#i kinda just liked the pattern (・∀・)
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
Text
Also, like, even if we do focus on the mug?
I’m tired of thrifting and bargaining and piecing together to have nice things. I’m tired of not buying the nice things I can afford because I don’t have anywhere safe to store them. I’m tired of keeping things that used to be nice but are now broken beyond repair because I can’t afford/won’t be able to replace them.
When my mum got married in her 20s - and not wealthy, or securely employed - she placed a gift registry with Wedgewood for the dinner service - plates, side plates, soup bowls, dessert bowls, tureens, and tea service - the whole shebang.
My family used every Christmas and Easter for my entire childhood, and which she still has (a couple of mishaps aside.) Yes, it was a “second” but barely noticeably. It was new, and it was complete, and it was hers.
When I got married, we didn’t even attempt to do this (even though we both wanted to) because we didn’t have somewhere safe to keep it, and besides were moving house every 2-3 years between rented places of varying sizes.
I’ve wanted a decent dinner service from a my entire adult life - complete, matching, and in a pattern I’d chosen for myself - even if it was just the plates and bowls. But there was no sense in it - we were moving too often, and then when we were settled, there was nowhere to keep it, and for most of that, no dining table to use it on.
And my spouse and I are lucky! Housing wise, stability wise, furniture wise we’ve always been luckier than 80% of our friends. We’ve mostly been able to run a car, and meet rent/mortgage, and our families have helped us out when we haven’t. And we still weren’t able to access the middle class lifestyle our parents had access to.
So yeah, it’s everything - crockery, furniture, clothes. I’m fed up of matching pieces, and haggling, and trawling eBay, and going down the discount aisles, or racing resellers to the bargains, or buying stuff in a pattern or fabric I kinda like rather than one I love because it’s complete and affordable and decent quality.
I would really love just to be able to go in to a fucking shop that sells new things, one day, and go, “That one, please.”
When I grow up I wanna be upper middle class.
204K notes
·
View notes
Note
Did.... did you say stuck-porn scenario San?? I'm gonna need that asap please👀 your writing is so yummylicious it's not even funny
rock & a hard place
summary: your roommate lends a helping hand. genre/pairing: roommate!san x fem!reader warnings: smut 18+ mdni, softdom!san x reader, unwanted creampie, kinda size kink, slight dubcon, so pls read with caution :) bom note: me writing jongho smut after jongho smut and forcing myself to write other member smut - i can’t put down the cup, i can’t put down the cup💔💔
You’re humiliated.
You’re not sure how you managed to fit your entire front half into the dryer, but the panic inside you is rising with every second that passes. The confined space of the machine is only making it worse as you try to fight your way out. Seriously, you swore this was only something that happens in porn.
You can’t even reach your phone. The last resort, the most embarrassing one, is to call your roommate.
Your voice is quiet at first, embarrassment shrouding your entirety. San is an understanding sweetheart, you know that, but he is unfortunately also one of the most handsome men you’ve seen. To have him seeing you like this, with practically naked in just your panties and bent over is what the kids call ‘an aura-loss.’
He comes running the second time you call for him, hearing the panic in your voice, “Are yo-ah.”
San covers his eyes at first, taken aback by the sight of your naked body. Even though you can’t see him gawking, he still feels too awkward to do it unashamedly. Your little plump ass is literally on display for him, in your adorable Hello Kitty patterned panties, and he can’t help it when his face sets on fire. Or when his shorts grow tight.
Hearing the realization in his voice only makes you want to disappear even more, “I’m so sorry, San, I was just getting my clothes. I don’t know how I got stuck.”
He’s still frozen in place and scared to touch you, “Don’t be sorry. I’m just-uhh. How do you want me to get you…out?”
San tries to psych himself up behind you, softly slapping himself as if that’ll get rid of his raging boner. He can’t rip his eyes away from your ass.
“Just-do what you need to, San.”
With your permission, San grabs your hips firmly. His hands send electrifying tingles throughout your body, but you have no choice but to ignore it. You don’t realize that San is fighting the same urge behind you, squeezing your hips and caressing your skin under the pretense that he’s finding a better grip. He never noticed how soft your skin is until now.
He pulls once, to no avail. The second time, he accidentally bumps against you with the force he uses. San mutters out a swear at the feeling, almost cumming right then and there. His hard-on isn’t helping, with every little inch he moves he’s in jeopardy of letting you know how hard he is.
But, he can’t help himself. You’re just so tempting, if anything it’s your fault for walking around like this. He rubs himself once on you, playing it off as an accidental touch, but he immediately needs more once he feels you. He’s dizzy with need, dizzy with you, and he just can’t resist the climbing urge he’s feeling to seize this opportunity you’ve presented him with.
San keens over, leaning onto the dryer in front of him, “Sh-shit,”
You feel him. You feel his desperate cock, his hot breath against your back, and the growing heat of his entire body. He feels your body shudder at the size of his bulge as it presses against you and he can’t help but think that maybe you want this just as bad as he does.
San tentatively inserts his fingers under the band of your panties, “Just-need better grip-hah-okay?”
“W-wait, San!”
He pulls your underwear off with one swift tug, groaning when he sees your slick glistening in the dim light. You’re shaking and he can’t help but find your little pathetic pleads adorable.
“You won’t get out of here until I help. So just let me help you, okay?”
He sounds so beautiful when he’s desperate and needy, and there’s really nothing you can do but submit to him. You don’t have time to react before you feel the cold metal of his rings rubbing through your folds. You hear his breathy moans as he continues exploring you, feel his shaky fingers trying their hardest to hold back. His other hand struggles to hurriedly get himself out of his sweatpants, already leaking and tip red with need. You suddenly feel San’s lips on the small of your back. A kind warning kiss, you fear, for what’s to come.
He whispers gently, as if trying not to scare you off, “You just can’t be walking around like this and expect not to be fucked, baby,”
The sound of his soft, gentle voice is like a key to your soul. You reply just as gently, “I know, Sannie, ‘m sorry…”
He drags his cock over your folds, surprising you. You can’t see what he’s doing, so every time he touches you it’s a complete shock to your senses. He seems to enjoy your little shivers and nervous shakes. He likes to see how vulnerable you are, how he’s in complete control of you and everything that’s happening to you. San keeps dragging himself between you, collecting your juices on himself.
He seems to drown in this feeling, swallowing every quiet whine you give and using it to fuel his domineering air, “Really, you did this on purpose-shit-just to get me to fuck your brains out. Why didn’t you just ask, dolly?”
“It wasn’t on purpose…”
“So cute. Your little, wet pussy is dripping, baby. You like this, don’t you? You like it when I force you to get fucked?”
San doesn’t even give you the chance to respond before sliding his cock inside of you. He shushes you when you complain, holding your arms back and still so you don’t hurt yourself. Although he likes watching your little shakes of defiance, how adorably useless you are against him. He soothes you through the stretch of him, groaning alongside your whines as he feels you suck him in.
He bottoms out, whining as you clench around his length, “No, no, dolly, quit that. I’ll cum in your tiny pussy, we don’t want that, do we?”
You aggressively shake your head as San starts to fuck you, all caution thrown to the wind with his harsh thrusts. You’re embarrassed by your loud squelching, but you hardly have time to think about that with San’s length hitting practically every inch of your insides. His moans are adorably whiny, breathy as the barely-there restraint leaves his body and he fucks you with even more vigor. He’s spurred on by the feeling of your tiny body against his, your pathetic attempts of freeing yourself only adding to his pleasure.
“Hah-you’re so tight, sweetheart. I really can’t help myself, might have to claim you forever,”
“S-sannie, no, I said no-“
He’s rabid in his taking of you, holding your wrists tight as he grows closer to the edge, “Oh, god, you’re so cute, this tiny, little pussy’s gonna be mine forever-“
“San!”
San holds your hips tight, fingernails digging into your skin and moaning sweetly as he pulls you into him, his cum flowing freely inside you. He pulls so hard in the haze of his orgasm that your entire body falls back with the force and onto him.
He’s still in the throes of his orgasm, yelping as you fall onto him and he lands on the floor. It’s cold against his ass cheeks, and he’s blushing hard once the post-nut realization hits that he came so hard he managed to pop you out. San decides this is probably on his list of worst orgasms.
Your face is flushed as you turn to him, “That’s what you get for cumming inside.”
He has the decency to look sheepish, “Sorry…”
#ateez#ateez x reader#ateez imagines#ateez fic#ateez oneshot#ateez scenarios#ateez smut#choi san#choi san x reader#choi san x y/n#choi san imagines#choi san smut
284 notes
·
View notes
Text
webbed in desire
pairings: tasm!peter x fem!reader
synopsis: Peter really likes your Spiderman pajama pants
warnings: kinda suggestive
Peter Parker swung into your apartment window mid-sentence, mask pulled halfway up his face as he rambled about patrol. “And, seriously, who even owns a unicycle anymore? Like, that’s gotta be—”
He stopped abruptly, mid-step, when his eyes landed on you.
You were sitting at your vanity, totally unaware of the effect you were having on him. Your head was tilted slightly as you concentrated on whatever you were holding—maybe a bottle of lotion, maybe a tube of lip balm, he couldn’t even tell because his attention had zeroed in on something else entirely.
It was the pants.
The red and blue Spider-Man pajama pants that hung low on your hips, decorated with tiny web patterns and logos. His logo. Paired with your black tank top, the whole look made him forget how to breathe for a second.
“Are you—” His voice cracked, and he cleared his throat, his mask now forgotten in his hand. “Are those... Spider-Man pajamas?”
You glanced up, catching his reflection in the mirror. The corner of your mouth quirked into a grin, like you’d been waiting for him to notice. “Uh-huh,” you said casually, like it wasn’t a big deal. “Cute, right?”
Peter blinked, still standing near the window like his feet had been glued to the floor. “Cute?” He let out a short laugh, dragging a hand down his face. “No, no. You don’t get to call that cute. That’s—damn, baby. That’s a problem.”
Turning in your chair, you swiveled to face him, laughing softly at the look on his face. “Oh! I almost forgot to show you the full effect.”
You stood up, giving a playful little spin that made the fabric swish around your legs. When you stopped, your hands went to your hips, and you grinned at him like you knew exactly what you were doing.
Peter groaned, running his hand through his hair as he finally pushed away from the window and crossed the room in three long strides. His hands found your waist as he pulled you against him, his thumbs brushing along the waistband of the pants.
“I can’t even be mad about this,” he murmured, his voice low and teasing. “You look so good with me all over you. Pun very much intended.”
Your grin turned mischievous as you leaned closer, your breath warm against his skin. “Well, I can’t wait for you to see what I’ve got on underneath.”
Peter blinked, his grip on your waist tightening slightly as his brain tried to catch up. “Underneath?”
With a sly smile, you stepped back just enough to hook your thumbs into the waistband of the pants, pulling them down just enough to reveal a peek of red and blue. The Spider-Man bra and panties were unmistakable—the webbed details, the tiny logos, the way they hugged your skin perfectly.
Peter stared, his mouth falling open slightly as his eyes darted between your face and the glimpse of fabric. For a moment, it seemed like he couldn’t even speak, his brain short-circuiting entirely.
“Oh no,” you teased, crossing your arms and tilting your head. “Did I break Spider-Man?”
He let out a breathless laugh, his hands running through his hair as he closed the space between you again. “You’re insane,” he muttered, his hands sliding back to your waist as he leaned down, his lips hovering just above yours. “And I am obsessed with you.”
#fem!reader#peter parker fluff#peter parker imagine#peter parker x reader#tasm peter parker#peter parker#peter parker x y/n#peter parker x you#tasm!peter imagine#tasm!peter parker#tasm fluff#tasm spiderman#tasm!peter x reader#tasm!peter x you#spiderman imagine#spiderman fluff#spiderman x you#spiderman x reader#peter parker blurb#spiderman blurb#spiderman fanfic#spiderman fanfiction#Spiderman oneshot
217 notes
·
View notes
Text
why Okarun is a real g
-he was bullied and had no friends and somehow came out of it without any exceptionally strong feelings of hatred or resentment towards his peers.
Trust me as someone who has been in that position (minus the bullying) it is SO easy to hate everyone. From what I’ve heard we learn very little abt this character’s life but I’d assume he might have at least had a good upbringing to turn out like this. I did not so that might be part of why I literally despised everyone and became a bit of a femcel for a while…
-polite, puts others first.
Legit who doesn’t like someone like that? I see no need to even elaborate on this point.
-he respects women’s boundaries.
It’s so common for boys in shounen to be creeps and so seeing a male shounen protagonist who actually is decent towards women is really refreshing! Especially one from a show whose premise revolves around him losing his dick and balls! (The only other shounen I really like is chainsaw man which takes an incredibly nuanced approach to a perverted male protagonist, and I wouldn’t really call Denji perverted as much as he is horny, desperate, and a typical teenaged boy. He reminds me a little of my boyfriend when he was younger lol)
unrelated but even tho the “scenes” of creepiness in the show are kind of unnecessary (I think they’re there so turbo granny can come in clutch and save Momo from whatever is happening to her, since turbo granny’s whole schtick/initial redeeming quality is protecting girls from those kinds of threats. That and the series is batshit insane and needs ridiculous ways to get from point a to point b. I still see why people don’t like these scenes tho) it is kinda interesting to me that the most pervy fuck it I’m gonna use the real word RAPEY literal attempted sexual assault moments in the show seem to be used to make us dislike a character and view them as fucked up. (Allegedly they stop being used which thank God but I digress I’ve been talking abt them too long lmao)
the good guys in the series are like, actually pretty innocent. Aira looks at her dad’s porn to figure out how romance works, Momo and Okarun have this incredibly sweet and innocent romance, and don’t make it weird or creepy when they see eachother in a vulnerable position, Jiji is just a very close childhood friend of momo’s and while he might like her he seems to be pretty respectful and again, innocent. Have yet to meet the rest of the cast but I do hope to see this pattern of innocence continue.
