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tooxldtorememxer · 2 years ago

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fornassau:

In contrast he didn’t think he was a weirdo at all. Plus he knew if he was going to date him, kids were apart of that equation. He’d never expect him to push them away for his sake and he’d never want that. Maybe the fact that he was going to his place for dinner with his twins made the date easier. Anyone else? That would be an enormous amount of pressure. For James, he would have felt more pressure going out to a nice restaurant. He did expect for some dates to be child free, but the fact that he simply leaned into the whole thing spoke highly of the type of man he really was.

Eleven thousand wasn’t even him overpricing. If anything he was under, considering he’d tracked the auction price the last time this piece was on sale. But he had managed to acquire it through a contact so he was gaining at the price he sold it for. He wrapped that book up in a soft lavender tissue paper for protection and had put it in one of his custom purple bags with gold embossing. He arched a brow as he hears him say he could have a personal driver deliver him home. He could have driven, but he chose the latter. “ I’ll ride with you. “

Knowing he had to get to wherever his home was at this time of night in time meant he hurried up. Gloves had been discarded, and once Jaime went outside, he put the tea on its tray and carried it upstairs. Did he have anything he could bring? It might have been Dino nuggies, but maybe the adults might have a drink. Lucky for him he had a merlot itching to be opened which he grabbed along with a jacket that he threw over his outfit. He didn’t really have time to get into something more casual.

He locked up the store and appeared outside of it, shaking the bottle playfully. “ Thought I’d bring something. Even if it is nuggets and tater tots. “ He chuckled, following him into whatever car the man drove.

He was pleased to hear it, even though it was perhaps a bit more of a messy logistic matter than if he’d driven himself. But who cares, that wasn’t a problem for now and it would be very easy to solve later. While he waited for James to be ready to leave he shot off a few more texts to Jeyne to let her know that they would be leaving now and would be there soon. Of course, it would be no problem for her but he just wanted to let her know so she could tell the girls. Though he had a sneaking suspicion they were too busy with some game or project to notice that their dad wasn’t there and there was no dinner yet.

“Ooo, how generous of you, dear sir,” he grinned and opened the door for him to get in before he walked around the car to get in behind the wheel. He wasn’t above having a glass of wine after a long day so there would be no reason to scold James for wanting to bring the wine. Even if it was unnecessary because of course, being a Lannister, there would be a lot of wine on a winerack to be consumed. Not that he drank often but people kept giving it to him.

The drive wasn’t too far and not too terrible, considering it was London traffic, but they did reach an area with actual free-standing houses with big gardens and evidently not built for anything below the upper middle class. Most of the houses were surrounded by tall fences and gates and so was the house Jaime pulled up in front of. He had children, after all, and he hadn’t wanted them to run out onto the street when he wasn’t looking. Or that had been his wife’s idea when they’d been looking for a home to let their family grow in and they were still there. there had been no need for a new home, not yet anyway.

The gate closed automatically behind them and Jaime climbed out of the car with a “Welcome to ours.” He opened the back door to grab the present straight away so he wouldn’t forget about it in there and then gestured for James to follow him. The light was on inside and when he opened the door the sound of little running feet and happy screams reached him. He just about had time to squat down before two blond energetic bundles ran into him with an excited “Daddy!” A sound he would never get tired of and always made him smile. “Hello, my little sweetlings. Have you had a good day with miss Jeyne?” The girls started talking all at once and a young woman stood off to the side watching as she put her jacket on. When she saw James her eyes widened a little in surprise and she nodded her head briefly. “Sir,” she said before she bid the girls and Jaime goodbye and slipped out the door. Joanna had picked up on the word.

Her little head turned up to look at the strange man in the hallway and her head tilted slightly before she spoke. “Who are you?” which immediately reminded Jaime that he wasn’t alone. oops. He let go of her and turned around, bringing Alys with him who looked up shyly before she buried her face in her father’s neck. “That is Mister McGraw, my new friend,” he said to her and looked up at James. More than friend already perhaps, but there was no need to spring that on them just yet. They’d only just met, they liked each other, but no need to jump too far ahead. “My name is Joanna,” said the little girl dressed in a batman suit wearing a pink tutu and Jaime chuckled. He knew Alys wouldn’t say anything so when he stood he brought her up with him. “And this is Alys. She’s a bit shy,” he said and brushed her hair back which was met with a whince and some squirming. The girl was dressed in an odd mix of what he belied to be pirate clothing and perhaps some Pippi Longstockings. She loved that character. “Come on in,” he smiled at James and literally kicked his shoes off before he walked in towards the kitchen. “Who’s hungry? I’m making nuggets!” that was met with excitement and he couldn’t help but laugh at that.

James McGraw had spent his entire life’s work dedicated to a personal hobby; antique books. Even with what little he had growing up, James made a fine life for himself. His grandfather made sure that he got a good education, something that came quite easily to him. For nearly twenty-five years now, he stood as the soul proprietor of The Gilded Page, a small antique book shop with a Victorian style front that faced the street on Charing Cross, in London. He’d practically written his soul away for the loan years ago, but all of that had paid off very well for him indeed.

It was difficult to be an antique dealer, much less a purveyor of rare titles. To be such a thing required intimate and vast knowledge on the subject and a great deal of trust between private collectors, auction houses and the like. But over the years he had mastered to do just that. This place wasn’t for someone to come and browse in like Barnes and Noble. God, no. The shop’s walls were lined high with books that were shelved in cases and behind glass. There were two large rooms for the ground floor, a chandelier with muted lighting hanging in the main room. Tables had some books here and there, and there were large volumes in display that were open, revealing the handwritten and painted work within the pages. And above all this was the flat he lived in. This place was just as much apart of his home.

In order to be seen by him an appointment had to be made. Book collectors tended to run in certain circles, and James liked to get information ahead of time so he could gather various titles from various places that might interest a buyer, and sometimes that took a bit of time with all the bartering and buying he had to do.

So in the second room, there sat a rounded table with a few comfortable high back chairs. He was expecting his client, a Mister Jaime Lannister. It would be difficult to not know that last name in London. But like all possible clientele, he gathered the volumes he’d obtained that may have been of interest as to what he was told on the phone weeks before hand. He’d just gotten some tea ready, which he also had brought out for that table with cream and sugar available. It was getting about that time, and to impress a new client was paramount in this business.

