#i guess harsher would be more fitting

[cherealta]

going to read all the ace quest transcripts (again) so i can go into full depth of how that affected vivienne Because i really wanna talk about vivienne. desperately

[theartofclowns]

Distraction.

OKAY SO LIKE I REALLY HOPE THIS IS GOOD BECAUSE THE IDEA IS SO FREAKING AMAZING. AHAHJDJSHDF

a/n: first time writing smut so.. be nice! anyways hope you enjoy! NOT PROOF READ BTW!!

cw: AFAB reader!, oral! (reader receiving), slapping, slight choking, cum eating (idk if it counts correct me), slowburn kinda? TELL ME IF I FORGOT ONE PLEASE!!

wc: 4650

————————————

Art was in yalls shared bedroom, whiles you were in the kitchen on your laptop studying for you classes. You had a big exam coming up so you havent been giving him much attention as he wanted. You would oush him away when he tried hugging you, and when he would try to give you kisses. You were very focused and you couldnt have any distractions, not even to give your boyfriend a kiss or a quick hug. He felt unloved during this time and today he wanted it more. His day was shit. Full of his victims escaping and only getting about two kills in. He wanted your attention. He wanted you. And he was going to get what he wanted.

He walked towards the kitchen, where you were obviously, and he wrapped hims arms around your neck loosely. "art im busy. go away.", you say harshly. He stays there with his arms moving down to your shoulders. "art! im busy i said." you say with a slightly harsher and louder tone, clearly stressed. He shakes his head and pulls the chair from under the table. You finally look up from your computer screen and looked at him. His shirt off, and only his pants covering the rest. You smile slightly before shaking your head "babe im very busy.." you say in a softer tone. He mockingly pouts and sighs silently, his arms dropping, putting up a act. You feel guilty and finally get up from the chair youve been glued to for the past 2 days. You look up at him and sigh "what is it?" you ask. He then unexpectingly picks you up and places you on the table. he starts kissing up and down your neck, leaving marks here and there. You moan softly feeling his lips all over you. He then pulls away from your neck and starts rubbing your pussy through your shorts. You feel your cunt get more and more wet as he continues. He keeps eye contact and you look down at his hands. You feel his hand smack against your face and you feel a rough grasp around your neck forcing you to look up at him. He wasnt grabbing to much to where you couldnt breathe but enough to where you can breathe a little. You let out a small moan as he pulls your shorts down, revealing you soaking wet panties. He then rips them effortlessly off of you. He lets go of your neck and bends down to face your dripping cunt. You look down at him with needy eyes. He smirks slightly spitting on your pussy, making it wetter. He starts eating at your pussy like a madman, suckling on your clit and pushing two fingers into your pussy. You let out a low moan as you feel his fingers curling and pushing in and out. He then pulls away from your clit and pulls his fingers out as well. You whine and pout at him. He then mockingly pout and puts his hands up to his face in a crying motion. Humiliating you, he then silently laughs at you. You feel embarrassed and start to tear up. He slaps you once again before ripping a hole through his pants, freeing his huge cock, no matter how much youve seen it you still think it wont fit. Its a good 6.5 inches and has a little girth. You look down with a smile as he puts it up to your hole, he then pulls away and then does it once more. Over and over you get teased, you look at him and whine again "please just "fuck me.". He then puts a finger to his chin, ina thinking motion, before shaking his head. I guess is your karma for ignoring him for so long. He then takes you out of thought by pushing balls deep into your pussy. you moan loudly at this, clawing at his arms, making him look like a zebra. His strokes are fast and short. He then switches to slow, long, hard, strokes. You continue to claw at his arms, moaning softly now. He then quickens his pace once again, his speed is inhumane, you start moaning loudly again as you feel the knot in your stomach tightining. "i..im gonna cum art.." you whisper as your high crashes down onto you. Shaking your entire body. But hes not done, he keeps going, faster now, you dont know how its possible but its art. What do you expect? His strokes become slower and a bit sloppy as hes coming close to his finish. He then leans his head back as he cums inside of you.

He then stays inside of you for a few more seconds before pulling out and kneeling down to face your pussy again, cum spilling out of you. He pushes two fingers inside of you pushing his cum deeper inside of you. He stands back up and comes closer to your face, bringing his fingers to your lips. Cum on them, he presses against your lips, you open your mouth willingly as he pushes his fingers inside, making you taste yourself and himself. He pulls his fingers out after feeling they were clean. He then leaves you there. All fucked out and full of his cum. He goes to the couch and lays down on it.

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

well thats it! i honestly dont think he'd do after care so i didnt put any. IM SORRY! but anyways i hope yall enjoy this!

[velvet-paradox]

Stay (ch. 3)

Fandom: Call of Duty Pairing: Viking!König x Female reader Length: Long Warnings: some strong language.

Realization - The answer - A lesson in training - A birth - Fitting in

The scream that left your throat left you hoarse, as if you'd been calling for your animals back home all day. It was early enough yet after dinner that boots could be heard coming down the hallway towards your room, towards your screaming anguish. Krueger was first through the door, followed by Soap, begging the head of the KorTac clan what in the Gods names was going on back here.

The words you wanted to say came tumbling out like a pile of rocks, spitty, messy, garbled beyond coherent hearing.

Finally a "YOU'RE LYING!" made its was through the blubbering mess of your voice.

"Oh König, you didn't have have family killed did you?"

"Nein!"

"Why is it when I always find her, she is always crying?"

They talked above you as you knelt, crumpling to the floor on your knees and wept. You sounded just like your mother had when The Collector took you for leverage. You covered the back of your head with your hands, trying to breathe, trying to think.

It was no use.

You suddenly felt their hands on you, coaxing you up to at least sit or lay on the bed, or as it were now your bed. You let your body go limp, wanting nothing more than to crush into sand. You curled up and held your head, sobbing terribly. Your eyes hurt, your head pounded, your heart and mind raced.

"Guess you did find yourself a little wife, eh Collector." Soap chided as the three men took their leave.

"Not now, Soap."

….

You cried yourself to sleep. What else could you do? Your father had offered you up for future payment. The bracelet on your arm brought you only a sliver of comfort, not the warm embrace of your mother.

You had stayed up long, late nights dreaming of the day when she would pass it down to you. Who was worthy enough to call you their wife? Who would watch over and protect you from anything slight out of line. What would your dress look like, who would do your hair? Who would be the one to bind your hand together with your new husband?

All those scenarios flew away.

You were now bound to the boogeyman, without your consent. Stuck in this prison. As you rose, sitting up in your bed, your face stained and crusty, you noticed there was a scroll next to your pillow. That was not there before. It was tied neatly with a lock of your mothers' hair.

You fingered over it as you read the letter.

How sorry they were to have to do this, how times had only gotten harsher back home to keep food on the table now that you were gone. Your father was catching just enough fish for the both of them and sometimes only your mother was eating breakfast. The winter months were creeping and they just couldn't afford what was needed and knowing that you would be taken care of, a place to sleep, eat and live was their only concern.

It made you cry even more when you noticed how your mother had signed it.

It was splotched in a few places as if… your mother had been crying while writing.

You cleaved it to your chest and cried yourself back to sleep.

….

You didn't eat with the rest of the clan that night, instead you waited until the music stopped, the bustling dinner and ruckus had died down. Just to see, you pulled on your door.

It was unlatched.

Your eyebrows almost met as you yanked it the rest of the open, lit torches illuminated the dark hallway. The great hall was empty, the tables and chairs were clean, König's throne was empty and gave off the element of intimidation. It was huge, even if he wasn't sat in it.

You looked around the dining hall before climbing up the cold wooden steps, your mother's lock of hair still in your palm and sat down. You felt tiny.

This place would become your home. It wasn't a bad village, it was far bigger than your own, bustling with little shops and wares.

You touched your bracelet and started to well up again.

"Enjoying yourself, wee lass?" Soap peeked around the corner, hoping with your fingers crossed that he wouldn't tattle on you. You hopped up instantly.

"You won't tell him will you?" You meekly asked.

Soap adjusted his leather shirt before going towards the front double doors, hanging around just a bit. He looked over his shoulder at you with a smirk. "Tell who what? Good night, pet."

Your shoulders relaxed and you wandered about the hall, touching the wooden walls, jumping out of the way of a stray cat who was more startled then you were. You found the kitchen cellar eventually, at least there was a loaf of bread left out and some scraps of meat that reminded you of your first night here.

You made it to the back door and creaked it open, the moonlight shining over the tops of your neighbors homes, little fire bugs danced and dallied about the air. You tore off another piece of bread, watching the twinkling stars above, the Gods were out and shining.

"Beautiful night." The Collector scared you as he suddenly walked by, arms behind his back and shirtless. He looked tired, even though you could only see his eyes as he moved closer and leaned against the door. "You were missed at dinner this evening."

You snorted. "By who? No one cares."

"I care."

"Why? Is this a game to you? I'm left here, this isn't my village, these aren't my people. You're a cruel man, with a cruel title. Everyone fears you," you shook your head at his arrogance. "Do you know the children in my village are warned about you, that if they are naughty you will come and snatch them in the night, steal them from their parents. And now… they'll know the sick truth that I too am susceptible to such a fate."

König sighed and pushed off the door, towering over you, making you move out of his way.

"I'll tell you this, pet. I shall let you sulk and whine and moan about your situation but after tonight, you sneaking around to eat stale bread and cheese, get used to it. Your parents are better off."

"How dare you! How can you say that?"

"Because it's true. They can barely get by themselves and you're just another mouth to feed. Here your will be warm for winter, you will participate in village duties, you will pull your own weight. You earn your keep here," König hummed and patted your head, assuming you like the pet that you were. "I know you are strong willed and you'll fit in just fine. You'll also need some training."

"In what?"

"In combat. I'll collect you at dawn; get some rest, pet."

….

He was indeed quite serious about the timing, banging open your door, rousing you like a trained solider at camp, ready to lay waste to the enemy. Frantically dressing, tying your boots off at the front doors of the hall, scrambling behind the big, bad man in the early hours. Not even the shopkeepers were awake, only the bakers.

You weren't tethered to him this morning though.

You tramped over bushes, a well traveled path behind the great hall and out in mornings first light. The sun was gentle, the mist and fog light, the grass still damp.

You wondered about the man before you, was this the plan all along? Did he plan on taking you before changing pay day? He certainly had something in mind because why did he pick on your family first? He barely gave you a glance beforehand. Always snatching and counting coins at your dinner table, grunting if it was enough and then leaving like a phantom.

You soon came into a clearing, there were tree trunk rounds with arrows struck into them at varying angles, tree stumps for exercise and balance training, hanging cloth dolls with previous practice.

You started simple.

He wanted to see your aim. The Collector had handed you a blade that surely had been used for either threats or promises, it was warm and heavy in your hand. He pointed to one of the logs and watched as you hefted it up and threw. He clicked his teeth.

Not impressed.

You did that for quite awhile before moving on to core and balance, standing on one leg one of the tree stumps. He'd poke and prod at your standing leg to keep you on edge, make you think, make you better. You wobbled again and König spanked your ass, making you jolt a little more before righting yourself to the other foot.

"May I ask you something?" You asked, eyes trained on the now swaying stuffed body when the wind picked up.

"I suppose I can entertain you for a moment."

"Soap had mentioned something about your last ransom captive. Told me I should stay on your good side."

"Ah, good man with even better advice."

"Can I ask what happened?" You switched feet again, now with your arms out at your sides.

"Is that not what you are doing right now, pet? Would you prefer the long or short version?"

"Whatever you prefer. I'm curious."

"Hmmm, one should be. I held her captive for the summer months, she tried and failed to escape more than once; hence why I keep you close by and within eyesight like a babe." He pushed your standing leg once more, a satisfied hum when you didn't falter. "I found out she had convinced and seduced one of my own, a traitor. Naturally, you being from here, you understand what the price is don't you?"

"Blood eagle." You half whispered, the sickening image of what you'd known flashed behind your eyes.

"My pet is very smart, good job. So I tied her up, took them both in the night and in front of everyone, the entirety of KorTac itself, held her to my chest and made her watch us blood eagle him. Her screams seemed to last forever. After he was dead and his lungs pulled out, I took my blade and slit her throat. Burned them both afterwards." König gave a light shrug and stood in front of you.

