#glitz elementals

[katzkreationz]

"The Glamour of the Sea"

Glitz is quickly becoming one of my favorite OCs to draw XD

Did a little updating with his outfit and all. Something more fitting to the dramatic flair of his personality.

[universestreasures]

Kisara's Ancient Origins

DO NOT REBLOG!!!

(Note: This lore is primarily based off what I can draw from the 'Eyes of Blue' archetype and the historical/cultural influences I can draw from the visual design of the cards. It is not meant to be historically or culturally accurate to any specific real-world culture, despite references to real-world locations in this description, for I have developed my own culture for Kisara to originate from.

I also do not think or claim this lore I've crafted resembles Kazuki Takahashi's vision for Kisara, as the cards I am drawing inspiration from were made long after the manga's ending, and I do not think are meant to be complementary to it. I really do think he intended for her to always be a mysterious character, and that's okay. Creators do not have to outline every single thing about their characters for the audience. I simply did my best to try and take what we've been presented and make a fitting backstory / history for my Kisara, to add more to what we were not given or touched upon. Please do not take this as canon!!!)

Where was she from?

Kisara was not originally from Egypt, as her appearance and treatment as an outsider would indicate. No, she was from another land altogether, a cold and distant land across the world. She was from the region of Scandinavia. It was there Kisara lived with her people, a people whose signature unique physical features were pale skin, blue eyes, and silver or in rarer cases, pure white hair. They were known as 'The Keepers of White'.

The Keepers of White were an isolated tribe who were mainly self-sufficient, surviving off the land and rarely doing trade with the outside world. They were notable craftsmen of all sorts, whether it be weapons, clothing, or statue or monument building. They were a very family-oriented and community-focused culture, with whole families often living together and each having a role in the community. Kisara's family was no different. Arguably, they had one of the most important jobs: the upkeep of the Keeper's treasured spiritual place: the Mausoleum of White, a shrine dedicated to their culture's protector goddess.

What is The White Dragon really?

It was stated in the anime and the manga that the 'White Dragon' has powers akin to or could compete with the Egyptian gods Obelisk, Slifer, and Ra themselves. It was sometimes even referred to as a god. But why is that? Well, because the 'White Dragon' is actually a diety, just one from a different land.

The 'White Dragon' is the protective guardian goddess of light for the Keepers of White, an ancient spirit that has watched over their homeland for generations. She is a goddess that, like most deities, watched over from another plane of existence other than Earth. The humans believe their one connection/communication line to her is in the form of a crystal they keep in the center of their mausoleum: 'The White Stone of Legend', which resembles a dragon egg.

"As long as that stone remains, shining brightly with its protective light, our people will be protected and prosper." Those were the words passed down from generation to generation, words that were meant to provide a sense of comfort to their hearts. They clung to those words, and it was that faith that eventually led to the tragic tale of Kisara.

One day, the stone's perfect exterior began to crack, as if a dragon was to be born from inside of it. This breaking of the stone caused alarm for the shrine keeper's family, as it was their duty to protect it. Coincidently this incident occurred on the very same day, or rather, the very moment...their daughter, born with pure white hair and sapphire eyes, was born. For she was not just a regular human, but rather...'The White Dragon' that was born into this world of man in the form of a human child, named Kisara. While she was a mortal, the 'White Dragon' was the truest form of her soul, a soul was both Kisara the human and the diety at the same time but also not (similar to the way the 'Avatar' is in Avatar the Last Airbender is). The truth of Kisara's nature was one that, sadly, the Keepers of White never realized.

How did Kisara get to Egypt?

Following Kisara's birth, a poor harvest befell the land, leaving the Keepers struggling to survive the harsh winter. The entire tribe blamed Kisara for this (despite there being no relation to the event at hand), saying saying her birth caused a curse upon their people and she was the reason their goddess seemingly abandoned them due to the sacred crystal breaking on the day of her birth. They called for the child, no less than a year old, to be executed as a sacrifice to the 'White Dragon', in hopes of bringing an end to this terrible situation. Kisara's parents, already struggling with how to feel and seemingly getting no answers to their prayers, in the end defended their child, saying the blame should be on them for bringing her into the world and not the child themselves.

So, in the end, Kisara's parents were executed, and their two sons (who resemble the Duel Monsters cards 'Sage with Eyes of Blue' and 'Protector with Eyes of Blue') along with Kisara were banished from their land to never return. Following these events, the situation did not improve, and unfortunately, all of the remaining people of tribe died of either starvation or hypothermia. Any traces of their people were lost to history, with historians in the modern age only recently finding evidence of their existence.

As for Kisara and her brothers, they traveled south and had their first exposure to the outside world. Due to their unique appearance, they were seen as outcasts by many townspeople of the places they visited, and were even attempted to be captured and sold off. Thankfully, Kisara's brothers were both warriors and were well able to take care of and defend each other. They, as they did back home, lived off the land, living in caves and other places far from human civilization.

Eventually, around when Kisara was five, there was another terrible winter, and in the process, unfortunately, both her elder brothers passed away after being ambushed by the townsfolk after begging for food for their sister, leaving the poor girl alone and vulnerable. Without her brothers to protect and provide for her, Kisara eventually did end up getting captured by slave traders and was brought across the world from place to place, traveling on foot before eventually ending up in the continent of Africa by the age of 11 (which is how old I think she was upon meeting Priest Seto in the anime timeline).

In the process of her grieving and losing everything at such a young age, all her memories of her family, her people, her past...were all suppressed, leaving her wandering aimlessly in this realm without a purpose, without a home. All she remembered was her name and...the songs her brothers would sing to her to try and comfort her, a practice they learned from their mother.

[geotjwrs]

Hey do you think u can do Jenna Ortega x male reader. The reader is a professional soccer player for AC Milan

goal!

Pairings ; Jenna Ortega x Male!Reader

Warning/s ; injury??

Y/N was living the dream as a professional soccer player for AC Milan. His days were filled with intense training sessions, thrilling matches, and the camaraderie of his teammates. But amidst the glitz and the grind, Y/N had a secret that kept his life balanced and his heart content – his relationship with Jenna Ortega.

Their romance had blossomed quietly, away from the prying eyes of the public. They cherished their stolen moments, the late-night calls, and the occasional secret rendezvous whenever their schedules allowed. Despite their different worlds, they made it work, keeping their love under wraps.

One sunny afternoon, Jenna managed to sneak into Milan unnoticed, her excitement bubbling beneath the surface. Today was special – she was going to watch Y/N play live for the first time. Disguised in a hoodie and sunglasses, she found her seat in the stands, trying to blend in with the crowd.

As the game began, Jenna couldn't help but cheer for Y/N, her heart swelling with pride every time he touched the ball. She captured videos on her phone, whispering words of encouragement that he couldn't hear but she hoped he could feel. It was thrilling to see him in his element, commanding the field with skill and confidence.

But not everyone in the stands was oblivious to Jenna's presence. Some fans began to murmur, their curiosity piqued by the young woman who seemed particularly invested in Y/N's performance. Whispers spread, and soon enough, Jenna found herself under discreet scrutiny.

Y/N, focused on the game, was unaware of the stir Jenna's presence was causing. He was having a stellar match until an opposing player, known for his rough play, started targeting him. During a heated moment, the rival player approached Y/N with a sneer.

"Hey, Y/N," he taunted, his voice low and mocking. "Your girlfriend's watching. Would be a shame if something happened to you."

Y/N's eyes flicked to the stands, briefly catching sight of Jenna. Panic and anger flared within him, but before he could react, the opponent made his move. A hard, deliberate tackle sent Y/N crashing to the ground, pain shooting through his leg.

The stadium erupted into a mix of cheers and gasps. Jenna's heart plummeted as she watched Y/N writhe in agony. The medical team rushed to his side, assessing the injury and signaling for a stretcher. Jenna's first instinct was to run to him, but she knew she had to stay put, keeping their secret intact.

Back in the locker room, the atmosphere was tense. Y/N was being examined by the team doctors, his face contorted in pain. His teammates hovered nearby, concern etched on their faces.

One of his closest friends on the team, Luka, knelt beside him. "Hey, man, hang in there. We'll get you through this."

Y/N nodded, trying to stay strong. "Thanks, Luka."

Meanwhile, Jenna paced anxiously outside the stadium, her heart aching for Y/N. She wanted nothing more than to be by his side, but she knew she had to wait for the right moment.

She sent him a quick text instead: "I'm here for you. Stay strong. I love you."

Hours later, Y/N was back at his apartment, his leg bandaged and elevated. The injury wasn't as severe as it had initially seemed, but it was enough to sideline him for a while. He was frustrated and in pain, both physically and emotionally.

A soft knock on his door broke his thoughts. Jenna peeked in, her eyes filled with worry and love. "Hey, superstar. How are you holding up?"

Y/N's face softened at the sight of her. "Jenna, you're here. I'm... managing."

She crossed the room and sat beside him, taking his hand in hers. "I'm so sorry, Y/N. I wish I could've done something."

He squeezed her hand gently. "You being here is enough. I just hate that we have to keep this a secret."

Jenna leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead. "We'll find a way to make it work. I promise."

They spent the evening together, Jenna doing her best to lift Y/N's spirits. They talked about everything and nothing, the comfort of each other's presence a balm to their souls. Despite the pain and the secrecy, their love felt stronger than ever.

Days turned into weeks, and Y/N's recovery was slow but steady. Jenna stayed by his side as much as she could, supporting him through the tough moments. Their relationship remained a secret, but the bond between them deepened with each passing day.

...

The next game was a pivotal moment. Y/N was back on the field, and this time, Jenna was determined to be there for him, publicly. She donned an AC Milan jersey with his number on it and made her way to the VIP section, a spot that would inevitably draw attention.

As the game progressed, Jenna cheered for Y/N with all her heart, her excitement palpable. She didn't try to hide her face; she was there to support the man she loved. Fans and cameras quickly picked up on her presence, and the speculation started to spread like wildfire.

Y/N, aware that Jenna was in the stands, played with renewed vigor. Her presence was a source of strength, reminding him of what truly mattered. As the match wore on, AC Milan gained momentum, and Y/N's performance was stellar. His passes were precise, his tackles were solid, and his energy was contagious.

Late in the second half, with the score tied, Y/N saw an opening. He sprinted down the field, weaving through defenders with incredible speed. As he approached the goal, he took a deep breath and struck the ball with perfect precision. The crowd erupted as the ball sailed past the goalkeeper and into the net.

Jenna jumped to her feet, screaming and cheering louder than anyone else in the stadium. Her heart swelled with pride and love as she watched Y/N's teammates surround him, celebrating the crucial goal.

The final whistle blew, signaling AC Milan's victory. The team gathered on the field, their joy palpable. Y/N's eyes scanned the stands until they locked onto Jenna's. Without thinking, he ran toward her, his heart pounding with excitement and adrenaline.

Jenna didn't hesitate. She climbed over the barrier separating the VIP section from the field and ran to meet him. They collided in a tight embrace, and for a moment, the world around them disappeared. Y/N pulled back slightly, his eyes searching hers.

"Jenna," he whispered, his voice full of emotion.

She smiled up at him, tears of joy in her eyes. "You were amazing, Y/N. I'm so proud of you."

Before he could respond, Jenna leaned in and kissed him passionately. The crowd around them gasped and then erupted into cheers and applause. Cameras flashed, capturing the moment that was sure to make headlines.

As they pulled apart, breathless and smiling, Y/N felt a weight lift from his shoulders. Jenna was by his side, and he didn't care who knew. Their secret was out, and it felt liberating.

Theo and a few other teammates approached, grinning widely. "So, this is why you've been so secretive, huh?" Luka teased, clapping Y/N on the back.

Y/N laughed, pulling Jenna closer. "Yeah, this is why."

Jenna smiled at the team, her eyes twinkling. "You guys played an incredible game. I'm just happy I could be here to see it."