#fornassau #jaime | character #a golden chain | verse

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tmntxthings · 2 years ago

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Imagine the Rise!Turtles in high school…

author’s note: this is kinda self indulgent bc i sort of thought of my own high school experience, i went to a small town high school so some of these ‘clubs’ are out of my element but i wanted to try and match their personalities as best as i could, I hope you enjoy~~~

Michelangelo- Freshmen

incoming new class but is already well known because of his older brothers

but everyone quickly comes to know him as Mikey instead of 'the youngest turtle,' he's got a knack for making friends

all his classmates absolutely adore him and anyone who doesn't (is jealous of him) is quickly won over by Mikey himself, he loves changing peoples mind

plus he’s a total optimist and sees the good in everyone even if other people try to convince him otherwise

in Talented Art/Gifted because of his love and creativity for art, got in easily (was asked by the art teacher)

he chills at school after hours with a couple of the other members in TA (talented art) talking about anything that comes to mind while working on their own separate pieces, sometimes they all come together on big projects

also a trendy fashionista, people take one look at his outfits and he goes to school the next day seeing who he's influenced, he is obviously super flattered and asks to take pics with them

other than art, he's a part of the Dance team, he tried out to be a cheerleader too and both groups had a week of convincing him which would be a better fit for him

dance won out because they were open to him choreographing for the homecoming pep rally

since he is liked by everyone he is pretty popular, but isn’t considered the preppy kind of popular, just well-known, loved by all, Michelangelo~~~

Donatello- Sophomore

now a second year, he is ready to keep branching out, not only is he a part of the math league, robotics club, beta club, (solely for those days they get off from school to go compete) quiz bowl AND the student body, he’s also on the swim team and competes in long pole (the comp where the people run with the big long pole and try to jump really high/over this stick…) for track

so he is very very busy and because he is in so many things, he has plenty of friend groups

Donnie likes being the smartest one in class, he’s made some enemies just because he’s embarrassed someone by telling them their answer is wrong in front of the entire class

he doesn’t do it on purpose, just when he sees someone start writing a math answer on the board and the equation starts going south, he can’t help himself

he’ll raise his hand, and try to help them, but all while simultaneously embarrassing whoever is on the receiving end of his teachings, and you’d be surprised how many teachers he’s had to point out their mistakes to

more times than one should, which also means some of the teachers don’t exactly like him either, but what can they do?

he’s the smartest student they will ever get to teach in their lives

Donnie has a few classes with his brother, twins in the same class often run into issues, they are super competitive with each other

classmates usually come up to Donnie and ask him math/science questions on the fly, and he definitely does…n’t do other people’s homework for money…or anything else they bargain with…

often after lunch he goes straight to the library rather than go to recess outside/in the gym

it’s usually empty during that time except for other nerds like him who rather books than people

the librarian knows Donnie on a first name basis and they give him book recommendations whenever he isn’t checking out tons of books for certain projects

Leonardo- Sophomore

in second year right along with his twin, yes people do call them ‘disaster twins’ when they are together

which they are together a lot but they do have separate school lives too

Leo is also a part of the student body, but other than beta club, that’s about all the things that he has in common with Donnie

Well, maybe it’s just flip flopped because Leo is in a lot of sports, basketball recruited him first which got all the other coaches attention, he’s also on baseball, football (mainly for Raph) soccer, and track for the 100 meter dash

so he is very busy as well (maybe the twins decided to have a comp to see how many organizations they could be in?!) and has plenty of friend groups because of it

but he’d have many friends regardless, he’s a total flirt, doesn’t matter with who, super charismatic with the staff too

the front desk ladies love him, so do the janitors, and the lunch ladies definitely give him extra portions of the things he wants

it’s the teachers that he has the most trouble charming because he loves to be the center of attention during class, huge class clown, and disrupts class on a whim

(Donnie hates that btw because it cuts into class/teaching time so if Leo goes off on a longer tangent than usually Donnie will quite literally tell him to ‘SHUT UP’)

which doesn’t help bc this starts a full on war between the twins, the teacher will either threaten them both with detention or give up entirely and sit at their desk (depends on how much fight the teacher has)

Raphael- Junior

oldest turtle brother in his third year, very much still protective older brother stereotype in school, don’t mess with his siblings, if he hears about any bullying be warned he’ll find you and have to have a private chat

though he’s the biggest turtle and definitely had some trouble fitting in and making friends during his first year bc of his appearance and people judging him like a book cover, everything is different now two years later

he was recruited for football and the weightlifting team his first year, been in them ever since, and recently joined wrestling/boxing, he’s also a part of the mentor program for underclassmen

those who have had him as a mentor seek him out in the hallways to ask high school questions, or show them where their classes are on the first week, he’s an absolute idol in that regard

freshman/sophomore brag to their friends if they have him as a mentor

he has a tight group of friends who have his shell one hundred percent of the way, just like how he is with anyone he comes to care about

Raph has definitely won a few teacher’s hearts as their favorite, he is always working hard no matter the subject even if it isn’t his specialty

Bonus! April- Senior

she was with Raph a lot when he was a freshman and she a sophomore, happily introduced him to her school friends

April in her last year now is a part of the high school newsletter/paper, student body, beta club, and the yearbook committee

She takes all of the boys pictures, (yes Leo I’m getting your good side) in sports and all the other activities they are in

Mikey’s art has started to feature the newsletter as well

All the boys like to call her out in the hallways, it’s known that out of everyone at the school, they all have one best friend and that’s her

Anyone who has interest in the turtles but is too scared to go straight to them usually comes to her for advice, she cuts down the bad apples pretty quickly

when running for the homecoming court that year all the turtles helped her campaign, Mikey coming in clutch again with awesome posters to hang around the school

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dragongutsixofficial · 2 years ago

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On the topic of Rhea, Byleth, Crimson Flower and abuse

I see a lot of people saying Crimson Flower is a bad route for Byleth, and I'm always a little confused about it, so I thought I'd share my thoughts on the matter. This post isn't at all to invalidate their opinions or how they view the game- this is just offering my perspective on things. Please forgive any possible mistakes, as English isn't my first language. Also, I will be criticizing Rhea's treatment of Byleth, so I'll tag this appropriately of course, but I'm still warning any of her fans beforehand in case you just wanna skip. ^^

For a little bit of context, when i first played the game, Rhea creeped me out THE MOMENT she looked at Byleth from the balcony in the cutscene when they arrive at Garreg Mach monastery. So, I was already wary of her-I dunno, I just had a feeling she wasn't as honest as she was pretending to be.

And I mean, this isn't completely wrong. She desperately wants to be able to relax and be truthful, sure, but she also has a great deal of responsibility in putting in place and maintaining a really unfair theocracy based entirely on lies, because she wants to protect her family, the last of her kind. While her behavior is, of course, understandable given the horrible trauma she went through, it still doesn't sit right with me, but that's not really my point here. The thing is, she has problems with not being in control at all times because of her story. Her despair even pushes her to try and bring back her dead mother by crafting her a vessel- something she fails at several times, including Sitri.

And, then, there's Byleth. Byleth, who disappears for twenty long years, along with all her hopes, and when they reappear Rhea immediately sees the possibility for her to achieve her goal is not totally lost. She was desperate and now that she's found them, she wants to keep them.

That's why she places so much trust in Byleth from the start, but also why she grows cold every time they step out of line- like when they refuse to give her Miklan's spear. She allows them to live their life, but only so long as they do not disappoint her in any way or deviate from her ideas- because for the longest time, she struggles to see them as their own person and puts unreasonable expectations on them.

And that, sadly, is when that becomes psychological abuse on her part. This is really obvious to me when Byleth's hair and eyes turn green after fusing with Sothis, and she sings to them and puts their head in their lap while they're asleep- it just makes me want to run far away in the opposite direction every time, and her giving them the prophet outfit after that makes me so sorry for Byleth because what she's essentially doing here (albeit maybe unvoluntarily) is chipping away at their developing self and bodily autonomy by turning them into literally what she physically wants to see-and that isn't them. She wants them to become what she wants of them.