"So yes, Soap was right to tell you not to fuck with me. Understand?"

"Yes, sir."

….

"Again!"

"But it's so heavy."

"It's a fuckin a boulder, it's meant to be. Now pick it up and flip it again. If you're going to be a shieldmaiden you need to be trained, ready." König sighed heavily, even though autumn was on its way, he'd taken off his furs and shirt, scarred skin and taut muscles glinting in the sunrise.

"I'm good with a bow. Isn't that enough?"

"No! Not when I know you're highly capable of being better than just good with a bow. Also, as those are your only pants, bring them to Gaz tomorrow and get a second pair, leather. He'll know what to do and some boots too, those are plenty worn in."

"How will I pay for them?" You asked, out of breath. He was blunt but not murderous to you. You had taken Soap's healthy advice and kept quiet, only answering when spoken to. You were untied and had been able to venture though KorTac's great alone unaccompanied, even though you felt eyes on you at all times.

"Hmph. Just get them."

"On my own?"

"Do you wish for me to escort you myself? As if I am not the clan leader and not busy! Can you be trusted with such a task?" König grabbed another boulder, only slightly smaller from the pile behind you and dropped it at your feet.

"Sorry."

"Ask Keeva to assist you if you want. I can trust you won't run away, ja?"

"I won't."

"Good. Keep going, gotta' build you up some." The Collector shouted words of encouragement that left even your bones sore.

"Thanks for coming with me." Your legs ached and begged for respite as you walked down the lane, a very pregnant Keeva beside you, a basket of mending on her own hip. You took a dip in the bucket in your room, full of fresh cold water before changing into the dress the women of KorTac had laid out for you.

"I'm happy to! I very much enjoy your company and now that you're staying, I'm sure we will be fast friends. And I should get out of the house, Price is making me mad. Any day now for this baby to come out, I feel like I'm going to pop!"

"How do you know I'm staying with KorTac?"

"Simple. You're getting things mended without payment, Gaz does excellent work and charges those foreign to him but now he'll have you fixed up just right. Plus, Price overheard The Collector talking with Soap last night in the hall. Walls aren't very thick if you know what I mean."

"Oh. Yeah, he took me out training this morning. He's intense." You said and rolled your shoulders, still achy from flipping that damn boulder.

"He has to be, love. He's the leader, his need to showcase his work is smart. If he can express that you are now a willing party to KorTac, he will be seen quite strong. Ah, here we are."

Gaz's mending shop was larger than to be expected. You thought maybe he did this out of his own home but this stall, made of beautifully carved wood and leather was stunning. He was tanning hides in the back when you two strolled in, a confused nod to as if he didn't think had lasted this long here. He sized up your pants, had you sit and took measure of you boots as well while Keeva looked through the freshly dyed linens he'd hung, holding her belly and talking to it.

Keeva took to you quickly, muttering about Price, her husband. How eager he was to have another babe with his pretty little wife. It sounded nice. A love match. Not like the one you were so quickly thrown into. The smell of burning leaves hit you quick and you thought you might've stepped into a snake hole of some sort, only to feel the pinch of Keeva's nails on your looped forearm.

"Are you alright?"

The look in her eyes was sheer terror as she hiked up her dress and flow of fluid splashed out to the ground below. "Oh no. It's happening. oh pet, we are too far from home, from the hall. I won't make it. Ow!"

"Um, come, let's get back to Gaz's shop, he'll have furs and cloth for you to rest on rather plop out a baby in the street."

"Don't make me laugh!" Keeva covered her mouth and waddled back to the shop with you.

"Okay um, lay her down gently, I need to check you."

"No offense, Gaz but I'd rather have Y/N do it."

"Right. Apologies. Uh have you ever done anything like this before?"

"With sheep!" You said with a shrug when Keeva screamed through clenched teeth. You got on your knees and did what you were taught, what to look for, signs of dilation, where the baby was turned. Keeva looked incredibly small down on the ground of the shop, Gaz had run to close the shudders at lightning speed for everyone's dignity.

"Oh Gods help me!"

"Is it alright if I--"

"Just do it! Oh Price, I am so sorry my love…"

"Is this your first?" You asked as you hefted up her skirt a little more.

"This is our third. Oh!"

"Hold her hand for me will you, Gaz. You're gonna' feel some pressure and… oh, well, it's coming. Can you push for me?"

"Don't really have a choice. OH GODS!"

….

You were certainly having quite the day.

First light training with The Collector, getting into town for new items that you didn't have to pay for because, as it were, news travels fast here. Helping deliver not one, but two newborns when you had no idea what you were doing. You can't just pull out a baby like you can a cosset. There's timing and finesse and thankfully everyone is doing just fine.

The look on Keeva's face when you told her to push again was bamboozled.

Gaz and packed and stuffed a sturdy wheelbarrow with fur and linen, had wrapped up her newborns in the softest of materials he had as they wailed, being welcomed into the world. You held the babies as Gaz helped Keeva lay back onto it, smiling exhaustedly, as you handed her her babes. She thanked you over and over again, even as you hefted the wheelbarrow up and slowly and with the utmost care, walked the now four of you home.

A group of teasing kids met you as drew closer, your limbs on fucking fire but safety is key and first. You've got a brand new mother to look after! A blood eagle was the last thing on your mind, there was absolutely no way you'd strand your newfound friend in any type of need or aide.

"Price! Father! Their back! Come see, come look!" The children shouted, bouncing and running and eventually cooing as the noticed the little bundles in Keeva's arms.

Price, in all bearded glory practically kicked open the front door to their homestead, curious and eventually ran over to you as you settled the contraption down, hunched over and just about ready to pass out.

"You… how… two babes?! Twins!" Price was overjoyed, tears flowing sweetly down his cheeks. The rest of the village had come to see all the commotion as well. He patted you on the back after helping his wife into the house.

When everything had settled down you looked up towards the great hall to see König standing in the archway, arms crossed, still shirtless and gave you a head nod of approval.

[youremyheaven]

Guessing BTS Rising Signs

hello besties. I made this post a long time ago and since then, we've had TWO Bts members reveal their birth times so I thought it would be interesting to look at the rest of the members in this context. Here's my old post if you're curious.

I'll mention the members with confirmed birth times so that we can get that out of the way:

Jungkook- Mula Rising

His birth time was confirmed to be 3:23 PM which makes him a Mula Rising and tbh I've always seen him as hella Ketuvian (he also has Magha Moon) and this just fits. Mula's dog yoni does give him that puppyish charm, kind of androgynous style and a very endearing, silly personality. Plus like I mentioned in my post about Nodal people and how child stars often have Nodal placements + often tend to be heavily tattooed/pierced, Jungkook joined Bighit when he was 13yrs old and made his debut at 15yrs and has a tattoo sleeve and hella piercings<33

He is Purvaphalguni Sun, Magha Moon & Mula Rising

Jimin- Pushya Rising

His birth time is confirmed to be 11:58pm. Although he did not specify AM or PM, he did say he was born around "dawn" and im assuming that means the dawn of a new day because 11:58 am is most definitely not the dawn of anything. I've always suspected that he had Cancer Rising because of his appearance, full lips, round cheeks and all that 🥺and also just how sweet and soft his demeanor is 🫶🏼

He is Chitra Sun, Rohini Moon & Pushya Rising

Now here are my speculations for the other members:

Jin- Shravana Rising/Purvashada Rising

purely based on his appearance i believe he has Moon influence because he's Jyeshta Sun & UBP Moon and i dont really see much of either (Jyeshta's rabbit yoni does come thru a little bit but I feel like his appearance is majorly influenced by something else??) He could also be Purvashada Rising and him being Venusian also makes sense to me but his no nonsense attitude, refusal to submit to anyone, how he acts as though he's better than others (most of the time, its just a joke and he is funny ngl) all comes down to Moon influence for me tbh and I def don't think he's Rohini or Hasta, his energy is harsher and more direct which makes me think Shravana

Yoongi- Ashlesha Rising

i def think he has a cat yoni (he is PBP Sun which gives him lion yoni/feline influence but there has to be more to it than just that) i used to see him as Punarvasu but now I lean more towards Ashlesha tbh, he does seem to have a rakshasa gana nak in his big 3, he's very discriminate about who he gives his time and energy to and that's very sidereal cancer of him. also im convinced that him and Namjoon have outcaste naks in their rising because of the kind of journey they've had from the underground rap scene to the biggest band in the world

Hobi- Ashwini/Bharani Rising

i think Hobi is an Aries Rising, like there's nooo way he does not have Aries influence (i know he's Krittika Moon) i think Bharani because its also an outcaste nak and BTS faced a lot of discrimination in so many different ways

Namjoon- Vishaka Rising

i used to be torn between swati and vishaka but now im pretty convinced he's Vishaka Rising lol, first of all he has Jupiter influence, just trust me on that

this is the cover of his first mixtape and he said his face is painted half-black because he feels that he's "half positive and half negative". if you've read anything ive written about Jupiter or watched Claire's vids on Jupiter you know that duality is a major Jupiter theme specifically the battle between good and evil. namjoon's lyricism also oscillates between opposites a lot. in seoul he sings about how "love and hate sound just the same to me" and all of these are extensions of his Jupiter influence. i know he has Venus & Jupiter in Swati but i dont think he has a Swati stellium because he's too balanced to have that much Rahu influence lol and even though he talks about struggling to maintain balance i think that's the Jupiter in him coming thruuu, Vishaka is also an outcaste nak and Namjoon has been the scapegoat for all kinds of hate for his whole career

Taehyung- Rohini Rising

i think he has a serpent yoni ngl and if he's Rohini rising then it will be conjunct Jimin's moon which makes sense tbh and he also seems Moon influenced because of how emotional he is.

A major reason why I've assigned Outcaste naks to majority of the members is because of how they were the outcasts/underdogs in the industry for so long and if the shoe fits...yk I dont think those themes would manifest for them as a collective if the majority of them did not have those placements

[laura1633]

do you ever think about how max never truly said he hated charles ? like i can think of interviews in which charles said multiple times that they used to “hate each other” and that he hated max, but i can’t think of any interview (at least in english, i don’t understand dutch) in which max told the reporter that he hated charles. he’s always mentioning the inchident but never told how he felt towards young charles (well we can figure, even tho i truly think that max, on this val d’argenton day, felt more amused by menace charles that annoyed)

and honestly, it gives me a heartache because :

1) non lestappen- centric : it just shows how much of a sweetheart max seems to be, never being rude to anyone and even less so charles.

2) lestappen-centric as in being love interests in fic : just think about how hurt max must have felt hearing charles saying multiple times he used to hate his ass ? 🥺 i just know fic-max is always thinking about his teenage self when he gets to have charles in his arms

This is why I always think 'Max fell first but Charles fell harder' fits their situation so well.

I've never heard Max mentioned hating Charles, although I guess he could have said it. He definitely saw Charles as a rival though but seems to just be amused by it when talking about it.

When Charles talks about their rivalry it is definitely in harsher terms (and I mean that affectionately because he is just being honest). I've heard Charles going from 'we hated each other', to 'we are just colleagues and don't need to get on' to saying how Max is one of the drivers he does get on with and is a nice guy. It's such a lovely journey and shows how much they have grown and they both now seem to look back on that rivalry with affection and realise what it meant to them both and how it shaped them.

In terms of fanfiction I can definitely see Max getting a little upset and insecure when he hears Charles used to hate him. Charles would reassure him though and tell him how much he loves him now and that it doesn't matter what they thought about each other as kids. Plus it's something funny to mention in the wedding speech!

[familyagrestefanblog]

There is this ongoing thing with Adrien drawing back from kissing Marinette all the time, which at this point in "Collution" doesnt make sense anymore as him just 'backing out'. "Emotion" too brought this up already as legitimate issue Adrinette is going through that after the ending of "Adoration" every single time Adrinette tried to kiss, Adrien stopped it and even ran away.

This is a great opportunity for me to FINALLY talk about this massive subtext plot that started for real with the end of "Adoration" but up til now I didn't know from which angle I should approach an analysis post about it. This kissing detail being back and visually more elaborated on is EXACTLY what I needed!

