proper”, polite, charming smile. libra, taurus, virgo

Turn offs: 7 of cups, death, 5 of swords

People who are disconnected from reality, delusional, people who are obsessive, too intense, destructive, chaotic, extreme (it’s giving sasaeng lol). Someone who would want to turn his life upside down, change everything, someone who is always in crisis mode, always going through transformation, has no stability. Someone always looking for a fight, always creating arguments and bringing up topics to kill the mood and bicker over. He isn’t that deep of a guy and prefers simplicity and ease in relationships. pisces, scorpio, aquarius

WOOYOUNG

Personality: the moon, knight of cups, queen of swords

Someone kinda hard to figure out, more shy and reserved, who has a gentle, sensitive, romantic, seemingly innocent quality. Yet someone who is not easily fooled and has strong boundaries. A bit frigid or virginal in appearance. It doesn’t mean that he wants to be with virgins only, but there is something pure and untouchable about his type. The kind of person who only let in the most deserving. Yet he wants to be let in. He’s not particularly deserving though. XD It’s kinda like this impulse that some guys have to break and corrupt the good girl, the proper woman. Could be someone who seems perfect, always in control, everybody thinks that they are so kind, so polite, so charming, yet he wants to see what’s behind the mask. Someone he would tease a lot, I sort of see him making crass jokes and the other person looking slightly offended but still finding it funny, that’s partly how he would charm them. He wants to see this person loosen up. virgo, libra, pisces, cancer

Appearance: 2 of pentacles, 4 of wands, 5 of cups

This could very well be a specific person. Because this fits the personality a lot. Someone who seems very balanced, looks perfect, marriage material, very in control, calm, poised, charming, popular even. Yet he can perceive a sadness and melancholy behind the mask that intrigues him. When it comes to looks and features, this person is traditionally beautiful, warm appearance, natural beauty, soft and kind face. Soothing gestures, just seems trustworthy and available to everyone,friendly, welcoming presence that people tend to gravitate towards.  virgo, libra, pisces

Turn offs: king of wands, 9 of pentacles, 9 of cups

Showoffs. People who easily succumb to flattery. Always bragging about their achievements, their happiness, their possessions. Loud, attention seeking people. He’s going to tease them big time and call them out on their bs. People who have it easy in life, who have nothing to do all day but enjoy their luxurious lifestyle. Party people who expose themselves to the world. It’s not only that he finds it unattractive, but he finds it stupid and reckless, he thinks this is the perfect recipe to be used by others, and that these people are slaves to their egos, so he pities them a little and he knows how to play them like a fiddle. He is a very intelligent and intuitive guy, and he can be manipulative if he needs to, although he will try to preserve certain types of people that he will feel a bit protective towards.  negative leo, taurus, neptune, pisces

JONGHO

Personality: 10 of swords, the moon, the star

He is attracted to people who need to be saved. Heavy energies. People who could have some kind of issue, maybe addictions, or suffering from depression, or who have been wounded, could even be someone who is physically limited in some way, someone who needs assistance. People who have it really really hard, and wouldn’t really be able to keep going without help. He wants to soothe and protect them, to heal them and give them hope again, to make them see the light at the end of the tunnel. These people are kind and have a lot of depth, they are ultra sensitive and possibly this is why they are not able to face the darkness and difficulties of the world. This is the kind of relationship that would go through a lot of ups and downs, mainly because of this person’s mind being unstable and fragile, but he would keep going and not abandon them.   pisces, neptune, scorpio, pluto, saturn

Appearance: ace of swords, the hermit, king of cups

This seems again like a specific energy, an actual person he could be involved with. Someone who is kind of a loner, withdrawn, lonely, rarely seen surrounded by other people. The first impression that they give is kinda austere, somber. Features could be a bit pointy or sharp, austere. Could be underweight or sickly looking. Someone who has a lot of depth in their eyes. Very intense eyes. Could look a bit difficult to approach at first, a bit feral. But is actually soft. Could look restrained in some ways. Mature, calm, quiet expression. Deep and melancholic look. The color blue, dark blue, grey, black and white. Slow energy. Cold and cutting voice.  saturn, scorpio, capricorn, pluto

Turn offs: the lovers, 6 of pentacles, the hierophant

So here again we have someone who doesn’t really like a relationship that is too balanced, with equal give and take. For him relationships are sacrificial, all of nothing. He is also drawn to people who need help, so anyone a bit too easy to deal with, too easygoing is not gonna be able to keep his attention. Anything a bit too traditional isn’t very interesting either.  libra, taurus, virgo

[holylulusworld]

Indecent Proposal (16)

Summary: Your boyfriend wants to be part of their empire. You are the pawn he’s willing to sacrifice.

Pairing: Mobster!Stucky x fem!Reader

Characters: Natasha Romanoff, Jake Jensen

Warnings: fluff, established Stucky, caring mobsters, pregnant reader, mentions of drugs/being a junkie (a side-char)

Indecent Proposal (15.2)

Indecent Proposal masterlist

“We gave you the chance to handle this,” Steve angrily glares at Natasha. “For years we protected you and paid you well. All we asked for was for you to put your dog on a leash.”

“Steve, I told him to stay away from you, and the girl,” Natasha nervously rubs her tired eyes. For half of the night, she tried to convince Steve and Bucky that the nurse at your doctor’s practice has nothing to do with an investigation. “I swear, he’s out of town. Whoever that woman is, she’s not one of us.”

“Oh, we know that she’s not one of us,” Bucky huffs. “She’s a civilian he hired to spy on Y/N and us.” He grits his teeth remembering how scared you were the last time Rumlow stood in front of you. “Five hundred bucks and she was willing to tell him everything he wanted to know.”

“That’s…illegal,” Natasha shakes her head. “I told him to stay away from her, and he hires some woman to spy on your girl. Fuck.”

“Yeah, fuck!” Steve growls. “She’s a junkie, Natasha!” He blonde wildly gestures with his hands. “Imagine, she had drugs with her! According to that woman, Rumlow told her to get information out of Y/N. He instructed he to use the drugs she shoots into her veins to loosen Y/N’s tongue!”

“No,” Natasha sits down to cradle her head in her hands. “How could he do this? I believed he was a good cop. You know, not someone like me who forgot about their dignity and honor a long time ago. All the things I did for money.”

“You’ve got a good life thanks to us,” Bucky huffs. “Don’t act as if we are the big bad guys in this game. Our business is not legal, but without us, chaos would consume Brooklyn, maybe even the whole of New York. We keep the normal people safe.”