I might also be reading into it too much idk
#Dandadan#okarun#momokarun#momo ayase#ken takakura#aira shiratori#dandadan jiji#jiji enjoji#momo dandadan#Chainsaw man#chainsaw man denji
86 notes
·
View notes
Text
OK– so this is gonna be the last time I have to do a full line up to my guys, right? Right?
seriously tho, very proud of this piece and how far my designs have come, and this will probably be the main look I'll settle with for all my voices.
Full line up and some design notes + headcanons under the cut:
and here's the first ever sketches for comparison:
Hero: didn't change much from my original sketch, but I certainly got a lot better at drawing his body type. Sparrow; general shape is a square with rounded edges. Reliable and strong, but still soft. He wears that red shirt I sometimes draw him in under the leather armor, and the feathers on his helmet are fake, his real ones is brown like the rest of him (how does it stay perfectly hidden in the helmet? ✨Magic✨). He/Him.
Contrarian: Changed a LOT from the original sketch, and got details added to him a lot as I drew him. Hummingbird; tall and lanky silhouette, mainly broken by their hair and wings. They start off with a different color palette in the construct, that becomes faded out in Strange Beginnings, and finally, gets a lot more colorful as they develop outside. They/He.
Cheated: also changed a lot, as I struggled a bit with properly conveying his shape language. Seagull; sharp lines with lots of pointed bits in his design (mainly triangles and losangles); overall look is somewhat asymmetrical to add to the 'patched up' feel. Detachable arm, and more limbs could be too, but she's trying to be careful with her own body. She/He.
Skeptic: the general vibe of his final look was there in the initial sketch, but how I decided to convey it changed a lot. Hawk; the only things his wears is his hat, gloves, scarf (and sometimes a waist purse), with the feathers around his chest and tail giving the impression of a suit/coat. The feather on his hat is one of his own, he has a similar feather poking out of his head that gets hidden by the hat (*points* bald). He/Him
Smitten: design didn't technically change from how I initially drew him, just the way I draw it that evolved. Macaw (pink macaws don't exist?They do with the power of belief!!); all round edges and soft lines, giving him an approachable and harmless appearance despite his size. Has the most human face out of everyone here. He/Him, but won't complain if you use other pronouns too (especially she/her, it's a lovely pronoun set <3)
Stubborn: almost didn't change at all from my earlier designs. Mainly exaggerated his features and shapes a bit more. Ostritch. Big and bold lines for a large square as the general shape. Ear tufts looking more like horns, and his fluffy wings help break the pattern a lil bit. Gave him a cat face cuz I thought it'd be cute and the shape works well with his ear tufts. He/Him (but in a lesbian way).
Broken: Also didn't change all that much. Small and unobtrusive, their general shape is smth of a slouched square, and the head is shaped like a teardrop. Pigeon; takes the most from The Long Quiet in terms of general traits, tho much more worn down. The sack-as-cloak is supposed to invoke the look of an abandoned pet. Some of their feathers grow back with time, and they forgone the sack to get some actual clothes, but it's a long way till then. They/Them.
Opportunist: Gave me the most trouble designing, but once I had the initial doodle down, designing him went a lot smoother lol. Magpie; car salesman attire. The always-loose tie is supposed to look like a snake's tongue, and his head shape is kinda like that of a scorpion's tail. He does have an actual scorpion tail, but that remains hidden in case of emergency. Face looks like a porcelain mask despite being an actual face. He/Him (also occasionally use Ey/Em too).
Hunted: Changed the most out of all my designs, getting a full rework at some point. A hybrid between hare, deer, and quail; prey animals, while Beast has more predator traits. Has no depth perception like a lot of prey, and its stance makes it look smaller than it is (it's about as tall as Cold). It/Its.
Paranoid: The initial sketch is pretty incomplete, but the general idea is there. Loon; big eyes and uneven feathers to give her a 'frazzled' look. Feathers always falling out looking like she's always sweating bullets. Cloak covers overpreened wings and most of her markings. Fun fact: the exposed brain was initially visualized as just a bald spot, but since it looked like a brain, I just rolled with it. She/Her.
Cold: Pretty much had the general idea for his design nailed down since the initial sketch lol. Owl; another lanky and tall dude, tho more retangular with almost nothing to break the pattern but the little hair strand. Head also shaped after water, but while broken is a teardrop, for him I visualized raindrops. Has an X scar on the chest just under the X pendant on the cloak. Any pronouns.
#slay the princess#voice of the hero#voice of the contrarian#voice of the cheated#voice of the skeptic#voice of the smitten#voice of the stubborn#voice of the broken#voice of the opportunist#voice of the hunted#voice of the paranoid#voice of the cold#stp voices#voices design#finished drawing#sal draws#sal rambles
56 notes
·
View notes
Note
girlll i swear every time i see your blog its getting prettier and prettier 😭😭😭 nowww how about some percy x oblivious!reader? where he tries EVERYTHING to hint at his feelings but reader still doesn’t see it 😭
can you see me im waiting for the right time. ۫ ꣑ৎ .
syn : in the req !!
pair : percy jackson x fem!reader
warn : fluffy fluff, reader is oblivious, kisses, reader is a lil slow but its ok!!
note : im glad you love my theme !! sparkle divider creds : @bernardsbendystraws
percy jackson was losing his mind. He’d tried everything to show that he loved you. from sharing his favorite snacks, giving you his hoodie, and letting you win at capture the flag—but you still didn’t get it. Every time you called him your “best friend,” he felt like he was sinking faster than he ever could in the ocean. No matter how many hints he dropped, you stayed blissfully oblivious, leaving Percy wondering what it would take for you to finally see how much he liked you.
"percy look at this seashell", you said excitedly reaching down to grab the loner seashell. percy was so out of it he didn't even realize the seashell. he was thinking about how to tell you how he feels without being awkward.
when you realized his dozeout look you quickly stood up and walked over to him. "Perc? you ok", you asked gently trying to get his attention. he snapped out of his daze and nodded awkwardly, "yea just thinking i guess."
You tilted your head, unconvinced. “Thinking about what?” you asked, your voice laced with genuine curiosity. Percy hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck—a nervous habit you’d seen a hundred times before but never quite understood. “Uh, just… stuff,” he muttered, his cheeks tinged pink as he avoided your gaze. You frowned but decided not to push him.
Instead, you held out the seashell, changing the subject. “Isn’t this one cool? It’s got this swirl pattern, kinda like a mini hurricane.” Percy took it from you, forcing a small smile. “Yeah, it’s… cool,” he said, but his voice lacked its usual energy. He wasn’t looking at the seashell; he was looking at you, wondering if you’d ever realize that the “stuff” on his mind was you—always you.
"well imma go get more", you said smiling brightly before walking away, leaving him to think. then a idea popped into that brain of his.
Percy walked around the whole beach to collect some seashells, pretty omes to your liking.
once he got all the ones he needed he started to spell out something on the sand with the shells. once he finished it spelt out, 'i heart you.'
Percy stepped back to admire his work, his heart pounding as he glanced at the seashell message shimmering in the sunlight. It wasn’t elaborate, but it was the best he could think of—simple and honest, just like how he felt about you. He stood there for a moment, debating whether to call you over or let you find it on your own.
When he finally spotted you walking back, a handful of new seashells in your arms, he felt a rush of nerves. “Hey, uh, can you come here for a sec?” he called out, trying to sound casual.
You glanced up, smiling as you made your way toward him. “What’s up, Perc? Did you find something cool?”
He motioned toward the ground, unable to form any words. You followed his gaze and froze when you saw the shells arranged neatly in the sand. “I heart you?” you read aloud, looking back at him in confusion. “You heart me? Like… as a friend, or—?”
Percy’s face burned, and he scratched the back of his neck. “Not as a friend,” he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper.
You smiled when he said that making him a little less nervous. "But y'know it's ok if you don't like me back i just thought i should something-", before he could finish you leaned up and connected thebtwo of you's lips.
"i like you too percy", you mumbled out between kisses making him smile against the kiss.
#leila's asks .ᐟ 𐙚#leila works <3#leila's fic recs .ᐟ 𐙚#leila's diary .ᐟ 𐙚#percy jackson pjo#percy jackson x reader#percy pjo#percy series#percy jackson#percy jackon and the olympians#pjo hoo toa#pjo fandom#pjo series#riordanverse x reader#riordan universe#riordanverse#rick riordan
51 notes
·
View notes
Text
Oh goody! I get to unload about this fucking nerd's favorite thing to do!
From Software games and Soulslike games! He will eat that shit up, completely analyze it from top to bottom, inside out and ACTUALLY GIT GUD LIKE SCARY LEVELS OF GUD!
He'll actually study movement patterns based on sound queues alone. In an hour he'll know the fight inside and out. By the second hour he won't get touched by a boss at all. Period.
Yes, he does a lot of challenge runs but the one that gets his rocks off are level 1 (4 for Bloodborne) no touch runs. This man will legit do runs with some of the most inferior and junk weapons and beat the games without ever getting touched.
This bitch beat the ER DLC's final boss before any patches dropped and did it without a shield (if you know, you know). This guy completely solo'd Bloodborne and reached max NG countless times. He's one of the very few that beat and unlocked all achievements for Sekiro.
He's played all FS games but his very favorite is Bloodborne.
Another series he absolutely loves is Monster Hunter. He's played 'em all. And just like with FS games he'll learn the games to the point where he just doesn't cart (unless he does it on purpose) and doesn't get touched (unless the fight is programed to).
What weapon does he main? All of them! Deep down tho he's a gunner at heart. This bitch brought an LBG to the Fatalis fight with heroics activated and won every single time.
Again he analyzes the fight, learns the attack patterns though he doesn't use sound queues as much as he does with FS games.
He can just "see" the patterns with these kinda games and has a really fast reaction time. On top of that he's had some catastrophic injuries that put him out of commission for months on end so he just plays video games while he recovers and just keeps getting better and better at these kinds of games.
Don't get him wrong though he absolutely LOVES helping other people out and constantly gives people advice when asked.
However, his very favorite games to play? Skyrim and Animal Crossing. The only reason he even has a Switch is because of Animal Crossing 'cause he gets to play with his parents and his brother and get to visit each other's towns/islands/whatever it is depending on the game. They also play Monster Hunter together and just chill while on a four way call.
He's not fond of simulators though. Not his thing.
What sort of video games would your OC enjoy?
What sort of video games would your OC hate having to play?
116 notes
·
View notes
Text
I completely agree with this post by @apparentlybychance and what I write below is from my perspective. My understanding comes from the perspective of someone who studied marketing since 2019, is a community manager and currently works in a marketing agency.
You are not compelled to take everything I say as the real and only way to look at it, this is my opinion and I respect others as well.
It's clear that Louis needs a new marketing team, as the current one doesn't seem to be doing its job properly or, worse, doesn't even seem to understand what they're doing. Their attempts to divert attention to topics such as his "fatherhood" or sexuality are way too obvious, while his music is poorly promoted. Many fans try to fill that gap by promoting his music organically, but it doesn't have much impact as we are not an enormous fandom and it's not our responsibility either. Moreover, the fan base shrinks with every failed "strategy", which generates disinterest, anger and abandonment of the fandom. This is also reflected in the organisation and promotion of their shows and music releases.
The worrying thing is that this mismanagement is not new; it has been going on since the beginning of his solo career. Some justify this by saying that Louis prefers to be an underground/indie artist and be left alone with the usual fans, but that makes no sense, that's just a justification for the bad actions of his team. No artist seeks to stagnate or limit his growth. To advocate without questioning every decision of an artist's background doesn't mean being a "bad fan", and it is important to understand that questioning the strategy is not attacking the artist.
It is frustrating to see that many fans believe that Louis doesn't really want to grow as an artist, which, again, makes no sense. The problem is the lack of planning and analysis on the part of his team, who act without foreseeing the long-term consequences. I don't understand this image they want to give him, because as a fan for years, this is not the Louis I grew up with. Maybe he's trying to distance himself from One Direction and avoid the mainstream stuff, which is admirable, but this kinda rude and distant image doesn't seem to align with his original (and real) essence.
Those of us who work in marketing and communication have a different, more analytical and technical vision, which allows us to detect patterns and strategies (or the lack of them). This is not a justification to invalidate other opinions in any way, but to offer an informed perspective. With Louis, it is clear that there is no clear strategy. His team seems to improvise, as if every decision is made without a long-term plan, simply reacting in the moment.