And then, in the Sacred Mausoleum, Byleth chooses Edelgard. All hell breaks loose because Rhea's hopes are shattered- and she also realizes her affection for Byleth is (partly) unrequited which, to me at least, makes sense- I don't really see how they could care as much for her as they do for their students when they spent every day with them for a year, and their actions seem to be made more out of love for their close ones than anything else. Byleth breaks out of the mold and confronts her directly. They make the clear cut decision to deviate from the path she had laid out for them. From that moment on, Rhea considers that all forms of violence against them is allowed (which, fair, they just declared war on her lol) including taking their heart out by force, which is physical abuse obviously (then again, violence is to be expected in a war but you get the idea). She now hates what she's created and sees it as her duty to destroy it.

Now. Byleth choosing to walk down Edelgard's path does not equate cutting themselves from their divine part, and I think that is a very important point. I see a lot of people make that criticism, especially since Byleth loses Sothis' powers at the end of CF. But to me, it's a totally different phenomena that occurs.

In every route, post-timeskip Byleth embraces their divine side. They use the Creator's sword and they go back in time as they wish to protect and further their and their lords' vision for the future of Fodlan. Heck, their main class is literally "Prophet". But something strange and, I think, beautiful happens in Crimson Flower that always made me feel disappointed in the other routes' plots: Byleth has a chance to stand up to their abuser and cut ties with them explicitely and directly. To fight back against them with all they've got.

Now, don't get me wrong. Rhea apologizing for her wrongdoings and bad treatment of Byleth is good, sure, but it just… doesn't seem like enough to me. Sure, that's a nice thought… but it's not like anything can be done about it now: they're stuck with body modifications and a position as an Archbishop reforming the system she helped put in place that they never really asked for in the first place. But what makes it ok is that they embrace those fully and voluntarily, and that's beautiful on its own- however, that resolution leaves me a bit disappointed and honestly feeling like they let Rhea walk all over them.

The thing is, when you get out of an abusive and toxic relationship, you are left changed from the experience. You lose a lot of things, but you also get some things. It's like you're left with a random object your abuser gave to you once. You can either keep it and give it a new story of its own, or discard it if keeping it just doesn't feel right. But in the end, it is your responsibility, your thing, and you're not a bad person for not using it. The metaphor is broken, I know, but I hope you get my idea. You're not a bad person for moving on for that thing- You don't resent the thing, you can thank it and appreciate it for what it brought you while you used it, you don't hate it, hell you might have even learnt from it.

In the other routes, Byleth chooses to keep everything and use it equally. In Crimson Flower, Byleth "regaining their humanity" doesn't in any way, shape or form mean they reject all that Sothis brought to them or their enlightenement. It's just them choosing that they'd rather not use that from now on, or not engage with it to the same degree. They might go back to it later, might help rebuild the church, I don't know-just not in the same way. On new terms that make them more at ease with who they became following that route.

They're still the same loving and caring person who would do anything for their students. They still go to the ends of the Earth to give someone a random thing they lost. They still spend hundreds of coins on their loved ones' favorite teas. But… they do not have to forgive Rhea. They do not have to accept everything that happened to them because of her actions, even if some of it was good. They've made their peace with it and they've let it go of their own volition.

They do not become a lesser version of themselves because they chose to deal with the abuse they went through in a different way than in the other routes.

And I think a lot of people underestimate how powerful CF!Byleth's narrative can be.

#fe3h #byleth eisner #byleth discourse #lady rhea #seiros #rhea discourse #rhea critical #tw abuse #tw mentions of abuse #tw physical abuse #tw psychological abuse #crimson flower #this is no hate towards rhea's character you love who you want #byleth #fe16 #archbishop rhea #fe3h spoilers #edelgard von hresvelg

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yoonsshadow · 4 years ago

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Strike! - OT7

❥ prompt ; ‘could you please do an ot7 where they all go bowling or to the arcade together? (I also love your eternals series so much!!)’ sent in by @deathbybigsisrory

❥ pairing ; ot7 x fem!reader

❥ genres ; non-idol!au, rom-com, friends-to-[future]-lovers, [they’re not together yet but everyone is very much in love]

❥ themes ; fluff!!

❥ warnings ; none

❥ word count ; 1.7k

❥ note ; Thank you so much for the submission!!! (And also thank you for your sweet words darling xx) I may have strayed a little from the prompt, but I hope you still like it. I haven’t been bowling since I was like 11, so I’m sorry if some details are incorrect. I have never been to an arcade, so I thought this was the safer option. [this isn’t edited]

Somewhere, in the back of your subconscious, is a loud knocking.

It’s a rapid noise, insistent and forceful, but the dream you’re submerged in is far too pleasant to pay it any heed. It will go away eventually.

Except it doesn’t.

As you’re lying in the paradise of a warm coastal beach, mermaids off the coast and dragons in the distant sky, muffled yells are lost in the ambience of crashing waves and mer-song. You are so incredibly comfortable on this beach chair. You think, perhaps, that you’d happily stay here for an eternity.

Eternity does not last very long.

Your idyllic fantasy dissolves the instant hands shake your hunched shoulders, voices now louder in your ear as you are rocked from your sleep. It aches to move, to be moved, but soon you are sitting upright rather than folded over your desk, cheek pressed into papers.

“Hey there, sleepyhead.” Namjoon’s deep timbre vibrates through you; shocks you into clarity faster than your mind is ready.

“Hmrrfh?” Is your unintelligible response. He seems to understand.

Seokjin is crouched beside you, one hand on the back of your office chair, the other on your knee. “I thought you said that you were finished with your work.” You rub your eyes and yawn as he speaks, quickly taking notice of the other figures in the room. “You were supposed to have a break, remember?”

You hum. “I don’t get paid to take breaks, I get paid to have my work done by the deadline. Which is soon, might I add, so I’ll have to rain-check today. Sorry.”

“Nope.” It’s Yoongi who speaks this time. In the next moment, your office chair is rolled away from the desk and into the group of men who have somehow entered your home. Which reminds you-

“How did you even get in?”

“We found the spare key,” Taehyung says, as if the fact should be obvious.

“Yeah,” Jimin adds, “when you didn’t respond to our knocks and calls we thought you might be dead or something. Ggukie damn near kicked the door down when Namjoon-hyung lifted up the doormat.”

“Terrible hiding spot, Y/N,” Namjoon says. You can tell that he’s trying to sound disappointed, but he looks just a little too endeared.

Moving in front of you, Hoseok flashes you a warm smile. His eyes become crescents, his lips a heart, and your fingers twitch with the want to reach forward and caress his cheek. You don’t.

“There’s no way you’re getting out of today,” he says without a hint of malice. “You need a day to relax, and we haven’t seen our girl in far too long. So, will you be coming willingly, or by force?”

“But-” Your protests are cut off.

“By force it is. Gguk.”

Your vision is suddenly filled by a broad chest as thick arms sweep you from your seat. Gravity has no effect on the young man who now holds you bridal style, nor on the Bambi smile that naturally grows on his face.

“We’re going to have so much fun today,” Jeongguk says, muscles flexing around you as they all begin walking towards your bedroom. You have no doubt that Hoseok and Taehyung already have an outfit planned for you, and you even hear the bath beginning to run.

Your boys never fail to look after you. God, you care for them so much.

[You won’t admit to yourself that you may feel something deeper. Not yet. But one day, perhaps soon, you’ll realise that you don’t have to be afraid of that feeling.]

Retro music swirls around you as your group makes their way towards your assigned lane. Bowling shoes in hand and a competitive spirit growing, a weight seems to melt off of your shoulders.