As the celebrations continued, Y/N and Jenna stayed close, their hands intertwined. The media buzzed with excitement, and social media exploded with the news of their relationship. But Y/N didn't care about the attention or the speculation. All that mattered was that he had Jenna by his side.

...

Back at Y/N's apartment that evening, the two of them cuddled on the couch, reliving the day's events. Y/N's leg, though still sore, was a small price to pay for the victory and the joy of sharing his love for Jenna with the world.

"Today was incredible," Y/N said, pressing a kiss to Jenna's temple. "I'm so glad you were there."

Jenna snuggled closer, resting her head on his chest. "Me too. I wouldn't have missed it for anything."

They stayed like that for a while, enjoying the peace and quiet. Eventually, Jenna looked up at Y/N, her expression serious. "Are you ready for what comes next? The media, the attention..."

Y/N nodded, his eyes full of determination. "As long as I have you, I'm ready for anything."

Jenna smiled, her heart swelling with love. "We'll face it together, just like we always do."

And with that, they settled into a comfortable silence, knowing that whatever challenges lay ahead, their love would guide them through.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Sunshine, Lollipops, and Rainbows 1

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

Characters: moody boy Curtis Everett x bubbly, plus-size reader

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.

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.

It’s your first day at work. Your nerves have simmered over to a nice whirlwind. Even as you sit at your desk, going through the various training materials. You haven’t managed to calm down. Your heart is beating so fast.

Everyone’s been nice. You don’t know why you��re jittering. Like your mother says, you’re overthinking, and like your father says, you need to sit still. You grab the armrests and try to make yourself stop moving. It only makes you want to boil over.

You swivel back and forth and look at your coworkers. They’re all so busy like bees in a hive. They know exactly what they’re doing and you still feel lost as you sift through endless SOPs and corporate training videos.

You see a woman with purplish red curls with a mug, steam curling over the brim. Ah, that’s a good excuse for a break. You still need to figure out the office coffee machine. Daniella, your supervisor, briefly pointed it out during her tour. It’s one of those fancy industrial pod brewers.

You stand and nearly skip between the desks. Be cool. You slow your pace and hold your shoulders straight, your squared toed kitten heels clacking on the tile. You poke your head into the kitchen and find only one other employee inside.

The man’s shoulders are broad and straight as he stares silently at the coffee machine. It grinds and spurts out dark coffee. You come up next to him to peruse the spinning rack of pods, tapping your chin as you think. You peek over at him.

“Hi,” you smile, “any recommendations?”

His pale blue eyes meet yours for an instant before quickly flicking back to his cup. A plain black porcelain mug without any decoration or glitz. You already know which cup you want to bring in; the one that looks like a honey pot and has a small lid resembling a bear sticking his head out with a little honeycomb stitch between his ears.

You take one of the paper cups and a pod of the butterscotch twist. You stand back and wait your turn. He scowls as if mentally urging the cup to fill.

“I’m…” you introduce yourself, “I just started over in Research and Development.”

He doesn’t respond. He puts his hands behind him, clutching them tightly as his forearms tense. The tendons bulge out beneath his skin. His sleeves are rolled to his elbows, a grey button up with black trousers. A bit grim but an aesthetic for sure. There’s several rings on his fingers as they curl around each other.

“It’s my first day,” you continue the one-sided conversation, “so… that’s why you never saw me before.”

He growls and grabs his cup as the machine dings. He doesn’t acknowledge you as he turns on his heel and marches out. You watch his back and shrug, blowing out between your lips. You get it, some people aren’t the social type.

You put your cup under the spout and tap the touchscreen. It takes you a lot of poking around to figure out how to brew the coffee. You step back and wait. Caffeine should definitely help your nerves… fuel them at least.

💗

Lunchtime comes and you grab your bento box and head down to the cafeteria. Daniella said you could eat your desk if you wished but you need a break from the screen. Besides, you notice that most people don’t.

You enter the cafeteria. There are tables here and there but they’re already crowded. You notice a few people from your department and head over to that table. Tammy moves her bag onto the seat before you can claim it. You frown and apologise as you back away.

Hmm.

You look around. You don’t know anyone. You don’t mind making new friends but it’s like high school all over again. Everyone has their clique and you’re just wandering in between.

Your gaze falls on the only table with more than one seat free. There’s a single person sitting at it, his head down as he runs his hand over his close cut hair. Hey, it’s… that guy. He didn’t give you his name.

You cross the room and near a chair, putting your hand on the back of it as you hover by the table.

“Hi, um, do you mind if I sit here?”

His eyes dart up and he says nothing. He shrugs and sits back, smoothing out the pages of the book in front of him. You sit, your bento box clanging loudly as you do. You give a sheepish smile as he clears his throat but doesn’t look at you.

You flip back the clasp and pop open the lid. He shifts in his chair as you take out your plastic cutlery from the little compartment. You try to be quiet but you can’t help but hit the fork off the side.

You look over at him. He has only his empty mug and a half-eaten protein bar. You look back at your colourful medley of food. Maybe he’s on a diet.

“Do you like hummus?” You ask.

He doesn’t look up. You bite your lip. You’re just being friendly but maybe he’s not hungry.

“Um, uh, you remember me?” You poke at your couscous, “from the kitchen? I didn’t get your name.”

He sighs and turns the page. You nod. Not much of a talker. You let your fork lean on the edge of the bento and grab the sides of your chair, scraping it closer. He snarls and finally looks at you.

You stop and show your teeth like a threatened animal. His jaw clenches and he refocus on his book. You stir the couscous and take a bite, swallowing as your curiosity piques.

“What are you read–”

“I’m not,” he grits and shuts the book without marking the page.

He stands and pockets the protein bar, swiping up his mug and book. You gape at him, stunned. You don’t know why he’s so upset. You’re just trying to be polite. He storms away and you frown at your food. Well, you’ve always got a friend in snacks!

[lacunafiction]

I recently received these two fun questions from the Forum: 

“1 - will there be a second tea vs cocoa vs coffee showdown in B2?, and 2 - Is there an in-universe reason as to why Ruby is specifically called Ruby?”

So, I thought I would make a quick post to share their answers here too! :D

1. The MC's drink choice will indeed come up a few times during Book Two! A tea party will require them to indulge in some tea one (1) time, but I'm certain the individual who meticulously planned it included something for your MC's tastes. A minor spoiler: For certain readers, Judith (the little girl you can meet in Book One) will weigh-in on the battle of hot drinks. It can be a cute/funny scene to trigger. 😀

2. Here's what I've said about Ruby's and Reese's names when revealing part of why I selected them. All of the names in TFS tend to have deeper meanings. 

Ruby

It has Latin origins from 'ruber' (red) or 'rubinous', but both mean a deep red precious stone. This name holds a certain sultry elegance along with the stone itself that has had more staying power than other names that relate to jewelry or precious materials.

Reese

Meanings such as ardor, passion, and fiery are all embedded in this name, which pairs well with R's character, especially if you read a particular exchange with Mrs. Dorran in Book Two during an evening excursion. It has a Welsh origin. 

These names just seem made for R as a character! Although I think they can take on even deeper meanings on their romance route where they can express ardent feelings for the MC and show how much they treasure them above all of the Verner glitz. While their character color is more so black than red, we do see a link with Angelique and how R does also favor reds, purples, and more traditionally aristocratic pops of color. There is also a spoiler element to R's name that I'm sure will hit many of you in the feels once you figure it out. 🙃 It's fully revealed in Book Three, but there are hints even in Book Two. 

_ _ _

Hopefully, you're all doing well! 

My relative silence on social media might make some of you wonder if I am in fact lost in Fernweh. 🌲The answer is a resounding 'yes'; I've been engaging in a constant and steady writing blitz to then hopefully return to answer questions and better engage closer to a demo drop and tentative release date, etc. It brings me so much happiness to write; it's my outlet, so that's my utmost priority aside from some family care-giving/time together and my cat*, of course.

(*Yes, he is also included in the family. He just gets a special mention.)

Thank you for your patience, support, and understanding! 💚

[hollowsart]

@president-alpine I know you intended this for my sideblog and more for a general Doc Ock & Mysterio.. but this is all I could think to answer it, I hope you don't mind?

Anyways, here's my Beck working together with my Otto to create a new "Doc Ock costume". It was Beck's idea to try and spice up his look lol It's comfortable and practical and has a bit of octopus motifs if you look closely!

+ two alternative colorations. Beck got a little carried away

Otto does prefer simple, practical, and comfortable. He's not really a glitz and glamor type. And while he doesn't exactly see why he would really need a new outfit when his old one works just fine, Beck insisted he make something for him.

Beck couldn't help himself but add the extra pizzazz of textures/patterns into the costume, but he toned them down a bit so it's not too much. He wanted to really tap into Otto's "Doc Ock" title and add octopus elements, but Otto thought it'd be too much. The results are what they finally settled on!

[logansargeantsbabymom]

A Love Worth Fighting For

Bodyguard!Lando Norris x Fem!Actress!Reader

CHAPTERS 3, 4 & 5

Genre: Forbidden Bodyguard to Lover

Warnings: Smut (Not yet), This is (MY VERSION of) a Slow Burn story!

Follow my instagram account (THATS STRICTLY FOR THIS BLOG) for updates on when i post and fun stuff like that!

Instagram

Chapter 3: Lando

From the moment I was assigned to protect Y/N L/N, I knew this job would be different. She wasn't just any client. She was one of the most famous actresses in the world, a superstar known for her roles in the Avengers movies and her solo Marvel films. But beyond the glitz and glamour, she was also a target. There had been multiple kidnapping attempts, and it was my job to ensure her safety at all times.

When I first met her, I was struck by her beauty and poise. She was everything I expected and more. But as the days turned into weeks, I began to see the real Y/N – the woman behind the fame. She was kind, compassionate, and surprisingly down-to-earth. And despite the walls she had built around herself, I could see glimpses of vulnerability that made me want to protect her even more.

But no matter how strong my feelings grew, I had to remind myself of my duty. My job was to keep her safe, not to get involved. And as long as I was her bodyguard, I had to maintain a professional distance, no matter how difficult it became.

Chapter 4: Lando

Y/N had a close-knit circle of friends, and one of her best friends was Daniel Ricciardo, a driver for Red Bull Racing. When she told me she wanted to attend one of his races, I knew it would be a logistical nightmare. But I also knew how important it was to her, so I did everything in my power to make it happen.

The day of the race was hectic, to say the least. Security was tight, and the crowds were massive. But Y/N was in her element, cheering for Daniel and mingling with other celebrities. I stayed close, my eyes constantly scanning the crowd for any potential threats.

As the race ended and we made our way back to the car, I couldn't help but notice the sparkle in her eyes. She was genuinely happy, and it was a sight that warmed my heart. But as we drove back to the mansion, I couldn't shake the feeling that this happiness was fleeting. The dangers that came with her fame were never far away, and it was my job to ensure she stayed safe.

That evening, as we were leaving things took a turn for the worse. A group of men, clearly intoxicated, approached us with aggressive intentions. They recognized Y/N and started hurling insults, their behavior quickly escalating.

I stepped in front of her, my body tense and ready to defend her at any cost. "Stay behind me," I instructed, my voice firm.

The men continued to advance, their intentions clear. But I wasn't about to let them get any closer. With a few swift moves, I managed to subdue them, ensuring Y/N's safety.

As the police arrived and took the men away, I couldn't help but feel a surge of anger. This was exactly why I needed to be by her side at all times. The world was full of dangers, and I couldn't let anything happen to her.

Chapter 5: Y/N

The next few days passed in a blur of interviews, photo ops, and public appearances. Lando was always by my side, his presence a comforting constant. Despite the hectic schedule, my mind kept drifting back to the confrontation at the race track. Lando's bravery, his unwavering dedication to my safety – it all made me see him in a new light.

We were back in my mansion, preparing for a quiet evening. I had invited Blake Lively, Ryan Reynolds, and Taylor Swift over for dinner. They were my closest friends, my support system, and I needed their company now more than ever.