The resurgence of the babygate stuff a few days ago is another example of this lack of planning. From the outset it seems to have been an idea launched without considering the consequences and, now that it has grown out of control, they don't know how to handle it or shut it down for good. This only creates more chaos as the years go by. The exposure of the child has been contradictory from the beginning: How can you justify wanting to protect his privacy when he was initially exposed so much by his whole family, from pregnancy onwards, and then included in the documentary "All of These Voices"? Nothing has any coherence if you analyse it at all.
As for the blocking on Twitter, it is hard to believe that Louis has blocked so many accounts without it being known beforehand. It's an absurd and ineffective tactic to manage the narrative of his public image. I agree with the post that "Louis and his team are no different. They like to use subtle tactics like blocking, following, unfollowing or general interactions on their social accounts (mainly X) to manage the narrative of their public image" as this is part of a strategy that has been carried over from One Direction, like when he tweeted "I am in fact straight" or "Larry is the biggest load of bullshit I've ever heard".
Or Another example we can name is this 2012 interaction with Rebecca Ferguson, where she expresses the overexploitation she was receiving and "Louis" replies "Success is impossible without proper hard work". That contradictory image does not fit with the Louis that many of us fans have known and followed for years. Why would an artist seek to lose fans and, therefore, limit his growth?
Over time, all this has made their actions feel fake and automated. As a fan, one ends up questioning and analysing every action from another perspective, as nothing seems genuine or truthful. His "Hope everyone is doing alright" tweets seem scripted and even programmed, lacking that closeness that used to exist. While we know that artists' social media accounts are controlled, the fan/artist connection remains crucial to maintaining public support and loyalty. When repetitive patterns and bad strategies accumulate, the authenticity of the artist is lost, turning him into a kind of "robot" with no control over his actions, which can end up damaging his image and damaging the relationship with his fans, often without him being fully aware of it.
From a music marketing perspective, there are several key aspects that Louis' team seems to ignore. An effective marketing team should focus on research and investigation of the audience, clearly identifying the artist's target audience, considering factors such as age, interests and content consumption platforms. The lack of consistent branding is evident, as Louis' public image doesn't appear to align with his musical and personal essence, leading to confusion.
A well-planned release strategy should include a pre-launch campaign with teasers, interviews and strategic collaborations, something that seems to be absent in most of his projects. In addition, multi-channel promotion is essential, using social media, interviews, streaming playlists and specialised press, without relying exclusively on fandom. A competent team should also focus on authentic storytelling, creating an emotional and genuine narrative to connect with the audience, rather than resorting to polemical tactics that distort his image.
Fan growth and retention is another key aspect. Good marketing seeks to expand the fan base while maintaining the interest of the current, as opposed to what appears to be happening. Finally, long-term planning is essential, with measurable goals and clear direction, rather than reactive and inconsistent decisions.
In conclusion, Louis' team is not managing his career professionally or effectively. Successful marketing requires planning, analysis and authenticity. His fans deserve a clear and respectful narrative, and he deserves a team that will really promote his music and his career. I hope that for LT3 we have a good promotion, that his team starts to get things right because I don't want his career to continue to suffer consequences from this, besides from his image to be ruined by the mismanagement of those working with him.
52 notes
·
View notes
Text
﹙ ♡` 𓈃 BASEBALL 𓏵⠀
享受 ! .°. ݁₊ 𐙚 f!reader (I think), cw: established relationship, y/n is kinda dense abt baseball,help seungmin, pet name, they kiss like two times, they’re just so lovey dovey in love, not proofread :P, requested, was meant for the 100 event, 2.1k WC
Request: I was thinking a Seungmin fluff just about spending the day at a baseball game together, but the reader lowkey knows nothing about baseball, so he has to explain little things to her during the game, and by the end, she starts to love it as much as he does.
VIA: I have one more request which was meant for the 100 followers event which I cancelled bc (you see the reason right now) so after these, this might be the only time I’ll do request, for the person who requested so sorry it took about hundred years (I’ve had this request since September 💀😭)
Seungmin and Y/N walked hand in hand to the baseball stadium, the warm sun shining down on them. Seungmin was practically bouncing with excitement, his eyes shining with enthusiasm.
"I'm so glad we're doing this," he said, squeezing Y/N's hand. "I've been waiting all week for the game."
Y/N smiled and leaned into him. "I'm happy to spend the day with you," she said. "But I have to admit, I don't really get baseball."
Seungmin's face lit up with a grin. "That's okay," he said. "I'll teach you everything you need to know. By the end of the game, you'll be a baseball expert."
Y/N raised an eyebrow, skeptical. "We'll see about that," she teased.
As they found their seats and settled in for the game, Seungmin began to explain the basics of baseball to Y/N. He told her about the different positions, the rules of the game, and the strategies involved.
Y/N listened intently, asking questions and giggling at Seungmin's silly analogies. Seungmin was happy to oblige, enjoying the chance to share his passion with the person he loved.
As the game began, Seungmin and Y/N cheered and clapped along with the rest of the crowd. Y/N was still a bit lost, but Seungmin was always there to guide her, explaining what was happening on the field.
As the game began, Seungmin's excitement was palpable. He leaned forward in his seat, his eyes fixed intently on the field.
"Okay, so the pitcher is winding up... and here comes the ball!" Seungmin exclaimed, his voice rising in excitement.
Y/N watched with a smile as Seungmin provided a play-by-play commentary of the game. He explained the different types of pitches, the strategies of the players, and the rules of the game.
At first, Y/N was a bit lost, but Seungmin's enthusiasm was infectious. She found herself getting caught up in the excitement, cheering along with Seungmin as the home team made a great play.
"Baby! Did you see that? The shortstop made an amazing catch!" Seungmin shouted, pumping his fist in the air.
Y/N laughed at Seungmin's antics, feeling happy to see him so carefree and joyful.
As the game continued, Seungmin's commentary became more and more animated. He jumped out of his seat to cheer, spilled popcorn on himself, and even did a little dance in the aisle.
Y/N couldn't help but giggle at Seungmin's silly behavior. She was having the time of her life, and it was all thanks to Seungmin's infectious enthusiasm.
As the game continued, Y/N turned to Seungmin with a curious expression. "Min, why do the players wear those funny pants?" she asked, giggling.
Seungmin chuckled and explained, "Those are baseball pants! They're designed to be comfortable and flexible, so the players can move around easily."
Y/N nodded, taking in the information. "Oh, okay. That makes sense. But why do they have those stripes on the sides?"
Seungmin grinned. "Those are just a design element. Some teams have stripes, while others have different patterns or logos."
Y/N smiled, feeling a bit more knowledgeable about the game. As the innings passed, she found herself getting more and more into the game. She cheered along with Seungmin, asked more questions, and even started to recognize some of the players.
Seungmin noticed Y/N's growing enthusiasm and smiled. "You're getting into it, aren't you?" he asked, nudging her playfully.
Y/N nodded, her eyes shining with excitement. "Yeah, I am! This is actually really fun."
Seungmin beamed with pride. "I told you it would be! Baseball is an amazing sport."
As the game neared its climax, Y/N found herself on the edge of her seat, cheering and chanting along with the rest of the crowd. She was having the time of her life, and it was all thanks to Seungmin's infectious enthusiasm.
As the game reached the middle innings, Seungmin and Y/N decided to take a break and grab some snacks. They walked to the concourse, hand in hand, and joined the line for the concession stand.
As they waited, Seungmin turned to Y/N and smiled. "I'm so glad you're enjoying the game," he said, his eyes shining with happiness.
Y/N smiled back, feeling a flutter in her chest. "I'm having a great time," she said. "Thanks for explaining everything to me."
Seungmin leaned in, his face inches from Y/N's. "Anytime," he whispered, his breath tickling her ear.
As they reached the front of the line, Seungmin ordered them a plate of nachos and a couple of drinks. They took their snacks and found a spot to sit, watching the game from a different angle.
As they sat there, Seungmin suddenly stood up and pulled Y/N into a romantic kiss. The crowd around them cheered, thinking it was a kiss cam moment, but Seungmin and Y/N didn't care. They were lost in their own little world.
Y/N's heart skipped a beat as Seungmin's lips touched hers. She felt a rush of excitement and happiness, knowing that this was a moment she would never forget.
As they pulled back from the kiss, Seungmin grinned at Y/N. "I love you," he said, his voice filled with emotion.
Y/N's heart melted at his words. "I love you too," she replied, smiling up at him.
The rest of the game was a blur for Y/N. She was too busy basking in the glow of Seungmin's love to pay attention to the score. But she knew that this was a day she would always treasure, a day that would stay with her forever.
After the kiss, Seungmin and Y/N were both grinning from ear to ear. They decided to take a break from the game and explore the stadium.
They walked around the concourse, taking in the sights and sounds of the ballpark. They played a few games at the interactive exhibits, with Seungmin showing off his baseball trivia skills.
Y/N laughed and teased him good-naturedly, enjoying the lighthearted atmosphere. They took silly photos together, making funny faces and poses in front of the ballpark's iconic signs.
As they walked, they stumbled upon a stall selling all sorts of baseball-themed treats. Seungmin's eyes widened as he scanned the menu, and he promptly ordered them a plate of loaded fries, a giant pretzel, and a couple of churros.
Y/N giggled at Seungmin's enthusiasm, happy to indulge in the tasty snacks with him. They sat down at a table, munching away and people-watching as the crowd bustled by.
As they ate, Seungmin turned to Y/N with a mischievous glint in his eye. "Want to try something really adventurous?" he asked, his voice low and conspiratorial.
Y/N raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "What is it?" she asked, her curiosity piqued.
Seungmin grinned. "I'll show you," he said, pulling Y/N to her feet and leading her off towards the next adventure.
Seungmin grinned mischievously as he led Y/N to a small food stall tucked away in a corner of the concourse. "I want to try something new," he said, his eyes scanning the menu.
Y/N raised an eyebrow as she read the options. "Fried crickets?" she asked, her voice skeptical.
Seungmin nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah, I've heard they're really good! And we can't leave the stadium without trying something adventurous."
Y/N hesitated for a moment, but Seungmin's infectious enthusiasm eventually won her over. "Okay, fine," she said, laughing. "But if I start to gag, it's on you."
Seungmin chuckled and ordered them a plate of fried crickets, along with a side of spicy sauce. They sat down at a nearby table, and Seungmin picked up a cricket and dipped it in the sauce.
"Here goes nothing," he said, popping the cricket into his mouth.
Y/N watched in amazement as Seungmin chewed and swallowed, a look of surprise on his face. "Wow, that's actually really good!" he exclaimed.
Y/N raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Really?" she asked, picking up a cricket and dipping it in the sauce.
She took a tentative bite, and her eyes widened in surprise. "Hey, this is actually pretty tasty!" she said, laughing.
Seungmin grinned, happy to have shared the experience with Y/N. "I told you it would be good!" he said, high-fiving her.
As they finished their snack, Y/N turned to Seungmin with a smile. "You know, I never would have tried that if it wasn't for you," she said.
Seungmin's face lit up with a warm smile. "That's what I'm here for," he said, taking her hand in his.
As the game entered its final innings, the energy in the stadium began to build. Seungmin's favorite team, the home team, was trailing by a run, but they were determined to make a comeback.
Seungmin and Y/N were on the edge of their seats, cheering and chanting along with the rest of the crowd. The tension was palpable as the home team's batter stepped up to the plate.
"Come on, come on!" Seungmin shouted, his voice hoarse from cheering. "You can do it!"
Y/N laughed and joined in, cheering and clapping along with Seungmin. The batter swung his bat, and the crowd erupted into cheers as the ball soared through the air.
"It's going, it's going, it's going!" Seungmin shouted, his eyes fixed on the ball.
Y/N watched in amazement as the ball sailed over the outfield wall, scoring a home run and tying the game. The crowd went wild, cheering and chanting as the home team's players celebrated on the field.
Seungmin and Y/N were hugging each other, screaming with excitement. They were both jumping up and down, waving their arms in the air.
This was it, the moment they had been waiting for. The home team was going to win the game, and Seungmin and Y/N were going to celebrate together.
As the home team's closer took the mound, Seungmin and Y/N were on the edge of their seats, cheering and chanting along with the rest of the crowd. The tension was palpable as the closer wound up and threw the final pitch.
The batter swung and missed, and the umpire shouted "Strike three!" as the crowd erupted into cheers. The home team's players rushed the field, celebrating their victory as Seungmin and Y/N hugged each other, screaming with excitement.
As they celebrated, Seungmin turned to Y/N and pulled her into a romantic kiss. The crowd around them cheered and whistled, but Seungmin and Y/N didn't notice. They were lost in their own little world, basking in the excitement and joy of the moment.
As they pulled back from the kiss, Seungmin grinned at Y/N, his eyes shining with happiness. "I'm so glad we got to experience this together," he said, his voice filled with emotion.
Y/N smiled back, her heart full of love for Seungmin. "Me too," she said, snuggling into his side. "This has been the perfect day."
Seungmin wrapped his arms around Y/N, holding her close as they watched the home team celebrate their victory. They stood there for a long time, basking in the joy and excitement of the moment, their love for each other shining brighter than the brightest stadium lights.
As the celebration died down and the crowd began to file out of the stadium, Seungmin and Y/N reluctantly said their goodbyes to the ballpark. They walked hand in hand out of the stadium, already making plans for their next adventure together.