All thoughts of work, of responsibilities, have simply disappeared.

“How are we going to decide teams?” Namjoon looks around the group, as if calculating a mathematic equation. “Rock, paper, scissors?”

Yoongi scoffs. “We’ll be here forever if we do that. Let’s just do Hyungs versus Youngs.”

While Jeongguk, Taehyung and Jimin are cheering at the quick resolution, you lift a brow at the unbothered man. “But what do I call your team then, Yoongi oppa?”

For a moment, he says nothing, merely ducking his head to hide the rosy tint that dusts across his cheeks. Hoseok is the one who steps in to answer, clapping a harsh hand on Yoongi’s back as if to wake him from a trance.

“We can come up with team names!”

Jimin jumps up and down, wide beam blinding you all. “We are team Young and Beautiful!”

“No, we should be Bold and Beautiful! Like that American hand-wash show,” Taehyung suggests, equally as enthusiastic.

Namjoon sighs. “It’s soap opera, Tae.”

“What about Y/N’s Angels?” Jeongguk seems to be thinking hard, ever competitive even in the sport of picking a team name. “Because we are angelic, and Y/N bosses us around.”

That lands him a swift chop to the neck, much to his giggling delight.

“We are the Young, Bold, and Beautiful Angels,” you decide, rolling your eyes. “And what about your team?”

Seokjin does not hesitate to announce: “We are team Kim Seok Jin!”

Yoongi sighs, but doesn’t object, and Hoseok leans his forehead on Namjoon’s shoulder as if he needs the support to keep standing.

“Thank you for consulting the rest of the team about this decision, Jin-hyung,” Namjoon says, deadpan but not upset.

“You should be thankful that I’m allowing you to use my name at all,” Seokjin replies, hands on hips. “It is, after all, a national symbol of good luck.”

“National...?” You mumble.

Jimin groans out a sigh, easily bored and antsy to win. “Can we just play already? We don’t need to have a board meeting every time we make a decision.”

“Let’s go hold some heavy balls!” Jeongguk then grabs your elbow and drags you to the bowling ball racks, uncaring that you’ve only laced one of your shoes on.

“Do you need me to teach you how to bowl?” Jeongguk’s voice in your ear startles you as you stand in front of your lane, ready to go. The pink ball is heavy in your hand when you turn around to glare at him.

“I know how to bowl, Gguk. Now shoo, I need to concentrate.”

“Yes, but do you know how to bowl properly? Like a pro?”

“I am this close to dropping this ball on your toes, don’t test me.”

“Pleeease? C’mon, just this once?”

Damn him and his doe eyes. “Fine. Just once. But you’re going to buy me a plate of nacho fries.”

“Deal.”

You shouldn’t be surprised when he stands behind you and circles his arms around yours, but you do jolt a bit when his hands touch your waist.

“Some people think that it’s the wrist movement that’s most important, but really, it’s the hips. Even if you mess up the bowl, if your hips are at the right angle, you can’t really go wrong.”

“I’m pretty sure wrist movement is actually pretty important.”

The man has the nerve to shush you. “Angle your hips like this,” fingertips press into the soft flesh over your hipbones, “and then take three steps before you let go of the ball. The trick is to start with your non-dominant foot, so that when you bowl, your dominant leg isn’t in the way.”

Sighing, you humour the youngest and stride away from him, following his steps and then releasing the ball from your grip.

It lands a perfect strike.

Jeongguk walks back to the group with a smug smile and a pep in his step, while you simply chuckle at his pride. Meanwhile, the other boys are glaring at him.

“So,” Hoseok says as you wait for your ball to return so that you can have your second go, “are we all going to be allowed to teach you? Or is this favouritism?”

Heaving a deep sigh, you look up to the ceiling as if it, or any higher being, may give you an answer as to why you’ve chosen these seven as your favourite people.

Deep down you know why, but it’s times like these that make you question yourself.

It’s also times like these that make you feel impossibly endeared.

Night has crept up on you by the time the boys drop you back at your apartment, ribs aching from laughter and cheeks sore from smiles. No tension resides in your muscles, in your bones, or even in your mind; you feel as though you are floating, ears brushing against the clouds, with how light you are right now.

“You have to promise that you won’t do any work until tomorrow,” Namjoon says, watching you dig through your bag for your keys.

“After a full night of sleep,” Yoongi adds.

Seokjin then says, “And a nice, big breakfast.”

“And plenty of water!”

“And a comforting shower- Or a bubble bath!”

“And you have to take plenty of breaks.”

“Maybe we can drop by at lunch to make sure you eat-”

“Would it be better if we stayed over tonight?”

“Why don’t you just stay with us? We can help you-”

“Guys.” Your voice is sturdy as it cuts through the overlapping voices of seven worried men, all eyes turned to you as you stand in your open doorway. “I appreciate the concern, truly, but I’m a big girl. What happened yesterday - well, this morning - was a one-off. I assure you that I can take care of myself.”

You’re met with silence that sounds an awful lot like doubt.

“But,” you sigh, “maybe you can come over for lunch?”

Gleeful voices whoop into the night air, and you have to bite back your laughter as you hurriedly hush them, wary of your neighbours.

One by one, you give them a hug and a kiss on the cheek as you exchange farewells, peeling the younger ones off of you as you tell them that yes, I really do have to go inside now.

It’s only when you’ve closed the front door behind you, leaning on the wall beside you, that you come to the full, unafraid realisation.

You are in love with them. And you think they might love you back.

End

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sohotthateveryonedied · 4 years ago

Note

Hiii!! I really love your tumblr posts and I'm pretty new to the Batfam (meaning I have only read fics and textposts about them, no comics) and I wanted to ask about the year Bruce/Batman gets "lost in time". I know general things of what the kids have been doing–Dick became batman and fired Tim from robin, giving it to Damian, everyone thinking Tim was crazy for believing Bruce was alive, (don't really know what Jason was up to though, was he still murderous towards Tim? Does the pit still affect him? Also I have no idea about Cass and Duke, were they introduced at this point??) Anyways, my real question was why was Bruce lost in time, what villain put him there? And how did he get out? And how long was he "dead"? Was Bruce in another reality or like just asleep the whole time? Oh! And how soon did this happen after Damian got introduced to the family–a couple months?

I'm so sorry this is so long, but I hope you answer and thank you!!

(I’m going to try and cover all my bases here by going into how exactly Bruce “died,” what went down during the Battle For the Cowl, what the Batkids did while Bruce was gone, and how Bruce came back. Hopefully it all makes sense?? We’ll see how it goes lmao.)

Part 1 - What Happened to Bruce:

So there was this event called Final Crisis (which I won’t go completely into since it would make this post a million times longer than it already is), but the bottom line is that Darkseid wants to overthrow reality and release his Anti-Life Equation, which would overthrow the whole planet and turn everyone into slaves. (If you’re interested in knowing more about the storyline, here’s a Reddit thread that explains it WAY better than I could.)

What I CAN tell you is that during his final confrontation with Darkseid, Bruce is hit by an Omega Beam and turned into a burnt chicken nugget killed. Poor guy.

Final Crisis #6

Clark and Diana bring the body back to the Batcave and break the news to the Batfamily. Batman #687 covers a good portion of the aftermath such as Bruce’s funeral, the Batfamily grieving, and Dick coming to terms with his new responsibility of becoming Batman.