“Yeah. The heroes in shiny armor and shit,” Natasha sarcastically says. “It’s just.” She sighs deeply. “If you are a dirty cop, you feel bad sometimes. Especially when you work with someone like Rumlow. And now, I find out he’s even worse than me. I’d never hurt a woman, or an unborn child to get information.”

“You know that we would never do such a thing either,” Steve snaps at Natasha. “We never asked you to hurt people, Natasha. All we asked for was to look the other way or manipulate evidence.”

“What will you do now?” She lifts her head to look at Bucky. “Am I expendable now?” Natasha quirks a brow. She made peace with the fact that she would end up dead in a dirty alley sooner than later.

“You’re not expendable, no one is,” Bucky’s features soften for a split-second. “We know that none of this is your fault, Nat. We only ask you for permission to go after Rumlow. We owe you that much.”

Steve huffs and crosses his arms over his chest. He didn’t agree with Bucky but promised to let him take the lead. Natasha and his husband have a past, and he trusts Bucky’s instinct when it comes to the redhead.

“He dug his own grave, didn’t he?” She replies. “I tried to stop him from messing with you two. He didn’t listen to me, or anyone else. If he only did his job, I’d ask you to leave him alone. But Rumlow crossed one too many times to go after you.”

“Good,” Steve simply says. “We will make it look like an accident.”

She nods before looking at Bucky again. “He’s a man possessed, and I don’t know why. I tried to dig a little deeper but found nothing. Maybe you got more luck.”

“I don’t give a shit about his reasons,” Steve spats. “He tried to get close to our pregnant fiancé more than once. This time, he paid a junkie to hurt our girl to get information. This has nothing to do with an investigation.”

“I know,” she snaps back. “I just didn’t want him to end up dead. Okay! I worked with Rumlow for over five years. He trusted me with his life, and that I’ll have his back. It’s not easy for me to let him down!”

“Enough you two,” Bucky yells. “This is about Y/N and our unborn child.” He spits while talking. “This isn’t about revenge or shit. We need to protect her. Let’s find out why he’s after us in the first place.”

“Anything yet, Jensen?” Steve impatiently paces behind the tech expert's back. “We don’t have all day. I need answers.”

“We need answers,” Bucky sighs. “Jake, anything you can give us to calm my husband down?”

“Hmmm…” Jake adjusts his glasses while staring at the monitor. “Nothing on that nurse, slash, junkie. She got arrested a few times.”

“Let me guess,” Steve sneers. “Rumlow arrested her the last time.”

Jake shrugs. “Yup.”

“What about Rumlow and his past? Why is he so obsessed with us? I get that he wants to solve a famous case, but he’s chasing our girl around town.”

“There’s not much to find out about him,” Jake grumbles. “Nothing exciting.”

“No dirt?” Bucky presses on.

“No debts. No fishy transactions,” the tech expert shrugs. “He has a clean slate, guys. Whatever he’s hiding, Rumlow does it very well.”

“Jensen, dig deeper. Find something. Anything,” Steve says. “We need more information to bring him down. Because my beloved husband told our insider that we won’t kill him.”

“Yet,” Bucky corrects. “I promised to not kill him yet. If we can bring him down without killing him, fine by me. If not…he’s dog food.”

“Bucky, the voice of reason,” Steve laughs. “That’s a new one…”

“Where have you been all day?” You yawn. “I’ve missed you. It was so boring without you around. So…what did you do?”

“Nothing important,” Steve watches you press your back against Bucky’s chest. He smiles when Bucky kisses the crown of your hair. “Stevie and I had a few things to discuss with a business associate.”

“Okay,” you smile at Steve. “Now that you are here, can we have a movie night? What do you want to watch? Or do you prefer sports?”

“We can watch whatever you want, doll?” Bucky kisses your hair again. He moves his hand to your still flat belly, imagining you all swollen with their child. “Right, Steve?”

“Of course,” Steve joins you on the bed. He’s still pumped up, and angry but he’ll try to tame his anger for you and Bucky. Tonight, he’ll let Rumlow live.

Tomorrow is another day…

Part 17

Tags in reblog.

[bethanythebogwitch]

Wet Beast Wednesday: remoras

Sometimes you just want to go with the flow and let someone else do the work. That's the mindset of a remora, this week's topic. Remoras are eight species of the family Echeneidae, divided into three genera. These fish are famous for suctioning onto a larger animal and going for a ride.

(Image id: a remora attached to the shell of a sea turtle. It is a long, slender fish with a black stripe going down its sides. Its lower jaw is pointed and facing upwards. End id)

Remoras differ in size depending on species, with the largest reaching 110 cm (43 in) in length. Their most famous feature is the disc on their backs. This disc is a heavily modified dorsal fin that consists of flexible membranes. When pressing the disc up against a surface, the membranes can be flexed to create a vacuum and provide suction in a similar manner to a suction cup. The Remora can then scoot backwards to increase suction or swim forward to release the suction and detach from its host. Remoras also lack a swim bladder, forcing them to actively swim to maintain their position on the water column. Fortunately, remoras don't really need swim bladders where they're going. While they can swim and survive on their own, remoras prefer to attach to a larger animal like a bigger fish, shark, ray, or cetacean. When there is a close interaction between two organisms it's called symbiosis. There are three types of symbiosis: mutualism (both benefit), commensalism (one benefits, the other is not positively or negatively affected), and parasitism (one benefits, the other suffers). The relationship between a remora and its host is likely either mutualistic or commensal as the host appears to suffer no downsides.

(Image id: a remora seen from above to emphasize its disc. The disc is oval and takes up about 30% of the upper body, starting just behind the mouth. The disc has many rows of darker stripes where the folds are visible)

A remora gets several benefits from being attached to a host. Being in close proximity to a larger animal protects it from predators closer to its own size and gets it a free ride. The ride also helps force air over its gills, keeping the remora well-oxygenated. There are two main methods fish use to keep water flowing over their gills. Ram ventilation occurs when a fish is swimming and their motion through the water forced the water over the gills. Active ventilation requires the fish to actively move water over its gills, often by repeatedly opening and closing its mouth. Both methods require the fish to expend energy, but tests on remoras determined that active ventilation is more energy intensive than ram ventilation. A remora on a fast-moving host can get the best option, using ram ventilation while letting someone else expend the energy of moving forward. Multiple remoras can live on a large enough host and it is speculated that sometimes mated pairs will share a host. It was previously believed that remoras would feed on scraps of food from the hosts meals, but it is now known that they derive most of their nutrition by eating the hosts feces. They also consume bits of dead skin and parasites from the host, which is a lot less gross. This cleaning of skin and parasites is why remora relationships with their hosts are considered mutualistic rather than commensal. There have been reports of hosts attempting to dislodge their remoras through methods such as breaching, so its possible there are situations where the relationship is unfavorable to the host, such as too many remoras attaching. While remoras are very streamlines, too many of them would produce drag, which would be a bad thing for the host.