In "Collusion" we see that Adrien's facial expression looks like as if an older order put in him is lighting up for a second preventing him from kissing her:

I mean, the shot composition is even purposfully leading your eyes towards Adrien's head with the background wall for example. It's clear who you're supposed to focus on the most.

"Emotion" already implied it through dialog but "Collusion" now pretty much proves that the one time on-screen we saw Adrien draw back from Marinette in "Emotion" wasn't merely caused by the damn phone (although this isnt the first time something weird happens with Adrien's phone this season) or an order somehow given in real time as one would assume, every single time after "Adoration" where Adrinette tried to kiss, Adrien seems to be stopped by an order Gabriel gave him after Gabriel turned Adrien into a puppet in the end scene and Marinette was so worried about if Adrien might be in danger in his home, but tried to remain hopeful:

This is something I figured for a while now. That we were supposed to feel exactly what Marinette is feeling here. She has no idea if Gabriel is doing something to Adrien and if its bad. She is the the outside person, she doesnt know whats happening in that house and she can't help Adrien once he's in it alone with his father. All she can do is hoping that there is another explaination.

Though that turns out to be wishful-thinking, because "Emotion" in fact has already told us that Gabriel did something to Adrien on this evening in "Adoration" after Adrien was forced back inside and Gabriel kept on and on twisting and using the ring while creeping backwards where WE know exactly that Adrien has just returned inside. They would have met in the foyer.

There is nothing far-fetched about a conversation having taken place once Marinette was gone and in my opinion it feels more like wishful denial to say that Gabriel 100% totally did not go to talk to his son. I mean, Adrinette was straight up about to have their first kiss right in Gabriel's view and that right after the events of "Protection", the episode right before "Adoration":

Re-enforcing to Adrien through harsher means to not be in a relationship with Marinette seems like a fitting punishment order Gabriel would pull after "Adoration's" horror show ending.

Give me a logical reason for why that wouldnt have been a realistic thing to happen? A reason that please isnt rooted in the logic of "we didnt see it when we followed Marinette's pov and therefore nothing happened". Cause I sure followed Marinette's pov and she ended this episode very alarmed and concerned.

Alarmed and concerned for a very good reason. The entirety of "Emotion" then goes on and on and ON about asking WHY Adrien is acting so weird and WHY he hasn't told Marinette about the Diamond Ball:

This question is a central theme all through the entire episode, and in the end the truth about Adrien's silence gets revealed.

Marinette herself has no idea and everyone else in this episode is also just giving their best guess of what makes the most sense for them. But that doesn't mean anybody actually got this right. And we know that because in the end Adrien outright SAYS that he didnt mention it because his father ORDERED him not to:

And then Adrien's and Gabriel's father son talk elaborates on that further from Gabriel's perspective:

I don't know what to tell you, it's right THERE. Adrien did not tell Marinette because Gabriel forbit it. It was an order Adrien couldnt go up against because it explicitly stated that Adrien is not allowed to tell Marinette specifically about the Diamond Ball. And as we saw in "Emotion" this order manifested in Adrien panicking around Marinette and lying in a way that at least somewhat still contained the truth:

I really find it upsetting when people victim-blame Adrien for not rebelling and "being brave" the way Félix and Kagami do (or even worse, compare him to Marinette who isnt a Sentihuman at all) because unlike them Adrien is not wearing his own amok AND is unfortunate enough to have both his parental figures wear them, so of course there are alot of direct interactions.

But if that one moment in "Collusin", where Adrien talks back at his father, indeed showcased Nathalie giving Adrien the means to really fight back for a moment by having laid her ring hand on Adrien's so one of his amoks would for the first time touch his skin and making it possible to nullify Gabriel's order depending on how passionately Adrien is against it, then this was a first taste of what Adrien would be like if he were given full control over himself:

Nathalie did that on purpose to protect Adrien from Gabriel and enable him to choose his own happiness as Emilie wished, which is what we saw moments before:

Adrien in "Emotion" and "Pretention" was not a 'coward', that is such disgusting victim-blaming against a person who is literally mind-controlled by their parent without even knowing it for their entire life. It's like giving Kagami shit for giving her amok back to her mother when Tomoe demands it, as if Kagami KNOWS that her ring holds her entire mental and physical autonomy. These poor children have it horrible enough being literally almost enslaved to their parents demands from the day they were born for some sort of sick purpose. Cool that Marinette doesn't have that problem at all and Félix doesn't have it anymore so THEY are able to do whatever they want, but they have no business being held as the golden standard.

This is about Kagami and Adrien who are still being taken advantage of and lied to ever since birth from the people who are supposed to love and protect them. Yes, they act weird and nerve-wreckingly sometimes and in ways that apparently dissappoints you because - of course - if you were a Sentihuman half enslaved and kept in the dark by your parent you would just choose to not have those problems, no biggie, but unfortunately Adrien and Kagami arent you.

They're weird and frustrated. Weird, frustrated, exhausted and abused little half-slaves, left in the dark and still minors so they cant escape anyway.

These things matter.

DETAILS matter.

Details like between the ending of "Adoration" and "Emotion" the episode has Marinette tell us that there was a time skip we didnt see in which Adrien has been acting very weird:

New and suspicious extremes MATTER.

Gabriel crossed a massive line by turning Adrien into a literal puppet at the end of "Adoration" seemingly for the first time from a further distance, since this seems to be the first time THIS happened in Adrien's head:

The fact alone that this was the instance where Gabriel crossed such a fundamental line is already a give-away that whatever is about to follow from Gabriel as Adrien's father from this moment onwards will be on an even more extreme layer of abusive. Which we know to be true from all the episodes afterwards.

But even if you wanna ignore all that, Marinette is then increasingly more worried about Adrien's safety in his home and everything regarding his father and has to truly face for the first time her underlying fear of "what if Gabriel isnt just a bad father?" and "What if Adrien is even being hurt in some way?" although she tried to approach it from deflecting angles until Gabriel talked to her in "Pretention".

But more and more Marinette is learning in what hellhole Adrien has been living in for all his life.

Because, you know, that is the case with highly abusive parents and its something one very likely has to face when one enteres a relationship. This is perfectly realistic, just the abuse method is fantasy. Something the show is not yet letting any of the children besides Félix know yet.

But we KNOW that Adrien is a Sentihuman at his abusive father's mercy and "Emotion" tells us that Marinette's concern at the end of "Adoration" was correct. Gabriel DID do something to Adrien but we, just like Marinette, couldnt fully see it because the biggest portion of the abuse happened behind closed doors as most abuse does. And Marinette, just like us, was left wondering what just happened to Adrien when she saw something disturbing happen to him which may stand in connection to his father.

And she, just like us, asks herself if he's even safe living with this man (no he isnt) when THIS is what happend to Adrien just being near his home and father:

And just like Marinette WE were supposed to find Adrien's silence after this concerning. Marinette read this correctly but she doesnt know yet how to properly interpret all of Adrien's types of silence and the family contexts surrounding it.

Adrien didnt tell Marinette about the Diamond Ball because Gabriel silenced his son, something that Adrien himself wouldnt properly recognize as such and only blames himself for as a failure on his part.

Who cares what the other characters' guesses are for why he didnt say anything? The only two people who truly know why Adrien didnt tell her are Adrien and Gabriel themselves because that's the abusive parent and his abused child. And that's the truth Marinette should be after. Not the one she prefers to be true and she is finally making good progress on that front.

And we can take the silencing in "Emotion" even further, because that wasn't the only time skip + silencing situation we had.

Just like in between "Adoration" and "Emotion", there is yet another significant time skip very cleverly handled - and almost hidden - between "Emotion" and "Pretention". We know that there is a time skip because once again Adrinette tells us:

Honestly, no doubt they will go back to these important time skips in season 6 or 7, there is so much important Marinette development for her love-related anxiety alone deliberately skipped before and after "Emotion" because of what it was entangled with. Not to mention everything else!

Optional rant ahead, I need to get this out of my system for a second: "Emotion" still barely makes sense and dont get me started on Félix! When do you think he fell in love with and stalked Kagami besides in the time skip? He wasnt in love with her before he found out at the diamond ball that she's like him, he probably barely made anything of her when he thought her to be a "normal human". Kagami and Marinette were not part of Felix' plan, Kagami he only just found out is a sentihuman too and therefore deserving of concideration for him, and Marinette wasnt even supposed to be there!

I swear, "Emotion" and the time skips before and afterwards are driving me crazy. I have to make a seperate post for the Felix and Amilie stuff alone and Adrien too was just plain weird in that episode with no proper explaination besides for the little amout that was required to make this work for Marinette's outsider perspective who doesnt know what's going on inside those families anyway. Félix apparently was gone for WEEKS and apparently both Adrien and Kagami knew that because they werent surprised hearing that and neither Gabriel nor Tomoe seemed to care that Amilie went off on Gabriel about it in infront of their children.

Félix was gone for weeks. Adrien knew it. And then we see Adrien immediately recognizing Félix as peacock miraculous holder even despite the magic; not being too surprised seeing Felix there transformed and AT ALL when he should be missing and is willing to go to him in a friendly enough and trusting manner despite that being weird too with no context! Félix is a completely new person who suddenly is aware that Adrien has always been a victim caught in a hellhole with Gabriel and what the fuck was that fake miraculous ring from Adrien Felix had?

Screw you, something happened there in this time skip before "Emotion" and we only got to see the tip of the ice berg! And screw this show for barely giving context for anything in "Emotion" yet because we are stuck with Marinette as main character and Adrien didnt wanted to involve her in his family shit because why would he?

*GROAN* I'm turning grey because of this damn show...

ANYWAY

What "Pretention" does very cleverly is picking up the same character goals established at the end of "Emotion" prior and starting this episode with it. But that doesnt mean at all that this is the next day. NOTHING about what Adrinette tells us about how Gabriel now breathes down their necks makes sense if this is merely the next day:

It's at the very least a couple of days and that's being VERY generous. I'm personally putting it at one week. That would mean Gabriel is being increasingly more of an ass for one school week where Adrinette has to get more and more creative (and Adrien ending up knowing when his father is busy) and at the beginning of the second Marinette has had it. One week is also a perfectly reasonable timeframe for the kids to put off talking to Gabriel and Tomoe while its also a realistic point in time where you would draw the line and motivate yourself again to finally do it.

Kagami's dialogue is the factor that very cleverly tricks the audience into thinking it can just be the next day since Kagami is "oh so much braver than Adrien who doesnt dare to talk to his father", which the episode then subverts by showing that Kagami rightfully fears her mother too and shouldnt be concidered less for it because Tomoe is an abusive hardass too who Kagami needs to be protected from as (her) child and Sentihuman who doesnt know she is one & the end of "Emotion" literally showed us Adrien talking to his father right after he told Marinette that he would try to convince him to have a heart-to-heart with her to clear up whatever he has against her:

Adrien did NOT fail to talk to his father after he said he would because we saw him do it right away. What he did "fail" to do though was mentioning towards the girls that he already talked with his father and tell them what Gabriel said - though that's understandable, Gabriel is being an irrational fuck; blaming the fiasco on Marinette when it's realistically on Félix - and to convince his father to talk to Marinette. But even for this Adrien's on-screen talk with Gabriel has the explaination for:

Did you pick up on the pattern too? That as well was an explicit order from Gabriel with the ring.

Adrien in "Pretention" didnt 'manage' to talk to his father again about him and Marinette so they can have a heart-to-heart because prior to that Gabriel forbit Adrien through an order to ever mention Marinette towards him again (and that means, since Adrinette didnt talk to Gabriel yet, Kagami in turn put off talking to her mother too)

So of course Adrien couldnt do it, which is why he went along with the only option he subconciously felt like he had left. Bringing Marinette to his father so SHE can talk to him by his side, forcing his father into a corner. Adrien unknowingly loopholed himself and out of Gabriel's order that's literally silencing him.

Details, time skips and circumstances matter.