Batman #687

Part 2 - Battle For the Cowl:

Musical chairs time, fellas! After word gets out that Batman is gone, Gotham erupts into chaos. Dick doesn’t want to take over the mantle, Tim needs Dick to take over the mantle, and Jason says “fuck it” and takes over the mantle himself because somebody around here has to. He becomes this murderous psychopathic Batman and starts taking out criminals with deadly force because someone’s gotta do the job, so it might as well be him.

Batman: Battle For the Cowl #1

(Okay honestly, this series had some pretty bad characterization overall, which sucks since it’s such an important storyline. Jason is portrayed as this violent psychopath, which...okay, he was kind of insane after the Pit and all, but not to this degree. Personally, I choose to owe the bad characterization to Bruce’s death because as much as Jason resents Bruce for all he’s done, he does still love him and losing him would be devastating, which would exacerbate his already fragile mental health. As for Damian, this happens roughly three years after his first appearance, so we can assume it’s been a few months since he first joined the family. He’s still relatively new at this point, so nobody knows how to write him yet. He ends up being depicted as if his main two personality traits are Bratty and Assassin-Child and that’s it. It’s all just a mess.)

Anyway, Tim tells Dick to become Batman and stop Jason’s reign of terror. Dick says no, so Tim follows Jason’s lead by saying “fuck it” and putting on the cowl himself. He goes to confront Jason, which ends in Jason beating the crap out of him (again) and leaving him for dead after Tim declines his offer to become Jason’s Robin. Dick goes to save Tim and ends up fighting Jason.

Battle For the Cowl #3

Dick wins, Jason disappears, Tim is fine, and Dick finally gets his head out of his ass and becomes Batman.

Part 3 - What Happens to Each Batkid While Bruce is “Dead”?:

Dick:

As I said, Dick becomes the new Batman a month after Bruce’s death. He’s got big shoes to fill, and it takes some time for him to get used to his new role. He and Damian end up flipping around the classic Batman and Robin dynamic, with Batman now as the fun counterpart to Robin’s edginess. Dick, Damian, and Alfred relocate to the penthouse above the Wayne Foundation building, operating out of a secret Bat-Bunker in the basement.

Batman #688

Jason:

After Battle For the Cowl, Jason is still batshit insane and determined to make Dick’s already stressful life even harder by becoming a supervillain with an ugly costume and an even uglier hairstyle. (I know it’s just because the artist sucked, but still. Jason is horrifying to look at during this time.) He mostly just gets on Dick’s nerves by running around Gotham with his new sidekick Scarlet and killing criminals as Batman and Robin wannabes. Eventually, Dick has Jason committed to Arkham Asylum and he hangs out there until Bruce returns.

Batman and Robin (2009) #5

Tim:

Tim...doesn’t do great after Bruce’s death, mentally. Dick makes Damian Robin, his reasoning being that Robin is more of a sidekick and he sees Tim as his equal. By making Damian Robin, Dick hopes that it will give him the stability he needs to keep him from straying back toward the “bad” side. (It’s the right move ultimately, although his execution was pretty messed up since he didn’t discuss it with Tim beforehand, but he’s allowed to make mistakes. Dick’s father just died and now he’s in charge of picking up the pieces of their broken family. It’s a lot to handle.)

Long story short, Tim has a breakdown, realizes that Bruce is alive, dons the Red Robin identity, and cuts ties with his family to travel the world in search of proof. It’s a rough time.

Red Robin #1

Damian:

Our little guy becomes Robin! So proud of him! As I explained earlier, Dick makes Damian his Robin with the assumption that it will keep him out of trouble, and he’s right on that account. He mentors Damian, teaching him how to channel his violent instincts into something productive, and it works! Slowly but surely, Damian makes the transition from bratty assassin to actual hero!

Batman and Robin (2009) #22

Cass:

Duke sadly was not introduced at this point in time, so he missed out on all the pandemonium. Cass, however, has been Batgirl for years by now, but she got kind of pushed aside by the writers after Bruce’s death. Bruce disappears shortly after adopting Cass, but once he was “dead,” the writers sort of moved Cass around for a while, not quite knowing what to do with her. First she was with the Outsiders. Then they got disbanded and Cass tried forming a new network of heroes to take over for Batman if needed. Then she helped out in said network during Battle for the Cowl, taking care of a newly ravaged Gotham. Then Cass gave the Batgirl mantle to Stephanie Brown after she became disillusioned with the role, thanks to the loss of her father and mentor. Then Cass picked up and moved to Hong Kong to “follow Bruce’s plans” by continuing whatever work he had set up for her there. It was all very vague and confusing, and Cass more or less got swept under the rug during this time. Thanks, writers.

Batgirl (2009) #1

Part 4 - How Bruce Came Back:

When the Blackest Night storyline happens, the Justice League realizes that the corpse buried under Bruce’s grave is apparently not the real one and that he’s actually alive out there somewhere! How wild is that! This is further proven by Dick after he places Bruce’s body in a Lazarus Pit to revive, which has the same result because it’s very clearly Not Bruce and they should have listened to Tim from the start.

Batman and Robin (2009) #9

Anyway, what actually happened is that the Omega Beams that Darkseid shot at Bruce didn’t kill him, but rather blasted him back through time to the prehistoric era with his memories wiped. The Omega Energy inside of Bruce ends up catapulting him through various time periods, which is all part of Darkseid’s plan. With each time-hop, Bruce builds up more Omega Energy in his body which, when he gets back to his original time period, will be unleashed and destroy everything.

Batman: The Return of Bruce Wayne #5

It’s been a little under two years since Final Crisis, though in-universe it’s uncertain exactly how long Bruce has been “dead.” We can assume it’s been a year, give or take. The way he comes back is too scientific and complicated for me to understand, so uhhhh the bottom line is that Tim and a few Leaguers save Bruce at the Vanishing Point and the day is saved! Hooray!

Batman: The Return of Bruce Wayne #6

(If you want to read about how it actually goes down, then I seriously recommend reading Batman: The Return of Bruce Wayne. It’s only six issues, so it’s a quick read and it explains the situation far better than I ever could.)

Bruce eventually reunites with his family after spying on them for a period of time as Insider to see what has changed in his absence:

Bruce Wayne: The Road Home

After that, things quickly settle back into their new normal. Dick and Damian stay on as Batman and Robin. Bruce goes back to being Batman as well, with him handling Batman Incorporated business and Dick continuing as Gotham’s defender. Tim keeps the Red Robin outfit, Steph stays on as Batgirl, and Cass becomes Black Bat. Jason stays in Arkham for a while before filing an appeal to be moved to a regular prison. He kills 82 inmates in less than a week and gets transferred back to Arkham, which he promptly escapes from. It’s a ride, I tell ya.

Aaaaand that’s about it! I hope this answered all of your questions!