(Image id: a manta ray or similar species seen from above , with two remoras attached to it just behind the cephalic fins. End id)

While remoras are most famous for attaching to a host, they are capable of living on their own. Juveniles are known to live in shallow coastal or reef areas, sometimes acting as cleaner fish. As adults, they move out into the deeper waters, in search of hosts. Most knowledge of remoras come from their behavior when attached to a host, so there isn't a lot we know about how they behave on their own. They are believed to have different diets, being more active hunters who feed on small crustaceans, squid, and fish. We don't know a lot about non-attached remoras, but we know even less about their reproduction. While remoras attached to the same host might become mated pairs, their mating season, mating habits, and what happens to their offspring is not known. All we know is that eventually juvenile remoras will turn up in coastal areas, but what happens between then and spawning is a mystery.

(Image id: a manta ray seen from below with many remoras attached to it. End id)

Remoras popped up in roman folklore as the echeneis, a small fish that could attach to boats and slow them down. Pliny the Elder blamed the echeneis for Mark Antony's loss in the battle of Actium, where poor maneuverability was one factor in his loss. A use for remoras has been in fishing, where a remora is caught, has a line tied to it, and then released. When the remora attaches to a host, the angler can pull in the line, pulling the larger animal in with the remora. The IUCN classifies all species of remora as least concern, except for one, which is data deficient. The largest threat to remoras seems to be threats to their hosts, so conservation of hosts like sharks, whales, and sea turtles will help conserve remoras by default.

(Image id: a remora that attached itself to a diver's leg. End id)

This was a shorter and less intensive WBW than most of my posts. What can I say, I felt lazy and decided to put in little effort, instead coasting on larger, more successful posts. If only there was an animal I could use as a metaphor for this situation. Can't think of anything, though.

[graciegoeskrazy]

i'll give you one more time

part 2 to she's begging you to stay stay

Matty Healy + preteen!lost!daughter!OFC!r

warnings: idek yall, language i think, dead mom, slightly shitty dad, this isn't even my usual angst this shit is just SAD, r is twelve

a/n: long awaited part 2! enjoy!

The ride home was a heavy, suffocating silence, the kind that pressed down on your chest and made it hard to breathe. Every ounce of your willpower was spent keeping the tears from spilling over, your eyes stinging as you stared blankly out the window. You couldn’t even begin to comprehend why you’d acted the way you did. Yes, times were tough, and you were teetering on the edge mentally, but surely there were other ways—better ways—you could’ve handled things. Yet, none of that mattered now. The only thing consuming your thoughts was how Matty would react when the two of you finally walked through that door.

The day had dragged on, filled with more emotion and exhaustion than either of you could have anticipated. Matty knew that a conversation was inevitable, that you both needed to talk—really talk—but as he glanced at you, he realized now wasn’t the right time. 

You were a mess, physically and emotionally. Your hair was tangled, matted with dirt from your adventure on the London streets, and your clothes were no better, stained and disheveled from the day’s events. It was clear that you were drained, the weight of everything you’d been through etched into your weary features.

Matty sighed, feeling a pang of guilt for what you’d endured, but also a deep sense of protectiveness. He wanted to fix everything, to make it all better, but he knew that right now, the best thing he could do was to give you a chance to breathe, to decompress. The conversation could wait—tonight, what mattered was getting you cleaned up and comfortable.

The silence between you became too much to bear. Matty gently placed a hand on your shoulder, stopping you before you could head inside. “Hey,” he said softly, his voice cutting through the quiet. “I’m not mad, okay?”

You stopped in your tracks, turning to face him, your eyes clouded with guilt and confusion. “I ran away, Matty. I scared the shit out of you—”

“Yeah, well, you’re safe now. That’s all I care about, okay?” he interrupted, his tone firm but laced with concern.

You shook your head, frustration bubbling up inside you. “You should be angry.”

“I’m not—”

“You should be yelling at me, kicking me out of your house, something!” The words spilled out before you could stop them, along with the tears in your eyes, the rawness of your emotions catching both of you off guard.

Matty’s expression softened, a mix of sadness and disbelief crossing his face. “What makes you think I would do that?”

“I don’t know,” you mumbled, your voice cracking as you tried to hold back tears. “I just… I don’t know.”

Matty sighed, stepping closer and gently tilting your chin up so you’d meet his gaze. “Listen to me, Tilly. I’m not going to kick you out, and I’m not going to yell at you. I’m just glad you’re here, that you’re safe. We’ll talk about everything, but not right now. Right now, I just want you to take care of yourself, okay?”

“Go take a shower,” Matty said softly, his thumb brushing a stray tear from your cheek. “Get some rest. We’ll figure everything out later.”

You hesitated, the weight of the day pressing down on you, but finally, you nodded. The fight had drained out of you, replaced by a deep exhaustion that made it hard to argue anymore.

 You looked up at him, eyes heavy with exhaustion, and nodded without argument. There was no energy left to resist, no fight left in you for tonight. The promise of a hot shower and a bed was all you needed.

Matty watched as you trudged upstairs, each step slower than the last, and he felt a knot of worry tighten in his chest. He wanted to say something, to offer comfort or reassurance, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, he silently vowed to be there for you when you were ready to talk, whenever that might be. As you disappeared down the hallway, Matty lingered for a moment, running a hand through his hair. The house was quiet now, the kind of quiet that felt heavy, like it was waiting for something to happen. But for now, he decided, it was enough to let you find some peace, even if only for a little while. He made his way to the living room, sinking into the couch with a weary sigh. The day had taken its toll on him too, but his thoughts were with you. They always were. The sun was setting outside, casting long shadows through the windows, and Matty closed his eyes for a moment, letting the quiet of the house wash over him. Tomorrow would bring its own challenges, but tonight, all that mattered to him was that you were home and safe.

—-------

You’re asleep, lost in a dreamless world where the weight of reality has, for a moment, lifted. As your father started the trek back to his room, he noticed the light peaking through the crack beneath your door, to him, indicating you were awake. He let out a soft sigh and took a detourour to your room. He knocked, “Matilda.” You don’t stir. Your name, the one your mother gave you, is still new on his tongue even after all this time, as if he’s trying to make sense of it, to make it his own. There’s a slight pause, and then he speaks again, his voice lower, softer. “Matilda George. It’s late, you should go to bed.”