So to bring this back to the failed Adrinette kissing in "Collution":

I'm pretty sure that from the ending of "Adoration" onwards we are now going to see a further and further escalation of ways for Gabriel to enforce his power over Adrien. Regularly just as his father (which is already bad enough) and also the ways in which Gabriel can hurt Adrien through the amok ring

- but in ways he can for now at least somewhat still hide from Nathalie, though no doubt this is going to end BADLY where even Nathalie cant help Adrien anymore as it was already established that Gabriel can absolutely do that and still cross so many more lines-

and in "Emotion" that already included silencing Adrien from letting Marinette know about the Diamond Ball and then not letting him talk about Marinette to him at all (for which I'm quite sure Nathalie touching Adrien with the amok ring in "Collution" helped Adrien break through that barrier because that WAS the first time he really talked ABOUT Marinette towards Gabriel since "Emotion" that isnt just him mentioning her name in logical situations or vaguely talking around the relationship topic like in "Pretention").

But I'm also betting that Gabriel odered Adrien to not kiss Marinette after he puppeteered Adrien back into the mansion in "Adoration" or some other variation of an official grand gesture that Adrien is in a relationship with her. Something that... yeah, DID indeed stop after "Protection", didn't it? (Ooh. That explains why the date was made such a big deal for Adrien's story through the parallels to Gabriel's and Emilie's date in the past in "Evolution"; that was the last time Adrien was able to do something like that...)

But poor Adrien of course does not know the true reason for why he's still hesitating to kiss Marinette even now in "Collusion". He must be so relieved that Marinette is reading it as him needing more time with her too to get comfortable enough to kiss. It's so rough watching all these episodes and seeing Adrien beat himself up and think so low of himself when he's literally being abused through mind-control. All I want is for Adrien to finally have his rings on his hand like Félix and Kagami get to. I just want my boy to be free :'(

[didishawn]

more feran x reader x pedri smut

Stress Relief (Pedri x Reader x Ferran) smut

Warnings: smut, threesome, set during the World Cup, lots of Spanish, this is basically them releasing their stress on you, mentions of annoying Internet trolls that have nothing better to do than talking shit about Spain's nt

Masterlist

Anyone would guess the two football players to take their free time to tour around the city or just relax lazing around, harsher fans would talk about how they shouldn't be permitted to have any free time and should just keep on training because otherwise they will suck on the next match.

No one ever says anything about the players locking themselves up in your hotel room and blowing off the steam on you.

Your eyes are set on the chain that adorns Ferran's neck, the metal moving as harshly as his hips against yours as he pounds into you, behind you in the Canarian, placing kisses on your neck and marking you up, one hand grasping into your ass and moving you to take the other boy's cock better, his other hand rubbing harsh circles into your clit, pinching it, bringing you closer to the edge, his boxed covered cock grinding against your back.

"Sigue tocandola, no hace más que apretarle" Ferran groans next to your ear, the other boy nods, his fingers touching the tip of the sensitive bud, making your hips stutter as you let out a long moan. (keep on touching her, it makes her tighter)

In your hazed mind, your hand reaches back, griping Pedri's cock though his boxers, moving your hand up and down, the stimulation making his head fall back as he lets out long moan "Joder, tú lo que quieres es que me venga antes de siquiera sacármela" (dammit, what you want is for me to cum before I even take it out)

"Entonces sácala y déjame chupartela" you manage to say in between the whines and moans that Ferran's unforgiving pace take out from you, the Valencian gripping harshly into your hips, surely a mark being left behind, and moving you harder against himself, cock slamming into you and kissing your cervix. (then take it out and let me suck it)

The Canarian boy nods, his eyes already fogged with pleasure, not thinking clearly, he almost rips his underwear off him, his thick cock hitting his lower abs, tip red and ready to be suck on, balls heavy and needy to release. He separates from your back Ferran taking the opportune to push you against the bed and for his thrusts to become harsher and faster, Pedri positions next to you, taking your hand on his and placing a kiss on it, on support of the hard pace against you, his cock next to your mouth, you feel Ferran take one of you nipples into his mouth, one of his hands pinching the other.

You lean forward, placing a gentle kiss on Pedri's tip, making him groan out, almost tremble -the individual room makes it possible for him to jerk off, but his hand doesn't even compare to you, hence his sentitiveness. You turn into your side, your leg being placed on Ferran's shoulder to make it more comfortable, making you more open to the rutting of his hips. You are now completely face to face with Pedri's cock, tongue sticking out to kitten lick the tip, his hands bury into your hair, he has you still, grinding softly against your lips as one hand reaches down to fondle with his balls.

He is desperate, it is not enough for him "Si vas a hacerlo, hazlo bien por favor" (if you are doing this, do it well, please)

You give him a lazy smile that breaks at a particular hard thrust from Ferran's hips, the boy is close, so are you with him playing with your clit. You decide it is only fair for Pedri to find his release too, taking as far as you can reach from his cock into your mouth all at once, almost pushing him against the edge as he moans louder than you have ever heard him, one of your hands masturbates what your mouth can't fit, the other pushes against his ass so only you can move him or keep him just where you want him to.

"Joder, eres una puta diosa" he groans put his moans high pitched as he can't even manage to keep his eyes open. (damm, you are a fucking goddess)

"Vas a hacer que me venga, dios mío, como es posible que puedas estar tan jodidamente apretada tras solo un par de días sin poder follarte" Ferran whines out, strong hands grasping even harsher into your hips, moving you as if you were a rag doll, just there for his pleasure, although you too are just about to cum. (you are going to make me cum, goodness, how is it possible for you to be so fucking tight after only a couple of days without fucking you)

His words have you coming, letting out a long, loud moan with Pedri's cock still in your mouth, your lips doing their best to repeat the boy's name as a prayer as he gives the last couple of thrusts against you before Cummings deeply into you, filling you up.

Ferran leaves your insides, getting into his knees to clean you up with his tongue, devouring you as if you were his last dish. Your moans taking Pedri too to his orgasm, whining, hips trying to stutter bit your strong grip doesn't let him.

He is sensitive, whining as you supposedly clean his dick, but it is only to make him hard again. His mind is in a world of its own, the pleasure doesn't let him think. Ferran places a last kiss to your clit, making you also tremble, the Valencian reaches towards Pedri, his hand grasping the other boy's shoulder.

"Es tu turno de follarla" (it's your turn to fuck her)

Pedri absently nods, changing places with Ferran before harshly slamming into you, his hips aren't forgiving, hard, fast thrusts that have you screaming. Ferran kisses you forehead, your head in his lap as he tries to calm you down, his hands playing with you nipples and reaching down to tap against your clit. You struggle to reach his cock, Pedri's thrusts having you moving wildly, the bed is creaking and the frame slamming harshly against the wall, you are afraid the bed will break.

You start licking Ferran's cock, tongue moving up and down as he praises you "Mi buena chica, tan linda lamiendo mi polla no puede ni pensar claramente" (my good girl, so pretty licking my cock, can't even think ckearl)

His words have you moaning loudly and once again coming, this time your juices squirting all over the Canarian boy who doesn't stop his thrusts even as his hips stutter too, he too coming deeply inside you. He doesn't move and waits until the other boy comes deep into your throat.

"Venga, vamos a limpiarte" the Valencian says, helping you sit up as Pedri, with trembling legs, walks towards the bathroom and prepares the bath. (come on, let's clean you up)

Ferran picks you up, your legs around his waist and your lips attached to his neck, as he walks you to the bathroom, Pedri already inside the bathtub with a lost stare as he watches you both, helping you get inside too, your back against his chest, Ferran facing you both.

With time, you and Pedri become yourselves again, coming down from your highs, the three of you chat about everything and nothing at all, sharing stories and laughs.

You sleep quite good that night, in between the two boys who refused to leave your side, even if it may get them a reprimand from their trainer for not coming back that night.

[neptunesnxpple]

Benimaru Shinmon x m! Reader

18+ only

Pairing: benimaru shinmon x m!reader

18+ only no minors please

Summary: You're Chapter 7's secretary and Central issues out new uniforms. I wrote this over a year ago, no proofreading

Tags: NotSFW, m x m, reader in a skirt, handjobs, cumeating, vanilla and gentle, there's a bit of a build up

“Central is issuing new uniforms,” Maki handed you a small package, “they said that even though you’re not going out on missions, appearance is an important part,” she gave a reassuring smile at that, but it did little to soothe your unease about the situation. Part of why you picked the seventh was the lack of adherence to company policy or standards. They were a little more liberal in their application of those mandates, but it seemed not even you could escape the crushing hand of central. You thanked Maki, shutting the door to your small home and tearing into it on the table. You doubted it would be as comfortable as your loose pants and soft shirts but there was no point in fighting it.

Benimaru rarely had time to sit around the station, he had his morning routine, part of which included checking in on the townspeople and making sure nothing was out of the ordinary. If he had the time he’d settle in for a cup of tea and a light breakfast, maybe some light training. Today he was a bit ahead of schedule, sitting in a spare room and window watching. There was still some paper work that needed to be filled out about the most recent incident, but he had to wait for you to get here in order to submit it officially. Ever since the first sent over a Secretary his days had been peaceful, all that loathsome paperwork was no longer his problem.

You unlocked the front door, taking careful steps and trying to stick the landing with each one. The package included tea party heels, something you’d never tried before. You turned on the lights and began opening the blinds as you went from room to room, the station was always quiet in the morning. Guessing from the time, you still had half an hour before the young master Benimaru would be in. Your estimation was dashed when you opened the sliding room to your ‘office’, a spare room that overlooked a small garden,

“Young master,” you greeted, surprised, “did you already finish your morning walk?” Benimaru gave you a thorough look, stopping back down at your thighs. expressionless.

“What are you wearing?” It came out harsher than intended. You shifted self consciously.

“Maki stopped by to drop off the central issued uniform for secretaries. She assured me that this was the correct one,” you responded, watching him carefully for a response. Aside from the heels you were in a short mini pencil skirt with matching slits in the side, so high up you had to find new a pair of boxer briefs that wouldn’t peak out from under it. A well fitting button up that had ruffles lining the button column. The fabric laid smooth over your flat chest. You supposed male secretaries were rare, and were on the fence on sending a message to central asking for an alternate outfit. A heavy silence fell over the room and you wished you had. “I could ask for a replacement if you would find that more acceptable.” Benimaru finally broke his state, turning towards the window and setting his tea cup on the table.

“That won’t be necessary. This one should do the job just fine.”

You sighed in relief at that sign of approval and finally set foot in the room itself, setting your bag next to the table and checking the filing cabinet for yesterday’s unfinished business. You sat across from him, working quietly, enjoying the gentle breeze and fresh air for the neighboring window. It was beautiful outside. You’d have to take your lunch outside. Every now and then you felt a pair of eyes on you, drinking you in, but whenever you looked he’d be focused on something else. Must have been your imagination. Perhaps an hour into your shift, the young master left.

Several hours later you were wrapping up, setting aside your current stack of documents and stretching back. With all the destruction, you had a lot of filing to do. Notification of damages, repairs, associate costs and outcomes. You had to attach dated photos and make sure to send a copy. But for now, lunch. As if on cue Benimaru appeared in the doorway,

“Are you taking your lunch break?”

You nodded, holding onto the table as you struggled to stand. You almost got a handle on the heels on your walk over but after a long time sitting down you had to get readjusted. You legs wobbled with each request forward, struggling to stay upright as you bent over to pick up your bag,

“Yeah, I think I’ll sit outside today. Do you need me for anything?” You shakily adjusted your bag over your shoulder, reaching the edge of the table and spreading your hands out as you walked in case you needed to catch yourself. Benimaru watched you, amused with the scene in front of him. By the time you got to the door, you felt as if you had just ran an entire yard. Not the small stretch of a room. You gripped the wall.

“No, I think I’ll go out with you.”

“Oh, cool,” you said, not really listening. It took all your attention to focus on staying upright. You wobbled on ahead, hand on the wall, before hearing an exasperated sigh. And suddenly, your feet were off the ground.

“By the time you get outside, your break will be over,” a deep voice explained. You felt the rumbling of his chest vibrate against your back, warm and soothing. You tensed, holding your bag on your stomach like an otter and not trusting yourself to say anything for fear of your voice cracking. He set you down on a partially shaded bench like a sensitive house plant. This was a much gentler side that you rarely saw. You cleared your throat to regain some composure,

“Thank you,” you smiled, hands shaking slightly.Your legs warmed in the sun, not used to getting this much exposure and finding that you quite liked it. The heels could stay too if that meant your young master would carry you from place to place.