As we sat around the dining table, laughing and sharing stories, I noticed Lando standing discreetly in the corner, his eyes never leaving me. It was like he was always on high alert, ready to jump into action at a moment's notice.

Taylor leaned over, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "So, Y/N, how's it going with your dashing bodyguard?"

I blushed, glancing at Lando. "It's...fine. He's very professional."

Blake raised an eyebrow. "Professional, huh? Is that code for 'I have a crush on him'?"

I laughed, shaking my head. "No, it's not like that. He's just...different."

Ryan chimed in, a grin on his face. "Different how? Come on, spill the beans."

I sighed, feeling the weight of their curiosity. "He's always there, you know? Always looking out for me. It's...reassuring."

Blake's expression softened. "It sounds like he cares about you."

I glanced at Lando again, my heart skipping a beat. "Maybe. But he's made it clear that he's just doing his job."

Taylor placed a hand on my arm, her voice gentle. "Just be careful, Y/N. It's easy to confuse gratitude with something more."

I nodded, appreciating her concern, but deep down, I knew that my feelings for Lando were growing stronger with each passing day.

After my friends left, I found myself alone with Lando in the dimly lit living room. He was standing by the window, staring out into the night. I walked over, my heart pounding in my chest.

"Lando," I began, my voice barely above a whisper. "I just wanted to thank you for what you did at the race track. You saved me."

He turned to look at me, his eyes softening. "It's my job, Y/N. I would do it again in a heartbeat."

I took a deep breath, my heart racing. "But it's more than that, isn't it? I mean, you could have been hurt."

He shrugged, a small smile playing on his lips. "It's a risk I'm willing to take."

I stepped closer, my eyes searching his. "Why?"

For a moment, he hesitated, as if weighing his words carefully. "Because I care about you, Y/N. More than I should."

My breath caught in my throat. This was the moment I had been waiting for, the moment when he finally acknowledged what I had been feeling all along.

"Lando, I..." I began, but he held up a hand, stopping me.

"We can't," he said, his voice firm. "It would compromise my contract. And more importantly, it would put you in danger. My job is to protect you, not to be with you."

I felt a pang of disappointment, but I understood. He was right. Our relationship was complicated, and there were too many risks involved.

But as I looked into his eyes, I couldn't help but hope that one day, things might be different.

And with that thought lingering in my mind, I knew that this was just the beginning of a long, complicated journey. A journey that would test our resolve, our feelings, and ultimately, our fate.

---------------------

Feedback and Suggestions are ALWAYS welcomed.

Taglist:

[lis-likes-fics]

Would You Mind?

Pairings: Blue Jones x Reader Word Count: 7.5k words Kink: Begging Warnings: NSFW, dubcon elements, overstimulation, oral (m!receiving, brief f!receiving), face fucking, fingering, begging kink, praise kink, degradation kink, name calling, insinuated prostitution, dom/sub elements, dirty talk, spanking (briefly), very brief breeding kink (blink and you'll miss it), unprotected sex, creampie, multiple orgasms, dacryphilia... A/N: I've been trying to write a Blue fic for a while so this was fun. The song featured in this fic is Would You Mind by Janet Jackson. I hope you enjoy and thank you so much! Merry Christmas!

“Baby, would you mind touching me ever so slowly?”

Blue stares at the stage with a hard look etched into the features of his face. He flexes his hands at his sides, stuffing them in his pockets as he watches. The oiled up bodies of his girls twirl and grind against one another, a frivolous act put together by Madam Gorski, full of glitz and glam and leather and lace.

The fabric, the darkest blue and shiniest silver sticking to your body, is tight. Blue is sure it'll leave imprints in your skin, the lacey patterns of feathers and flowers in your stockings, the waistband of your tiny, tiny skirt, the lines of your tiny brassiere. You dance in too high heels like it's nothing, and he wants to take you in his hands and crush you with the weight of his desire for you.

“You're making me quiver and, baby, would you mind undressing me?”

You look right at him when you sing that, your melodies standing out against the harmonies of your backups currently surrounding you in their crouched levels. The feathers of your headdress fall over some of your face, huge and fluffy and adding to the seduction of your smooth, addictive voice. Your eyes flick away from him, as though you never even saw him.

His eyes never tear away from you. He's drunk on your song, as he always is when you open your pretty little mouth and become his own personal little songbird.

He watches intently as the girls pick you and hold you over their heads, turning you in a circle as though you were flying. They support you through your steady, hypnotic vocalizations, like you're sounding a mating call in an attempt to have every man in the theatre flock to you like vultures circling their prey.

They set you down as a few men enter the stage, some taking partners as a couple of them come to your sides. Their bodies flush against yours, standing firmly there as you lean against one and caress a hand down his chest, his hands coming to touch you as the other does the same.

Blue feels his heart battering against his ribs, the anger building inside of you at the way the men touched you. He watches your eyes flutter as your breath hitches and you continue to sing.

“I just wanna touch you, tease you, lick you, please you, love you, hold you, make love to you…”

Your hooded eyes meet him again, and he knows that you know what you're doing.

You sink to your knees, your back against one of the men as he watches you descend. You turn, placing your free hand on his thigh and making your way back up as you tuck your nose underneath his chin. His hand smooths along your side until he's dipping down to grab your thigh. He hosts you up and maneuvers you like you've practiced a million times before until you are hanging upside down, your legs on his shoulders and the back of your head resting against his lower stomach.

And you're so skilled, your voice is level and controlled as you continue.

“I just wanna kiss you, suck you, taste you, ride you feel you, make you cum too.”

The man's lips caress the inside of your leg carefully, the other man coming up too close so you're trapped between them. He dips down to hold you under your shoulders, slowly bringing you back up so you're balanced on the other man's shoulders with your crotch in his face as his strong arms hold you up.

Blue watches your fingers intertwine with his hair and clenches his jaw so tight, he feels like he may pop a vein. You move your hips in a rhythmic grind, though you never make contact with the man's face. It's all an act, Blue knows, but the thought of it alone makes his blood boil.

“Baby, would you mind kissing me all over my body?”

Blue is interrupted from his thoughts when someone's hand claps him on the back. He turns around, readjusting his posture.

“P, sweetheart, how've you been?” a man says jovially, a cigar between his thick fingers.

“Pleasant,” he corrects quickly. “I've been fine, Mr. Benny. How about yourself?” He fights the urge to clench his jaw. Benny comes at least once every week to get a look at the songbird. Every week he asks for a night with her, and every week he is denied. Blue really isn't in the mood to argue over the specifics of her ownership with this man, and he feels like heads might roll if he's forced to endure a moment of it tonight.

“Listen, I've been great,” he chuckles heartily. “I just came by to check up on you, see how you're doing.” He massages Blue's shoulder as he speaks, trying to coerce him as he does routinely. “See if your mind’s changed at all, because the price has.”

He sighs internally. “Has it now?”

“It has,” he hummed.

Blue’s irritation is getting the best of him. He's missing his favorite show.

“Look, Mr. Benny. If we could talk after this act, I would love i–”

“I'll give you 15 thousand for her.”

Blue almost chokes—and not just because you're on your knees again singing into one of your partners’ crotches about sucking and tasting him.

The price has tripled since last time. Fifteen thousand dollars, just for a night with you? You are certainly worth it, Blue would have to admit, but, Christ, was it a big jump.

“Fifteen thousand? One-five?” he clarifies, turning his body to face one of his clients.

“One-five. If that's still not enough, I'll give you 20. Call it a Christmas gift.” Blue nearly chokes again. “Just one night, Pleasant, that's all I'm asking.” Benny sighed, letting go of Blue in favor of snapping his fingers to get one of his bodyguards at his side with a suitcase. “I know she's exclusive to a very special client but you can't put her up on stage like that and expect the dogs to heel.”

God, the urge to say yes was stronger than anything he could ever imagine. Twenty thousand is a lot of fucking money. The things he could do with twenty thousand dollars…

His eyes looked back onstage, and your gazes met in the middle of you laying on the floor in between a man's legs, your back arched off the polished wood as your lips formed your wishes and desires for his body. At least, he assumes it's for his body. You belong to no one else.

Twenty thousand dollars was a lot of fucking money…

“Mr. Benny,” he begins, turning to face him again as he clasps his hands. Rubbing them together, he signals one of his own guards and smiles nicely. “It's a pleasure doing business with you. My friend here will help you work out the details of this negotiation.”

Benny smiles, a big smile that flashed one of his gold teeth. He claps Blue on the back, a hearty laugh coming out of him as he takes the briefcase in his hand. “Oh, Mr. P, I'm so glad you could come around!”

Blue smiles back and conceals his annoyance at the stupid nickname Benny had insisted on calling him, nodding at his guard and watching them both leave, a hand on Benny's wide back with the other braced over the gun hidden in the guard’s coat. Blue turns back to the stage, where both men are touching you too closely, knelt in front of you like your personal servants as you sigh and moan into the microphone. Your head is raised to the ceiling and you brace yourself on their shoulders as they touch you on either side of your body, closing you in and feeling you all over.

“Oh, yeah, baby, ooh. Just like that, ooh yeah.”

You belong to him.

~

You push open the door to one of the many bedrooms lining the Pleasure Hall, flicking on the light, which casts a golden glow over the room. Shutting the door behind you, you quickly shed the top layer of your performance clothes from your skin and fold them nicely on one of two chairs.

You’d worn a special pair of lingerie tonight. You’d just had them bought special with your allowance money from Blue, and you were more than excited to show him the spoils of his good nature toward you. Still waiting, you situate yourself in front of the golden pole on its little platform, leaning your back against it with your arms crossed over your head and your fingers gingerly stroking the metal rod.

As if on cue, the door opens to reveal your wonderful sponsor.

“There’s my favorite girl,” he smiles, closing the door behind him. “How are you, Birdy?”

You smile wide, shrugging a shoulder and keeping position. “I’m doing good. Enjoy the show?”

Blue wipes a hand down his face, remembering briefly the show you put on tonight and the offer that was presented to him for you, along with the hefty donation he suddenly received in support of Lennox by an…anonymous donor.

“Your show…was fantastic. So good, in fact,” he sits back in the other chair, crossing his legs as spreading his arms over the back, “I would like my private show.”

You smile, “Whenever you’re ready then, Mr. Blue.”

You and Blue had a routine.

Ever since you joined Lennox, Blue has taken a special interest in you. Every girl he owns has a special little talent he uses to seduce men out of their money to put in his pocket. When you came to him—or, rather, when you were given to him in the hopes of putting you to good use—he was quick to discover your gift of song. He’d put you on stage for the first time, and it was the biggest kick in his business he’d gotten in years.

But Blue is selfish, and he wants you all to himself.

So after your shows, you come here, in what has now become Blue’s reserved room, and perform it once more for him and only him. He loves to hear you sing to him, to seduce him with your smooth voice and then remind you who you belong to. It fills him with such light to know he has you in his pocket whenever he wants you.

The music begins to play through the room’s speaker, and your eyes close as you feel it, swaying gently as you sink into your routine.

“Baby, would you mind touching me ever so slowly?” you whisper, letting the music fill in the spots where your stage partners no longer existed.

Blue watches you, a primal look glittering in his eyes as he grip the arms of the chair so hard, he wouldn’t be surprised if he’d left imprints in the fabric.

“Cause I'm gonna bathe you, play with you, rub you, caress you.”

You come up to him, placing your hands on his thighs and leaning into his face, your lips inches from his. “I just wanna touch you, tease you, lick you, please you, love you, hold you, make love to you.” You sink to your knees in front of him, stroking your hands along his thighs and whispering dangerously close to the bulge in his pants as he watches you, enchanted by your voice. “And I'm gonna kiss you, suck you, taste you, ride you, feel you deep inside me, boo.”

“Oh, Birdy,” he rasps under his breath, his hands moving to cover yours as you stand once again, your ass in the air and your lips hovering over his own.