There’s no response, only the sound of your steady breathing as you lie curled under the covers, the peaceful rise and fall of your chest the only movement in the room. Matty hesitates at the door, the silence stretching out between you. Finally, with a sigh, he pushes the door open wider. “I’m coming in.”

The door creaks open, and a soft, golden light spills into your room, touching the edges of your bed. His footsteps are careful, almost hesitant, as he crosses the threshold into your room. He stands there for a moment, just watching you sleep, his expression unreadable in the dim light. You’re completely unaware, lost in the depths of slumber, oblivious to the fact that he’s here, that he’s looking at you with something akin to longing.

And then his gaze shifts, catching on something beside you—your diary, lying open on the bed. He hadn’t meant to look, but the way the pages fall open, revealing your handwriting, draws his eyes. Curiosity tugs at him, and before he can think better of it, he reaches down, picking it up.

His eyes scan the words you’ve written, the pages filled with all the things you’ve been too scared or unsure to say out loud. The confusion, the loneliness, the raw ache of trying to understand who he is to you and who you’re supposed to be now. He reads on, the lines blurring together, each word a glimpse into the parts of you that you’ve kept hidden away.

I used to keep track of how many days it had been since I last saw my mother. In the very beginning, I would count down to the exact hour—sometimes even the minute. I’m not sure why I did it. Maybe it was a way to cope with my anxiety. I think I was just measuring the time until I thought my world would blow up again.

I never stop thinking about my mom. I could be laughing and having a nice conversation, and then, all of a sudden, a dark gray cloud comes and blocks my happiness. A part of me doesn’t want it to stop, though, because I’m scared I’ll forget her. In my mind, the day I go a whole 24 hours without thinking of my mom is the day I will have moved on. And I don’t want to move on. Miss Julia asked me the other day, “If you could reverse the cancer and see your mom again, would you?” I replied, “Obviously.” Then she said, “Even though you wouldn’t have Matty?” I didn’t answer.

Overall, I think that’s a harsh question for a twelve-year-old, but whatever. I know she’s right, though. Maybe I wouldn’t reverse it.

My mom was in unspeakable pain—pain that I can’t even begin to understand, pain that I hope I will never experience. I’m not sure where she is now, but I like to think it’s somewhere nice, somewhere she’s at peace. One thing I do know for certain is that she isn’t in pain anymore. She’s free. If I were to reverse things, I would be taking that freedom away from her. I would be calling her back to her pain.

I have a lot of realizations in that small office with Miss Julia. After that session, I realized that with all my thinking about how things could be or could have been, I have yet to fantasize about how life could have been if Matty had been there from the beginning. If he knew about me. If he had been my father from the start.

I don’t understand why my mother didn’t tell me about my father, or why she never told him about my existence. I’m pretty sure it wasn’t because she wanted to ‘protect me’. He’s not that bad. He’s kind. He makes me laugh from time to time. I enjoy his music, but I would never outright admit that to him. If it wasn’t for him being my literal father, I’d say we could be twins. But still, she never said a word to him.

I know it’s not because she was ashamed and tried to keep me a secret, but that thought always crosses my mind whether I like it or not.

I know very well that I said I didn’t want to go home with him, and even after I agreed, I promised I would find somewhere else to stay. And he was fine with it. As long as he knew I was safe. The truth is, I can’t imagine growing up anywhere else. I don’t think I want to.

I want to be with my father. I want to call him ‘Dad’. I want him to know that I love and care for him, but I’m too terrified to. I’m also scared that if God forbid, something terrible happens, he will never know how much I love him. Because I don’t think I said that nearly enough to my mom.

I don’t know how to tell him. I don’t know how to help him. I have six years left before I’m an adult. He would have to agree to raise me for six years. That could either go really bad or good. I don’t see an in-between.

I’ve played it out in my mind. I will either get exactly what I want or nothing at all. I’m too scared to ask, to tell him that I care, so I’ll just stay silent for now. Because truthfully, I have not a single clue how to do this.

Matty read every single word of your last entry, his eyes tracing each line as if they were the most precious secrets. What struck him the hardest was the realization that if someone could peek inside his brain, take out his thoughts, and lay them side by side with yours, they would be almost indistinguishably similar. That comment about being like twins? It wasn’t far off. And every day, he was noticing it more and more.

He knew it was wrong to be reading your diary, an invasion of privacy he had no excuse for. But he couldn’t stop. He was too caught up, too addicted to the patterns of your mind—patterns that were so familiar because they mirrored his own. The pull was irresistible, like seeing a reflection of himself in your words, understanding you in a way that felt both thrilling and terrifying.

He was so engrossed in his re-reading that he didn’t notice you stir or open your eyes. When you finally took in the sight of him with your diary in hand, you froze, then rolled your eyes. “Reading my diary, are we?” you mumbled, your drowsy state adding a touch of comedy to the tension.

Matty jumped, startled by your voice, and hurriedly closed the book, pushing it aside. “I thought you were asleep!” he stammered, his guilt obvious.

“And I thought the cardinal rule of diaries was that no one else is supposed to read them?” you continued, a sly smile tugging at your lips.

He shook his head, trying to backpedal. “I didn’t read it—I swear.”

“Yeah, you did,” you shot back, the sly smile now full-blown.

“Yes, I did,” he admitted, not missing a beat, the look of defeat settling on his features. “I’m sorry.”

You looked down wearily, adjusting yourself as the weight of the moment settled in. Matty, still feeling the need to say something, continued, “I didn’t know you were a writer.”

“I’m not,” you replied simply.

Matty scoffed, shaking his head. “I don’t see many twelve-year-olds putting out words like this.”

You rolled your eyes, brushing off the compliment. “I’m not putting them ‘out.’ I’m putting them in a three-dollar notebook I got at the grocery store.”

He shrugged, not willing to let it go. “They’re good nonetheless.”

You offered him a weary, tight-lipped smile, the kind that said you were too tired to argue but appreciated the sentiment. Matty’s tone softened, almost a whisper. “Sit up for a second.”

Your eyes changed, a flicker of panic flashing as you realized he had actually read everything you wrote—all of it. You hesitated, your heart racing. “You said it was time for bed.”

“This will only take a second.” His voice was gentle but insistent. After a weary pause, you sat up, looking at him with guarded eyes. He took your hands in his, the gesture tender as he pressed a soft kiss to your temple, then looked at you, his expression serious. “You don’t have to go anywhere, Matilda.”