“Don’t mention it. Mind if I sit with you?” He was sitting before you could answer, spreading out as if on habit alone, before noticing you scrunched to one side and reeling it in. He scratched at the side of his head, “so this is the new secretary outfit then?”

“Mhm,” you muffled between bites of rice and veggies.

“I won’t tell if you choose not to wear this. You should know by now that we don’t play by central’s rules.”

“I know, but I don’t want to cause anymore trouble for you guys. You already have enough on your hands, and I doubt you could find a secretary as flexible as me.” You definitely picked up way more of the report writing than was required, but Benimaru made up for it where he could. He’d bring you food, mostly, and if he saw you working too hard he’d send you home. Even though you technically worked for central and not just the seventh, he was a pretty cool supervisor.

“That’s why I want to make sure we keep you around. Seriously, you don’t have to wear... that.” You rested your utensil on the edge of your lunch box.

“If you don’t like it, I can change. I don’t mind either way.”

“No! - no it’s not that, I just thought,” he trailed off, leaning away from you now. You usually didn’t see him so impassioned. Or uncomfortable. Desperate to fix the situation you offered your lunch to him,

“Would you like a bite?” You held out your chopsticks, the sharp look of surprise on his face making you wish you didn’t. This was just getting worse. This look was something completely different and unknown, he seemed almost- flustered? You felt the heat rise to your face. With you leaned over your skirt had ridden up further, exposing the bulk of your thighs. You watched as he looked down at the food, catching sight of your thighs, and eyes widening. You blushed, pulling the skirt in vain as the fabric remained taut and unchanged. You gave up, accepting it for what it is. To your surprised he leaned over and took the bite you offered.

The rest of your lunch was eaten in silence, and when it was time for you to wrap up he lead you carefully along the stone path back to your office. The rest of the day was fairly uneventful, there was no additional reports to submit so you spent it on some housekeeping. Organizing the space, tidying up lose ends. By the end of the day, you propped yourself up on the edge of the table and took of your shoes, feet throbbing. This new uniform might take some getting use to. The warm orange glow of the sunset cast a loving light on the room and garden in front of you. You enjoyed the peace while you could. You straightened when you heard the door slide open, Benimaru stepping in. He took pleasure seeing you wrapped up in the golden light, propped up against the table. He stepped forward.

“You’re free to leave,” he stated. He tilted his head when he noticed your shoes on there floor, your feet dangling free.

“I’m a little sore,” you explained, shifting to slide off the table. Before you could finish the movement you were cut off by his large body in front of yours, towering over you. You froze in place.

“For all you work you shouldn’t have to walk home in pain,”

“Its really no problem, I’m sure I’ll get used to it,” you smiled, already aware that the young master wasn’t going to take no for an answer. Still you were startled when he dropped to his knees, taking one of your feet in his hands and beginning to rub deep circles into your arch. Once again you stiffened. Before melting completely on the table, slouching and reaching your foot out more for his ease. After the day you had you weren’t going to complain. He repeated the process on your other foot, and then began worked on your calves. Rubbing the muscle and relaxing the tense tissue into something more malleable. You laid back on the table, closing your eyes. Maybe this uniform wasn’t so bad.

He rubbed his hands over your meaty thighs, giving a test squeeze and enjoying the way his fingers dipped into the soft flesh. He was thankful you were on your back to avoid so you didn’t see the excited gleam in his eye. He stood up, settling himself between your legs. His hands ventured up from the sides of your legs to the side of your stomach, pressing in and massaging circles on your stomach with his thumbs. You shuddering, and without much thought you felt yourself get hard. You arched off the table when one of his hands pressed against the small of your back, the buttons on your shirt straining to hold. You couldn’t resist hooking your calves around the back of his legs, pulling him closer and slowly shifting against him. To your pleasure you felt him beginning to grow excited as well, a breathless gasp escaping his lips. Embolden you pulled him in tighter, pressing your erections together firmly as you rocked against him. Bravely you reached out, running a hand over his clothed abs and feeling the muscle definition underneath it.

He hooked his arm under your back and pulled you upright, reaching his free hand under your skirt and playing with your cock through the thin almost sheer like boxers underneath. Your fingers dug into his back, unable to avoid gasping and a small moan spilling out. Your legs tightened around him, hiking your skirt up more and allowing him to slip your cock out of your boxer briefs. He wrapped his other arm around you fully, supporting you and keeping you from wriggling.

Your threaded your fingers in his hair, dipping him down for a kiss. You felt his breath on your cheek, hot and needy, intoxicatingly so. Reluctantly you separate your mouth from his, pressing your foreheads together and fumbling to get your hand in his pants, a deep hunger settling over you. Too hazed to figure it out you made a noise of displeasure,

“Help,” you pleaded.

You felt him let out a hushed, amused laugh. He let go of you for the first time since his entering the room, slipping his thick penis out of his pants. Embarrassingly, you felt your mouth water, feeling the weight of it in your hands and the soft skin. He nestled back between your legs, feeling at home between them despite being a new sensation all together. The two of you felt each other, stroking in unison and nuzzling into the crook of the others neck. A comforting warmth settled over you, feeling his dick throbbing in your hand and his grip on you tightening as he came on your thighs. Not long after you came into his hand, moaning and body jerking to life under his guidance. The two of you stayed, stilled and holding onto one another for a lengthy amount of time. When you finally let go, you heard a groggy, gravelly voice speak up,

“Sorry about the mess,” he gestured to your thighs.

“Oh, uh, don’t wor-“ you choked on the last word as he returned to his knees, licking the cum off the insides of your thighs. You let out a pathetic whine, overstimulated and your half hard cock twitching with interest. You allowed him to lap up his mess before pushing him back, flushed, “I don’t think I can take anymore,” you admitted. He nodded, a softness in his eyes. On wobbly legs you hopped down, this time there was no heels to blame. You really didn’t want to shove your aching feet back into that tight shoe, even after the massage. Sensing your hesitation, Benimaru picked up your shoes.

“I’ll take you home. Or, you could spend the night in the station. With me.”

The idea of not having to leave sounded enticing, and after considering it you gave a nod,

“I think I will,” you lifted your legs and he scooped you up, taking a lesser travelled path to his small captains room, and setting you down in the entry way. It wasn’t decorated beyond what was needed. Dark blue sheets and bedspread, a dresser, just the essentials. Still it looked inviting and you found yourself curled up in his bed before you realized what was happening. You made a mental note to expand your work wardrobe.

[kastlequill]

ii/v. unearth without a name: the world that hardens as the harsher winter holds

pairing: keegan p russ x f!reader word count: 1.8k synopsis: the second time you hallucinate keegan tags: whumptober, psychological warfare, blood and injury, brainwashing, hallucinations, hurt no comfort, established relationship, ghost!reader, 4+1, no y/n warnings: canon-typical violence, torture, non-consensual drug use ao3: read here ← prev | next →

II.

A semblance of a regimented schedule formed shortly after those first couple of days.

Two goons would begin the cycle with a visit, using you as a human punching bag until your ribs burned and your frayed nerves went numb. Then came the waterboarding and the breaking of bone, be it a rib or a finger. Last, but certainly not least, Rorke would work on molding your mind into something foreign, though whatever drug he’d administered on Day 1 hadn’t made a reappearance yet.

Yet.

You didn’t have it in you to treasure that simple blessing because your captors were constantly swapping one torture method for another, determined to keep you guessing. Recently, they’d started to get more creative; extreme sensory deprivation was still a favorite of theirs, but they had now added physically-intensive beatings into the mix.

Time elapsed strangely in this hellscape. With no sun to denote mornings and no moon to introduce nights, you had to measure its passage in terms of the damage inflicted upon you. Which was to say, what marked the beginning of a day wasn’t the sunrise; instead, it was the piece of stale bread that you received only after your captors made you beg like a dog.

And to determine when you’d reached the end of another day having survived, it was Rorke, not the setting sun nor the rising stars, who served as a useful metric. Night began in the moments following his departure from the chamber once he’d satiated his raging appetite for sadism, leaving you to succumb to your injuries and fall unconscious.

Eventually, those unfulfilling few hours of sleep would be interrupted by the force of the tossed bread hitting your head. Like clockwork, this cursed routine repeated again and again, though you couldn’t discern whether or not these recurring events were consistently scheduled at a specific hour. It would come as no surprise if they’d been staggered to hinder you from adapting to your new normal.

Such was the way of the Federation.

Regardless of the truth, according to your unconventional form of tracking time, nightfall was nearly upon you. Rorke had been here for what seemed like an eternity, putting forth a valiant effort in beating you into submission and breaking your will.

You just had to bear this pain a little while longer. Then, you could allow your body to recuperate through a bout of fitful slumber.

“Still got some fight left in you, eh?” Rorke wiped the sweat off his brow with the back of his hand. Hands that had spent the last however many weeks tenderizing your flesh and splintering your bones. “First, let me express my gratitude. I appreciate you makin’ this fun for an old man.”

You wanted nothing more than to kill him slow, to watch the crazed gleam fade from his deadened eyes, but you’d decided on Day 2 not to engage him beyond what was strictly necessary. If you managed to keep the talking to a minimum, then perhaps Rorke wouldn’t linger for too long. A flawed logic built on desperation.

It worked on occasion, boredom striking him sooner rather than later, ending the interrogation session without much fanfare. Though that wasn’t always the case.

The man was a loose cannon. He lashed out on a whim then switched up before you could process what he’d originally done. Even his co-conspirators avoided being caught in his blast radius, but no such hope existed for you, the prisoner who still breathed only because he willed it.

“Now, with that out of the way—”

An uppercut collided against your chin, sending you reeling, doubling over, stretching the muscles in your arms as the ropes that dangled you from the ceiling strained under the pressure. The impact rattled your teeth, and the metallic taste of blood doused your bitten tongue.

The bastard possessed an absurd amount of power for his age. And you, half-starved and broken in one too many places, were the lucky recipient of said power.

“What are the Ghosts plannin’ to do near the Gulf?” He forced your gaze to meet his, yanking your head backward by the roots of your hair. Resolute in your fatal desire to safeguard your comrades to the best of your abilities, your mouth stayed stubbornly shut.

If you couldn’t be of use out there by their side on a battlefield, the least you could do was stop the enemy from obtaining crucial intel. You couldn’t give the Feds the upper hand, not when that ran the risk of landing Merrick, Hesh, Logan, Keegan in some shallow grave.

Rorke sneered. “So that’s the kinda game you want to play? Alright, little martyr, keep your secrets. But listen up, and listen good: when I find all ‘em out, because I will find out, you’ll wish you hadn’t been so blindly loyal to those damn mutts. Better hope you’ve still got most of your fingers when that day comes ‘round.”

The grip on your hair relinquished, and your head dipped low, too fatigued to support its weight on your own. You were content to stay like that, crumpled and weak, but the sound of rustling fabric bid you to remain present and raise your lidded gaze.

Your stomach dropped at the sight of Rorke pulling out a syringe from a pocket on his tactical vest.

“Remember this?” Its needle glistened menacingly in the dull lamplight. The man must have seen the brief panic that flitted across your face because he gave a wry chuckle. “Hell, of course y’do. No need for a reintroduction, then.”

Without further delay, Rorke jabbed the syringe into a bulging vein in your neck, dehydration making it appear more prominent than usual. Your fear spiked as he injected its contents into your already-fragile system. Compared to the previous dose, you began to experience the drug’s effects much faster, blood suddenly afire, choking on hurried gasps, jaw locked. It held your body hostage while it hijacked your biological milieu and scrambled your brain.

The bombardment on your five senses was so overwhelming that you had to close your eyes, the surrounding visual stimuli too abrasive to withstand in your compromised state. When you did finally blink them open again, the scene that greeted you was of a different man, a man whose presence you greatly welcomed.

Decked out in full gear and face lathered in greasepaint wherever his mask failed to conceal skin, Keegan stood several paces behind Rorke. Arms crossed, feet shoulder-width apart, cold stare devoid of any affection but flowing with disappointment. Before, he’d spoken everything you had never wanted to hear; this time, however, the apparition uttered not a single syllable.

A flash of white heat diffused throughout your body from head to toe as rage superseded pain.