When you turn and make your way back to your pole, he has to catch his breath again as you sway your hips to the rhythm of the music.

The things you do to the pole could make him cry. He needs you so badly, he needs your little body to rub against his. You manage to hoist yourself up on the pole as you’d done with the boys on stage, supporting your weight upside down as your legs wrap around the top end of it. “Baby, would you mind tasting me? It's making me all juicy, feeling your lips on mine.”

Blue is so hard in his pants, he thinks he might burst just looking at you. You grind on the pole, and he knows he saw you make contact when your eyes flutter and your voice wavers just a bit, blending with the moaning lyrics of your song.

You keep teasing him, giving the pole everything he’s wanting from you, telling him everything you want to do to him but keeping your hands off of him all the while.

Blue raises his hand and curls his fingers to get you to step closer. And you do, making your way toward him too slowly to wrap your hands around his thighs once more. You lean forward and whisper in his ear, “I just wanna kiss you, suck you, taste you, ride you, feel you, make you cum too.”

A shudder runs down his spine as he pulls you back to look at you, a hand hooking around your inner thigh as your breath hitches a little. The music begins to go wherever it wants as you divulge into the ending, breathy moans and whispers and pleas for him to keep going when all he’s doing is putting his hand on your thigh and stroking it.

“Just like that, ooh yeah,” you breathe. “Shit, oh, oh, my, yes, oh, oh.”

Your face contorts with an imagined pleasure, your O-shaped lips and clenched shut eyes illustrating how you would look if he gave in to the song already. You’ll give him this—he lasted a lot longer than you thought he would.

The music finishes off, and you’re still unsatisfied. Blue’s face lingers away from yours, watching the pleasure in your face sink away as you look at him. His knuckle strokes your jaw, dipping behind your ear and easing down the side of your neck before hooking underneath the strap of your lacey bra.

“This is new,” he rasps.

You nod. “Mhm,” your voice is breathy. “Bought it just a couple days ago. Do you like it?”

He moves you to stand to your full height, towering over him in his seated position as he keeps his hands at your waist and turns you around to get the full view. It’s blue, all lace and no support, hiding nothing from him so he can see what you’re working with. The color is perfect with your skin, and the size is one too small so that it hugs tight to every inch it “covers”.

“I love it, babygirl,” he says, losing breath.

You preen under the brief praise, turning around again. “I’m glad.”

He pulls you close, digging his nose into your hip to smell you. His eyes close as he holds you still. “Mr. Benny came to visit you again.”

You frown. “I don’t like Mr. Benny. He’s pushy, and he smells like gas.”

“I know you don’t, baby bird,” he sighs, looking up at you again as you set your hands on his shoulders. “But I have a little gift for you.”

“What is it?” you ask, your eyes glittering at the prospect of a gift.

“Mr. Benny won’t be coming around anymore,” he smiles. “And he left us alone with a nice, big donation.”

You bite your lip, hiding your tiny grin. Good. You hate that scumbag. Whenever he managed to get close, he’d grab your arm or your thigh and touch you however he could. He was sticky and smelled like gasoline and was too warm.

“What’d you do to him?” you wonder briefly.

His thumbs rub circles into your sides. “Don’t you worry about that, little bird. He’s gone, I’m raising your allowance, and that’s all that matters.”

You smile wide. “Okay, Blue.”

“Now, what does my Birdy want tonight?” he asks.

You pretend to think, conjuring your song in your mind as you bent down to his lips. “I just wanna…touch you, and tease you, and lick you, and please you, and love you, and hold you, and make love to you.”

“Is that all?” he chuckles. “What else?”

“I wanna,” your voice is softer, breathier as you whisper in his ear and let your noses bump one another as you speak, “kiss you, and suck you, and taste you, and ride you, feel you…make you cum too.”

He shudders. “Yeah?” You nod, humming in his ear. He opens his fluttering eyes to look at you, his smile going sour as a new look takes his face. Primal and dangerous and the same look he gave you when you were on stage, rubbing your body against those boys while you looked directly into his eyes. “You’re gonna have to beg for that, baby bird.”

“Please?” you mutter. “Please, can I have it?”

He shakes his head, holding your elbows in his hands and caressing the length of your arms. “No… No, you can do better than that, can’t you? Beg me.”

You step closer between his legs. “Please, Blue, can I kiss you?”

He shakes his head. Letting go of you, he sighs. “You know, I don’t think you’re really wanting me, are you?”

You nearly whimper, sinking to your knees quickly as you kneel between his thighs, your hands on his knees as you set your cheek against the inside of his leg and look up at him.

“Please, Blue, please can you kiss me? I want you so bad, please.”

He considers for a moment, but he’s weak when you’re kneeling all pretty between his legs. He takes your chin in his hand and pulls you forward until his lips can crash against yours in a bruising kiss. You immediately sink into it, humming against his lips and becoming putty in his hands as you kiss him back.

Your hands find the buckle of his belt, and he stops you. “No, no, no. You gotta beg for that, too, baby. You gotta ask for the things you want. Isn’t that right?” he teases, though he’s completely serious as he stares you down.

“Please, Blue–”

“Ah, ah, ah,” he interrupts. “I let it slip the first time, but you’ve gotta do it properly.”

“Please, sir,” you correct immediately. “Please, can I suck your cock? Please?” You sound like you’ll cry. You’re probably aching with need right now, he can smell it off you…

“Well, how are you going to suck my cock if my cock is in my pants?” He casts you a dark grin, leaning back and shrugging his shoulders. “I think you skipped a few steps, Birdy.”

“Can I please take off your belt?” you ask, the frustration reaching your eyes.

He smiles slyly. “Yes, you may.”

You do, forcing open the buckle and ripping the belt from its loops to be rid of it. The heady scent of his cologne is sinking into your senses and driving you crazy. “Please, sir,” you whisper. “Please can I pull your cock out?”

“Go ahead, baby,” he relents, watching you with hooded eyes as your hand disappears into his underwear and comes back with his cock in your hand. He almost moans at the sight, his hard erection leaking precum already in the grasp of your little hand. Your thumb begins to stroke the length of him and his hips jerk slightly as he reprimands you.

“Have—fuck.” He takes a moment. “Have you asked for that yet?”

It takes everything in your power not to groan and roll your eyes at his insistence. “Sorry, sir,” you whisper. “Can I suck your cock now?”

“Please?” “Please?”

“Please who?”

“Please, sir.”

“Now put it all together.”

You’re going to lose it, and he can tell. He loves teasing you like this, he loves how impatient you get and how much more impatient he can make you still. The gentle squeeze of his cock drives him insane as he fights not to let it show.

“Please, sir, can I please suck your cock? I wanna make you cum so bad. I wanna be your good girl. Please?” you whimper. His head spins at your little rant, imagining every little detail your pretty lips wrapped around his cock.

God, the things you do to this man.

“Well, since you want it so bad,” he sighs. “Go on, baby bird. Get what you want.”

You immediately begin stroking his cock, encouraging the precum pooling at his tip as you lean forward on your knees and take the head of his cock between your lips, swirling your tongue over the slit and licking up the pearly white drops gathered there. His muscles tense at the feeling of your warm mouth on him.

His hands grasp either side of your head, tangling in your hair as one adjusts itself around the back. You tease his tip, licking and suckling and driving him as insane as he’d driven you.

“Good girl,” he moans, relishing the dip of your head halfway down his length. You grip his thighs and stroke them slowly as you wrap your hands around his hips.

“Look up at me, baby, look,” he says, shifting his hand in your hair to lift your head. You stay where you are, turning your eyes up at him as you suckle around his tip. His breath shudders.

His cock slowly fills your mouth as you take him farther down, taking your time to ease him into your throat. Your nose brushes his pelvis, and he chokes when he looks down at you through lidded eyes.

Your eyes prick with tears, clouding your vision. When you go to hum around his girth, you gag a little. The constriction pulls a grunt from his throat, and he opens his eyes once again to look at you with a devious grin.

“Good girl,” he huffs again. He draws out the word just as he draws your head back a little to pull himself out of your throat. You whimper lightly, a high-pitched and breathy sound that makes him bite his lip.

His hand flattens on your head as he cards his fingers through your hair. When he grips it, pulling on the hair at the base of your skull, you feel like you'll go limp as your mouth falls open a little more.

You breathe a moan and flatten your tongue along the underside of him. Humming again, you wrap your lips around him and start to bob your head again. He guides you, tightening his grip in an attempt to get control of himself.

You listen to him, to his grunts, the way he moans like he's going to blow any second. One of your hands shifts from his thigh, cupping his heavy balls in your palm and sighing at the precum spilling over your tongue.

“Oh, fuck, Birdy,” he huffs, his hips jerking up into you as he teeters on the edge. Just as you feel him getting ready to unload, he pulls you away and leans his head back.

You sigh and catch your breath, your tongue hanging out from your mouth as the tears welling in your eyes spill down your cheeks. Your jaw aches as you move it around to massage.

Blue huffs as he looks at you and your tear-stained face. He smiles a little. “You look so pretty like that, baby bird.”

“Thank you, sir,” you smile slightly.

He lightly smacks your cheek, and you move to stand. You turn toward the bed, crawling on top of it to stand on your hands and knees, waiting for him.

Blue comes up behind you, his hand smacking your side again and pulling you back by your leg. You turn to look at him, but he just picks you up and puts you back on the floor. You look up at him, obediently awaiting his next move until he's shucking off the rest of his pants and underwear and moving to be rid of his shirt as well.

You watch him undo each button as he stares at you with his dark eyes, burning into you with a glaring dominance. “Get on your knees.”

You do, shifting your legs underneath you and rubbing your palms into your thighs. When he's naked, he steps forward.

“Beg me,” he says.

You tilt your head, looking up at him. “What do you want me to beg you for, sir?”

He shakes his head, “Just do it. I wanna hear you beg for me.”

He towers over you, looking down his nose at you as his hard cock stands stiff in your face. You bite your lip, “Please do what you want with me, sir. I want to feel you, wanna be yours.” His face doesn't shift, unconvinced. “Please, sir, please use me. Wanna be your good girl, please.”

It feels out of place, begging him for something without knowing what it is, but you obey. When he's standing over you like this, intimidating you with his height alone, you can do nothing but obey and hope he's kind enough to give you what you want.

He sighs, “Such a sweet girl.” He sets a hand on your cheek, the other moving to your neck as he takes another step closer. “Open your mouth.”

You do, and he lines his cock with your lips before slipping himself back into the warmth of them. His cock hits the back of your throat, and it makes you gag again when he does it again. His grip on the side of your neck tightens, and he's almost guiding you again as he slowly fucks into your mouth, his eyes focused on you and his lips parted at the sight of you so undone.

More tears begin their descent down your cheeks, your mascara running as it does. Your lipstick has begun to smudge, red lining the base of his cock and smearing over the corners of your lips.

He shudders. “The things this mouth can do is magical. It's fucking perfect, baby.”

After a rough thrust into your mouth, your hands find his hips as you pull him back a little. You gasp, catching your breath as a cough rattles your chest. He only gives you a moment to adjust before his cock is in your mouth again.

He listens to you, the sound of your hums in the back of your throat being interrupted by the tip of his cock rubbing against it. He curses under his breath, holding you by your head and keeping you still as he continues to rock his hips into your mouth.

It's when you can't breathe once more that you tap your hand against his side quickly, pushing him back when he doesn't listen. You gasp, coughing again and keeping your hand at his waist to keep him back. You wipe at your eyes to clear them, looking at him once you've calmed and watching him stare at you like a predator would a hunk of meat.

“Sorry, sir,” you mutter, stroking your hands on his thighs again to appease him. He just smiles, running a hand through your hair.

“That's okay, Birdy,” he says. “Get on the bed.”

You stand on trembling legs, crawling back onto the bed for the second time on your hands and knees. Once you're comfortable, you lean forward to press your face against the plush, red pillows on the bed.