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erensangel444 · 4 years ago

Text

i think i’m falling in love

oikawa tōru x reader

the title is inspired by i think by tyler the creator :-)

this fic is oikawa x fem!reader, if you guys would want to see some gender neutral fics just let me know in my asks inbox! i’m open to any suggestions, if you want a fic that’s specifically tailored to you whether that be race-wise, gender-wise, any disabilities, etc,. just let me know!

likes/reblogs/comments are always appreciated:D

this fic has been proofread but if i missed something just let me know!

this would be oikawa in his last year(when he was a third-year), for this fic, the reader would also be a third-year!

a/n: i remember when i first started watching haikyū!! i had hated oikawa, and now looking back i don’t know how. he’s a beautifully written character and like actually thinking about it makes me so sad. he tries so hard and just :( i’m gonna start crying about it again.

there’s a lot of fluff in this fic, probably the most i’ve ever written, but there’s also smut cause you know your girl couldn’t resist🙄

warnings: language(most of my fics do contain language), drug usage(just weed, small mention), alcohol consumption, smut; semi-public sex(bathroom at a party), oral(fem and male!receiving), unprotected sex(use of the shitty pull-out method, practice safe sex don’t be a weirdo), dryhumping.

word count: 5.3k

summary: moments in oikawa tōru’s life that helped him come to the conclusion that he was in love with you.

oikawa didn’t think love was a real thing, and he knows that’s cliché, but it’s the truth. did you know that around 40-50% percent of marriages end in divorce? what’s the point in getting married if there’s only half a chance of it lasting? oikawa thought it seemed like too much work.

until he saw you, and then, maybe, he thought it might be worth it to work that hard. maybe he could understand why couples stay together despite the fights, the yelling matches. maybe he could take a stab at love.

or not. he expected you to fawn over him the first time you met, like most girls do(men too!), but you didn’t. in all honesty, you seemed bored while conversing with oikawa. you shattered his newly-born hopes of love...well maybe that’s a little dramatic, but oikawa was always one for the dramatic flair.

from that moment forward, he had deduced that he strongly disliked you, at least he had until that one day in math class. he was struggling, the equations on the pages seeming like an entirely different language. he was huffing out breaths in frustration, roughly erasing the writing his pencil had made.

he was certain he was doomed, there was a test tomorrow and this review made no sense, yet there was a glimmer of hope when he felt that light tap on his shoulder.

he looked up, meeting your eyes, all doe-like, a light blush on your cheeks as you sentence stumbled from your lips, “h-hey um it seemed like you were a little confused, um i-i could help if you’d want,”. oikawa couldn’t do anything but stare up at you, “or- or not! maybe it was rude for me to come over here, sorry-” “no, i could actually use some help,”. oikawa’s response caused a smile to show on your face, and for a split second he dreamt of making you smile like that for the rest of your life.

he brought himself back to reality, remembering his declared disdain towards you, but all of it slowly drifted away as you grabbed a chair from a nearby table, setting it down next to oikawa’s desk and sitting down. “so what’s confusing you?” you asked, your voice soft as you peered up at oikawa.

he couldn’t control the slight blush that rushed to his cheeks, calming himself down before he spoke, “well i’m confused on the variables, and i don’t understand what i’m supposed to do after setting it equal to zero, and it doesn’t help that the professor doesn’t teach for shit,” he whispered the last part, causing you to laugh a little as you grabbed the pencil from his hand.

oikawa shuddered at your laugh, and at the contact of your hand on his, even if it was for a slight moment. there was too much of you stimulating him at once, fuck, what were you doing to him?

“i know he fucking sucks,” you responded, the word slipping out of your mouth seeming so foreign to oikawa, even if he had only talked to you for a couple minutes, but he liked it, nonetheless. “okay so,” you turned oikawa’s paper slightly towards you, “after setting it equal to 0, you have factor the quadratic equation,”. your handwriting looked so neat compared to his, so delicate. he listened intently as you continued writing on the paper, your tongue slipping out to wet your lips.

after explaining it to him, he tried one at your request, the math seeming easier now, no eraser marks littering the page. after checking his answer, you grinned at oikawa, lifting your hand up. oikawa was confused for a moment, smiling after realizing, and softly high-fiving you.

oikawa started to notice you in the hallways after that day in math class. you walked through the halls not necessarily confidently, but giving off an aura of aloofness. it was almost like you thought no one was paying attention to you. ‘how could you think that?’ oikawa thought. he was paying attention, he couldn’t help but to pay attention.

not when you always carried your binder under your left arm, it slipping some times, causing a slightly shocked expression to grace your blank face as you resettled it in your arms. your tote bag slang off of your right shoulder, a light cream color. he always noticed your outfits, different for every day of the week. he always thought they were cute though, fitting for you.

he noted the rings on your fingers, the necklaces you sometimes wore. some days you had on makeup, other days you were bare-face. he thought both were equally beautiful.

after a couple days of passing you in the hall, he finally worked up the courage to wave to you. his hand softly ran through the air, his arm rigid. yet, you didn’t notice him, your eyes taken by something else. the failed greeting embarrassed oikawa immensely, he remembered beating himself up about it for the rest of the day.

when he thought about trying again, he realized he should probably just call your name. which he couldn’t remember. you had met last year, and in his memory, the entire encounter was centered around his ‘dislike’ for you. you also hadn’t told him your name in math class. he racked his brain for any memory, wanting to know the name that fit your pretty face.

in the hallway the next, day he decided he’d just yell out a ‘hey!’, hoping you’d turn to him, which you did. oikawa waved at you, a smile lighting up your face -god he could get used to that- as you waved back. oikawa couldn’t help but feel your smile for the rest of the day.

he had learned your name the next day in math class, the teacher calling on you. ‘y/n’, he almost didn’t catch the teacher say it, but he did, and he was so glad he did. lying in his bed later that night, he let the word fall off his lips, your name quietly echoing throughout his room. he couldn’t imagine calling you anything else, it fit you so well.

a couple of days later(he had waved at you every day since), you were walking in the hall with a friend. more specifically a friend who was a boy. honestly it didn’t matter their gender, oikawa would’ve been jealous either way. why were they making you smile like that, and why was your binder in their arms instead of in it’s usual spot, tucked under your left arm?

he wanted to walk in the halls with you, look down at you smiling at him. he devised a plan that night, running through the scenario in his head before he fell asleep.

the next day, he called out your name as you walked out the door of the math classroom, doing a slight jog to catch up with you. “hey, um i never got to thank you,” your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, “for that day in math” he explained, as he continued, attempting to push down his nerves. “you really helped me,” this caused you to smile softly, and oikawa couldn’t help but smile back at you. that’s all he wanted, to make you smile.

“of course, no problem,” you had said softly. oikawa offered to walk you to your next class, and you obliged. suddenly it shifted into a daily thing, walking out of math class with you, and oikawa could get used to it.

he learned more about you every day, your favorite movie was pride and prejudice, you loved key lime pie, you had a mini-garden in your backyard, you hated shellfish, you loved painting, you never left the house without chapstick. he found himself adapting to your humor, telling jokes that he knew would make you laugh. he wanted to hear your laugh all the time, he wanted it to echo throughout his brain on a constant loop.

in math class one day, you had pulled lotion out of your bag, popping open the cap, and squirting some into your hand. upon seeing you pull it out of your bag, oikawa walked over to your desk with his hand held out, “can i have some?” his voice was light as he looked down at you, a dollop of lotion in your hand. “yeah!” you said softly, rubbing some of the lotion from your hand onto oikawa’s.

he had just expected you to give him some from the bottle, and he could walk back to his desk, happy with the small encounter. now as he walked back to his desk, he was happy, so happy, but reeling at your touch. he wanted to feel your hand on his again, he longed for it now, knowing now what it felt like. why couldn’t you just give him lotion from the bottle?