Did he really think you were a failure, a disgrace? Was that why he opted to hold his tongue, finding you unworthy, an utter waste of his breath?

You recalled the days when he had barely spared you a glance beyond ensuring you weren’t falling behind. When he had gradually begun to reference you as an irreplaceable part of their established collective; when eliciting a low chuckle from him had been considered a victory and earning his praise had become something of an addiction. When he had listened to your whispered confession then offered up a weakness of his own; when he had agreed to learn bit by bit how to give you his heart and how to take yours in turn.

Looking back, the two of you had come so far. And yet, the fruits of your labor would go uneaten. You weren’t foolish enough to assume survival was still a possibility after a few more rounds of torture; if your mind didn’t break first, then your body would surely shut down.

Two good months. That was all you had gotten with him as a lover.

Just two months.

Another punch to your liver yanked you from your spiraling thoughts. “You ready to talk? No? Suit yourself.”

The onslaught resumed, ripping old wounds anew, further bruising already-sore skin, weakening calcium-deficient bones. Truth be told, you’d been ready to talk for the past eight cycles of this shit, but loyalty prevented you from squealing like a pig. Regretfully, this very same loyalty was beginning to feel misplaced.

Were they even searching for you? Was he? Had your comrades so easily written you off as KIA, unable to justify expending valuable, scarce resources on a mere stray?

Sure, Keegan’s last visit had been cruel, biting, but at least he had acknowledged your existence, your situation. The exchange, though agonizing, had reinvigorated you with purpose and determination to make it out of this hellhole alive. Now, if this fabricated Keegan would only address you, then the cracks in your composure and willpower could be rectified, bestowing upon you the strength to persevere, to suffer in silence until either your rescue or your death.

If he would only speak to you as a human being separate from this current timeline of misery and monsters among men, then maybe you had a real chance here. Maybe, you would again bask in the warmth of a glorious sunrise.

Say something.

He didn’t, of course. It shouldn’t have surprised you; he had never been the type to fill the quiet with nonsensical chatter. But you needed this, as starved of him as you were of food and water. You’d wait three seconds for him to correct himself, or else you would give him a piece of your mind, a proper tongue-lashing, scratchy throat and raw vocal cords be damned.

A well-aimed kick in the calf triggered a mental countdown.

Three. . .

Continuous heavy blows struck your temple, the resulting craters spouting a stream of blood, its damage producing a shrill ringing in your ears.

Two . . .

Forgetting the sound of his voice, struggling to replicate the unhurried yet impassioned cadence with which he spoke, gone was his deep tenor—

One.

“God, make it stop,” were the words that left your cracked, chapped lips. But there was no God to answer your pleas; not down here. Still, you begged. “Please, just make it fucking stop.”

Keegan said nothing, content to continue his silent appraisal of the scene before him. Scrutinizing your weaknesses, judging how much more damage you could endure before your total destruction. A sentinel, a voyeur of your rawest pain.

Rorke, looming above like impending doom, a deadly omen, simply laughed and laughed.

And in that moment, you couldn’t decide which of the two men you hated more.

tbc.

[liketwoswansinbalance]

Updates and Round V of Excerpts from The One True School Master of Vault 41

Draft 0 of TOTSMOV41 is at 171 pages or 54,527 words! (A lot of it is just notes, not actual story, so my bet is that it will turn out shorter than I may've led you to believe (still could be wrong though) but it's getting somewhere since I've last done some transferring of my notes into one, cohesive document.)

Not-so-fun fact about it: Rafal temporarily goes blind and deaf.

These contextless excerpts are shorter than usual, but I just realized I had written a trope I like in which couples indirectly, unintentionally clash, which I find funny and ironic.

Another fun fact: The song on my TOTSMOV41 playlist that vaguely fits the vibes around the time of these moments would be "All That Glitters" by Earl. I just discovered the song today! (Eventually, probably after I publish the fic, I'll post the fic's playlist.)

⸻

Should she have gone for something even harsher than what she'd written in a flourished, calligraphic hand?

I would snub my date if he ever dared have rotten breath. It would be pure humiliation. In fact, I'd address it directly, as an announcement to all, so I could gain in my social standing while I simultaneously lower his. No man with poor hygiene deserves me.

No, not Evil enough of a response, Sophie scrutinized. Just petty. Back to square one. She sighed.

⸻

Rafal thought he should change his shirt before their tower meeting tonight, but he was out of clean laundry and the spell to steam the blood out of his clothes would be too taxing on him in this state. Agatha wouldn't care and besides, they had work to do. But Sophie...

He took his black shirt to the sink and tried to scrub out as much of the blood as he could with a stiff brush. By the time he was done, there was one, even darker, rusted patch of blood blooming on his shirt and some flecks on the sleeves.

More mess—if only he weren't useless without his sorcery!

He clenched his fists in frustration, suddenly aware of his raw, cramped fingers and ragged, poorly groomed nails, ready to lob the bloody shirt out the tower window entirely, but no shirt with "Aggie darling" and her heightened suspicions around would be worse by about a thousandfold. He'd be a dead man walking as if he weren't one already.

Thus, he picked up the balled-up cloth from the sink in defeat. Wet shirt it was then. What other options did he have?

⸻

Incidentally, Agatha turned up with a waterlogged crystal ball that overshadowed the sorry sight of his stained and torn shirt.

⸻

If anyone wants to know the symbolism behind this, I'll gladly explain it! Also, if anyone wants to, I invite you to guess at it.

[da-janela-lateral]

Some highlights from the MP100 Brazilian dub (because I adore it) pt.1

Earlier in this year, I commented on the voice actor choices for some characters, and someone suggested me to talk more about this dub. Of course, I'm very glad to elaborate on my love for my country's dubbing, specially for one of the most enjoyable examples I've seen.

My congratulations for the director Úrsula Bezerra and the Unidub studio for their efforts here!! I could not expect less from such experient professionals! I also want to give my appreciation to the translation team for their lovely spin on the dialogue that made the anime even funnier.

And about the voice actor choices...

Main Characters

Ítalo Luiz as Shigeo "Mob" Kageyama - This man has an impressive voice range and made a spetacular job with Mob. I love how he captured his young, timid essence but also expressed Mob's stronger emotions in a fantastic way. It made him endearing from the start.

Vágner Fagundes as Arataka Reigen - VÁGNER FAGUNDES. I didn't know much about him before, but his interpretation of Reigen sold him as a excellent voice actor to me. There is something different about his work. No other Reigen voice has that much charisma or impact to me. I can watch the same heartwrenching scenes in the original audio or any of the English dubs without an issue, but listening to Vágner Fagundes's version will make me break in tears instantly. 11/10.

César Marchetti as Dimple + the narrator - I've always enjoyed his voices in older, charismatic character of dubious morality, so he fit like a glove with Dimple's evil spirit ways. César made Dimple's personality SHINE through his hilarious entonations and word choices, and all this served to emphasize the comic effect the green fart had in his best scenes. I also liked César more serious voice when speaking as the narrator, which further proves his range.

Robson Kumode as Ritsu Kageyama - Famous for dubbing Sasuke Uchiha during the 2000s, Robson Kumode has a way for voicing emotionally complex teenagers and so created an amazing portrayal of Ritsu. He managed to transmit both Ritsu's harsher and darker feelings and the fact that in the end, he was still a child. By character design alone, this voice actor would be an obvious choice.

Felipe Zilse as Teruki Hanazawa - In contrast to Ritsu's case, Felipe Zilse was not a clear voice choice for Teruki, considering how deep it can sound at times. I have to admit I found it a bit difficult to get used to at the start (why does this 14 year old sound so adult!). However, Felipe managed to be a great Teruki through the prideful calmness on his voice and his effort on making the character's emotional scenes filled to the brim with a unique quality.

Armando Tiraboschi as Katsuya Serizawa - Oh, how do I even start? I like Armando Tiraboschi's voice very much, even more his talent for dubbing rugged gentlemen in action-ridden contexts. His version of Serizawa may sound older and a little less awkward than the original, but his spin on the character is wonderful with its focus on Serizawa's gentle giant traits. I guess it contributed to my tiny crush on the 30yo ex-terrorist.

Fernanda Bullara as Tome Kurata - EXCELLENT. IMPECCABLE. Fernanda Bullara was the best possible choice for Tome, as she has lots of experience with energetic and exccentric characters such as her. Her voice was outstanding for Tome's outbursts and more exaggerated scenes, while maintaining some vulnerability when necessary. Not too girly, not stereotipical teen-like. She is just a young lady who is passionate about her interests.

Edit: including some links

[physalian]

Can I complain about modern fantasy book titles and covers for a second?

I don’t like these books anyway. Why doesn’t matter, they have their audience and I’m not part of it. But eight whole books, and I read seven of them (not Assassin’s Blade) a few years ago now, and I could not tell you in what order they should be read if someone handed me a blind pile, or even what cover belongs to each book because they’re so painfully generic (and missing numbers on their spines).

Nor could I tell by the titles which are also painfully generic. Yeah they read like fantasy titles but there’s nothing distinct about them, they’re just fantasy buzzwords and they’re so vague that even Tower of Dawn leaves me vaguely recalling that kingdom with the giant birds, I think? Heir of Fire might be the romantic side quest that lasts an entire book, but that’s based more on my memory of the order of events than the title or cover would suggest.

Blank of X and Y she used for ACOTAR (which I did not read and know nothing about so I skipped them) is just so boring to me if the Mad Lib is nothing special. “Heir of Fire” could be a Game of Thrones fanfic for how unique and evocative the title is. A Court of Thorns and Roses literally stole the cadence of A Song of Ice and Fire but guess what?? Those aren't just nonsense words. Ice and Fire and how they're related are hugely thematic and relavent elements in those books. "Thorns and Roses" just ripped off a Poison song.

I assume these were the original covers since they’re not so manicured and actually have character. The titles are the same but the colors are so much bolder and the imagery isn’t a greyscale girl for 7 out of 8 titles. They’re distinct and memorable and while they’re still not evocative of the actual story, if I was a bigger fan of the books I’d probably have stronger associations. They do try. I have fuzzy memories coming back of EOS having the cool pirate with the map hands, KOA being the climactic battle book, QOS... might be the boring side quest with the dragons. This does not look like assembly line popcorn fantasy. This looks like it has heart, and an air of mystery. They draw you in and have you asking questions, they have you wanting to know more.

These books are, in my opinion, superior in many ways to anything SJM has written, but the covers? The exact same problem on steroids. And I only read four of them, there’s six total apparently. King’s Cage is the best title of the bunch. I know immediately from the title “that’s the one where the protagonist spent the whole book as a political prisoner in, you know, the king’s cage”.

But the covers, though they all share the same aesthetic and would look pretty on the book shelf, are absolutely devoid of any and all context within the book, save King's Cage. They’re all feminine crowns and tiaras, too. They could have at least given a man’s crown or at least something with harsher angles and thicker lines to evoke, idk, maybe the titular character the third book is about? It helps that the series (at one point) was only four books so it was less titles and ambiguous covers to juggle, but now there’s six so I guess that’s out the window.

Pretty, but purely window dressing. The best thing they have going for them is how distinctly minimalist they are that sets them apart from other fantasy.

I have incredibly mixed feelings about these books but the colors. Very much carrying on the PJO tradition of titles that actually fit the books and art to go along with it. There’s so much drama and movement to each one and they are, once again, scenes from each book, so many little details to look at. Festus was a huge part of TLH, then Percy's back in action, front and center in SON, then... uh, MOA... then Percy and Annabeth looking scared shitless in HOH and then... uh, BOO. Exists.

They all draw you in and I very much remember the cover drop for House of Hades and losing my mind over it. Much more face-focused than the reserved originals, much bolder, but still, mostly, Percy Jackson.

I looked this up on google images and couldn’t even read the titles there tiny at the bottom. The exact same color scheme for every single book. This is for the box set, I know that, so the spines all make one image when you line them up, but the spine doesn’t have to be the same image as the front cover.

That said, the cover images are still distinct and still hold true to the originals—showing actual elements from the books, like Blackjack and Polyphemus and the Labyrinth. Updated but a bit too sleek for my tastes (maybe that’s just nostalgia talking). The titles though, love the titles. At least they kept the series number on the covers (unlike TOG or RQ).