He sighs appreciatively, fingering the waistband of your lingerie. He unhooks them from your stockings and pulls them down your thighs, revealing your sticky, wet pussy. With a hum, he rips them up to toss the fabric away. Your breath hitches.

Blue stares at your pussy, watches you clench around nothing, watching your arousal seep from your folds. He rubs his thumb through your slit, coating it in your slick as your hips jerk in response. He licks his thumb, closing his eyes and humming at the taste of you.

His hands grope your ass, smacking you a couple times. You feel the bed dip behind you, and moan when you feel his hot mouth against your cunt. His tongue flattens against your dripping folds, collecting your arousal on his tongue as he hums roughly against you. His tongue digs insistently between your folds, and you feel him suckle around your clit.

“Blue,” you sigh. “Oh, please don't stop.”

He grunts into you like a crazed beast, groping your flesh and eating you up. When he pulls away from you, you whimper and feel your body tensing uncomfortably.

He shoves two thick fingers inside of you, pressing them as far as they'll go and stroking them roughly. You bite your lip to stifle your moans, fisting the sheets as you struggle to keep still.

“Fuck, you're still so tight,” Blue sighs. “You'd think I'd break you in by now.”

You wiggle your hips slightly, not entirely of your own volition as the thought of his cock inside of you excites your rushing blood. “Please,” you begin again, almost sounding whiny with how needy you are.

“Please what?” he asks. “What do you want, huh? You want me to fuck this little hole, Birdy? Is that what you want?”

You nod quickly. “Yes, sir, please! Want you to fuck me so bad, Blue, please.”

His hands massage your hips, “You want me to use you?”

“Yes!”

“You want me to ruin you?”

“Yes, sir!”

Without warning, he shoves his cock inside of you, thrusting all the way in with one slap of his hips. You moan out, gripping the sheet tight as you feel the glorious stretch of his girth.

He bends down over you, hooking an arm around your neck and pulling you up to support yourself on your hands. He pushes his fingers past your parted lips, making you suck your arousal off his fingers as he pushes your tongue down to the bottom of your mouth.

“Fuck,” he huffs. “Love this tight little pussy.” He grips your waist, pulling out of you just to smack his hips into you once again. You let out a loud, breathy moan as he does. Feeding off your validation, his pace picks up as he begins thrusting into you at a punishing force.

You clench around him, your weak arms shaking as you try to keep yourself up. “Ah, please don't stop.” Your voice is teetering on the edge of a sob as he continues to fuck you like he's been starved of you for years. “Fuck, Blue, yes!”

“Yeah?” he grunts. “You like when I fuck you like this? Nice and rough?” His voice is low and gravely, depraved. “Does this little whore cunt like being fucked?”

You nod, letting your head fall forward. “Yes, sir!”

“I know it does.” A rough thrust comes with a low growl from him. “My cock hungry little slut needed this, didn't she?”

You nod again, clenching the sheets until your fingers start to tingle. The slap of skin on skin is loud and sharp, a rhythmic beat of slk! slk! slk! as you soak his cock in your arousal.

He pulls out of you suddenly. You whimper at the loss of his thick length, but you're interrupted when he shoves you onto your side. He lifts your leg, spreading you out as he sets it over his shoulder. His tip presses between your folds and he's thrusting again, bottoming out as the whole of him is sheathed in your warmth.

Your reaction is immediately, high-pitched moans worthy of a professional porn actress and clenching walls that squeeze his cock and make him twitch. “Fuck, look at you,” he huffs as he fucks into you. “Greedy little slut takin’ my cock. You my greedy whore? Hm?”

“Mhmm,” you moan, turning your head into the bed to stifle your moan.

“Nah-ah, talk to me, baby. Lemme hear it. You're my little fucktoy, aren't you?” He pulls your body closer to the edge of the bed, grunting.

“Yes, sir,” you huff. “‘M your little fucktoy. All yours!”

“Good girl,” he urges, shifting your legs again to close them to thrust into a tighter pussy. He curses again, you can feel each little movement of his cock inside of you and you whine as he thrusts into you, a steady in-and-out rhythm that drags along your walls and makes you light-headed.

“Fuck, sir, please. More, I need more,” you moan, giving him what he wants. His thrusts become rougher still, relishing in the delicious feeling of your pussy so tight around him. “Please can I come?” you cry. “Please, I needa cum, Blue. Please, please, please.”

He scoffs. “I don’t care, baby bird. Cum for me.”

Your finger finds your clit now that you have the permission to touch yourself in your hands. You rub tight, fast circles, ignoring the ache in your arm that quickly builds at the exertion. Your cunt tightens more and more around his pistoning cock as you get closer and closer to your own sweet release. The pleasure is so intoxicating, it melts your brain as you succumb to the pleasure.

He can feel you beginning to quiver, steeling his jaw as you do. “You gonna cum for me, Birdy?” he grunts. “I know you are. I’ve got you whining and moaning like a little bitch. Listen to yourself, so fucking pathetic.”

His words make you rub faster at your clit, building the pleasure as you balance on the edge, ready to jump off. “You wanna cum, baby? Do it. Do it for me. Cum for me, little bird.”

The coil in your belly snaps as you go flying off the edge, your release crashing down around you like a mighty wave. You cry out, moaning loudly, whining like a little bitch. “Ah—Blue! Fuck, yes, yes, yes! Fuck, I’m cumming.”

He fucks you through it, his pace quickening and his cock twitching as you clench around him, gripping like a vice. His breaths are growing louder, his control slipping piece by piece.

As you come down from your high, the sensitivity kicks in and the tingling of your release turns into a dull burn. Your clench for a different reason, reaching toward his abdomen to push him back, to no avail.

“Blue, sir,” you mumble, stuttering slightly. “Fuck, slow down.” He doesn’t listen. “Blue, please, slow down. I—Ah—I need a second.”

He keeps thrusting away inside of you, his hips not stopping for a moment as he continues to use your little hole like you’d begged him to moments before. “Blue–”

“Shh, just shut up,” he breathes, impatient. “Shut up and take it, little bird. I know you can do it. You were made for this, yeah?”

You try again. “Bl–”

He pulls out of you quickly, spreading your legs wide and turning you on your back just so he can shove his cock back into your sensitive cunt. When you whine, he slaps a hand over your mouth to silence you. His face, inches from yours, is marked with lust and impatience and something far more primal as he stares at you. “Shh,” he eases, his punishing pace immediately as he ruts into you, an unsentimental beast. “The only thing I wanna hear coming out of you are those little moans when I fuck you dumb, you understand me?”

You can’t answer, he’s got his hand clasped tight over your lips. His cock keeps pounding into you, his other hand gripping your thigh so tight, his dull nails dig into your flesh and leave little crescent marks. He’s usually not this insistent.

It takes a moment, but the sensitivity washes away into another wave of arousal as his hips keep slamming into you. You wade into the pleasure, letting it take you as you moan against his palm. He removes his hand, clasping it over your throat instead just to hold you as he thrusts. “Such a good girl, listening to me, moaning for more. You wanted it bad, didn’t you? That’s why you were on stage letting all those boys touch you like that, grinding on them like the little whore you are, huh?”

You nod, “Yes, sir.”

“You just wanted a nice fuck,” he scoffs. “You can come as much as you want, Birdy.” He punctuates his words with a finger to your clit, and your hips jerk at the feeling, not yet recovering from the sensitivity there. You try to wiggle your hips away, but he doesn’t let you as he starts with a cruel pace, playing with your clit like making you cum is a punishment.

Your moans are loud as he pleasures you, for better or worse. You clench his cock and moan his name and beg him for nothing in particular. “Blue, please. Fuck, please.”

He answers you by making his thrusts just a little harder, almost bruising with the way he slams his hips against yours. You’re light-headed as the pleasure rattles in your skull, in your bones. You feel tears pricking at your eyes as the pleasure builds, a blinding pleasure that warns another release. When you cum a second time, it’s with a whining sigh as the sensitivity carries on through his continued assault on your clit.

You’re out of breath, your voice barely above a whisper as you try to convince him. “Slow down. Ahh, fuck, Blue, please.” But he’s not convinced—or he doesn’t care. He keeps fucking you like he’ll never touch you again.

His thrusts start to become sloppy, and you know he’ll cum soon. The faster he does, the faster you get a moment to recover from your consecutive orgasms and let your body rest. You clench around him, grinding your hips to meet his thrusts as you coax him closer to his own release.

Blue’s cock twitches and he groans. Just as you’re expecting him to cum inside of you, he pulls out with a heavy sigh. He grips the base of his cock, staving off his release. He leans over you again and kisses you roughly, a hand wrapping around the back of your neck to pull you up enough to sit. You close your legs, but he forces them open once more as he continues to kiss you.

His hand massages the inside of your thigh, and when his hand finds your clit again, your legs jerk. He keeps them open. You gasp when his hand rubs at your clit, fast and rough and making your head spin with how wonderful and how aching it feels. Your hips jerk up to meet his hand, but you also try to move away from him as your still-fresh release hangs over your head.

With the way he touches you, you’ll come again in no time, regardless of how fast it was. “Blue, please, ‘s too much. I can’t.” He just shushes you, rubbing a little faster.

You cry out when he pulls another orgasm from you, a sharp, aching one that fills you with so much ecstasy for a few seconds and quickly falls back into a stinging pain. And just as you suspected, he doesn’t let up.

The tears fall down your cheeks, the pleasure and the pain mixing together too much for you to handle. He smiles at the sight of it, watching it roll down your face with a terrible grin. “So fucking beautiful when you cry for me.”

“Blue–”

“Shh…” His brutal pace on your clit continues on for as long as it needs to in order to bring another release from you. You cry when he does, a mix of a moan and a sob as your body trembles.

He finally steps away from you, giving you a moment to breathe as you lay slack on the bed with shuddering thighs. But he only gives you a moment.

Blue takes you in his arms and rolls you over onto your stomach. You gasp lightly, collecting your thoughts as he lifts your hips up to present you again. You whine insistently when he hooks his thumb inside of you, and you shudder when his cock follows.

“Ah, Blue!” His hands find your waist and use them to guide you on his cock, building his pace once again. You grip the bedsheets and mewl under him, your body arching into the bed when he pushes you down roughly.

He fucks you from behind hard and rough, punishing you for an unknown crime as your sensitive pussy flutters around him. It aches with a dull pain and with a mind-numbing pleasure. You’re conflicted by all the sensations, but the sense is slowly slipping away as he does what he said he was going to do: fuck you dumb.

You can’t think straight, not with the way his cock pistons inside of you. Your moans and sighs huff out of you as they wish, your pussy quivers with each rough thrust, your legs tremble as the slap of his hips make it harder to hold yourself up.

“You like this, baby? You’ve been fucking needing it.” A harsher thrust has you crying out. “Take my fucking cock like the fucking whore you are. Fuck, take it, Birdy. Just like that. Good girl. Good girl.”

The praise and the degradation mixes in your mind. You can do nothing but moan, doing as he says and taking what he gives you as you whine and moan. With the pleasure so hot in your body, the pain has numbed and left a tingly feeling that resides in your fingers, in your toes, in the tip of your tongue.

“Mmm, f-fuck, sir,” you mumble incoherently. “S’good. Feels so good.”

“Yeah? You like being fucked like this,” he says, grunting as he feels himself reaching his own limit.

“Yes,” you breathe. “Yes, Blue.”

“You’re out of your little mind.” He punctuates his sentence with a harsh thrust. His hand snakes around your waist to play with your abused clit again. You mewl and wiggle your hips and do nothing more. He builds you up quickly, and you shudder as your release nears again. You don’t know how many times you’ve come.

“Fuck, Birdy, I’m gonna cum inside this perfect little pussy.” You moan at his words. “You want that? You want me to fuck my cum into your belly? Make you nice and round, perfect fucking belly for a baby.” His hips are getting sloppy, his measured thrusts not as rhythmic and his thrusts more shallow as he grinds inside you. A rough groan scratches his throat as he pushes in deeper and grips you harder. “You’re gonna make me cum, baby. Ah, fuck!”