For a moment, the room was silent. You’d been waiting for this conversation for months, but you never expected it to happen now, like this. “Yes, I do,” you said quietly, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Where?” he asked, his tone laced with concern.

“Somewhere where I’m not in your way.” You slowly pulled your hands from his grasp, the distance between you growing in that small action.

“You’re not in my way, my love,” he said softly, trying to reassure you.

“I could be. I will be,” you insisted, your voice trembling slightly.

“No, you won’t,” he said, a bit more firmly this time.

“You don’t know that,” you whispered, doubt creeping in.

“If you’re anything like me—and you are, whether you like it or not—we’ll have some challenges,” Matty admitted, his voice thick with emotion. “But I’ve wasted so much time…and missed out on so many things over the last twelve years, Tilly. I’ll be damned if I miss one more.”

The words hung in the air between you, heavy with the weight of everything left unsaid.

You looked at him, searching his eyes for any hint of uncertainty, but all you saw was a sincerity that made your chest tighten. It was overwhelming, the idea that someone could care about you this much, could want you around despite everything.

His expression softened even more, a sadness flickering behind his eyes. “You’re not a burden, Matilda. You never were, and you never will be. I want you here, with me. I need you here.”  It was almost as if he was reading your mind.

You bit your lip, trying to hold back the tears that were threatening to spill over. “But what if I mess up? What if I make things harder?”

Matty shook his head, squeezing your hands gently. “Then we’ll figure it out together. I’m not going to let anything get in the way now. Not even your doubts.” You felt a tear slip down your cheek, but for once, it wasn’t out of fear or sadness. It was a relief. Matty reached out and wiped the tear away, his touch gentle, like he was afraid you might break. “You’re stuck with me, babe. I don’t know what to tell you.” He said, lips pulling into a smile.

At that moment, something shifted between you, an unspoken understanding that you were no longer just two people navigating this confusing, painful world. You were a team—a family, bound together by something far stronger than blood or circumstance. It was love, pure and simple, and it was enough.

You leaned into him, letting your head rest on his shoulder as he wrapped his arm around you, pulling you close. For the first time in what felt like forever, you allowed yourself to believe that maybe things could be okay, that maybe you could find a way to be happy, despite everything.

And as you sat there in the quiet, the weight of the world lifting just a little, you knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, you wouldn’t have to face them alone. 

You had your dad, and he had you.

[sgiandubh]

The Lady and the Unicorn

This made the news a while ago, with the usual imbecile speculation on trademark infringement (that particular troll has no idea, of course, and I shall immediately explain what I think). Today, though, there seems to be some ironic reaction from S to the fact that Beyoncé's own white label bourbon, a supposed nod to her family's past, seems to closely mirror The Sassenach's bottle design:

People did not seem to have understood it at all, as they should have considered also the other story he immediately added to this one:

And of course, the Gay Troll went with her sad, tired, mendacious couplet about The Unicorn in the Room, heh. That particular cretin seems to have forgotten that a unicorn also means...

Or, for our beloved Spanish Mafia girls...

Of course, SS is still frolicking somewhere around the Minicorn Pasture (meaning that its market value would be, in my book, evaluated somewhere between 1 and 3 million USD - based on absolutely nothing else but common sense and my personal hunch), but his pun is just about S being confident that his business ventures will be successful, nothing more - as shown in the medals' story also featuring an unicorn, of course. And mark me, I see absolutely nothing hostile towards Beyoncé: it's just ironic and well, it has no legal implications whatsoever, as a design similarity does not qualify as a trademark or copyright infringement, except in very precise situations, such as when iconic brands are involved.

The above was not invented by me, but stated by the US Supreme Court, in its very recent (June 2023) decision in Jack Daniel’s Properties, Inc. v. VIP Products, LLC (you can read it all here, including Justice Kagan's very clear legal opinion on SCOTUS' interpretation: https://www.supremecourt.gov/opinions/22pdf/22-148_3e04.pdf). In a nutshell, the design of a product will always be protected by the provisions of the Lanham Act, only if unfair use (such as a parody of the product by a toy maker, as in Jack Daniel's decision, or a close copycat) could dilute a 'famous mark' (meaning by this either cause unjustified prejudice or cause confusion among the consumers). In all the other situations, the SCOTUS' legally binding precedent, in the Wal-Mart Stores, Inc v. Samara Brothers, Inc affair (2000), applies:

Or, in Justice Scalia's unanimous opinion: 'design, like color, is not inherently distinctive' . Neither that horse, nor that unicorn, are yet iconic and therefore the trademark infringement discussion is empty and void. As is the slanderous insinuation that SS copied a Japanese whisky brand's bottle design - Suntory's Hibiki being the brand quoted by the Mordorian experts.

If anything, Suntory's Hibiki eerily resembles that FMN gin bottle design - but why embarrass ourselves with facts, huh?

as compared to...

[cobra-in-singapore]

In short, I'm tired of gore and edgy .exe, and now I have my own.

So, what happened? Eggman successfully kills Sonic's friends, but not himself, and the blue hedgehog goes insane with grief and guilt, consumed by wild hatred and thirst for revenge. He collects all the Chaos Emeralds, removing any obstacles in his path in the process (you know what kind of obstacles), and successfully commits his revenge, but because of the negativity that overwhelmed him, Sonic gets stuck in his super-form, and changes much more than expected, becoming a monstrosity (Something like Fleetway and Dark Sonic). Grief and despair force him to move through time and space to another alternate universe, hoping to return to his friends and "fix everything", but in the end he just kills another Sonic and takes his place.

Distinctive features:

— He is stuck in super-form, but it is severely distorted, so he can change his appearance, returning to his "normal" self, although main palette is more faded and dark, and tear tracks are imprinted on his cheeks

— He is very unstable, literally a walking time bomb, if he experiences excessive emotions, his body may begin to melt.

— With "his" friends, he behaves almost as usual, but his frivolous, careless and forgiving behavior has disappeared, he has become more self-contained. Sonic become obsessed and very protective of his friends, and he can quickly become very vindictive and ferocious if they are in danger, so he has stopped playing with Eggman and is usually extremely aggressive towards him.

— He hides his identity from friends, as well as his powers. Learned good acting, calculation, and self-control.