The sun was setting over the horizon as they walked, casting a warm golden light over the city. Seungmin and Y/N walked in comfortable silence, enjoying each other's company as they basked in the glow of their perfect day.
After a while, Seungmin turned to Y/N and smiled. "You know, I think this has been one of the best days of my life," he said, his eyes shining with happiness.
Y/N's heart skipped a beat as she looked at Seungmin, her love for him overflowing from her heart. "Mine too," she said, smiling back at him.
Seungmin's face lit up with a warm smile, and he pulled Y/N into another romantic kiss. As they stood there, wrapped in each other's arms, Y/N knew that this was just the beginning of their perfect adventure together.
PERM TAGLIST 📌🔖 ──── @the-sea-called-history02 @oc3anfloor @intartaruginha
#stray kids#stray kids fluff#stray kids soft hours#stray kids soft thoughts#stray kids x reader#stray kids x you#stray kids fanfic#stray kids seungmin#stray kids imagines#seungmin x reader#seungmin fluff#seungmin fanfic
34 notes
·
View notes
Text
Day 97
Smile by Kayleen756894
Same as when we covered Burning Lungs, check the tags for this fic before ya jump in cause it gets pretty dark even within the first chapter.
It’s a big day for the project people, I mentioned back on Day 60 that there were three fics that I consider directly responsible for this entire thing since they’re what set me on this path of a comically large amount of Junkan. And today we FINALLY talk about another one of them, even if I admittedly did cover a little bit of my history with this specific story during Day 60 for the sake of context. Apologies if I repeat myself a few times!
The previous few days I’ve been covering fic first, then the art. For this day however I’m going to cover the art first, along with any other bonus facts I have, and THEN i will do my best to adequately sing the praises of today’s stories.
Also let it be known that the music I put on while I read through the whole fic in preparation for today’s ramble was “LEASE” by Takeshi Abo. 10 hour loop too. Someone will find that funny probably, maybe even you!
(This is another long one, get ready)
Before I address the art I might as well have a little fun and discuss the order I decided to do these in, interesting I know.
Days 91-92 were easy, the first Soft Fic and the first fic to use the Non-Abusive Tag, they had to be the opener. Day 93 was one of the longer stories so I did that one first, since I did read each story before working on the art. From there it’s a pretty simple pattern of “Short Fic followed by a longer, more serious fic that I gotta psyche myself up for.” And it was done pretty much with todays subject in mind, but we’ll get for it.
You’ll notice I have two different art pieces today, the reason is simple. I wasn’t very happy with the initial art, so I made a much more direct adaptation of a scene from the first chapter to go with it. And in a rare instance I can also bring you some early versions of the initial piece!
From the initial sketch you can see that this was supposed to be a proper cover for the story, as I wanted to feature scenes from each of the three chapters, that middle shot is one I’ve had in my mind since the first time I read the story. Those who have read the fic can probably recognize each one. The second image was almost the final version of this. I scrapped the lower portion of the art for a few reasons. The flames of burnout were miniscule but still present, though rest assured these would not come into play until after the point of when the fanfic art is all finished. Secondly, when I was supposed to work on this art, a power outage hit my house. This also meant that in terms of making the art I only had the first chapter read, anything else was purely memory (Like I said though, I read the full fic for todays ramble, rest assured). And thirdly, I kinda, just thought it didn’t look good? And as you can see this version had details cut despite how far into the process it was, fully removing the expressions outside of the two smiling. Cause y��know . . . “Smile.” Plus in retrospect the eyes, while striking compared to the rest of the art, look kinda fucking silly?
Why didn’t I like the end result? Honestly I think I was just in a bad headspace at the time due to the combination of the power out stressing me out, and just generally speaking my mental health has never been the most structurally sound aspect of myself. I’m good at drawing, not so much being well put together. Looking at it now, while I think the piece is a bit esoteric and might not be what I’d make today for a piece based on this fic, I like it a lot.
And at the end of the dead even if I didn’t like how the first one turned out, I’m pretty happy with it! Even with perfectionist brain bitching at me that I could have done Junko’s hair a bit better at the given angle. Just a straight adaptation of Junko and Mikan’s first kiss from Chapter 1. The most interesting note on it’s creation is that I had to make last minute changes to Mikan because I realized her hair needed to be a lot shorter and more well put together, as earlier in the fic Junko does fix it up a bit.
Oh! I did also send the second pic to the author herself as a way of introducing myself and showing appreciation, so that’s a bit of added sentimental value! Kayleen’s an absolute treat by the way, super fun to talk too, great insight on writing, you should absolutely check out the rest of her writing! I’m not in most of the fandoms featured say for RWBY, but based on the quality of her writing on the Danganronpa side of things, I feel confident recommending anything she’s published in the past, present, and future!~
Speaking of writing, I should probably like. Talk about the god damn fic, huh? Well. Nope! I still have more fun facts!
I almost didn’t adapt Smile! I knew for certain that Kayleen needed a spot on this list, it would have felt wrong otherwise. And there were two fics in mind for adaptation.
“Smile”, obviously, and “Soft (But only for Her).” My earliest plan was going to be to just do both. However I only had 8 days to work with, and spoilers, Day 98 is in fact a returning author, so I didn’t want to take up half of my slots on two authors, I wanted to show my appreciation to as many as I could during this string of the event before going back to my own stuff for the last two days. So I thought it over, and decided that Smile was too important to pass up on this project, leaving Soft (But only for Her) for later.
I did have a full plan for it though, unlike Smile where I didn’t really have an idea going into it. I’ll tell you what the plan was gonna be.
Most people would be curious which of the around 30 wonderful one shots I could have chosen to adapt, I’ve already done one of them with the very first chapter in that collection! However you my audience, are not most people. There’s a good chance you’re reading this paragraph, rubbing your temples and resigning yourself to the fact that I was very much going to draw art based on every single piece of that collection. Because yes I was just gonna adapt all of it. Was gonna make a big collage out of all of em, even the chapters that have so much angst I struggle to even read them cause they make me too sad! I’d still do it too. I probably will. When you least expect it.
For now though I really wanna draw something based on Chapter 25 when I have the time. I wanna draw art based on a lot of other fanfics actually, I’ve just been pretty swamped. But rest assured, to those of you who’ve written a Junkan fic and weren’t featured. Rest assured, I have my eyes open, I’m always looking that tag over, and there were definitely some stories omitted that I really wish I could have included IN the project. Give it time. My self control grows weaker by the day!~
Okay, okay. NOW, I should be able to talk about the fic. Probably.
So I’ve told this story before, but now you’ll get to hear it in a bit more detail compared to before. Will hopefully not be too repetitive for ya’ll!
So once again we jump back a few years during say, 2020, MAYBE early 2021. I find a fic that includes Junkan when I was simply trying to find Ikuzono. It ends up being pretty cute and makes me curious, “I thought this ship was super toxic? How is this one so cute?”
So, I look around the tag, still not sure how to Navigate AO3 even after gaining a lot of experience through the power of many late night tokomaru binges. And as you already knew or could guess, I came across Smile.
At the time it only had 2 chapters, which normally might have turned me away at the time, I wasn’t a desperate animal like I am today. However I guess I either ignored that, or just didn’t care, too curious to see what else this ship could entail.
So here I am, sitting in my bed, writing this ramble, trying to figure out once again how to talk about one of the fics that set me off on this obsession with Junko and Mikan as a softer, loving couple. That and also a fic that is much more serious in terms of its tone and content, as this fic, like Drowning, is one of the only fics in this stretch of the project that is definitely set in the main canon of DR. Serving as essentially a new origin for Junkan as a couple prior to the tragedy.
I’m sure I’ve said before that when it comes to how I view Junko and Mikan’s relationship, that Val’s work is basically the primary blueprint for how I interpret and portray them. However that’s for the Non-Despair AUs, while there is some bleed over in how I handle Canon portrayals (And I admittedly haven’t done a lot with a serious interpretation of that), in my brain this story, Smile, is the blueprint of how I view a canon timeline version of Junkan. That might just be bias from it being the first fic I read that like, but it does kind of help that this is just one of the most excellently written interpretation of these characters I’ve ever bared witness to.
The first chapter was originally supposed to be a Standalone according to the Author’s Notes, and it really works as one! It’s a very complete story that’s super well put together, and ends very satisfyingly if you just stop after finishing it. I’m extremely glad it continued, as I don’t think my obsession would have come to fruition when it did if not for those following two chapters. But maybe I’m wrong cause this fic certainly knows how to hook you on a ship!
I was god damn mesmerized reading the first chapter. This has to be one of the saddest takes on Mikan’s character that I’ve ever read. Burning Lungs comes close however we never get to actually see things from her perspective, that’s all from Junko’s outsider point of view. Here we get to see it all from Mikan’s perspective, all of it, the sad stuff, the extra sad stuff, the stuff I don’t really know how to talk about because I’m inadequate with this kind of subject matter. And some gay panic, because it’s not Junkan without at least a little gay panic somewhere in the mix.
Junko is really god damn good in this first chapter, she’s god damn good in the whole fic but we’re talking about chapter one right now so i’m specifying. She has such a mysterious aura around her the entire time, and not just the obvious “Oh she’s planning the tragedy behind the scenes,” but also the mystery of how she feels about Mikan! It’s something left up to viewer interpretation in the first chapter, and to a much lesser extent the following chapters (I say lesser extent cause it does eventually lean into her having real feelings for Mikan, just being super confused by them. At least that’s how I look at it). Everytime I read one of these stories that serve as an origin point for these two’s relationship, it’s always really interesting to see how things initiate. It’s pretty much always Junko initiating of course, I’m not sure I’ve ever seen a fic where it was Mikan who made the first move? If there is I’m having a severe lapse in memory it seems, or I’ve misinterpreted! The point of course being I really like the way Junko handles things here, saving Mikan from her darkest point, all that good shit!
And the kiss? I drew it for a reason, it’s amazing. From the buildup to the way Mikan has a rare instance of boldness and grabs Junko’s tie? The grabbing the tie part makes my brain explode, the fact that Junko herself was surprised by it is even better. I love it whenever Mikan can actually get Junko surprised or flustered. It’s great!
I feel like I should be more detailed, more meticulous, but it really is a struggle trying to be in depth when discussing something this good, I wouldn’t consider it my strong suit?
So let’s try moving onto chapter 2! I do at least have a story with this one but that can be for when I finish desperately trying to talk about the chapter itself.
It’s lovely! Big shock! We get to see the two of them just acting like a normal couple for a bit, and even better we get to see the two partaking in some sleepy cuddles. That scene also does one of those Junkan things I fuckin love where Junko just, fucking reads Mikan’s mind. I know that’s not what she’s doing but also it’s funnier to put it that way. I just like Junko putting her analytical ability to use by reading Mikan and understanding her finer details. It can be used in all kinds of ways, cute ways, funny ways, saucy ways, but this might just be my favorite way? Her being able to tell when Mikan’s about to spiral and snapping her out of it quick.
Their date is lovely by the way, love the drive there, the conversation is just a treat. And I really like the reference to the grenade scene from the DR3 anime, I might not have fond memories with that series like, at all, but that one clip of Junko tossing the grenade and Mukuro (We’ll get to her) catching it is just a really fun bit of energy. It’s also just fucking funny because it reads like they practiced that shit for like 2 fuckin weeks- Sorry, distracted. Anyway I think the scene is both a fun reference, and another good way to kinda remind of us the darker parts of this storyline underlying the softer surface. Junko is in fact trying to burn the world down, she just also happens to have a tooth rotting-ly sweet relationship with a very sad nurse. The moments where Mikan unintentionally peers into that world, whether hearing an explosion or seeing the red roots of Junko’s true haircolor, I love it all!
Great moment with Mikan helping that kid from bullies, always love to see Mikan flourishing in these stories (foreshadowing)! I think it is very funny that the small child just immediately clocked that Mikan and Junko were dating, the kid either has a crazy gaydar or Mikan and Junko are the least subtle people alive . . . okay yeah it’s that second one.
The following scene is great too, fuck those parents, and fuck yeah to Junko coming in for the clutch as she is one to do in this fic. The kiss to follow? Fantastic. Junko’s joke about exhibitionism? Also fantastic. The part where Mikan says she’s gonna go see her parents- Fuck.
Okay so, I’mma make the assumption that if you’re this deep into my ramble you’ve probably read the fic already. And if you skipped out on the fic due to the subject matter noted in the tags, you can probably already tell by my apprehension that everything in this fic from here on out is like, the opposite end of the spectrum from all the sweet (albeit ominous) stuff we’ve had up till now. And you’d be correct, and I quite frankly don’t know how to talk about it, like, at all. There are parts of this that I do wanna talk about from this and the following chapter, but also I feel neither confident nor comfortable explicitly discussing what happens to Mikan here. Even if you can probably already tell.
Still, I must show my respects to the literature and it’s author, so I will do my best. Apologies if I fumble here.
I’m still not gonna talk in depth about Mukuro here, but I do like the conversation leading up to this scene, before Mikan shows up. It’s something that was going to inevitably come up, because yeah, Junko can make Mikan fall deeply in love with her, but that won’t exactly prepare her for being complicit in the apocalypse. There’s a part of me that’s curious what her gameplan was before the end of this chapter happens, how was she going to try and turn Mikan over to her side 100% and make sure she’s ready. The world will never know.