He spills inside of you, hot and molten and filling you up to the brim as he shoves his cock as far as he’ll go. You shudder, a sobbing moan rising from your sore throat as you reach your own release, fluttering around him and encouraging him.

“Fucking take it,” he grunts, his voice low and gravely. “Take my—mmm—fucking cum like a—hah—a good girl.” Shallow, rough thrusts fuck his cum deep inside of you, and you whine at the sore pleasure it brings.

Blue’s breaths ease very slowly, the pleasure fading off until he can catch his breath and clear his mind. He stays sheathed inside of you, relishing in the warmth of your cunt for a little longer. He bends down, kissing the back of your neck and your cheek. He turns your head so he can reach your mouth, licking your bottom lip as he pulls you into a gentler kiss than the rough ones he’d given before.

When he pulls away, he takes your lip with him before releasing it with a dull slap back against your teeth. His hands push down on your back as he pulls out of you, sighing heavily. “Fuck,” he curses.

He lets you go, and you allow yourself to fall off the bed, your body heavy and limp. He stands, moving you over to lay on your back. He leans over your body, kissing your lips again and gently rubbing his knuckles along your cheek. You manage to look at him, offering what you can of a gentle smile as you try to stay awake, though the fatigue pulls at you.

He runs a hand along your face. “Would you mind singing for me again, little bird?”

Oscar Isaac taglist: @loki-hargreeves @hb8301 @tessarqctt @fanreader @alexxavicry @gublur @katsukis1wife @hatterripper31 @papichulo120627 @anotherblackreader @kmc1989 @the-nerdy-goddess @minigirl87 @woahhajime @notzammm Tag yourself here...

[amourlyns]

❛ HEY VENGEANCE. ❜ ➜ ⁽ masterlist ⁾

✧ 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒕: in which the reader meets bruce wayne at a gala, the riddler is rampant in the city. and this gala is his next target. part one of two.

✧ 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔: mentions of alcohol consumption, and drugs. bruce is vv emotionally repressed, he’s got problems ok?

✧ 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒔: 🦦 this is pattison’s batman influenced by matt reeves (the batman.) no use of y/n, pov switches to bruce twice in this fic. listen to 〞thank god for the rain 〞 by bernard herrman for ambiance.

⟡ ⠀ | Gotham is well (…) an odd city. An odd city with slick—tongued alley cats who roam and lurk at each corner, merging with the shadow and watching passerby dance and speak in hypnotic tongues.

You liked to call it the Gotham effect, it comes with the city of sin and crime. It’s odd, like you stated before. There’s the occasional glitz and glamor of wealthy Gothamites, galas laced with cocaine pearls and wine filled bottles (…)

Accompanied by champagne flutes and hors d’oeuvre’s to indulge in for the night.

And within this false sense of normalcy and entitlement, there’s the night. The Gotham better known for its crime and vigilantes. You see, everyone in Gotham is acting. The key to understanding it all in Gotham is the rhythm.

The people are the rhythm, the day is the rhythm. The night is the rhythm. And within this element of rhythmic chaos, there’s always something lurking. Watching the city underneath light polluted skies and charcoal clouds. When the smog seems to clog up your lungs and choke your breathing, there’s always something else to worry about.

The Batman, of course.

If anything, he highlights what Gotham is at the core. A broken city, deeply scarred and angry. Scratching at its surface to be heard. To be healed. Has Gotham always been seeking justice and light? Or is it seeking something much more carnal and sinister (…) Vengeance? A certain greed?

Whatever it was, it spoke to Gothamites. Hate the Bat, or love the Bat. He spoke for the city of Gotham, and he would always be there at every corner, watching.

Gotham is sick and venal.

You hope for the day of a real rain to come and wash off the scum from the streets. For now, it’s the Bat who takes care of the illness. Could 〞 it 〞 save Gotham?

Maybe.

It’s silly thought anyways, Gotham has been plagued with crime for decades. Some masked vigilante wouldn’t be able to stop that regardless. The thought is flimsy and useless. Something made out of hope and optimism, the kind of thing you consume in dreams. Not only that, but the Batman is more of a fable, a myth.

Besides, there was no use in consuming yourself with thoughts of Gotham and its nightly specter. For now, you’re here, at another Gala— with the same diluted faces and the same twisted smiles. Then night moves on in an odd distorted way, a blur even.

The man who snaps you out of this daze is Bruce Wayne. Gotham’s Prince, the man of the hour. You could only wonder what caused this recluse to emerge out of the manor he calls home. Unlike other notable people in Gotham, Bruce Wayne chooses to live a quiet life shrouded in mystery.

When he does remove himself from the confines of the manor, and the tabloids simply go into a frenzy. Like sharks during a feeding. It feels like everyone in Gotham wanted a piece of Bruce Wayne. Craving a flesh they surely don’t deserve.

Something tells you to draw closer to the oddity, like this would be the only time you’d be able to lay your eyes on Bruce Wayne in the flesh. So, you might as well take the opportunity to really take him all in.

Wayne eventually loses the limelight. The audience dies and you decide to pass through the sea of bodies that separate you two. He notices this of course, ever so vigilant. Some part of you expects him to flee and avoid the confrontation all together. Wary hues remain fixated on your figure slipping through the crowd.

Surely he isn't waiting (…) Right ?

Apparently he wasn’t, not like you knew of course. Bruce Wayne was a hard man to decipher after all, you couldn't tell if something compelled him to stay or if that kept him still.

For the first time tonight, you're accompanied by someone else. It'd off to say the least, Bruce is certainly a presence to behold, sure. But he wouldn't even spare a glance at you, you gaze eventually follows his line of sight.

Now? Now, all eyes are set on beacon in the sky now. The symbol of the night.

Batman is called by the city tonight, needed in the shadows once more. You could only wonder what for. You’re not one for new and tabloids but, there has been some discussion about the 〞 Riddler. 〞

Gotham’s newest deranged lunatic villain.

The man was terrifying, you’ve seen the footage. You've seen the terror and heard the screams. So how was the Batman going to save the city now? The thought of Gotham coming to its own demise (…) it was bound to, the city hasn’t had hope in a long time. You knew that very well.

Now what was he thinking? Did the Wayne believe in the Bat? In Vengeance, and his own crusade. Before you can even ask the question, he’s turning away. Maybe he’s had enough of your company for tonight.

❛ MISTER WAYNE, WAIT. Before you go, I’m just (…) curious about this one thing━━ IT’S THIS (…) BAT. VENGEANCE, do you really think he can protect the city ? Save Gotham ? His motives just seem so unclear. He’s menacing, almost reminds me of the Riddler. It’s all about vengeance, no ? Whether it’s about the city or people who’ve wronged you. ❜

Bruce does not turn back around to face you, instead he turns his head. Adjusting his gaze to you and the symbol in the night, it shifts. Once, twice than thrice. His face is unreadable. Typical.

He wants to speak, you know that much. Yet he doesn’t, for whatever reason. Bruce chooses to stare right through you.

You let him.

He doesn’t owe you a response, you know that much. Before you know it, he’s gone.

𝙱𝚁𝚄𝙲𝙴 𝚆𝙰𝚈𝙽𝙴’𝚂 𝙿𝙴𝚁𝚂𝙿𝙴𝙲𝚃𝙸𝚅𝙴 𝙾𝙵 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙶𝙰𝙻𝙰. A FEW HOURS BEFORE YOUR ENCOUNTER (…)

⟡ ⠀ | THE CITY IS QUIET TONIGHT. Unlike any another night, the city streets are deserted, emptied if you will. It’s all because of the recent attacks by the Riddler. There’s a few stranglers of course, sticking near the shaded roads and corners.

There’s a gala tonight, Alfred informed me on that. He wanted to me to attend because I needed to 〞 maintain 〞 my appearances for the sake of my family’s reputation and legacy. I only agreed because it would be the perfect opportunity to watch the city through civilian eyes. And give me an advantage.

The suit is less than ideal. Tight, stuffy and constricting.

Alfred is in the middle of fixing my tie when he tells me I look like my father.

I do not reply to that.

I stare into the mirror. Taking the time to analyze my polished appearance, Alfred fixes my tie and hands me my father’s cuff links once more. Now he’s watching me closely, too closely. Like I’ll break and shatter because he mentioned my father.

My face must’ve given my thoughts away, Alfred is quick to place his hand on my shoulder. Giving it a squeeze. My eyes dart between his hand and his face.

There’s that (…) sympathy again, or was it regret? Sometimes the two emotions blur and mix, all into one.

I should be kinder to Alfred.

If I could vocalize it, I would. But it comes out all raw, sore and achy. Like I’m forcing the kindness out of me. If only I could— could verbalize this gratitude. I would—

My chest throbs at the guilt. I grimace. Alfred seems to get it somehow, he can see the apology in my eyes. He lets me go for the time being, I insist to drive myself. He obliges.

The arrival is dreadful. The lights are too bright and there’s too many eyes on me. Voices ring out, calling out my name— Gothams Prince, Wayne, Mister Wayne, Bruce Wayne. They chant to me. The media swarms me like flies, and questions flood after.

I hardly keep my head above the water, I’m practically drowning. The only thing that keeps me going is that light in the sky.

The signal.

The media disperses, shifting towards the beacon of light that brands the sky tonight. From my peripheral view, I see something moving closer to me. Slipping through the sea of people. Their destination is to me. My gaze remains fixated on the bat-signal.

I have to go.

The figure besides me shifts, eyeing me down every now and then. I decide to take my leave.

❛ ❛ MISTER WAYNE, WAIT. Before you go, I’m just (…) curious about this one thing━━ IT’S THIS (…) BAT. VENGEANCE, do you really think he can protect the city ? Save Gotham ? His motives just seem so unclear. He’s menacing, almost reminds me of the Riddler. It’s all about vengeance, no ? Whether it’s about the city or people who’ve wronged you. ❜ ❜

Their words capture me for a few moments. I still. Letting the words settle into my mind. I can’t find it in me to look at them.

WHEN I LEAVE, it seems like the city mocks me. It feels like the rain corrodes my kevlar. The frigid rain seems to sink through bone marrow and nip away at skin. There’s a ferocious wind in Gotham tonight, the rain drenches everything in a torrential downpour.

Storm drains are filled and plugged, creating miniature oceans in the road.

When I arrive, the commissioner informs me on the recent developments of the Riddler. He has plans for tonight, and another letter written for me.

An explosion goes off that night.

[sam-keeper]

The Vourdalak (2023)

The metatextual commentary on the horror genre looms large when people talk about Funny Games (1997), and understandably so. It doesn't take long after the first literal wink to the camera for meta stuff to take over, and for the commentary on horror fans to get pointed. But I was struck, while watching, by a different aspect of the film: politeness and middle class social convention setting traps as diabolical as any Jigsaw ever designed. The characters sleepwalk their way into their gruesome torturous deaths in part through politeness and forbearance. indeed the serial killing duo that torments them seem almost like an infection spread from one household to the next via the same social niceties, polite introductions transmitting them from one group to the next.

So: The Vourdalak.

The titular monster in The Vourdalak is a puppet, and an almost muppet-esque one at that. Like, we're not talking near-naturalistic animatronics here, we're talking a puppet that can flare his eyes open, and open and close his mouth, and otherwise acts through the body language artistry of puppeteers. It's incredible to look at, and totally not even remotely a little bit believable as a person. And yet, the entire family that Ambassador from the King of France Marquis Jacques Antoine Saturnin d’Urfe encounters in the wilderness of (maybe) Serbia seems paralyzed by the apparition of the household's patriarch. Despite the man's own firm warning not to trust whatever comes back from the woods wearing his guise, they sit this grotesque, obviously dead puppet down at the table, offer it food, and force the family closeted transsexual to shoot the family dog at its behest, all while Jacques Antoine Saturnin d'Urfe sits there in his poncy white makeup and blush and wig all but looking right at the camera helplessly. It's horrific, and also completely ludicrous.