[kurokawaia]

❛ Crush ❜

Cifer Ulquiorra X Reader

| SFW | REQUEST? Yes | -> Headcannons

REQUEST; @r333y - Hi I saw your requests were open and I thought I would request some bleach headcanons (or anything really) if that's ok. Would you mind writing ichigo and/or ulquiorra (separately if you do both) having a crush on gn reader? Like how would he develop it, how would he act around the reader or how would he confess. Just some fluff for our boys. Thank you for considering, good day/night. ♡

a::note; i don't usually write for a 'gn' reader but i will try my best as i did state in my request rules that i only write for fem reader:3

M.LIST | BLEACH M.LIST |

How would he develop a crush?

lquiorra first becomes fascinated by your behavior, then, from afar, watches you with interest that gradually evolves into something more. Confused by feelings unfamiliar to him, he started following you more often, falling inexplicably into the need to protect you in times of danger. It becomes his way of staying close to him through small gestures and silent watching; the short conversations, meaningful in their own right, and shared moments under the night sky foster a growing connection. In these pangs of jealousy and this protective urge, Ulquiorra proves the depth of his crush.

How he would act around you?

Ulquiorra would often be here, near you, a silent witness, but one could feel his presence more than see him—he chose to be unseen. However, many times, he would look at you intently with his sharp analyzing eyes, feeling things in you. Of course, this look is very piercing, yet it is the way he establishes a connection with you.

He would protect you in subtle ways, only intervening when necessary. He might kill off those threats before they ever reach you or position himself strategically to shield you from harm. You might notice things working out in your favor mysteriously—for example, the disappearance of an impending danger or obstacles being removed—but you wouldn't know that Ulquiorra was behind it all.

His face and intonations would be flat most of the time. But on very rare occasions, you could see a flash of softness or care across his features. Ulquiorra chose his words well and spoke in short and direct sentences most of the time. All the conversations with him would be meaningful, even though they would be brief.

Little thoughtful gestures would make up most of Ulquiorra's expressions of love. Maybe he would move something closer to you that he knows you need, sit with you in silence when he knows you're down, or do something to make you more comfortable without drawing attention to the action. Physical contact would be a rare event; however, when physical contact does occur, it is meaningful. Light contact on your shoulder, a steadying hand when you stumble, or a fleeting brush of his fingers against yours would hold meaning.

As time wore on and trust grew, Ulquiorra would become slightly more open. He might share more of his thoughts and past experiences, showing a side of him that not many get to see. Being silent together would become common. You both could sit together without the need for constant speech, finding peace in each other's presence.

He would feel a twinge of jealousy when you spend time with others, though he may not express it overtly. His protectiveness could increase, and he would become more attentive to your interactions with others. In case someone tries to harm or upset you, protective instincts would kick in for Ulquiorra.

How he would confess? + little scenario

Much of Ulquiorra's time would therefore be consumed by thoughts of his feelings, in a need to understand and rationalize them. This is because he is so foreign to the very idea of a crush that much turmoil is involved about how to begin to approach it.

You would feel Ulquiorra's presence more and more as he grew increasingly protective, mindful to his surroundings as he looked out for your safety and comfort. He was going to become more tender and attentive to the things around you, did small things that made sure your needs were met before they arose. Though inconspicuous, such actions happened more often now and became noticeable.

That would be if something really major were to happen, such that something dangerous or emotionally jarring would strike him with the realization that he needs to make a confession. Maybe your being in pain/distress/danger might give him a shove toward confessing.

I feel like Ulquiorra would plan his confession quite carefully. He would choose the right moment and place where both of you can just be alone and undisturbed, thus ensuring that the moment is really private and full of meaning.

Ulquiorra would be very forthright. He'd be walking toward you just as normal, with his quiet demeanor, but deep in his eyes, there'd be a spark of fire to show the urgency of the situation being presented. It would be unabashedly straight, unbathed in sugarcoating. He could say something like, "I have come to realise that you evoke within me feelings that I do not quite understand. But what I am clear about is that I want to be close to you."

Although his expression and voice were so tranquil at the surface, they would betray this rare moment of his vulnerability. His eyes might ramble into softness, and his voice assumes the tinge of uncertainty, fleshing out unfamiliar emotions he is venturing into.

scenario

The moon was high in the sky, casting a cold, silver-glowing light across Hueco Mundo's desolation. You walked alone near Las Noches, lost in thought. The silence was comforting, yet on your skin, there was always that sense of being watched—ever-present, and now more familiar than not.

You wandered, your gaze on him as he was standing a little ways off; his green gaze trained on you made your heart skip. He drew closer in that calm gait of his, reassuring, yet a bit unsettling.

"{Y/N}," he started with a low, smooth tone, "may I speak with you?"

You nodded, interested. Ulquiorra rarely initiated conversations unless it was important.

He steered you off to some secluded spot, away from prying eyes and ears. His silence, as was yours, hung thick between them until he finally turned to face you; his expression, as ever, inscrutable.

"I've been watching you," he said, his eyes steady. "For some time now, I have had this feeling that I don't quite understand. A. pull towards you."

You blinked at the sudden forthrightness of his tone. That wasn't like Ulquiorra, speaking of emotions or feelings, and he caught you quite off guard with what he had said.

He went on, his voice gentled now, almost uncertain. "You bring up feelings in me that are foreign. When you're in danger, I feel the urge to protect you. When you're sad, I want you to smile. These are all new feelings to me, but they cannot be denied."

He paused for a second, allowing his words to sink in. Ulquiorra's eyes searched yours for any hint of your reaction.

"I do not know if this is what humans call love," he admitted, his voice reflecting. "But I know that I need to be close to you, to understand these feelings better. You have grown important to me, {Y/N.}"

Do not copy, steal, modify, etc. Relogs and like are appreciated.

M.LIST | BLEACH M.LIST |

[theanxiousghostartist]

TMAGP 24 Spoilers (theories & reactions)

Pre - Case (Gwen and Lena chat):

So Gwen wants her position back and is swallowing her pride to do it? Ok, I understand she is traumatized, but I don't think that she would go as far as to be super respectful to Lena AND go back to the position that traumatized her... she has a plan. Even if being on the "inside" offers more protections than just quitting, we know Gwem hated the Externals and wants to fight back against them, so why would she go after the job?

I think she is going to act more like Lena in regards to working up to her former position and working in her former position - she needs to be blank, with little emotions, and calm. She is going to be safer on the inside - earning the trust of Lena, her higher-ups, the Externals, ect, then she's going to bring it crashing down. She (with the help of Alice and probably Sam, Celia, and Colin, perhaps Lena as well) is going to go what-Martin-encourged-Jon-to-do-in-season-5 and Gertrude-Robinson style and start trying to get rid of the Externals and stop whatever plan the higher-ups have.