Junko’s great at the end of this chapter, not just the comfort she provides. But the way she, in the words of the story, Snaps. That line? That stuck with me when I first read this. I think it’s the moment that confirmed for me personally, that yeah, Junko does love Mikan even if she doesn’t understand it. And it wasn’t just that moment that stuck with me, it was the whole fic by this point.
That’s right, it's story time. So when I found this fic, there were only two chapters. And I wanna remind ya’ll that before this fic I read a fic so silly, soft, and fluffy that it made me question what this ship could be. Jumping from that, to this was definitely . . . Whiplash?
What happened after that is fun, because I don’t fucking remember. I think unironically the amount of stress that ending put me under just from the shock of it, made me fuckin black out?? Which by the way, huge kudos, it takes some really fucking good writing to get me so invested that I get real life stressed as shit because of bad things happening to the characters. But anyway, I didn’t actually just, black out from stress. But everything after that is so blurred that it’s borderline incomprehensible, I try to remember past that point, and it’s like looking at memories put through a paper shredder before being put back together by a toddler doing a handstand.
All I can say for sure is that starting from the morning after, I was obsessed. I woke up, and kept fucking checking to see if Chapter 3 was out yet. I hadn’t checked the time of the latest update, I still barely fucking understood how AO3 actually worked. I’m pretty sure it was through this fic that I learned that when a fic updates it moves to the top of the page for a given tag. This was also way before I had an AO3 account, so I couldn’t just subscribe or bookmark it. I’m sure I read other fics at this point, probably including Kayleen’s other works? But the timespan between Chapter 2 and 3 feel like white noise, whatever I read didn’t exist in my memories by the time that story ended. And god damn did it end.
When Chapter 3 popped up, it was late I’m pretty sure. I don’t know what I was doing at the time, maybe looking at manga online, talking with friends over discord dms, failing homework over online school, maybe even doing some of my own writing since i’m pretty sure this was back before my passion for it died out. Whatever it was, I dropped it fucking IMMEDIATELY. I needed to see this ending, I needed that catharsis.
So I layed in my bed, in a house I was still new to, and read the god damn chapter.
It was perfect. One of the first times to my knowledge where I’ve had the satisfaction of reading an unfinished fic and getting to actually see it end.
Where do I start, what do I even say? Anything I say just kind of boils down to “Junko and Mikan are perfectly written and I love their interactions and also god dammit I feel so bad for Mikan.”
The scene on the rooftop is great, I remember in one of Kayleen’s other fics Mikan shows concern for Junko’s eating habits, so getting to this scene and seeing the reverse was nice. And like, god, Junko’s so good in this. I get she’s trying to start the end of the world but she’s doing such a fucking good job here. Sure, she asks Mikan to kill her parents right after this, which might not be the most normal way of helping your girlfriend through a severely traumatic experience, but that’s just Junko y’know?
Should I talk about Mukuro now? I should probably talk about Mukuro now, I really wanted to wait like one more scene but fuck it we’re talking about Mukuro now.
Have I ever really talked about Mukuro in the context of Junkan? I know I’ve definitely made note of her, and I’ve obviously included her in these pieces with varying degrees of prominence. But I don’t think I’ve ever noted how I think she’s is one of the most interesting and amazing assets of Junkan as a ship. Calling Mukuro an asset feels like a disservice, but I lack the words to adequately describe what I mean here.
The Despair Sisters are already one of the most interesting dynamics in Danganronpa, and a pretty versatile one at that based on the various interpretations I’ve seen of these two. And I think adding Junkan into the mix is just lovely, because it adds an outsider perspective, but not just that, it’s the outsider perspective of someone who’s closer than anyone else due to Mikan dating Junko. Bonus for the contrast of Junko pampering Mikan and shit talking Mukuro, even if I believe that shit talking is just a very layered way for Junko to express that she does care about Mukuro as a sister.
And I think Mukuro and Mikan is a really fun dynamic too! I love the idea of Mikan finding love through Junko, and then in turn getting a second person in her life that cares about her. Mukuro being Mikan’s bodyguard bare minimum is great, protect that sweet little nurse you desaturated girliepop you. But I think the way their dynamic can evolve overtime as Mikan continues to date Junko is great.
Mukuro getting to see firsthand how Mikan is changing Junko for the better, even if it’s in a canon timeline where Junko’s still like, very locked in on the apocalypse. She’s getting to be happier in a more genuine way, which I’m sure Mukuro would be grateful for, and that just makes her caring about Mikan’s wellbeing all the better.
Plus like, something I don’t think about often, at least not until very recently, but if Junko and Mikan are dating, and inevitably get married. That does just kinda mean Mikan and Mukuro are sisters in law. And, I fuckin love that? Mikan not only gets an amazing relationship with Junko, but she also just gets to have a sibling, something that to my knowledge she doesn’t have in canon. It’s that found family stuff that I love, even if the found family in this case is a bit more literal rather than just being a metaphor. And Mukuro gets a new sister, one who cares about her just as much as Junko, but is just significantly better at expressing that by comparison. I think Mukuro would really appreciate having a sister who like, hugs her without slinging an insult, or just getting any kind of open, visceral appreciation without having to read between the lines.
I love to see Mikan with plenty of friends, she has a bunch of dynamics that I appreciate. But I also have a lot of appreciation for the idea of Junko and Mukuro being the only people she cares about, the only people she needs to survive.
Where was I- Oh right.
Kayleen’s depiction of Mukuro and her dynamic with our other two primary characters is amazing. Spectacular even. Fucking perfect perhaps. It does everything I love about the Despair Sister’s dynamic without bordering into uncomfortable territory like some facets of the main canon does. But what I especially love is her dynamic with Mikan in the few moments we get to see them interact. A protector, a friend, and eventually a sister to her, it’s amazing. The scene when Mikan wakes up to Mukuro watching over her while Junko is away is phenomenal, and I love Mikan’s concern for her given the way Junko treats her, which does look pretty bad without the deeper context. The moment at the very end of Chapter 2 where Mukuro just heads off to (I assume) kidnap Mikan’s parents after just sharing a look with Junko, it’s another one of my favorite bits in that scene.
And of course, the scene that lead me to start yapping about Mukuro like that out of fucking nowhere, her talking to Mikan about Junko’s test. It’s great how she tries to help Mikan come to a decision without forcing anything. But also finally giving some more confirmation that Junko definitely feels something for Mikan, expressing how many changes in her demeanor she’s noted. And the reveal that Junko routinely struggles with Nightmares whenever Mikan isn’t around?? Fuck I love that. God dammit.
I feel like I should talk more about this scene, but I feel like I kinda did? To an extent? A lot of what I just said about Mukuro’s place in this dynamic kinda sums up a lot of the great things about this scene. So I suppose we move on.
The buildup to the big scene of this chapter is wonderful of course, not much to say there. And I admittedly just really want to talk about the scene that follows.
Because god it’s everything I was hoping for when I finished that second chapter and had no idea whether I’d see this scene or not.
The reveal is great, and as grotesque as I anticipated. I do cringe a little reading some of the details, not the modern dickhead definition of cringe either I mean the “Oh god fuck that’s brutal” kind of cringe. And it is so perfectly contrasted by Junko being Junko, love the idea that Junko and Mukuro just nabbed up these people and didn’t explain a goddamn thing until this very moment where they finally figure out that this crazy bitch is dating their daughter. Mukuro punching Mikan’s dad in the face was fucking great too.
And the buildup to what comes next, is so god damn good. It feels weird out of context celebrating it, but the scene where Mikan breaks? Fucking spectacular. The distortion on the word Red hits like a fucking truck, and also speaks to my childhood of being a creepypasta kid because i’m like, half sure that’s the zalgo text filter, correct me if I’m wrong of course. Point is it was an out of nowhere detail that perfectly emphasized the tensity of what’s about to happen.
And I can go on another tangent now, because this is something I have had no opportunity to talk about during the entire duration of this project. At least not to my memory or knowledge.
I love Angry Mikan. I love the Mikan that snaps and is fully over the edge, not willing to deal with anyones bullshit. I of course have criticisms of Chapter 3 in DR2, but Mikan’s reveal of her true self, or I suppose the herself prior to the NWP, I love that moment.
I’ve never depicted Angry Mikan before, but someday I really want to. So until then I take great enjoyment in seeing such a rare side of Mikan, which itself is even rarer in these fics. I think counting this one there are only 3, maybe 4 other fics off the top of my head where we get to see Mikan fully lose her temper. Now of course, I could be suffering another lapse in memory, or I just haven’t read the other stories that feature it. I only think I’ve read like, 90% of the Soft Junkan out there, I can’t confidently claim I actually have for certain, so maybe I missed it!
Point is, seeing Angry Mikan is a treat. And here especially is fucking amazing, the verbal teardown, the havoc of it all. It’s great. And Junko just adds to it with her sheer excitement (which is putting it lightly given some of the dialogue), getting to see Mikan finally become, from her perspective, the best version of herself. Someone who can survive alongside her.
When things start moving, it’s amazing. A small moment I really love, and the moment I was originally gonna wait for to talk about Mukuro with. Her offering up an assortment of firearms from “Her personal collection.” is just, weirdly wholesome? The things I get to say talking about this ship I swear. I dunno, it feels like such a small, personal moment and offer that only Mukuro could provide, and feels like the perfect cap to Mikan and Mukuro’s dynamic throughout this fic.
Also, fucking enamored with the the presence of a Rocket Launcher. Funniest alternate timeline sitting right there, imagining Mikan with a fucking rpg over her shoulder is hilarious.
Junko offering the reverse side of the weaponry coin is lovely too of course, but it’s the wonderful stuff I’d already expect with Junko, so much less of a pleasant surprise like Mukuro. I do appreciate her keeping a knife used on Mikan’s father as a trophy though, imagine that over the fireplace.
Anyway I don’t know how I could really explain to you why the torture scene is nice. It’s catharsis, it’s just catharsis. I don’t even remember how fucking long I waited to read this moment but it was so worth it, Junko and Mukuro joining in to help setup equipment was also really cute . . . i feel like i shouldn’t be calling segments from a torture scene cute. Hm. Well anyway, I can say that while I appreciate its existence, I’m also glad Kayleen chose not to drag it out for too long. Ironic coming from the most excessive bitch around here, but it probably would have been a bit much if it took up the grander majority of this chapter.
Which means we say goodbye to Mukuro and return to our regularly scheduled Junko and Mikan moments.
And yeah what do you want me to fucking say, it’s amazing? Because it’s amazing as fuck, yeah. I’m running out of ways to just say how fuckin much i love this, but i’ll persevere best I can.
I mentioned way earlier that I love it when Mikan catches Junko by surprise, and we get more of that here. Though in this instance I think it’s better to describe that this is the first time Mikan just gets the upper hand on Junko, who’s struggling to fight back in the conversation because she’s already struggling to figure out her feelings. And it’s really lovely to see Mikan fighting past Junko’s own insecurities, especially when she regards herself as a bad girlfriend. It’s great, and it’s more of that role reversal I love.
The book analogy near the end of this conversation is so good, it’s sappy as fuck but that’s why it’s good. And Junko leaning into it despite how lame it is makes it all the better, and I only noticed on this recent reread that there’s even a cheeky V3 reference as well, clever!~
The kiss is of course great, and I think i’ve just fully fucking run out of ways to talk about how much I love Junko and Mikan kisses in these stories. Thank god there isn’t one in tomorrows fic- getting ahead of myself.
Rip to Scissorhands, thanks for the gay but you will not be missed.
God damn amazing fic, so well written. It’s one where I have to be in a very specific mindset in order to read it, as that middle chapter really does stress me out enough to be a bit of a roadblock. But admittedly this most recent reread wasn’t the worst compared to the previous few times. That said the fic definitely had it’s effect on me like usual, my body felt all kinds of wild ways, my heartbeat was a lot more intense, breathing a bit wacked out, my nerves up. The whole shebang, so good fucking writing. Equally bittersweet considering that, at least I assume, the normal events of DR are going to follow this story, even if not immediately. So Mukuro’s gonna die, Junko’s gonna die, and then Mikan’s going to have her brain undespaired and probably lose all her feelings towards Junko (Though I will admit, the idea of Mikan after the actual events of canon still having feelings for Junko while not being a remnant is pretty interesting).
However, I can live with that. It’s still an amazing story even with main canon in consideration, and I think I’ve run out of things to say here.
Tomorrow is the last fic based art in the event, Days 99 and 100 are all on me. And by process of elimination you probably have an idea of what Day 98 is, you may even know the exact fic.
I said there were three fics that were vital to me reaching this point in my life, being this obsessed with Junkan as a ship.
The Third Fic, Everything You’ve Ever Dreamed, is the fic that sent me spiraling into brainrot to the point of snapping and drawing art of it behind closed doors, eventually snapping me into drawing more Junkan than I imagine most if not anybody ever has.
The Second Fic, Smile, is what got me obsessed with the ship in the first place, of course only enough to enjoy reading it in secret, which would lead me to EYED.
All that’s left is The First Fic, which you’ll see tomorrow. The fic that made me bother to even give this ship a chance in the first place. Hilariously, I will probably not yap about it nearly as much as the previous two, even if I love it.