Now this. This here. These have everything. Bold, distinct colors on the spines, beautiful unique and very fantastical art, art that actually pertains to the book it’s about with an air of mystery every single time. You want to ask why there’s a kid floating in Long Island Sound, who that giant eye belongs to, who has that pegasus so frightened, what’s in the golden coffin, and… well the last one is just noire and I like it.

The titles, though. The. Titles. “Sea of Monsters” cannot in any way match up with the plot of the rest of the series. These covers are perfection.

Now I did not read these books, just saw the movies. These covers are dated, but there still wonderfully, charmingly whimsical, for an entire series about wizards and witches. The colors are distinct, the font choices reflect the vibes of each book, the art depicts the stories within the pages—Harry joining the Quidditch team, Fawkes coming to the rescue, Buckbeak, the mermaid egg thing and the other competitors in the Tri-Wizard Tournament, the (I think?) prophecy room/Ministry of Magic, the Remembrall (I think??), and, you know, the last one is cool too. The style of the drawings are rather unique to Harry Potter. Harry also visibly ages across each one.

The titles themselves, like PJO (while predating PJO so setting the trend I’m aware) cannot be separated from their books. Order of the Phoenix? That’s the book about the Order of the Phoenix. Deathly Hallows is about, shocker, the Deathly Hallows.

Putting Twilight here at the bottom. I like these despite them being minimalist because, unlike every other cover on this list, they’re minimalist fantasy. Barely urban fantasy. The red and white motifs are evocative of the romance genre and vampire fiction and at least the covers of Twilight and Breaking Dawn do reference scenes in their books, with Edward catching the apple in the cafeteria and them playing chess on their honeymoon.

They also speak to a more adult, mature audience with the sleeker look. These are romance novels with vampires, *not* fantasy novels with romance. You see any of those covers among other adult romance in a bookstore and they’re going to catch your eye. The titles… eh. Not so much. Nothing to do with the story they just sounded pretty and evocative but this is romance, not fantasy, they’re supposed to be sensual and evocative and “Bella Swan and The Broody Vampire Boy” would not at all fit that vibe.

—

It’s not like these modern fantasy novels are devoid of creative terminology. I don’t like SJM at all but her books did have some really creative and wonderful moments in isolation. It’s like the publishers were afraid to be authentic and sincerely fantastical, so they went with something safe and clean and uninspired both in title and in art.

“Throne of Glass” means nothing to me and could be applicable to like, four of the books in that series. If I squint I can see it as a metaphor for the fragile state of the ruling house but there is quite literally glass everywhere so maybe it’s just one cool element—that should have then been on the cover—but like, the whole book is about the Assassin’s trial, right? So call it The Assassin’s Trial or Tournament of Assassins. You know. The plot of the book, not just one random ass element in the background.

Be authentically fantastical, or don't write fantasy.

[hazel-of-sodor]

Day 22-Succession

Traintober 2023

Other Stories

Day 22-Top Hatt

Succession

Autumn 2016

Edward simmered lazily outside Tidmouth Station, the crisp autumn air swirling around his boiler and down to his wheels pleasantly. He stretched slightly, sighing. His valve gear had to started to have minor aches lately, signaling that he wasn't far from an overhaul.

Finally, the back door to the Controller's Office opened and she stepped out.

Jane Hatt II, the newest Fat Controller, cut a striking figure in the traditional 3 piece suit and top hat. She had exchanged the black tie for one in North Western Blue with red lining. Rather than black, her pants and overjacket were a very deep blue, her undershirt a light purple in honor of her grandfather.

"You look splendid Ms.Hatt!" Edward said with feeling.

Jane shrugged, "It feels like I'm playing dress up." She said.

Edward chuckled, "Your father said much the same thing, and your grandfather too. I think that's why Charles chose purple instead of yellow, the difference made it feel more real to him."

"Rather than just playing at being his father." Jane guessed. 

"Exactly." 

"What was he like? The first I mean."

Edward blinked, "Topham?"

"Yes, Dad and Grandpa have told me about him but..." She hesitated.

"You wanna know from one of his engines, not his children."

"Yes."

Edward considered the question carefully, I'm honestly not sure there is all that much of a difference in later years honestly."

He looked at Jane seriously, "He was a serious but passionate man. He cared for us deeply, even early on, but...it was a very different time. Men were expected to be stronger, harsher...He had to learn how to be a controller, and he sometimes got it wrong in the early years."

"The tunnel incident."

Edward snorted, "Remind me to tell you what actually happened with all that when we have time. Topham was fair most of the time but had quite the temper when wronged.  He learned to control it in later years, but by then he had his reputation."

Edward paused, "I think the clearest image I can give you of his later years was the last time I saw him. He was taking your namesake for a picnic, and had come to talk to me while waiting for their trains." Edward closed his eyes, remembering, "He'd been having health problems for months but refused to let them slow him down...they finally caught up with him."

Edward took a deep breath, "He asked me to look after Charles, to help him as controller. He wasn't worried about himself, he was worried about his son having someone to turn to as Controller."

He looked at Jane seriously, "I have kept that promise to him ever since, from Charles to Stephen, and now to you."

He smiled suddenly, "He would have loved you, you know. You would have reminded him of Jane, who he always said was his better half. He often looked back at his early years as a controller far too harshly. He got us through the 20s and 30s, with all of us intact. No other controller could say that."

"So he would be okay with me being controller instead of Richard?"

Edward snorted, "He would be relieved. He'd have loved Richard too, but he reminds me of a young Thomas in all the wrong ways." he chuckled. 

"He would have been very proud of you, and proud of your brother for realizing you were the better fit."

Jane snorted, "If only the news agreed.,

"Just ignore them." Edward advised, "It's what he did."

She patted his buffer beam, "I'll keep that in mind. Thank you, Edward."

"Any time Ms. Hatt."

The fourth Fat Controller turned and walked towards the platform and her first day running the North Western Railway, collecting her Top Hatt from her office as she did so.

Edward happily closed his eyes and began to doze before his next train, confident they were in good hands.

[gamesception]

Sception Reads Cass Cain #34

Robin (1993) #88 - May 2001 Story: Chuck Dixon & Scott Beatty Pencils: Pete Woods, Ink: Andrew Pepoy Letters: Willie Schubert, Colors: Noelle Giddings

Guest appearance again this week. A bit more of a notable one because as far as I know this is officially the first time Cass Cain and Stephanie Brown meet. Kind of more significant in retrospect than in the moment, as they don't exactly hit it off right away, but still.

So the basic setup is that Bruce has decided Stephanie isn't going to just go away and stop doing Spoiler stuff so he might as well take her on officially and train her, a decision spurred on by Tim working more and more on his own & not answering Bruce's calls. When Tim disappeared from the country completely without telling Bruce where he went Bruce turned to Stephanie to check up on him, in the process telling Steph Tim's secret identity, which iirc (my Robin knowledge is limited, I could have this wrong) previously Tim had used as the reason they couldn't be in a relationship. Like "I can't date you, you don't even know who I am, and I can't tell you that even though I want to because it might give away Batman's identity, which isn't my secret to share. Also my life is super dangerous, and Batman doesn't think you're ready, and as much as I like you I have to respect his professional opinion on this"

On the one hand it's dicky of Bruce to not respect Tim's privacy the way Tim respected his, but on the other hand Tim blowing up about it kind of implies that all those things he told steph were excuses, and the real reason he didn't want to date her was that he just wasn't that into her. Or maybe he was, but got mad at her for getting pregnant by someone else after he rejected her and now doesn't want to date her because of that? Did that happen already, or after this? Again, I don't know the details of Robin Lore, but reading just this issue and the previous one for background, Tim is absolutely the one who comes off as worse here between him and Bruce.

So anyway that's what's going on. Cass shows up in all of this when Bruce takes Stephanie to one of his training caves and has Cass demonstrate a training routine that Steph is struggling with.

Which, yeah, I guess this is pretty badass or whatever,

But if this were a real life situation, Cass would have just decapitated like seven dudes. 100% fatality rate for the criminal dummies. You'd think Bruce would be a little less glowing in his praise over that, considering how much of his shitty behavior towards Cass started when he found out she might have (definitely did, but denial is a powerful drug) killed somebody.

Cass gives Steph the cold shoulder. Giving Dixon & Beatty the benefit of the doubt for a moment, this does fit very much into the recent evolution of Cass's character, becoming harder and harsher as she gets more isolated. She also may be picking up on and echoing Batman's lowish opinion of Stephanie as a vigilante / person, even if it has softened enough for the moment that he's willing to train her.

And it sets up for future interactions where Stephanie basically puts in the work to break through Cass's walls, despite her initial frosty attitude, to become the friend Cass needed when when she didn't have any others. The whole arc is honestly pretty touching and really speaks to Stephanie's character, and it isn't possible without this initial attitude from Cass.

....

On the other hand, this plays into an obnoxious trend of the entire bat family being written as incredibly rude and dickish towards Stephanie, in ways that very often feel completely out of character. Even (especially) Tim, her supposed love interest. Even Alfred!

Yes, calling Alfred 'the Butler' is rude, but Alfred was uncharacteristically rude and dismissive to her first in this scene.

And since it so often feels out of character, you get the impression that the people who actually hate Stephanie aren't the characters themselves, but rather the writers and editors at DC. That is eventually undeniably the case, once DiDio is in charge and War Games is happening.

But that's still 3 years away! I had to check, because the way the narrative is treating Stephanie right now, the way all the characters we're supposed to think are in the right here are treating her (Alfred, Tim, not Bruce), feels very much like the build up to War Games, with Stephanie finally getting a chance to shine and getting some respect from bruce, but with the overall narrative implying that's a bad thing somehow and that she isn't worthy, that despite all her work and earnest commitment she's somehow only coasting on hubris and setting herself up fro a fall, one that we as the audience are supposed to find, like, cathartic, or maybe at best tragic but in a cosmically justified sense that she brought on herself.

And it all kind of sucks, because no, she really doesn't deserve any of it. Or rather she hasn't been written to deserve any of it. The differences between her and Bruce's other sundry teen sidekicks and hangers on have overwhelmingly been in how others have been written as treating her, not the things she's been written as doing or in her personality or whatever.

I guess that's a free writer tip for you. If you want the reader to not like a character, write that character as doing or saying or thinking unlikable things, or acting for distasteful motives. Or give that character things they don't deserve or appreciate without having to work for them. Don't make them sweet and put-upon and have them try hard to do the right thing despite coming from a bad place and struggle to earn respect that others get for free only to have it denied to them anyway and then have all your main characters shit on them constantly for no reason or even explicitly for doing things that they all do and get rewarded for.

If you do all that, your readers will end up identifying with the character you want them to dislike and disliking the characters you want them to identify with.

EDIT: oh, I almost forgot, we do get this one cute 'proud papa' moment from Bruce:

Always nice to see those, especially amid all the less positive stuff going on with him and Cass right now.

[cigarettesandinevitablebetrayal]

Okay! This is the second piece that I'm tossing out. This one took me a long time to let go of because I really liked a lot of the writing of this one. Unfortunately, the tweaking I'd need to do to save it would absolutely shred it, so it's time I let it go.

This is Built on Lies, a rewrite of the self crash scene from Ortega's perspective involving my Sidestep Rashad Basri. This was written immediately after their first run through Retribution when they were closer to Canon characterization Sidestep and when they went to HG themself (because it was my first run. Of course I was going to see HG). It also plays around with the idea that, while Ortega can't have their mind influenced or manipulated by telepathy, that it didn't mean they weren't psi-sensitive. This has since been shot to hell (/lovingly and teasingly said) by the Rydén himself, hence another reason I just have to let this one go.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy. I really liked working on this one. Happy reading!

The silence is insufferable. Ricardo doesn't generally like the quiet. He usually finds any excuse to fill it, with idle chatter or flirting or gentle ribbing, anything really. The silences with Rashad are different. He doesn't feel the need to fill up the space between them. Rashad may be unable to read Ricardo's mind, but that resulted in Rashad dropping their mental shields around Ricardo which, in result, means they accidentally projects their thoughts and emotions out and around them.