There was static when Lena asked Gwen, "What has changed?" after she said that "[she] will require [Gwen] to be honest." Lena, are you compelling Gwen? Perhaps an Elias-type compulsion (like how he pulled out Daisy's story of her scar) or maybe an Annabelle-type compulsion (placing an idea in her head that ghe truth would be better). Either way, it's interesting!

Gwen was so calm when saying "Thank you, Lena" it was almost frightening. Also the audio glitch when she said it? I love the sarcasm Gwen!/gen

Lena was wary??? (referencing transcript here). Hmmm...

Maybe she's recognizing something in Gwen that she saw either in her younger self or in a former OIAR worker, or perhaps even Klaus?

Case:

(Norris Case)

Patricia Spaulding recently had her son Rupert, of which she does not remember much of the pregnancy or giving birth, who has a lot of similar features to vampires/avatars of the Flesh in TMA (black eyes, long, thin and curly tounge, sharp teeth). Rupert eats from her (literally) every 4 hours (and more), as advised by the "health visitor," causing Patricia to (literally) lose herself in taking care of him. Patricia also attends a mum support group with several other mums, including one named Celia. Patricia starts having hallucinations (auditory and visual) and is eventually consumed by Rupert.

Rupert definitely feels like an Avatar of the Flesh, but the case is also very reminiscent of the Spiral, especially with this "health visitor" and them normalizing Rupert's abnormal behavior and Patricia's abnormal responses. They were also "helping out" with Rupert every day by the time Patricia was consumed.

Theory: This "mum support group" is full of mum's that were chosen to raise Avatars of the Fears that were created in a similar way to Agnes, as "embodiments" of their Fears. Patricia had Rupert, an Avatar of the Flesh, and Celia, who I'm predicting is our Celia, had Jack, an Avatar of the Desolation (who was either created in some way by Agnes, or was created from Agnes (aka the Lightless Flame) to be her successor). The reason why Rupert was "so good" for Celia is because either she is protected by Agnes or Jack in some way due to her connection with Jack or because her "scent" is different (as described by Lady Mowbray), since she is from TMA- verse (or a combination of the two).

Post - Case (Alice, Celia, Sam chat):

Sam is nervous - that makes sense, given that Basira could be a dead end, like TMAGP- verse Teaholding (I'm so sad about that 😭), and like Gertrude appeared to be.

Alice is trying to tell Sam and Celia about Gwen and the externals! Yay communication!!!

Sam, listen to her, please 😭😭

Yay! Celia, thank you for believing her! (Although we know the reason why lol)

"Is it really so hard to believe that something is hunting us back?" - Celia

"Hunting us back" is a really interesting choice of words. So is this Celia admitting to her knowledge of Sam looking for Externals, or Gwen and Lena looking for and attempting to control and utilize Externals, or Celia herself hunting Externals? I'm more inclined to believe that she's acknowledging that she and Sam are "hunting" Externals by looking into the Institute. But the implications...

(obligatory Starkid joke below)

They are definitely something to watch out for in the future.

Sam, PLEASE BELIEVE ALICE!

I feel like this seen is showing Sam's manipulative - side. It's very interesting to see this more front and center, rather than just through petty actions and small comments...

Thank you Celia, for getting these two to come to an agreement!

Post - Case (Basira!!!):

Basira is a deputy headmistress at St. Luke's? Not an officer?

I was really shocked at first, but this does make sense. We know that she is Eye- aligned and values logic (she was so close to becoming an Avatar during the Unknowing when she was using logic to get out of the unlogic). She also has always been more of an academic, being a teacher would make sense. Her boss, Mr. Donaldson, is the headmaster. I wonder if he will be important later on. She's been in her current role for almost 5 years, and this is her 4th educational position, as well as her 2nd position as deputy headmistress (however, there was an audio glitch here, so she could be embellishing her accomplishments here). She formerly held a position at Edgecroft Avademy, which she was nominated for an Pearson Award for. TMAGP!Basira seems to value her work in the same way as TMA!Basira.

She was caught off-guard by Sam's mention of the Institute, and then denied knowing anything about it. Perhaps she didn't have any involvement with it, but maybe a friend or family member did? (Please, I just need to hear Daisy again 😭😭😭)

Of course Celia would ask if Basira had any involvement with the police! She knew her as a police officer in the TMA-verse.

I really like today's episode. I absolutely hate horror involving childen, so I was terrified during the case (which is good! The episodes that really scare me are some of my favorites). It had really interesting implications for Celia and Gwen, and overall, the connections between the TMA and TMAGP universe.

[jamespmarchapologist]

SWEET NOTHINGS.

prompt: austin pushes your limits during the screening for The Bikeriders to see how far you can go.

warnings: lots of teasing/sexual tension, dom!Austin x sub!reader, usage of daddy, fem!reader but inclusive/imagine it’s you, poc!friendly, slight “fingering” but that’s about it, part 2 can be written if wanted.

——————————————————————————

The lights in the prepared arena just began to dim, that’s when you felt your fiancé’s hand creep up your thigh through the well-placed felt slit of your dress. Something Austin insisted on picking out for you himself, adamant that you never see it until the stylist would ease it onto your body. You were slowly piecing together as to why he had picked such a design and such material from the beginning of the night. It started with slow touches. His arm always snaked tightly around your waist as the flashing lights consumed your vision, steady fingers dancing along your sides, threatening to fall lower if it wasn’t for so many eyes glued onto his muse. Slow actions repeated themselves and only ceased when prompted into the building, into assigned seats, now a hand gripped onto your thigh was the final touch of the evening.

You were sure Austin wouldn’t do such a dangerous move out of his internal sexual instincts, he couldn’t, he wouldn’t dare. Instead, your brain chalked it down to his natural protective nature. That was, until his rough hand inched up onto your heated skin. Your eyes trailed over to your boy, sat still and polished, no expression on his redeeming features as if nothing had happened. No cocky smirk played on his lips to imitate his actions, only an expression that you could only describe as relaxed, really the only word you managed to think of before his hand came up to cradle your inner thigh, thumb grazing over the sensitive skin slowly.

He inches closer to your side. “Wanna take you just like this, amor.” He whispers, words trickling down your spine and warmed the feeling between your thighs, thumb pressing into the flesh of your inner thigh to emphasize his words.

“Aus.” You shot back as a quiet warning, your shaky hand rising to grip at his own but never daring to remove the feeling, letting him just lay still on top of your legs. You really were trying to watch the movie, do the best to support your baby after so many nights he’d came home restless and ready to quit his career. Move to a country side and forget all his troubles, he says.