As always, Reblogs, Comments, and Little Notes in the Tags are appreciated!~ They always make my day!~
#danganronpa#junkan#junko enoshima#mikan tsumiki#enomiki#junkomikan#junko x mikan#enoshima junko#tsumiki mikan#shipping
28 notes
·
View notes
Note
I saw you were asking for horror prompts 😈 so here’s my scary perverted one:
Vampire!Nik who’s turned when his milaya is still a baby. Comes back 20+ years later to haunt and turn her so they can spend eternity together despite the fact that she doesn’t even remember him❤️🥀
-🗡️
okay, yeah. i had fun with this one, thank you!
cw: incest. age gap, but only kinda cause vampires. horror elements. vague vampire lore, including thralls. dubcon kissing/heavy petting. blood. unedited as usual, sorry. abrupt ending cause i ran out of steam. ~5k
he can't be bothered to watch over you for many years. life (death, rather) is just all so very exciting. he spread his wings. proverbial, maybe, though he's heard tell of something more ancient. more literal.
he doesn't forget you. how could he? you haunt his waking hours for what seems an eon, days and nights blurring until he has to rest for long years, wakes to a different time entirely and worries about how much he's missed.
much, as it turns out.
you're a proper woman when next he sees you, headstrong and borderline unrecognizable. he follows you for days, weeks. learns all your patterns, the quiet parts of yourself you seem to keep hidden behind locked doors he can only pass because he installed them, the bones of the house shaped by his own hands - an estate that's fallen to ruin, once-lavish halls picked apart by collectors, barren and drab with the dwindled staff. he tells himself it's a morbid type of curiosity but he knows better the second he lingers too long, sees you for the woman you've become when you undress before him, gazing upon yourself in a mirror that won't betray his presence, even if he wants it to. wants to see confusion cloud your face as recognition wars with your fear. you must have seen photos of him, your governess keeping you educated on the man who'd given you a name and a fortune and left in the night. he doesn't look quite look like himself anymore, but he more closely resembles you than he does his re-creator. and surely that in itself should sway you?
for you must be as lonely as him.
night fall is the worst for you, those lingering hours after the staff have retired where sleep eludes you, entices you to pick up hobbies which have not given you joy for many years. you'd been moved to the master suite some time back, the overlarge bed as tempting as a siren. you'd grown slovenly, your governess always said so. lax in your studies and far too melancholy to find a suitor.
but what could it matter, really? the estate had been searching tirelessly for a match since your first season, the only bachelors who'd made offers old and penniless. you still had a pretty enough dowry, but no one wanted to be saddled with the get of some wayward lord. not when there'd been no proper abdication. not when the specter of your father loomed over every inch of the estate, his fist still clutching at every gem. sometimes you imagined the sheets even still smelled like him, a faint trace that would linger some mornings and burn up with the sun when you finally let the maid in to draw the curtains.
but it was just a silly fantasy, some trace of comfort born from loneliness. in truth, the only possible clue you could have of your father's scent rests in the humidor tucked in the corner by the secretary - fine cigars turned stale, full-bodied notes now arid. hollow as the house itself.
you're sat with one, dry, peeling paper tickling your philtrum as you try to discern what flavors still linger. licorice, certainly; heavy and cloying. something earthier under it, a fine balance. leather, maybe. it's a distraction, a mindless way to pass the hours before you could feasibly fall into bed without your prying governess saying anything, shut your thoughts off for a time. you'd already written in your diary, another dull entry. brief with the monotony of your life. honestly, cataloging the notes you can pick out of these ancient, abandoned cigars would make for a more interesting read. this one still smells the strongest, though the paper has turned brittle with handling. sometimes you watch the gentlemen of the ton, carefully memorizing the precise way they snip the ends off, roll the cigar over the open flame of their lighters. you often imagine doing the same, like to picture yourself smoking the aged rolls expertly.
really, you know you'll end up in a coughing spell loud enough to wake the whole house, but the truth is you've never tried. it's a curiosity that's grown on you, the slow creep of moss over rotting trunks. you swap the cigar for something less flavorful, something that won't be missed, and rifle through the secretary until you find the little cigar kit you'd kept safely tucked away. maybe, like the rest of society, part of you expects it's owner to return someday, reclaim what's his.
the cigar falls apart a little, once clipped. flaky shreds of tobacco and other strong herb shake out at first, but you moisten the edges of it delicately, lick your fingers as daintily as possible and fuss about the paper until becomes slightly more malleable. lighting it is less of a chore than expected, the oils long dried. shake catching like tinder. you yelp and wave it out, stamp the little ashes that rain onto the carpet with a slippered toe. feel silly after. sillier still when you take your first drag and think for a moment you've managed to imbalance all your humors - immediate expectorant clogging your nose, inflaming the column of your neck. rough wool, still matted and nettled from the field fills your lungs and you cough, ragged and silent.
small blessing, no prying governess to heed your call.
light-headed, you wobble to the window, breathe deep of the frigid breeze you let in. winter steals in around you, rattles the pane on it's way past and sends the curtains fluttering. it makes your chest ache in a new way, but is a balm to your overheated skin, soothes your throat as you gasp for each breath. clutched in your fingers, the cigar glows brightly in the strong wind, crackling away happily. as your sinuses clear, you note the lingering heaviness of licorice, a black tar that seems to seep down your throat, gags you. you give it up for a bad job and smother it on the pane before tossing it onto the roof below. with any luck, a curious crow will snatch it away before spring melt off can dump it into the pasture, catch the attention of the gardeners. you've no clue how well-acquainted your governess is with the brands your father used to smoke and you've no plan to find out, resolving to leave the window open all night if you have to in order to clear the stench of your foolish endeavor.
the candles have guttered but it's no matter, the moon bright enough that you can disrobe and navigate to bed even without them. it's not a difficult endeavor anyway, the bed such a ridiculously oversized piece it dominated most of the room and called into question the size of the man who'd commissioned it. you drown in it most nights, restless, twisting yourself up in sheets that stretched on forever, wound around you until you'd wake gasping, clawing at your own belly as if to loosen the stays of a corset that wasn't there. the physician who'd come to see to you was unsympathetic to your claims that the bed was simply too large - had suggested sleeping in your corset instead, claiming it would soothe your nerves and prevent you trying to bind yourself in your sleep.
it did not work, but your maid, alice, was loyal to the governess. tied your stays in the back, much too tight for you to undo once she'd left you alone. even now the boning digs at you, chest still heaving from your foolish endeavor. you settle on your back, try to keep your shoulders set back to encourage deep breathing and watch the shadows play about the room, curtains billowing with each icy gust. there's still too much smoke in the room, lingering up near your ceiling where it swirls about, never quite low enough to escape when the curtains ebb in a back draft. you hope you won't be stuck with the window open all night. already, fine dustings of snow slip past, tip toe up your bed to catch your covers and set your legs shivering.
the blankets twist about you again when you turn to your side, but for once you don't mind, your own body weight keeping them tucked firmly in place so the wind can't steal your heat away again. your breath evens as you finally begin to relax, body forming to the mattress just as much as it forms to you. sleep finds you slowly, lulls you into it with deep sighs, your breath matching that of the house itself. you time idly, watching the curtains in the cloudy mirror of your vanity - the only concession to your residence in the whole room. a gift from some minor lady who'd once hoped to sway your favor toward her son - only to have him elope a month later with a merchant's daughter -, the piece stands out singularly in the dark, masculine room. gilded framework and ivory inlay, it catches the moonlight beautifully, pearlescent in the chill. you let yourself be entranced by the vision it makes, orpheus overtaking you, settling over you like a calming, physical weight which shifts, presses a knee between your own -
it feels like the chill has taken your blood when your eyes tear open, body frozen in place as you watch your reflection stir, pushed slightly further onto your belly while the blankets move seemingly of their own accord. you tell yourself it's the wind tugging at them again, but the way the flatten against the mattress makes no sense - and it's the not the wind that whispers your name in your ear.
still trapped in the bedding, you thrash uselessly before you're able to escape its clutches, only realizing you're screaming when the breath is knocked out of you as you thud to the floor. help comes to lift you to your feet before you are able to do it yourself, alice's hands surprisingly firm when they dig under your arms and lift. you can't even manage to thank her, breaths stuttering out high and thin as you stare at your bed in wide-eyed shock: two distinct impressions of bodies, one curled around the other, yet completely empty. smoke curls above it, oddly thinner than that what still lingers around your ceiling. it breaks up on the next gust of wind, shatters around you with a cloyingly sweet scent.
---
your governess is cross to say the least.
the next day is spent in the kitchens, working away your transgressions into a particularly hard dough batch. she is unsympathetic to the terror that had overtaken you just before they'd rushed in to help. says she's certain they'd only heard your fresh coughing, although you try to point out that the cigar was already gone by then.
"don't be clever," she warns, an adage you've heard many times over the years. What man wants a clever wife?
she has the humidor emptied, says it should have been done long ago. you say nothing because probably, she's right.
alice isn't your friend, but sometimes she can be friendly. unlike your governess, she at least seems to have noticed your distress from the night before, simply nods in agreement when you ask her to warm your bed after she's done helping you dress that evening. perhaps she still sees it, the fear. she hums at you like she thinks you need at, at least, and maybe you do because it works quickly, your body exhausted after so much hard work and such little sleep.
---
despite your exhaustion, you do not sleep soundly. the midnight hour finds you fretful, though you're careful to remain still so as not to wake alice. you breathe in sync with her in an attempt to soothe yourself until you realize it's not her that moves but the house itself, curtains billowing in a breeze that shouldn't exist, windows locked tight for the night. strangely, the realization does not frighten you - not even when you turn to find alice staring blankly at the ceiling, eyes glossed over and vacant. skin leeched pale in the moonlight. you roll over to her, curious, and her eyes track over you uncomprehendingly, focus on a point at the far side of the room.
there's no decision to sit up, you simply do - chest rising first as if an anchor knot is rooted in your sternum, woven between the hollows of your ribs. the world tilts for a moment, and then rights itself, as if alighting with you on this new level. you observe the room much as it had been the night before, cold light filtering through whorls of smoke, though there's more of it now - thin trails of oily residue curling all around the room. it seems to ebb about the edges. even with the window locked tight, the room still seems to contract and compress, pressure increasing rhythmically before expanding again, fresh smoke rushing to fill it. you track the trail back to its source, a pin point ember which builds and gutters with swell, bobbing along on a tide. it takes a minute for your eyes to adjust but you make out the hand that holds it first, long fingers painted warm in the low light. it's the only bit of skin you can make out, the body attached to it settled so far back into the shadow it appears only as one itself - darker, deeper. barely distinguishable.
by its immense stature, you reason it is a man sat at your secretary. like alice's composure, there is a part of you that knows this realization should frighten you, but you're much too tired and curious to care, crawling to the foot of the bed so you can get a better look, continuing on over the edge and onto the floor when you still can't make out his features. your palms scratch against the worn wood, bearing too much weight in your awkward crawl, and room stills when you feel blood on the heel of your hand, the heat of it almost shocking in the cold air.
you only make it another stretch closer before the man recovers, the ember of his cigar flaring and popping as he takes a long drag, leans forward in his seat until you can make out a broad, stubbled jaw, two perfect white streaks glowing in the moonlight revealed when he finally drops his hand. his lips are wine-dark when they part, reveal a neat row of pearly teeth. he's impolite, blows his smoke directly at you. cloyingly sweet licorice and heady tobacco. you do not cough this time, though it's a near-miss. it seems to please him, lips tugging into a cruel smile as the smoke grows denser, begins to pour from his mouth in a thick, black cloud. it stains his chin, his teeth a black tar-like oil that smells too pungent. rotted.
you startle when alice screams, overcorrecting when you turn to her because she's there beside you, not behind, both of you still lying in bed.
"alice?" you start, trying to wake her, but your hand slips across her chest, slick with something dark and hot, and you freeze, unable to do anything as she continues to sieze and shriek beside you.
the governess comes, and then a doctor. in the confusion, you're shuttled off to the chair across the room. you're already settled into it by the time you realize it's where the man had sat, and you briefly take inventory of it, as if perhaps you could feel the traces of his body heat lingering. but the only thing of note is the trace whisps of dark sweets, easily explained away by your own mishap the night before.
they clean alice's wound and find a neat ring of teeth marks, your own good name saved by virtue of the doctor recognizing that they'd had time to heal - must have happened some other night, that alice must have been picking at them in her sleep. your governess's obvious distaste stills your tongue, unwilling to face her wrath if she believes you sympathetic to some street hussy. so you say nothing, even as alice shrieks about a man, about being accosted. even as they call her hysteric and pack her off. instead you sit silently, picking off the blood the that had dried to your hand when you'd gone to wake her. never mentioning the scrape you find beneath it and the congealed line of your own blood; the cut from when you'd flopped out of bed to crawl to his feet. because you can still smell it, the stomach-turning sweetness, and the heavy scent it had given way to, and you know what it was now, staining his handsome chin just as much as alice's breast.
and it's not fear, or even pity that settles low in your belly, simmers hotter than that ember which had sparked to life, woken you to his call.
you follow them when they walk her out, a small team of men needed to keep her restrained. she fights to be heard, but a part of you worries she fights to stay as well, the claws she sinks into the door frame intended to keep herself put for him. you feel ugly and selfish when you traipse back to your room, but you do anyway, stopping only long enough to smell the beautiful bouquet of dark winter roses you pass on the sideboard. they're lovely and sweet, though you can't help noticing no one has bothered to cut the thorns off. careless. you wonder who got them.