oikawa had gathered the courage to ask for your number a couple days later, and to his delight you smiled after telling him that you planned to ask him for his. the idea caused him to smile internally as he wondered if you thought about him as much as he thought about you.

the nights after he had put his number in your phone were spent texting you. he’d send you random tweets that he’d thought you’d like, and videos that reminded you of him -he wouldn’t ever tell you that, though. one night when he had decided to watch pride and prejudice, for no apparent reason, he sent you a picture, to which you replied with a picture of your hand covering your mouth, your eyes lit up. he stared at the picture for a solid five minutes, unable to tear his eyes away.

you looked so pretty, your hair up in a bun, your eyes looking up at the camera. he finally shut off his phone, turning back to the movie, excited to see you the next day.

one night, oikawa texted and asked you if you wanted to facetime. instant regret filled him after sending the text, his search history littered with ‘how to delete imessage’ ‘is there a way to delete message on iphone’. he opened the text app back up, three bubbles popping up on the screen. they disappeared shortly after, oikawa’s regret increasing.

he threw his phone down on the bed, shoving his head into his pillow as he muttered, “fuckin’ stupid, god what am i doi-”, a text message ping interrupting his self-deprecating mumbles. the text from you read, ‘hey, sorry just got out the shower, i was trying to text before but i got a fucking eyelash in my eye LMAO’ oikawa chuckled at your message, a second one popping up below, ‘lemme get dressed rq and then i’ll call u:D’.

oikawa had so many thoughts rushing through his brain. you were in the shower? after rationalizing, he realized he shouldn’t be surprised that you showered, it was just the fact that you were naked in the shower. and if you were getting dressed now, that means you were naked while you texted him.

oikawa attempted to shift his thoughts elsewhere, chastising himself in his head for being a ‘perv’. he didn’t need a boner while he was on a facetime call with you. he thought about how you offered to call him, did you really want to? he had hoped you weren’t just doing this to pity him.

his phone rang, interrupting his slew thoughts, your name flashing against his screen. he fumbled for his phone, his finger hesitating before he hit the green button. “hi,” you said softly. oikawa took in your appearance, a few water droplets still falling from your hair, your eyebrows slightly disheveled, cheeks a light pink. “hey” he responded.

“why’d you wanna facetime?” you asked, oikawa blushing more at your question, ready to respond before you continued. “not that i didn’t want to too, cause i did, i do, i w-was just wondering why you wanted to,” oikawa smiled at the camera before speaking. “well i thought that we really needed to discuss the plot holes in pride and prejudice,”.

oikawa had spent the whole night talking to you, reluctantly hanging up at 4AM.

the nights after that were followed by facetime calls, oikawa’s mom knocking on his door and telling him to quiet down, his laughter too loud. on one call, he had invited you to his volleyball game the next day, and you quickly said that you’d ‘love to go’, oikawa’s smile growing.

surprisingly, he wasn’t nervous. oikawa knew he was good at volleyball, everybody did. he knew that this was a moment where he could show off in front of you. what if he hits the net on a serve though?

okay, so maybe he was a little nervous, but he wouldn’t let his nerves consume him. stepping onto the court, he did his best not to look up at the crowd, not wanting to see your smiling face in the stands. he was set to serve first, the volleyball in his hands a familiar feeling, comforting him.

the power behind his serve was incredible, one of the best one’s he’s hit, he thought to himself. the ball landed right in the corner of the opposing team’s court, before bouncing out of bounds.

a service ace right out the bat. oikawa cheered in his head, his teammates patting him on the back. “are you gonna look for her now or what,” iwaizumi said to him, ever so-bluntly, “looking down at the floor like a pussy,” hajime muttered the last part. “iwa-chan!” oikawa slightly raised his voice, his eyes looking up towards the stands.

you had secured a seat in the front row, and when oikawa noticed your face he couldn’t help but smile. you were grinning down at him, waving like a lunatic, causing him to lightly chuckle. he waved back, the volleyball being handed back to him as he set up for his second serve.

you had waited outside the locker room for him, and when he walked out with iwaizumi and issei, he spotted you leaning against the wall parallel to the locker room door, scrolling through your phone. hearing the door open, you looked up, meeting oikawa’s smiling face.

“hey,” he said softly, his heart doing flips at the fact that you waited for him. you responded softly with a ‘hi’, holding your arms open for a hug. oikawa couldn’t help but grin, his heartbeat growing in pace as he pulled you in for a hug, his arms falling to the small of your back. “did so good,” you said, your voice muffled by his chest.

“thank you,” he smiled at you, “for-for uh coming,” “of course,” you smiled back at him. suddenly an awkward tension had consumed the conversation, both of you peering at the other, than looking away, the silent words behind your looks so obvious. “so i- “i just-”, you both started at the same time. you laughed, oikawa joining in as he motioned for you to go first.

“um, i-i came today because i wanted to, but also cause i wanted to ask you something,” oikawa nodded for you to continue, biting his lip in anticipation. “i feel like i’m not just imaging things here, and i don-don’t want you to think you are either,” you hesitated for a moment, oikawa noticing it before speaking up, “i like you,” he said abruptly. he could feel his blood pumping, feel his heart beating on his chest. you smiled at him, eyes wide, “i-i like you too,”. you both stared at each other in silence, the eye contact easier. “what now?” you said jokingly, oikawa laughing. “wanna go get mcdonald’s?”

the first few weeks with you had been bliss, oikawa thinks that he’s died and floated up to heaven. you’ve gone on small adventures together, late night drives, reveling in the honeymoon-like phase of your new relationship. now, oikawa sits across from you atop the striped picnic blanket. oikawa knew that this past week had been stressful for you with school and some stuff going on with your friends so he decided to surprise you with a picnic.

he got sushi from your favorite place, ordering a wide-spread of different rolls and then picked up two boba drinks before heading to your house. much to your dismay, he wouldn’t tell you where you were going until you could hear the water brushing along the shoreline, oikawa had taken you to the beach.

now, there you sat on the blanket on the sand, sushi laid out in front of you as you took in the beautiful day, a slight breeze brushing past your figures, small clouds in the sky. oikawa grabbed a california roll with his chopsticks, bringing it over to you as you opened for mouth for the food. “so good,” you mumbled mouth full of california roll causing oikawa to chuckle.

“my mom asked about you today,” oikawa noticed the slight hiccup in your breath as he continued, “wants to meet you,” you stayed silent, peering at oikawa. “no pressure, if you don’t want to, i just wanted to let you know,”. you took a sip from you drink before you spoke, “no i want to. just nervous, don’t wanna make a fool of myself,”. oikawa smiled at that, happy that you wanted to make a good impression with his mom. “she’ll love you,” he said softly, blush rushing to your cheeks.

“here you have to try this tuna roll,” you said, the roll between your chopsticks and headed for oikawa’s mouth. “mmm so good,” oikawa said mimicking your response, making a show of the food in his mouth. you laughed before shoving him, “you’re disgusting,”

oikawa had picked you up for dinner at his house, and now here you both were, in his car, in the driveway of his home. he could see you bouncing your leg, your bottom lip taken in by your teeth. “you’re gonna be fine, i promise she’ll love you,” “i hope so,” you said, your voice so quiet.

oikawa racked his brain for a way to help calm your nerves, settling for a kiss. his lips met yours, and you whimpered at the abruptness, but kissed him back. your leg stopped it’s incessant bouncing, and oikawa smiled at you. “alright i’m ready,” you said softly. you reached for the car door, oikawa stopping you with an ‘uh uh uh’, exiting the driver side of the car and running over to the passenger side to open your door.