The absurdity of it is part of what makes it horrible: even though everyone involved (except perhaps the drunken, pathologically devoted son Jegor) can see something has gone catastrophically wrong with grandfather Gorcha, their filial duties render them powerless to halt what's happening. They're also profoundly vulnerable: Piotr is at minimum a cross dresser, Anja is cowed by her husband Jegor and must look after her young son Vlad, and Sdenka is trapped in a futureless morass after the murder of the stranger who promised to take her away from the village. Also, the village has been seemingly wiped out by bandits, making the Vourdalak's presentation of the bandit leader's head impressive but pointless, and rendering the cast profoundly isolated.

Even Jacques Antoine Saturnin d'Urfe is hampered by being just the wettest protagonist. The man is a floppy noodle in period accurate caked on makeup. Wildly out of his element, he summons periodically the gumption to chase after Sdenka (she responds by nearly tricking him into falling off a cliff) but otherwise just minces about rather aimlessly, too out of his depth and paralyzed by social convention to put up much resistance to the blood sucking revenant. I didn't hate him, mind--part of the humor and horror of the story comes from watching this high society guy bumble around in the 18th century equivalent of a backwoods hick horror film. It's clear he wants to do the right thing, and shows the Vourdalak's prospective victims sympathy alien both to the monster and to Jegor. He just happens to be about as effectual and plausible an opponent to the undead as a peacock dipped in a particularly muddy puddle.

This year we also watched the 2001 French adventure horror period film Brotherhood of the Wolf, and it's interesting that for all its attempts to feel contemporary to 2001, it mostly feels… very contemporary to 2001, if you get me. I mean, credit where it's due, it CLEARLY inspired a significant part of the look of Bloodborne, but in trying for a modern glitz it winds up embodying not just a bunch of aesthetics (ZOOMS! FAST CUTS! THE MATRIX JUST CAME OUT EVERYBODY LET'S SPEED UP AND SLOW DOWN THE ACTION SCENES!) that are very locked into their time, but a bunch of tropes that feel similarly dated (the Wise Native American Sidekick, the love interest menaced by a disfigured and incestuous brother, sssssome sort of position on the French Revolution that's kind of hard to figure out?).

The Vourdalak, in embracing an already "outmoded" form of puppetry, and cleaving closer to the alien high class aesthetics of the 18th century that Brotherhood replaces with their more hip take, feels like it's destined to age a bit better. The strength of the fable helps. When in one of the most truly wretched scenes of the film the Vourdalak picks up a shotgun and blasts a hole in poor Piotr's skull, it feels discordant that this gothic horror should be wielding modern weaponry. But it also feels perversely fitting: the patriarch simply makes use of whatever tools are at his disposal to keep the family disciplined. The Vourdalak is said to prey first on its closest loved ones. Jacques Antoine Saturnin d'Urfe does such a good job of being a polite guest who doesn't make waves that the Vourdalak can't help but see him as one of the family. I don't expect this narrative of being sucked (hah) into complicity losing its bite anytime soon.

[themakeupbrush]

In no particular order, my top looks from the 2023 Met Gala "Karl Lagerfeld: A Line in Beauty"

My thoughts are below, but I'll be honest, I didn't really do any background research this year because there wasn't much to be done. These are really just my opinions on whether or not I liked the look.

Ironically, I felt this was a very mediocre year, which led to me having a lot more favorites than usual because they were kind of all on the same level. In previous years I would have separated this into multiple posts, but I don't really see the point.

Doja Cat: I wanted someone to dress up as Choupette the cat and she delivered, and managed to do so in a way that was still fitting for the event

Keke Palmer: She looked amazing, and really captured the Chanel look with the bombshell hair and the extremely bedazzled tweed. I honestly don't want to think about how much that dress weighed

Anne Hathaway: Besides that fact that I love everything Anne Hathaway has ever done, this dress was the perfect combination of honoring Lagerfeld's style while also incorporating it into the style of the brand she was representing (Versace). It had tweed and pearls, but also sex appeal and safety pins

Cardi B: First, I just want to appreciate her ongoing commitment to high fashion and the fact that she had three (3) completely separate looks. This particular Miss Sohee look was my favorite because she's living out my glinda barbie mermaid fairy princess dreams

Harvey Guillen: This was one of the first looks I saw of the night, and still one of my favorites. It has all the Lagerfeld style essentials, but still manages to look unique. Plus, creative menswear always gets extra points because the bar is painfully low, though this year was a surprisingly pleasant exception.

Jennifer Lopez: It's not the most creative look, but it's right up my alley and honestly, do we expect anything groundbreaking from JLo? She's always going to show up in something pretty that's decently on theme enough for me to just focus on whether or not I like it. And this immediately makes me think of classic Chanel.

Penelope Cruz: She was a co-host, it's vintage Chanel couture from the 80's, and she's one of the people I most heavily associate with Lagerfeld and Chanel. A win all around.

Russell Westbrook: I really want to give Russell Westbrook credit for always showing up to the Met Gala and really going for it. I love all the details: the pearl necklace, the tweed blazer with floral clasps, the bows on the shoes

Chloe Fineman: Another first look that turned out to be a favorite. This again had all the necessary design elements without feeling like a cheap knockoff. Also major points for the bedazzled cat bag.

Anok Yai: I don't know and I don't care how this relates to theme, she looked like a goddess

Bad Bunny: Another man not only doing something interesting but incorporating the theme? Genuinely shocking. Obviously I loved the OTT floral cape, but I really loved the ode to c. 2005 Chanel with the backless suit and backwards necklace.

Gisele: She wore the same dress from an iconic 2007 editorial, proving not only that she still has it, but that she's always had it. A true supermodel.

Salma Hayek: She looked hot, I don't know what else you want me to say about it. Also it had color, which nothing else did. My eyes were starving for color.

Glenn Close: For starters, she needed an entire team to carry her train so props for that. She brought the drama, the glitz, and the "age is just a number so shut the hell up" glamor.

Lil Nas X: This was, for lack of a better phrase, a cheeks out, bedazzled, balls to the wall look. The Choupette inspiration is more obvious when he was inside with the fur (ish?) coat on, but I honestly didn't care. I needed a moment and he delivered. Though I do wonder (1) how long it took to bedazzle him and (2) will he every fully be de-glittered.

Brian Tyree Henry: I don't know if it's the pose or the cape, but it's giving me dramatic shakespeare vibes and I appreciate it.

Naomi Campbell: The only issue I have with this look is that they called 2010 Chanel Couture "vintage" and I can't accept that. Beyond that, I mean, it's Naomi Campbell in Chanel Couture. I was also dying for any semblance of color at this point and somehow this dress was among the most colorful

Jenna Ortega: The perfect combination of chanel tweed cropped blazer/mini skirt and the Wednesday Addams aesthetic. Which was interesting because I thought she was trying to move away from that but I don't care it was a successful look

Ava Max: Chanel was known for the haute couture bride, and this not only really captures that, it was one of the most and quite honestly only majorly dramatic looks of the night

Halle Bailey: She looked like a mermaid and I love that for her

Ashley Graham: I would have loved this look regardless, but after seeing the dress it was modeled after, I also think it was one of the best tributes of the night

Tems: Has she ever looked bad on a red carpet? Her headpieces are just getting bigger and more elaborate and I see nothing wrong with that.

Diddy: I love the drama + the floral cape, though I am left wondering how he didn't faint under all of that. Also, you can roast me all you want for captioning his post with Sean Combs but that's what was given to the AP so it's what I went with.

Shai Gilgeous Alexander: A final man who followed the theme and wore something interesting, arguably more interesting than some of the women. I actually think I like this look better without the coat over it.

[universestreasures]

Mokuba's Future Force & Disaster Force Potential

My lovely boyfriend ( @throneofein ) were discussing this a while back, and I thought I'd consolidate my thoughts from that discussion into a proper HC post.

So, for those of you who are not aware, the Future Force and Disaster Force are two powers in Buddyfight that allow the user to bring cards into reality. They are both similar in application but come from different sources of strength. And in the Future Force's case, it's a power I've let my Tasuku in his YGO DM verse keep because it's a core aspect of not only his power set (it's what makes him really stand out and why people should see him as a threat) but also isn't too out of the ordinary in YGO considering we got tons of ways to make cards real (like anyone in Arc-V can do it through tech and not magic, and there are tons of users with magic who do it before hand).

However, that got me to thinking about if my boy Mokuba has the potential to access either of these abilities, since there are certain requirements (though not properly outlined in the show), just in case this could pop up in any plotting sessions.

So, let's start with the Future Force. The Future Force is said to derive it's powers from one's future self, for when you no longer exist you cannot access the ability (as we saw in S2 with Tasuku). The only characters in canon who have it are Tasuku, Gao (but really more so for plot moments, he can't activate it at will like Tasuku), and one of the kids from the Ace manga (which since no translated scans exists, sadly I cannot read ;;;). So, it is very rare.

What I think triggers the Future Force is how 'strong' one's future potential is, and their desire to change the future in the service of some great cause. Tasuku, being the Boy of Destiny, fits this well, since he's essentially been tasked to protect the future by his magical destiny (which is a whole other thing the series didn't go into that I need to expand upon at some point). Gao also fits this since he is a fighter full of potential, as shown through him growing so much at Buddyfight, and his own unpredictable nature and good heart wanting to go towards a good future.

Going by these examples, do I think Mokuba has that same capability? I actually think he does. While Mokuba of the two Kaiba Bros is associated more with the past, he still very much is concerned about the future. The future of the company. The future of Kaiba Land. The future he'll have. The kid has a lot of potential to fully blossom as he gets older (which I have a HC post planned for Mokuba's birthday discussing what I think some potential futures for him are, some I've plotted already). Plus, he wants to make a big change, in his own way. He wants to make an impact on the world, one to make it better for the kids of the future through Kaiba Land. A place where less fortunate kids can go play and be happy. It's not saving the world or anything, but its still a noble goal.

I do think if he ever got access to the power, it be more like Gao's. It wouldn't be something he could access or actively control and he probably would black out or experience memory loss when it happens.

As for the Disaster Force, its requirements are a little more dubious. The Diaster Force is created by utilizing spatial rifts that are created when Buddyfight cards link the player to the parallel worlds the monsters come from. We do know it has the power to corrupt people. So, it's one of those powers, similar to the Orichalcos in YGO, that can be controlled only by those of a certain willpower and probably have some degree of darkness in their hearts.

Now, you might be thinking Mokuba in S0 or the early manga would be a candidate for this power, but I actually think he would not. As per my own interpretation, Mokuba's 'gremliness' as I call it was mainly in response to Seto's rejection and distance from him. He felt like he had to be that way to get his brother's love and attention back. It's why he flips back to the Mokuba most of us know (with still a hint of it in there, but that's more because that's Mokuba's general chaotic nature and sass, not malice) after his brother loses in Death-T. It wasn't really that genuine and wasn't true to who he is as a person.

So, while I think he could be corrupted by the Disaster Force, I doubt he'd be a proper candidate for it unless there were very, very specific circumstances.

[chaosandstardust]

so there's a lot, A LOT, I could say about James Somerton's apology, such as his avoiding discussing things like misinformation and his misogyny, his insane justification for his plagiarism (as a person who makes history content I often copy-paste things over into a word doc because I get tired of switching between tabs, and I have NEVER mistaken something for mine because the FONT is often different but also, even if the font is the same, I know my own writing style well enough to know when something isn't mine), the mentioning of his poor family background ("my dad is illiterate because he had to drop out when he was 7...you know, which is usually around the time that kids have already been taught how to read, RIGHT! I'M GOING WITH THAT!"), etc, etc, etc.