---
it's not the only life taking root in the house.
despite the grueling winter, you notice sunshine in the halls, dust motes dancing in the pale light. sconces you've not seen lit in years keep the shadows of night at bay. spices find their way into your meals, a small luxury you've been missing greatly. you can see your governess watching the staff suspiciously, but don't dare ask if she has her theories.
---
there are cigars in the humidor. or maybe they aren't cigars, much thinner than the ones you're used to seeing. you've no idea how they got there, but neither do you know who to ask. who you can trust to believe you, even just long enough to look, see the proof for themselves.
but then, you're not sure you want anyone else to know.
they smell like his. dark and heavy, sickeningly sweet. it makes your stomach turn but you fish out the lighter anyway, throwing the windows open decisively. fresh air pours in around you, chases cobwebs from the corners. the sconses gutter before flaring back to life, leaving the room brighter than it's been in months, cleaner than it' felt in ages.
you hardly notice, too busy fighting the cough that builds in your throat as you take your first drag. you don't manage it, smoke sputtering sputtering from your mouth in fits and starts as you heave your way through a coughing fit, stomach turning with an unexpected wave of nausea. face turned to the cool relief of the window, you've got your cheek leaned up against the side of the pane when the smoke begins to waft away. it takes you a moment to make sense of the image revealed, inverted and near as it is. fear grips you before you even manage it, some fine-tuned instinct recognizing the viper at your feet and turning to run before you're even sure what you've seen.
but this is no viper, and the reaction warranted when faced with the immense silhouette of a man hanging inverted in your window, mere inches from your face, is to go still as a deer in the hunters' sights, evidently, and play the docile little pray.
he turns properly toward you, the shaggy hair dangling around his face catching in the wind. your cigar flares with it, wan light revealing pale skin and dark eyes which seem to glint in amusement when you stumble away, the whole of the picture revealed to you just as long fingers wrap over the top of the casement and pry it open, hinges groaning as they overextend to let his broad shoulders pass. he pours through the sill like butter from the pan, pools on your ceiling with a strong grip on your curtain rod. except, when he drops from it, he sinks from the rafters like a feather, none of the might his huge frame suggested anywhere to be found.
still reeling, your hip catches the edge of your wardrobe and you slip past it, put your back to the wall as quiet cries spill from your lips, pleas incomprehensible.
he greets you by name in a thick russian accent, and somehow, impossibly, you know, but you ask anyway, voice trembling. "who are you?"
a step closer, movements so fluid you can barely discern them. when did the candles go out? "your cleverer than that."
strange compulsion, you can't stop yourself before reciting, "men don't want clever wives."
"is that what you think i want? a wife?" amusement curls around the words, turns his accent lilting.
"i don't know what you want," you whisper, and he grunts - edging closer to irritation.
"and is that what you think i am, then? a man?"
"no…" the truth shocks you, has you casting about for an anchor. you only find confirmation when you catch sight of your vanity, the man in your room leaving no reflection. your cleverer than that. "you were here that night, weren't you? on the bed with me?"
"well, what's a man to do when he returns home to find a pretty young lady in his bed?"
"you're my father." it's not a question. you're not even certain you mean it as a chastisement. it is simple fact, roiling in your stomach like the nausea that lingers.
a fact he ignores, slipping closer and trailing cold digits over the inside of your wrist before taking the slim cigar from between your fingers. you weren't even aware you'd still had it. it glows back to life when he takes a deep drag, smoke spilling from his mouth when he speaks again, "do you like this one better than that other? they're very popular in paris."
you latch onto the wrong part of the question. "is that where you've been?"
"there," he shrugs. "everywhere."
more nausea, sinuses prickling with the added smoke. "anywhere but here?"
he doesn't seem to like this question, either, a stillness overtaking him. "i was… called away."
but if he can be angry, so can you. "for twenty four years?" you snap, voice ragged and sharp as it had been after your first inhale.
his stillness snaps, exasperation turning him away from you. he paces to the window and finally you can see more of his features - the high peaks of his hairline, the heavy brow and the broad nose. he's an older man, you know, and yet - he doesn't really look it, fine lines of his forehead no worse than a man ten, twenty years his younger. his voice is gruff when he speaks again. quiet. "a man can't help being needed -."
"you were needed hear!" you shriek, a reservoir of emotion you didn't know you'd kept dammed breaking free.
when he turns on his heel the candles flare again, and you gasp, shocked to find him suddenly before you, the wool of his overcoat scratchy even through your shift. he waits for you to settle, for your chest to stop heaving against his and your pulse to stop hammering so loud in your ears that you can't hear what he says when his lips move, tongue darting out to wet them. "am i no longer needed, then?" he finally asks, and you wilt against him.
"of course you are," you sob, trying not to notice his own breaths never come.
---
there's no precedent telling you what to call him. his name is improper, but 'father' leaves a bitter taste on your tongue. you plead of him 'my lord!' when his kisses linger too long and he groans, pleased.
you're not sure if you like him when he's pleased.
he frightens you, takes too much. he's a man of appetite as you should have known by the marks he'd left on alice, but you'd foolishly thought yourself untouchable, too gently borne to suffer such indignities. of course, the station of your birth matters little to your own father - if it indeed ever would have mattered to anyone at all.
but it's hard to refuse him when he's your father, and so huge, besides. his broad frame corrals you easily back toward the bed. he doesn't let you sink onto it until his kisses have trailed to the hinge of your jaw, cold nose nuzzling behind your ear. when he does breathe, his chest eclipses your own, tries to turn you concave, carve a space within you. his exhale stinks like his cigar, pressed into the corner of your lip.
it's improper. leaves you teetering between disgust and a guilty sort of pleasure, which only serves to repulse you further. your stomach turns, guilt eating its way up your throat. acrid with smoke.
the hand splayed over the column of your throat tightens minutely, long fingers threatening to pluck the tendons which flex when you gag. he misunderstands. "not supposed to inhale, you know?"
your head spins, the only relief from your mounting sickness found in the the cold relief of his hands against your cheek. "i didn't… i don't..?"
"shh. that's alright. papa will teach you. take this, it will help you feel better."
and your mouth when he does. wide, mimicking. eager for some tincture to help soothe your nerves. a strong dose to put you under, perhaps. he grins when you show him your teeth and a finger finds his own, long claw catching minutely on his lip when he drags the pad of his first two fingers over his canine. you're shocked when it comes away bloody - more so when he coos, eases them into your own mouth to stroke against your tongue. for a moment you're too shocked to respond, but then the heavy taste of blood coats your mouth and you thrash about under him, swatting and biting.
it only seems to encourage him, voice too thick with hunger and approval to be as soothing as he intends it when he tries to gentle you beneath him.
he gives up trying when his blood overflows your mouth, spilling over your cheeks as you continue trying to shake him off. he mutters something about a waste and then his other hand is pinching your nose, cutting off your air supply fully. you gurgle, trying to clear your mouth and he snarls, shoves his fingers deeper.
you're forced to swallow your mouthful when your vision begins to tunnel. he sighs in relief when you do, breath nearly as heavy as yours when you gasp and wheeze. he has the decency to drag his fingers down your chin as you struggle, staining all down your throat as he traces the path of the load you've swallowed.
"not so hard, was it?" he mutters, still painting your skin. you glare at him when you can finally manage it and he just chuckles, forces his fingers behind your bottom teeth again. even still the taste revolts you, tongue crowding to the back of you mouth to try and escape the cold copper, the thick licorice. if he notices, he is undeterred. makes you take even more when he pries your jaw open and spits in your mouth.
the vulgarity makes you heave, but his weight fights even that. keeps you in place when he shoves his fingers back until the webbing nestles against the corner of your mouth and his fingernails scrape against your throat. he feels when it constricts around him reflexively and his free hand smooths the hair back from your sweaty forehead, cold breath against your temple as he tells you to relax, voice fragmenting - somehow both soft, ethereal, and a very real rumble in your ear.
it's that quiet one that gets you, webs its way through your nerves until you're limp with it, energy sapped along with your will to disobey. his fingers pull back minutely, give you enough space to swallow the blood that's gathered at the back of your throat. when they push back in, he bids you suckle them in that same distorted voice and you do. easily, gratefully, and this time, the blood pools in your belly like an antidote. it soothes your nausea, leaves you hungry for more. he doesn't hesitate to provide it, fingers pumping in and out of your mouth as you begin to suckle at them, entreating him to stay nestled in the heat of your mouth each time he starts to pull away.
you're unsure how long he feeds you. long enough you that you feel sated and sleepy when he withdraws entirely. a strand of saliva follows him, snaps back to fall down your chest when he licks his own fingers after, thick tongue wiping clean what mess remains. his skin comes back whole and healed, a prospect that should surely frighten you, but there is no fear when you grow bold, pull him closer by a strong grip on the long strands of hair at his nape. his tongue is slick when it slides against yours, chasing the taste of himself. he follows it down your chin, panting against the column of your neck as his hands work up your chest, the pressure of them on your waist having been having gone unnoticed through your corset. his nails scrape your skin when he catches the hem of your dressing gown and finally, some base instinct flares back to life, tries to stay his hands with your own, fingers scrabbling against his. he just hushes you again, voice echoing softly between your ears. this time, when your fingers wrap around his wrists, it is simply an anchor for you, body feeling as though you may simply drift away under his care.
when his mouth finds your breast, you arch into him, bucking hard enough that he groans, lays his body flat over you to keep you in place as he feasts. even his weight is decadent, a relief from the way you feel untethered. he pinches your nipple between too-sharp teeth, soaks the fabric of your shift in saliva just to soothe you after. his mouth offers no heat, no balm for the frigid breaths he ghosts over the wet material. you beg for it anyway, fingers threading through his hair to keep him close. an instinct that will do you no good here, the man at your breast inhuman and cold.
it's a fact you can't escape from, not with his cold blood in your belly and his will in your head. not with his lupine teeth spreading wide over your heart, or the ecstatic relief when he finally bites down. your breath steams in the air as you pant beneath him, chest heaving into his mouth even as you try pulling him impossibly closer, and here, finally, is the heat - the bloom of blood that soaks your shift and warms your skin, even as you grow colder with the loss of it. he's insatiable, a man of appetite as you knew, and yet you give yourself freely, even as your breath grows stilted and shallow and your fingers twitch in his hair. he only surfaces when your vision grows cloudy, looms above you in a grisly mask of death turned two-tone with the moonlight and your fading vision. jaw stained dark, it appears an endless maw from which he speaks, demands to know if you'll join him in eternity.
and what girl could ever live without her papa?
dividers by @/cafekitsune and @/adornedwithlight
28 notes
·
View notes
Text
B0osting update #3!
Ok so first of all, there will be no haul this weekend bc I extended the semester and I got exams this upcoming week (,:
Anyway:
On P0shmark I just sold my first clothing items today- a cashmere sweater for a profit of $85 and another sweater for $20 profit. I’ll be shipping those tomorrow.
As for èbày- holy shit you guys it’s insane! I’m actually shutting it down for a little while because I can’t keep up with the orders. Today I had to pack and ship 12 packages (I failed, I only got five out lol) and I got I believe 7 or 8 new orders today. Total profit of $750 on makeup alone.
When it comes to what sells, I’ve noticed a few patterns but I haven’t sold quite enough yet to be sure they’re consistent. I originally only listed eyeshadow palettes and a few other things here and there because I assumed most people wouldn’t want the other stuff bc it’s harder to return and to know if it’s your color. But it turns out, lip stuff sells really well- and not the Dior stuff either, it’s mostly the mid-range brands because people want those anyway and if your listing is the lowest price, they go for it. My top lip sales have been Laura Mercier and Ole Henriksen.
Also, I originally thought that I could put the ideal price as the buy it now price and just turn offers on and I’d get all the business I would get if it were a lower buy it now price- but it turns out a lot of people are actually pretty shy (lol me too) and they simply won’t make an offer no matter what, so I’ve lowered some prices for the socially anxious folks and those listings sold.
Now moving on to the shadows and palettes- most of my sales have been one or two items, but surprisingly I’ve had buyers who bought 8 or 9 items, usually palettes, at once. One poor girl begged me to hold onto stuff for her until she gets her paycheck, which made me feel kinda bad because girl why are you spending your obviously very little money on makeup?? But hey maybe she’s in high school or smth, idk. At first I assumed they were reselling (which, I mean, I can’t really complain cause I got it for free 🤷♀️), but it kind of seems like they’re just foreigners in big cities trying to look rich lol. Each time it’s a Chinese name and it’s from nice areas of L.A. Idk I could be wrong, but I think some people just want a lot of makeup I guess. Anyway, my most popular items were rare or limited edition (I didn’t even know they were but thankfully èbay told me haha). Dior limited editions went super fast for $75 each, and people LOVE YSL stuff but only in the common colors, they don’t want couture clutches in the less popular colors. I learned I have to price rarer colors for less sometimes, not more, because people search for the shade they want. All my Pat McGrath and Anastasia palettes have sold. I have a ton of Dior and Lancôme and Clinique in stock as you guys know- like probably at least 30 palettes from each brand. Quite a few Dior palettes have sold, but not a single Lancôme or Clinique product has- except for one individual eye shadow shade from Lancôme- no matter how low the price. We’ll see if that keeps up. Surprisingly again, Dior lip products and blush are simply not popular.