Ricardo has never mentioned this. He's too worried that if he does, those walls will slam right back up. And he'd miss the heady mix of desire, nostalgia, fondness, and nervousness that radiates off Rashad's mind like the steady waves of the ocean. Rashad's anxiety feels different this time. It chafes against Ricardo's mind as if they don't fit together here. Not now. Not after what Ricardo had seen.

They sit in the front seats of a stolen car - a car Ricardo watched Rashad steal not five minutes ago. Hollow Ground’s haunt is still within view. Rashad is wearing a fine pressed suit that Ricardo has never seen. He would have never guessed Rashad even owned a suit. Everything about the situation makes Ricardo’s stomach twist in unpleasant knots. Nothing feels like it’s as it should be.

"So…" The word hangs between them like a guillotine blade, just waiting to see whose neck it severs first. Ricardo stares at Rashad. His love. His friend. His family. The glare of the Los Diablos sunset pierces through the windshield, painting Rashad's dark skin in warmth. It makes their eyes turn from near black to molten gold. Ricardo wants nothing more than for Rashad to look his way. To say something, anything.

Rashad, as is their wont, says nothing. They stare straight ahead, ignoring Ricardo altogether, their lips pressed into a harsh line. They're driving faster than the speed limit is set, their gaze jumping to the rearview mirror every couple seconds, but with Ricardo in the car they're not likely to be pulled over.

"Talk to me." The words come out of Ricardo's mouth harsher than he intended. He's tired of begging Rashad for every inch. He's tired of pretending to be in the dark. Tired of pretending to simply take every one of Rashad's idiosyncrasies in stride. "You just stole a car. I'd hate to think you did that for no reason."

Rashad hunches their shoulders, their knuckles paling on the steering wheel. "I thought I was being followed, alright? I couldn't tell it was you." They shoot Ricardo a sharp look. "Besides, the driver was drunk. I did him a favor."

Ricardo grits his teeth. There's a vice on his heart and with every word it tightens. Maybe it will be crushed beneath the weight of what's between them. He hopes not. "Why were you in Hollow Ground's club?"

Something hardens in Rashad's dark eyes, but something else begins to crack. This mask won't hold for long, so Ricardo presses harder. "I need to know."

Rashad's irritation is just as predictable as their silence. They switch strategies like clockwork - dancing the same dance they always have. "What were you doing spying on me?"

"I won't let you make this into an argument," he says softly. He means it. He'll press, but he won't fight. "Not this time."

"So I see." Back to silence. Ricardo's never seen what happens if he doesn't give in to the fight. If he keeps needling, will Rashad open up or shut down. He prays it's the former.

"Look." Ricardo sighs deeply. No other way but forward. "I didn't want it to come to this. I had hoped you'd trust me with the truth, but-" 

"But what?" Frustration again. Without Ricardo giving in, Rashad’s tactics seem to be stuck in a loop like a broken record.

“I know it must be hard on you.” Ricardo tries to keep his voice soft, consoling. He honestly doesn’t know what he’d do if he was in Rashad’s place. He can’t imagine what it would feel like to be torn between his family and his partner. “I just need to know if you’re on my side.”

There’s a flash of fear in Rashad’s expression before they school it back into ambivalence. Their voice still shakes when they say, “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Ricardo sighs again, but it’s more in relief than anything. This admission is, at least, a reassurance. He stills wants Rashad to say it out loud. “You know why.”

The stiffness that settles in Rashad’s jaw only lasts a few seconds before everything slips out of place. Their posturing and mask fall away like pieces of jagged glass from a broken window. They look more tired than they've ever seemed before, but also there’s a hint of relief there. “You’re right.” They take a long, slow breath in. “I should have trusted you with this long before now.”

“Finally.” It takes all of Ricardo’s self control to bite back the sharp laugh at the back of his throat. “I was starting to think you’d never tell me.”

“It’s not an easy thing to confess, even when you know.” Their warm voice is soft, hesitant. There’s so much grief weighing down his words. “I should have known you’d find out I’m Heartbreak sooner or later.”

All of Ricardo’s thoughts come crashing full stop like a train into a cliffside. He feels as though Rashad has knocked every breath out of him. He wades through his thoughts, struggling as though pushing through knee-deep mud as the sentence sinks slowly deeper in. He stares at Rashad, jaw working with countless words to be said, but nothing makes it past his teeth.

Heartbreak. The snake in the grass and bane of Los Diablos politicians and corporate bigwigs alike for the better half of a year. A ghost that stalks the shadows, stealing and extorting as he pleases, ousting people from power like it’s a game of chess and he’s simply picking pieces off the board. Ricardo can still see that mirrored helmet, cold and alienating, when he closes his eyes. He still remembers the way Heartbreak’s boot felt against his ribs.

Heartbreak is Rashad. Rashad, who always throws themself into a fight for the weak. Who tries to reach out to every animal that crosses their path. Who cries at corny tv movies. Who looks at Ricardo like he’s hung the moon every time he says something silly. He can’t justify the idea that the person who cried into his arms not a fortnight ago is the same as the villain who sent Herald to the hospital at the Memorial Museum. No, that can’t be right. It doesn’t make sense. “What are you talking about?”

Ricardo sees his own horror mirrored back to him in Rashad’s expression. “You didn’t know,” Rashad says slowly. They look like they want to bolt, even from the moving vehicle. Unfortunately, neither of them can. “Fuck.”

The silence gives way to anger and denial. No. Rashad wouldn’t choose this for themself. They were pressured. They must have been. “Did Hollow Ground force you to do this?” Rage tempers the question into something cold and hard. What could that bastard possibly have over Rashad?

Rashad’s brows furrow. “What makes you think that?”

“It can’t be easy to go against your family…”

“My family?” Rashad draws back like they’ve been struck. There it is again: that fear. Whatever it is that ties them to Hollow Ground must be heavy. “What do you know about my family?”

"Hollow Ground." Ricardo clarifies. But there's something wrong here. He can't quite put his finger on what. "I've seen his face. And I had to know if I was imagining things. So I did some digging, found your arrest records. You were just a kid, but you didn't look so different back then."

"What the fuck are you talking about?" There's a quickness to Rashad's breathing that catches Ricardo's attention.

He supposes it was a breach of privacy. It hadn't been easy finding those records. They'd been sealed and buried and it had taken more than a few greasing of palms to get them. "It must have been hard, breaking from the family business, but I didn't want to dissuade you back then. So I kept your face out of the papers." Ricardo looks down at his hands. He balls up his fists as he lets the anger wash over him. "I guess I should've worked harder. He found you anyway."

“Ricardo-” Ricardo can hear the beginnings of an admonishment. It doesn't come. He trails off, their eyes unfocused as they do so often when something catches their attention telepathically. Their attention zeroes in on something in the rearview mirror in the next second. 

Ricardo glances over his shoulder, but not fast enough to see anything before Rashad hits the gas. "Shit!" He presses himself hard into his seat, trying irrationally to put any space between himself and the cars they’re now weaving through. “Watch it!” he shouts as Rashad nearly clips a car they speed past.

Rashad stares out the windshield, intent on finding the fastest ways through the traffic without scraping up the car too much. Their knuckles are pale on the steering wheel. Ricardo can feel the eclectic panic sparking from Rashad’s mind. “We’re in trouble.”

“That’s nothing new!” Ricardo’s voice pitches up on the last word as Rashad pulls a sharp turn.

Ricardo is just barely aware of something streaking past when a sound like a small explosion goes off not far behind them. He can see sparks streaking off the now exposed rim of their back tire as it scrapes across the asphalt. Instinctively, he ducks his head down and out of view of the windows. A gunman? He tamps down on his growing panic. He knows the drill. He's trained for something like this. Back to familiar territory.

His thoughts begin to speed by as Rashad pulls another hard turn. Something isn't right here. Hollow Ground wouldn't have had the time to set up a gunman, especially when stealing a car was a spur of the moment decision. The timing is all wrong, even if Ricardo can see a sliver of motive.

Another shot and his heart skips as they take another jolt. The wheel jerks out of Rashad's grip. There's a split second where Rashad's hand is on his shoulder, grip tight, before he shoves Ricardo back and upright in his seat.

Ricardo tries to protest. They both know the safest thing to do now is duck, not sit up. He only just notices the truck before it makes impact. The airbags explode out and the world goes black.

~ ~ ~

Ricardo comes to as though he has to swim through molasses to get to the waking world. His eye stings in that familiar way that tells him blood is dripping into it. Every muscle in his body aches. He can feel the bruises beginning to form. There's a sharp, spasming pain in his left arm - a malfunctioning emitter, he realizes. That's going to be a problem.

It takes a minute later for him to realize he's hanging upside. Or rather, the car has flipped. Ricardo fumbles with the seat belt, falling to the roof of the car with a groan. He sits there, leaning against one of the slowly deflating airbags, and takes stock of himself. He's not too badly off, all things considered. Sore and bruised, a twinge in his neck, and the malfunctioning emitter, but all in all he's been in worse scrapes. If Rashad hadn't -

His eyes snap open, turning to look at the driver's seat so fast, his neck protests. Rashad is hanging limply in their seat, held only in place by their seat belt. Their face is starting to swell and bruise. They aren’t moving, completely silent, and Ricardo could swear they’re barely breathing.

Panic begins to set in.

"Rashad." Ricardo lightly touches Rashad's shoulder. He gives his love a light shake. "Queride?" He touches Rashad's face as gently as he can manage. They don't respond to the touch. Their breaths are shallow and far between. 

Ricardo lunges for Rashad's buckle, making his head swim in the process. He manages to catch Rashad against his chest as they ragdoll down. Just from a glance, Ricardo knows there's something wrong in the way their legs land. He cradles Rashad closer to him, brushing their messy black hair out of their face. "Stay with me, mi amor," He begs, pressing a desperate kiss against Rashad's forehead. "Don't let go."

The thought of losing them should not cut him so deeply, not in light of what he's just learned. It isn't just Rashad he's holding in his arms, it's Heartbreak. He's holding a supervillain, weeping into a supervillain's hair, begging a supervillain to cling to life. He can't seem to find it in himself to care. The thought of losing Rashad again makes Ricardo feel as though he can't breathe. He can't go through this again.

He shoves his hand into his pocket, praying that his phone survived the crash as he fishes for it. He flips it open and hits the emergency line saved in his speed dial. It rings once before someone picks up. "Location?" The curt voice says.

Ricardo glances out the shattered windshield, squinting past the pileup of cars. Between the panic and confusion, he can’t seem to locate the signs. “Corner of Eighth and Maple.” It’s a rough estimate, but it’ll have to do. “I need an ambulance!”

[darkplaceblankface]

(No need to answer this if you don't want, and hope it doesn't come across as criticism bc it isn't meant that way) I would also like to ask about the first meeting with Josie in the original story- throughout the novel, Josie seems to be someone who hates the empire/oppression and generally tries to lessen suffering. But when Jake first meets her, she feeds into his fear about rape/dehuminsation/slavery/torture, and I remember wondering why, when overall she seems to be pretty decent. I guess I was confused as to why she would go out of her way to terrorise someone already so downtrodden- could you tell us about the reason for that characterisation and moment please?😊

Yeah, that hadn't come out as I wanted it to in the end. I think I had a different execution in mind, but for the first visage of her, it was a little harsh. That was also an extensive representation of her own fear in ILE. (All the Valentins are prone to projection) She was also trying to pull the curtain away from Jake because of her resentment toward her sister. She could tell there was a little honeymoon phase thing between them and wanted to mess it up.

Side note: I also wanted more "is indie bad or good" mystique, so her first new chapters went more of a show-rather-than-tell route that I like better.

Josie is also a nice person but very aggressive and blunt, speaking harsher than she means to. (Her chronic RBF doesn't help, haha.) She takes her anger out on people and then has a lot of remorse for it later. These are inherited traits.

Nick has a short temper (he's a beltline arguer), and Martha (Gunnysack arguer), of course, takes out on others via verbal lash out/Mindwork and does not regret it. Josie has her parents' traits but is better than them in general empathy.

Josie has solid values and morals but will crash out immediately if she's ticked off. I kept that spirit in her newer first meeting with Jake in the fight scene.

I'm keeping that scene in some sense...and it will be played differently. Maybe that's a bit much for Jake...but it could fit somewhere else. ;)