He didn’t budge this time as opposed to many others, only gripped tighter into your now shivered skin, feeling every single small bump under the pad of his thumb. He knew you never wanted him to stop, you never did. All he managed to belt out in response is a soft and slow breath against your neck. You were more than certain that if the lights hadn’t been dimmed to the lowest setting possible that there would’ve been pictures and uneasy glances thrown your way. His hand ceased from your thigh, only his middle finger tracing up and down the skin, a soft chuckle dancing on his lips that you were quick to retaliate with a cough.

“Oh c’mon, darlin’. You can’t act like you don’t need me right now. Like you’re not already dripping just from my slightest touch.” His lips were only centimeters away from the spot right under your earlobe, drinking in your scent as his finger ran up your stomach, inching closer and closer to where you needed him the most. Your hand flew up to lightly pull at his bicep in a lame attempt to stop his movements, chewing on your bottom lip as if your life depended on staying your quietest.

“Such a good girl, staying quiet.” His voice was rasp, thick with southern charm, he knew that was just how you liked it. His finger trailed up your thighs, slipping into your delicate lace to trail his finger in a slow stripe across your pussy, biting his lip to cover the hum that threatened to seep through. He was truly effected by everything little thing about you, obsessed with how well you fall into his grasp.

His middle finger pressed lightly into your clit making your head dip into his shoulder, breathing in his scent as you did everything in your power not to bite down onto his shoulder or his neck for that matter. “Look at you. You poor little baby.” He cooed, his free hand running his fingers softly through your hair. “Desperate to be filled by her daddy, yeah?” He quipped, his voice dangerously deep and a tad bit hoarse from having to whisper for the longest time. But nonetheless, he wasn’t planning on stopping anytime soon.

Your thighs started to vibrate in his grasp, biting down on his shoulder as the tip of his finger teased your entrance, circling slowly around where you needed him the most, shoving yourself further into his side to hide your embarrassment. “Always so effected by my every little touch, princess. Can never get enough of my filthy baby. Wanting me in the worst times, mm?”

A muffled whine slipped from your lips before you could even process catching the desperate noise. The movie was sure to wrap up soon, it had to, and that only meant that you would be caught red handed. So desperate for your boyfriend that your morals seemed to slip out the window as soon as you heard his hushed voice.

Austin stiffened in his seat, pulling his hand slowly from under your dress, delicately tapping the side of your leg to signal that the movie had been ending. He let out a light chuckle at some of your mascara that spread down your cheek due to how pressed your head had been in his shoulder. His hands raised up to cup your cheeks, smile of sheer adoration dawning his lips as his thumbs did their best to fix your makeup. He leaned in after another mocked chuckle, tucking a stray piece behind your ear.

“I’m the only one that can see you like this, mi amor.”

——————————————————————————

AN: SAM MADE A FIC? shut up no she didnt!! anyway y’all… part 2? lemme know 🥰 sorry for the cockblock :( not really !!

tag list : @austinbutler4life @re3kin @goldenmarygio @theinvisiblecapricorn @mrs-butler @cchl @amiets2 @itstylersblog @the-internet-ruined-me1 @djconde58 @velov4mpir3 @adoreyouusugar @dacreshoney @reibeyondherheart @aerangi @soarocks @fxntxsix @karamelcoveredolicity @ilovemuppets @latenighttalking13 @asshlyyyy @eliseinmemphis @butlersluvbot @navia3000

[conundrumoftime]

'this monstrous St Michael'

I doubt the TROP writers and showrunners meant anything in particular by setting Halbrand up as St Michael the Archangel in this shot beyond "looks cool :)", but bear with me okay because I was talking to @wyrd-syster about Les Miserables recently and it reminded me of something.

So first of all the St Michael comparison is because St Michael is very commonly portrayed in art as a figure in armour, standing over a conquered Satan in the form of a dragon or serpent, holding a long lance. e.g. this is Raphael's Saint Michael Vanquishing Satan (1516):

TROP Sauron is really not St Michael (the closest in Tolkien would be Manwë or Eönwë I suppose; the Ainur don't really correlate directly to angels). But at this point he thinks he is, or at least thinks he should be.

Which is what brings me back to Les Miserables. Here's Javert:

Javert was at that moment in seventh heaven. Without being fully aware of it, yet with a confused intuition of his own indispensible status and of his success, he personified—he, Javert—justice, enlightenment, and truth in their heavenly function of crushing evil. He had behind him and around him, at infinite depth, authority, reason, precedent, the conscience of the law, the vengeance of the law, all the stars in the firmament; he protected order, he called forth the thunder of the law, he avenged society, he came to the aid of the absolute; he stood erect in a blaze of glory; there was in his victory a trace of defiance and of combat; standing tall, arrogant, resplendent, he displayed, out in the open, for all the world to see, the superhuman bestiality of a bloodthirsty archangel, the fearful shadow of the act he was performing made visible in his clenched fist with the dull flashing of the social sword; happy and outraged, he held crime, vice, revolt, perdition, hell, pinned beneath his heel; he shone, he exterminated, he smiled … and there was an incontestable grandeur in this monstrous Saint Michael. Javert, though horrifying, had nothing of the ignoble about him. Probity, sincerity, candor, conviction, a sense of duty, are things that, when they go wrong, can become hideous, but that, even hideous, remain grand; their majesty, peculiar to the human conscience, persists even in horror.

Overall I think Galadriel is more of a Javert figure in s1 of TROP than Sauron is; she's the one whose fixation on justice has become something so all-consuming it leaves no room for weakness or redemption. (Whether Sauron is in any sense repentant is a whole other question, but her answer to even the suggestion of it is isn't "you're lying" but to tell him it wouldn't matter anyway: "no penance could ever erase the evil you have done.") But this particular Javert moment is very much Sauron.

From Morgoth's Ring:

And Letters:

One of the things I don't like about the time compression in TROP is that it speeds up this gradual 'relapse' so much that it's hard to trace it as the development of the character, vs. a brief dalliance with the idea of Doing Good followed by a "fine then" tantrum, but! TROP Sauron is still very much informed by what Tolkien said about 2nd Age Sauron and his motives and I do love it for that.

and: I especially love, when Tolkien talks about Sauron's corruption by Morgoth, the idea that this was part of the corruption; that it wasn't just Morgoth running Evil Bootcamp, but that Morgoth flattered him and praised him and fed into his pride so much so that anything 'good' he believed he was doing was misdirected from the start, because Mairon the Admirable couldn't conceive of any good outcome or plans that didn't feature him as the most special perfect talented brilliant centre of everything.