I’ve been packing them really nicely and throwing in a nail polish in each one and a lip balm in the big orders, but nothing has arrived at its destination yet so I’m just hoping I get good reviews! Also like an idiot I lied about my age on eBay so I’m scared my money will go out the window because it’s on hold while they verify my SSN.. I really hope not /:
Oh and I did start an èbay for my clothes, but I just listed six things to kind of gauge how it goes. So far I just got one comment on an item asking for measurements, but idk how to take those (,: same thing happened on p0shmark- if anybody knows pls help a girl out and hmu 🥲
That’s all I’ve got, and of course these are just my observations, they might not be completely accurate since I’m just starting out, but I’m hoping these updates will be helpful for some of you thinking of b0osting on these platforms. If anyone has any questions, just wants to chat, or wants me to nab smth for them even- hmu, I’m always happy to chat (:
27 notes
·
View notes
Text
I couldn't shake the idea of a mlb au with jayvik off my head so here it goes
Jayce Talis (21 year-old) currently studies his first year of engineering at Piltover University. He's pretty much the popular guy, but still has some people talking ill of him (like Salo yk). Not really fond of being in the spotlight tho. He's the second best student in his career, and he also practices sports but outside the college. Also his family are all blacksmiths and make hammers.
Heimerdinger gave him the Ladybug Miraculous in order to take back not only the butterfly miraculous but also the black cat miraculous. Heimerdinger didn't explain to him why he had to take back the black cat one, like Jayce understood why he had to take the butterfly (because of the trauma and the pain it was causing to society) but he didn't have clear why he had to take the black cat, and the next time he meets Heimerdinger, he gave him the miraculous box and Jayce became the new guardian of the box (everything was done, the water, ice, space, fire, etc power ups and all that) but he had no idea how to handle his own miraculous! Imagine the entire box. So he doesn't take the black cat miraculous, instead, he leans and relies on his partner.
Gold Bug since he's the "Golden boy of Piltover" in Arcane and lots of golden motifs in his costume. And he also carries that big ass hammer with him. He has the rune carved into the forearm of his costume too!! Yeah the earrings resemble little hammers, or at least that was the intention.
Viktor Rift (22 year-old) currently studies his second year of engineering at Piltover University. He's not very popular, he's the best student in his career and does not know Jayce, he just heard about him, but doesn't really care about his existence. He plays the bass on a rock band named "Jinx", with Vi (drums), Powder (vocals), Ekko (keyboard), Claggor (keyboard) and Mylo (bass). Obviously they're of a similar age, let's say Powder and Ekko are the same age as Viktor and the rest are just a bit older, a year or two. He has a deformation on his leg and so he has to walk leaning on a cane. It's not a degenerative disease tho. His father is Singed, a well-known scientist, and thanks to that, he met Sky at a science conference and they kinda made friends. He had an older sister but due to the accident which left his leg like that, she died, or at least that's what his father told him.
One day he found a strange box hidden between grass and plants besides a waterfall and driven by curiosity, he decided to open it. It was a miraculous, specifically the black cat one. Heimerdinger lost it along with the butterfly, actually it was Singed, his former colleague, who robbed them, but Singed also lost the black cat in the fight. Heimerdinger feels the black cat miraculous is being used, and he looks for a ladybug who can take it back, since that miraculous is broken. Viktor doesn't know that, and so, he starts using it, slowly feeling weaker and weaker. He isn't stupid, he knows the miraculous is killing him day by day, but when he's using it, he doesn't have the leg issue, and he also doesn't feel ill, he feels powerful and capable for the first time since the accident, and seeing how Gold Bug puts so much trust in him, he feels like he's equal to someone for the very first time. That's how his self-destructive tendency develops until his partner finds out.
Dark hex sounds like a good name, don't ask. His costume is clearly asymmetrical, the void on his chest is due to the shot he received in the series but also because Plagg's real form has that thing right on the chest too. The touch of the arcane on his forehead yay! Whenever he uses the cataclysm he leaves the arcane pattern on whatever he touches instead of reducing it to ashes, and his hand turns that purplish hue reassembling the machine-herald's "skin" texture. Also the hexclaw is the end of his tail. I really like the details of the small cables all over the costume, and the hexstone being the bell is kinda cute actually. He has the cool hair too. His surname is because he comes from the undercity, concretely from the fissures, and the discharged ring is like the thing where they put hextech on before it starts spinning. Annnnd his moles are little stars.
The love square is basically like in mlb
Viktor/Dark Hex likes Gold Bug because he can be himself fully with him, and Jayce/Gold Bug, firstly just admires Viktor resilience and confidence, and then those feelings turn into love as he knows more of Viktor (he likes his intelligence and all that).
Also they met because Cait (Jayce's childhood friend, almost like his blood sis) assisted in a music festival (she plays the violin or something like that) and there she met Vi and "Jinx", and she begged Jayce to go with her to visit Vi and the band again. Jayce was like "i didn't know the best student played the bass" and Viktor just "and I didn't know the second best looks like a jock" but like in an offensive way 😭
The first concepts
And yeah, Singed being hawk moth just fits so well. If you want to give some suggestions I'm open to reading them, i don't have all the universe built so i can still change things. Of course Mel is like Jayce's acquaintance, they aren't especially close, but they practice sport together or something.
I was thinking of Powder having the rat, Ekko the snake, Vi the tiger, Mylo the monkey, Claggor the bull, Cait the peacock (?, Mel would have either the dragon or the fox, not sure about Sky, maybe the turtle (? And idk, I'll draw more ig 👹
#arcane#arcane fanart#miraculous ladybug#miraculous au#arcane jayce#arcane viktor#arcane violet#arcane powder#arcane ekko#arcane caitlyn#arcane mylo#arcane claggor#arcane sky#arcane mel#arcane singed#fanart#art
21 notes
·
View notes
Text
So having been in fandoms since the days when DeviantArt was where all the closeted teenage weebs like myself found each other, I can see at least two reasons for this.
Now, granted, I try to stay open to the possibility of being mistaken. I won't have been there for everything that was going on, and I won't have always heard about everything I missed yet. But one of the reasons is... I'm trying to think if "generational" is the right word.
Fans are having fun, some get made fun of for having fun until it's not fun anymore. Younger fans become older fans, get embarrassed by the fun they had when they were younger, until they get over the embarrassment and admit that it was fun, because they genuinely loved what they were fans of, and that their embarrassment was toward their own younger selves all along. And of those who still don't have fun with it anymore, all they remember is the cringing and the nitpicking.
The nitpicking can also come from just getting tired of seeing a fanwork you'll never be the target audience for, but I was there when this happened with Steven Universe, and Homestuck before that, and Naruto before that. And there'll always be fans for whom this is their first time experiencing it cuz that cycle of fun has always been a part of growing up and that's since included fandom involvement. And I think that with it becoming more common for fandoms to have broader age demographics, it's also become harder to avoid that rite of passage from having harsher consequences for some of the fanworks that enlivened their fandoms.
That's one of the reasons I've inferred from my observations.
Another reason for it is... I've noticed a pattern since volunteering for fanwork archival when it comes to which accounts are dead or abandoned. I'll have to take a few tallies to confirm it, maybe find a chart generator, but I noticed it because, feeling obligated to put media conservation before my feelings when it comes to this, there are fanworks I've had to post certain content warnings for.
This gets into the kinda discourse that for years has been difficult to discuss without it getting heated, so if you're picking up what I'm putting down, I can leave it at that, otherwise there may be more uncomfortable conversations ahead.
i think people do indeed see old fandom spaces through rose tinted glasses. you think it was better then? really? do you not remember how many og creators were bullied and harassed off platforms? cringe compilations?
i understand we were more cringe back then, but you cannot convince or tell me 2016 was a better era just because it was more active.
#it's not exactly something i'm comfortable with either so don't feel obligated.#it's just one of those things that keeps coming up for me whether i like it or not & i happened to see this in the utmv tag.#fandom#from#vanglaggle
67 notes
·
View notes
Note
does kevin ever bring up jeans wellbeing in the original trilogy? I honestly can't remember. maybe I'm being unfair to kevin lol, but his attitude towards Jean in the original books kinda made the whole postcards & magnets things in tsc seem kinda ooc to me, but ig a lot can change in a few years.
thank you for bringing this up bc I have SO many thoughts on this LOL kevin brings up jean’s well-being exactly one time in the original series (unless i’m missing anything but I did just comb through the series to double check)
I always thought that kevin was a very different person prior to hand-breaking-gate and before riko really went off the deep end torture-wise. I think I’ve used this metaphor too many times at this point but it’s just so perfect lol, @allforthegayphase said one time that kevin cared for jean like you would care for a bird with a broken wing.
like I think he did care for jean at some point out of pity and out of genuine friendship, but their relationship was always very unequal and second to kevin and riko’s friendship. and now kevin can’t think of jean without thinking about really uncomfortable memories so he’s hardly thinking of jean at all.
so personally I don’t think it’s out of character that kevin would write jean letters and collect knickknacks for him while he’s off traveling and imagining jean stuck in the nest for years at a time at the beginning. I think that it implies that kevin had character arc off screen lol and he used to be rather different. (also considering jean’s pattern for falling for positive, bright people lol. I like to think kevin used to be a lot more like that)
+ going back to mentions in the og series neil’s use of “supposedly” in this quote always makes me laugh. neil’s like 🤨 they’re friends? that’s news to me bitch (presumably bc kevin has to be Convinced to even think about jean)
#honestly i think their relationship is SO much more interesting when it’s this unequal#like jean just wants love and companionship but has literally never gotten that fully reciprocated#so much more interesting than trying to rewrite kevin so that he’s constantly just yearning after jean#i just don’t think that’s realistic#ask tag#kevjean#tsc#the sunshine court
23 notes
·
View notes
Note
Will we be able to do a revenge route? 😜 My Mc is/will be the Princess who hates everyone because they took her away from her home!I mean kinda like kosem but instead of accepting her role burns the kingdom down and kills the king 👑!
Absolutely! Burn everything down!
The fruit knife caught the afternoon light, its curved blade nestled among purple figs and gleaming pomegranates like a serpent in paradise. You watched it as Kaz read through his correspondence, your fingers itched.
It would be so easy. He wasn't wearing his formal robes, just a light silk tunic that left his throat exposed. He seemed entirely absorbed in his letters, occasionally reaching for a grape without looking up. Trusting. Vulnerable. The guards were outside the door, and he'd dismissed the servants.
One quick motion. That's all it would take. A single moment of violence to answer all the violence that had been done to your family. To you.
You could see it playing out in your mind: your hand closing around the handle, the arc of your arm, the bright spray of arterial blood against silk. Would he look surprised? Would he have time to understand why? Or would his eyes just go blank, like your father's had when they'd dragged his body through the street?
"The trade minister has interesting ideas about the silk tariffs," Kaz said absently, still focused on his papers. "Though I suspect he's padding the numbers in his own favor. What do you think?"
Your fingers twitched. He was asking your opinion on policy now, as if you were more than just another piece of property he'd acquired. As if your thoughts mattered. As if he hadn't destroyed everything you had ever loved simply by existing.
"Y/N?"
You realized you’d been quiet too long. "I wouldn't know anything about silk tariffs, your majesty." The words came out sharper than you intended. "My education was somewhat... interrupted."
Now he did look up, those stunning eyes fixing on your face. Something flickered across his expression – not quite guilt, but perhaps something close. "Of course. I apologize."
The knife gleamed. One motion. One moment of red satisfaction.
But then what? They would execute you, of course. Probably painfully. And your family’s line would end in disgrace – remembered as traitors and assassins.
"Although," you heard yourself saying, "I do remember something my father used to say about trade." The knife seemed to pulse in your peripheral vision. "That honest numbers tell their own story, if you know how to read them."
Kaz tilted his head, interested. "Go on."
"He said a dishonest merchant always makes his lies too perfect. Real profit has variations, unexpected dips and rises. If all the numbers align too neatly..." You shrugged, the motion making your sleeve brush against the fruit bowl. The knife shifted slightly, its blade catching another angle of light.
"Ah." Kaz's mouth curved in a slight smile. "So if we look for patterns that are too clean..."
"We might find where the minister's arithmetic grows creative."
He laughed softly, and for a moment you could almost forget who he was. What he represented. Almost.
But then he reached for another grape, his throat exposed in that perfect arc, and the knife sang to you of blood and justice and revenge. Of power. Of turning tables and making the mighty fall.
You curled your fingers into your palm until your nails bit flesh, letting the small pain ground you. Not today. Not yet. You had to be smarter than simple violence if you wanted to survive. To rise. To make them all pay in ways they wouldn't see coming.
You picked up a fig instead of the knife, its flesh soft and yielding between your fingers. "Shall I help you look through the numbers, your majesty?"
36 notes
·
View notes