The thing I do want to talk about is his "filmmaking dreams". Mostly because as another Canadian filmmaker, his excuses are bullshit. If James Somerton actually wanted to be a filmmaker, to just make movies, he already would've made at least several shorts. And yes, it is completely possible. It would be difficult, and they probably wouldn't have been masterpieces, but it is absolutely possible. If his support system was as good as he says it was in Nova Scotia, if he had as many other creative minds around him, he would've been out shooting stuff. Hell, I've spent the last few months mapping out a new script, that I'm literally starting to shoot NEXT WEEK. If he wanted to make something, HE WOULD.

And even so, his justifications for continuing to change projects are also batshit. Let's say that I write a script in November, and I want to shoot in June, which is apparently the situation that he found himself in. That is about 7 - 8 months. That is plenty, PLENTY, of time to finish a script, find a crew, nail down some locations, secure some more funding, and cast. Plenty. This idea that he had to change because his film required a summer element and he had to change because of the weather is crazy to me.

Not only that, but there are plenty of film support groups in Canada, focused on producing Canadian content. For example, there's Telefilm, which will give you money, even match your crowdfunding up to a certain number, as well as plenty of other groups. If he had actually wanted to make movies, he would've been asking them for money. You know, groups who will LEGALLY hold you accountable if a film isn't made.

All of this to say is that James Somerton doesn't want to make movies. I doubt he gets any actual joy out of the process of creation at all. He wants to be admired. He wants the glitz and glam of being a filmmaker without doing any of the hard work. He's a lazy creator at the end of the day, and he will find any justification, ANY, to not do the work, whether it's stealing from other creators to "raise their voice" or switching projects again and again and again in an attempt to justify keeping the money that his fans gave him.

[sweetprfct]

**AN: my fics have constant repeated side characters like the reader's bff Sara.

Permanent December (Re-published) - (18+, enemies to lovers, comfort, hurt, fluff) Summary: You and Sara have been best friends for a while now and when Sara had started dating Wes, you realized he also had a best friend. Joe. But somehow, you and Joe tend not to get along all the time. Wordcount (so far): 14.8K

part one - part two - part three - part four - part five - part six - part seven - part eight - part nine - part ten

Written in the Stars - (18+, smut, hurt, comfort, angst) Summary: You are a believer in fate but after getting your heart broken, you had stopped believing it. Until you met Joe. Suddenly, it got you questioning if fate is real or not. Total Wordcount: 44.3K

part one - part two - part three - part four - part five - part six - part seven - part eight - part nine - part ten - epilogue

Is It Over Now? - (18+, smut, fake dating to lovers, hurt, comfort) Summary: Fake dating your flatmate, Joe, should be a simple thing. It meant you get to help get his ex back, and it meant you get to stop your parents' nagging about bringing someone home for once. But what happens when fake dating turns into something unexpected? Now, what? Total Wordcount: 39.4K

part one - part two - part three - part four - part five - part six - part seven - part eight - part nine - part ten

High Infidelity - (18+, hurt, angst, comfort) Summary: Did you really have to chart the constellations in his eyes? Did you really have to tell him how he brought you back to life? Disclaimer: elements of emotional abuse, mention of harming, infidelity Total Wordcount: 16.7K

part one - part two - part three - part four - epilogue

Guilty as Sin? - (18+, smut, fluff) Summary: They said there's no such thing as bad thoughts, only your actions talk. Total Wordcount: 5.9K

part one - part two

Midnight Rain - (18+, angst, hurt, comfort) Summary: The glitz and glamour of Hollywood isn't always what it seems. When Joe had started working with you in a movie, he had started wondering as to why you, the famous Hollywood starlet, has been acting out lately. Was there some dark secret behind all the angry spoiled façade? And why was he so fascinated about it? Total Wordcount: 16.7K

part one - part two - part three - part four - part five

The Hate Formula - (18+, smut, enemies to lovers, fluff, comfort) Summary: Living in the same building, across from each other shouldn't be much of a problem, right? But how come you and Joe tend to always push each other's buttons every day? Is it because you both truly just hated each other or is it because there was something more to it? Total Wordcount: 34.7K

part one - part two - part three - part four - part five - part six - part seven - part eight - part nine - part ten

[1tbls]

been thinking about AF and daemon AU.

i read one fic where artemis had a lemur demon, and i really liked that 👍🏻 like with ms. coulter's daemon, primate daemons are associated with intelligence, but also an element of the cold and calculating, which obviously suits artemis.

however, for me, monkey and great ape daemons also have a touch of brutality or connection to baser instincts. and i don't quite get that same feeling from lemur daemons? i see a lemur daemon as being more in touch with the creative or unconventional. a little more contemplative and reserved. just a touch of whimsy. just as artemis prides himself on maturity, but also chases after fairies.

i get the most artemis vibe from the fork-marked lemur and the silky sifaka, though perhaps the latter is a little too on the nose. they look a little more silly than he would probably prefer, perhaps before she settles she's often in the form of a magpie or other corvid? similar vibe but a little more subdued.

next, butler :) i think a dog daemon is essential for butler for their association with service. my thought process was that it needs to be a dog, something huge and menacing, bite as bad as its bark, but also deeply loving and caring.

regular guard dogs felt right out because there's a persistent hardness to them as daemons. they serve and protect, but where's the softness? now livestock guardians are perfect. they blend in with the herd, take them as family all their own, and the teeth come out for anything that threatens their wooly friends.

here i chose the kangal. the daemon needed to be something big and muscled, but not too fluffy or sweet looking. great pyrenees got ruled out for fluffiness, central asian shepherd dog because their faces look just a little too goofy :p kangals win because they're huge and have a resting bitch face. i also like that the breed is from turkey, a bridge between europe and asia, since butler is described as eurasian.

juliet is a hard one, especially since it's been a while since i've read the books where she's a significant character. the key characteristics i associate with her are strength, extroversion, glitz, and unconventionality, particularly in family expectations. so, my two thoughts:

my first thought was to pair juliet with a wild cat. i think it creates a nice juxtaposition between the butler family expectations of service to the fowl household and her choice to strike out on her own. the same way wild cats may look so much like our pets at home, may not even be physically imposing, but are still dangerous predators. i like caracals specifically because they're a bit stockier in build, and also the ear tufts make them eye-catching like juliet's wrestling outfits :p

not as much thought in choosing the rainbow stag beetle as another option, except that i wanted another option because feline doesn't feel like a 100% fit for juliet to me. "rainbow" stag beetle because jade princess, and a stag beetle because they look tough but mostly they just like to show off (not that juliet isn't actually tough, but she's more interested in the performance than viciousness or sadism.)

[ostrichmonkey-games]

FitD Settings and Unnamed Furry Crime Game and You

Alrighty, as promised, time to talk about Setting Stuff.

This is a post both about what the setting for (the still!) Unnamed Furry Crime Game is going to generally be like, and also a bit about settings in Forged in the Dark games in general. 

Okay so, let’s define Forged in the Dark games as ttrpgs that cover Blades in the Dark and any game that uses the same general engine and setup. Blades is the progenitor, and a lot of FitD stick relatively close to its formula (but not all, there’s plenty of room to poke around and rearrange things), and one of the more important elements, I think, is the “powder keg sandbox” setup.

In Blades, the players are underdog criminals doing underdog criminal things like causing problems on purpose. Those problems cascade, intersecting with the different factions/characters present in the setting, and usually then creating more and more problems for the players to deal with. That’s the powder keg sandbox — a relatively open setting, filled with kindling (factions/characters with conflicting and interesting goals and motivations), and then the players are dropped in the middle of it, and positioned in a way that no matter they do, they are going to be conflicting with at least some of those characters/factions, thereby igniting the kindling and making the whole thing explode in a blaze of fun. It’s great.  

So, in short, the purpose of a setting in a FitD game is to create that powder keg sandbox. It has to be filled with interesting characters/factions that are both compelling (to encourage players to interact with them) and conflicting with each other and players (so that when players interact with them, explosions happen!), while still providing enough purposeful space so that there’s room to be flexible as players start interacting with everything and changing the world around them. A good sandbox has plenty of room to play and dig around in, and then to make it a powder keg, just bury some sticks of dynamite in there and hand the players a bunch of lit matches. Boom.  

Now let’s talk about Unnamed Furry Crime Game (UFCG because I’m done typing all that out and I don’t want to think about coming up with an actual title right now). I don’t mind wearing my influences on my sleeves, and the biggest one here is Lackadaisy. I mean, the whole concept of the game was sparked when the animated pilot first released and I did a reread of the webcomic (pretty sure I first found it around 2009, which is wild to think about), and what’s more fun than a bunch of anthropomorphic animals doing crime things in a period setting? So, the initial spark for the game was Prohibition era Crime Time, but with furries (not just limited to cats, as a way to distance the game more from the initial inspiration and also because it’s fun). However, this was never going to be a purely historical game, it was (and still is!) going to be set in a fictional city in a fictional world — so more historically inspired than truly set. 

This was done to free myself from doing too much research (there’s still necessary research though), and also to give myself more creative freedom. From there, the premise started to turn into “What if the Prohibition hadn’t ended? What would that look like?”. And that’s still part of the core premise. So I guess, it’s a speculative alternate fictional history thing?

Freed from any truly historical restraints, I started tossing in other extras that could be fun. Like, what if airships/dirigibles were still in major use? Yeah, let's go for it. What if the city the game takes place in draws from classic Hollywood and noir? Yeah, let’s go for it (also at this time I had watched Babylon, which, not going to say was good, but the vibes are fun). What if I also pulled aesthetically from Gotham, specifically the Batman: The Animated Series version? Yes! Now we’ve got a setting of glitz and glamor and shady hard-boiled grit. Which is a great setup for Crime Time. 

Being less historically strict, also gives me more room for exaggeration and over-the-top-ness. I want UFCG to be characterful. I want there to be an emphasis on larger-than-life elements, both player characters and all the factions and NPCs. Especially in the case of the factions/NPCs, they need to be chunky and discrete blocks that are easy to instantly grab onto and pick up and play with. This loops back to filling your sandbox with cool things, and if the sandbox itself is cool, then that’s going to rub off on the stuff buried in the sand. More exaggerated components make for more flammable kindling. 

This is another reason having just a singular city-setting tends to work well for a FitD sandbox powder keg — a city is just naturally densely packed with stuff (now, the hard work will be writing all that stuff, but I’ll get to that bridge eventually). In a densely packed space, it’s also very easy to make everything connected to each other. Which means it’s going to be very difficult for players to make a move without impacting someone or something else! Again, boom. 

So then, why furries? Well like I already said, it’s fun. That in and of itself is enough reason, but also, I think it creates a useful level of abstraction that makes creating exaggerated characterful characters more easily. It’s easier to be a little more goofy without breaking things when you have a bunch of animal people running around. 

That’s the general gist and thought process behind the setting I’m assembling. There’s still most of it to actually write, but you do need a fun concept to make a fun setting, so it’ll get done as it needs to get done. 

I am still a little unsure of what I want to do for something weirder within the setting. Should magic be real? There’s plenty going on that it doesn’t feel super necessary. Or, what if magic is not real, but that doesn’t stop the existence of various occult-y factions/organizations from springing up, and maybe they think magic is real (or even leave it ambiguous). On the opposite end of the spectrum, what if I tossed in some dashes of retro-future-y superscience? Atomic Robo style maybe. Basically, I’m still exploring what the line is for pushing things too far. 

With all of that said, what is the text of the game going to provide in terms of setting? What I’m picturing is probably pretty similar to Blades, but maybe with less overall exposition and pulling the most useful setting-building stuff from various N/OSR stuff I like. You can convey a lot of setting information in relatively compact ways that also double as tools to use at the table (i.e. random tables, my best friends). The city will have various breakdowns on districts, notable locations, individuals, etc etc. Factions will have clear goals, conflicting with each other so as to create a web of Problems. Plenty of little miscellaneous details on “life in the city” to function as small nuggets of information and flavor. 

The hardest part will be striking the correct balance of information. You’ll need enough to feel comfortable playing in the setting, but not too much that it starts to feel like homework to run it. Figuring out what’s the correct amount of sand and all that.