“my knight in shining armor,” you joked, oikawa grinning at you. the pair of you walked to his front door, hand in hand. oikawa wasn’t nervous, he knew his mom would love you because she knew that he loved you. woah. he loved you. or maybe it was the excitement of the night forcing him to say those words. he pushed the thought away, opening his front door as he yelled out a “i’m home!”

his mom ran over from the kitchen, looking to you and then oikawa and smiling so brightly. “hi!” she said, her voiced laced with excitement as she shuffled over to you, pulling you in for a hug, “i’m a hugger,” you laughed, hugging her back.

“oikawa’s talked about you so much,” “mom!” your smile grew. you took off your shoes, setting them neatly next to the door, oikawa’s mom leading you to the kitchen. it smelled amazing, meat buns sat in a container on the stove, orange chicken in a separate container next to them. white rice was in the steamer, the whole kitchen filled with wonderful smells.

oikawa pulled out a chair for you as you thanked him, sitting down. eventually the food was in front of you, oikawa had made your plate for you, asking if you wanted anything to drink. he began rambling, listing off options, but you opted for water in not wanting to be difficult.

you all sat, oikawa’s mom and you discussing your current course schedule in school as she smiled “oikawa bagged a smart and pretty one, i raised him right,”. you couldn’t help but blush at her words, oikawa smiling at your reaction.

dinner had left your stomach happy, oikawa’s mom giving you another hug when you left and making you promise that you’d be back soon. oikawa ushered you into his car, holding your door open for him. he told his mom you were driving to get icecream from somewhere, and that wasn’t necessarily a lie.

you had gotten the icecream, it’s just that now it sat, forgotten in the passenger seat as you straddled oikawa in the backseat, your mouths moving against each other, your hips grinding on his. “fuck,” oikawa panted against your lips, the friction of your hips grinding on his feeling indescribable.

before you knew it, you were grinding on oikawa’s lap like a woman possessed, set on reaching your high. “tōru,” your voice sounded so soft, oikawa did a double take. he’d only heard his first name slip past your lips one time, and the desperation that came with it this time had his cock straining in his pants even more.

“g-gonna cum!” you yelped, your hips stuttering from the pleasure. oikawa’s hands drifted to your hips, rocking you on his lap, wanting you to reach your high, but also desperate for his own. your whimpers increased in volume as you finally reached your orgasm, your face contorting in pleasure. seeing you come on his lap was all oikawa need to cream his pants, the liquid seeping through the fabric of his boxers and black jeans.

you both panted, catching your breath, your head laying in oikawa’s shoulder. “that was fucking hot,” oikawa remarked, causing you to laugh and remove your head from his shoulder, pulling him in for a kiss.

oikawa had invited you over a couple nights later to watch a movie. you had come over in plaid pajama pants and one of oikawa’s hoodies that you had borrowed last week. you were laid in his bed, snuggling into his figure, Love, Rosie playing on his laptop. As the movie progressed, and the popcorn disappeared from the bowl, you began to slowly drift into sleep, feeling comfort from being so close to oikawa.

as the movie neared it’s end, oikawa could hear your light breaths, looking down at your sleeping figure. drool had slightly started to dribble out of your mouth, your eyes were shut ever so softly, and you looked so peaceful. so angelic, oikawa thought. he wanted to wake up to this, to you for the rest of his life.

‘getting ahead of myself’ oikawa reasoned, pushing away any and all thoughts of the future as he relished in your sleeping features and irked at the funny feeling in his stomach, was it butterflies? it was something, because he felt it whenever he saw you. you turned his brain to mush, made his heart beat faster. oikawa’s love for you was so obvious on a physical level just based on how he reacted to anything and everything you did.

his love for you was obvious, wasn’t it? did you know he loved you? he loves you. ‘i love you’ the words softly fell from his lips, the breaths still falling from your lips as you slept.

your parents were out of town, your mom on a business trip, your dad visiting some friends in the states. you had invited oikawa over to bake some brownies, but somehow baking led to his head now being buried between your thighs.

“oh my-tōru!” you moaned, oikawa’s tongue working magic on your clit. he changed from kitten licks to sucking, moaning into your center, the vibrations making you whimper even more. his fingers plunged in and out of your entrance.

oikawa had transcended from himself, or at least he thought he had. there was no way he was buried between your thighs right now, your pretty moans sounding from above him. there was no way he was holding eye contact with you as he sucked on your clit, admiring the blush accompanying your features.

“gonna cum for me angel?” oikawa wanted you to come so bad, he wanted you to feel good, he wanted to be the one to make you feel good. “yes, yes, yes-please!” oikawa increased the intensity of his tongue lapping at your clit, the pace of his fingers increasing.

one more look down at tōru had you coming, your hands moving to grip his hair as your orgasmed. panting, recovering from your orgasm, oikawa kissed up your body, nipping at your jaw up to your lips, kissing you passionately.

“did so good for me, angel,” oikawa mumbled into your lips. you pulled him in for another kiss, your hand drifting down to the bulge in his pants, palming him through the fabric.

“fuck,” oikawa softly moaned, grinding into your palm. you pushed him over, oikawa laying on the other side of the bed. your hands navigated their way to the hem of his sweatpants, tapping his hip, oikawa lifting up. you tugged the pants down his legs, his boxers along with them.

his cock bounced back to his stomach, hard and leaking precum. oikawa eyed you as your hand drifted to the base of his cock, your tongue licking at the tip, oikawa moaning loudly. he had definitely gone to heaven.

eventually your mouth and hand were moving in tandem on his cock, moans flying freely from oikawa’s lips. “fuck! y/n, god, making me feel so go-ood!”. oikawa thrusted his hips up into your mouth, his hands holding on to your hair. you placed your hands on his thigh letting him thrust into your mouth.

“go-gonna cum!” you moved one hand down to his balls, rolling them in your hand and moaning around his cock. “shit-ah!”, toru’s cum flooded your mouth as his mind went numb from the pleasure. he’d never felt like this, god, you were ruining him.

you opened your mouth, sticking your tongue out to show tōru that you had swallowed all of his cum. “god you’re so fucking dirty,” oikawa said smirking at you, pulling you in for another kiss.

you and oikawa sat in his car, passing the joint between yourselves, staring at the sunset, stealing glances at one another. you inhaled, the joint placed between your lips, the substance filling your lungs.

oikawa couldn’t help but stare at you, “you’re so fucking pretty,” he whispered. “no you’re so fucking pretty,” you smiled at him. “we’re both fucking pretty let’s be honest,” oikawa joked, pulling you in for a kiss.

‘wanna be yours’ by artic monkeys came on shuffle through the speaker’s as you mouthed the lyrics. “i’m hungry” oikawa said plainly, “jack in the box?” you offered, oikawa turning the car into drive. more songs shuffled, oikawa turning up the volume when cupid’s chokehold blasted through the speakers.

he had rolled the windows down, his left hand hanging out the window. he turned towards you, his eyes shifting from the road to your face, singing the lyrics to you, ‘i mean she even cooks me pancakes and alka seltzer when my tummy aches,’ his hand held yours atop the console, his left hand now on the steering wheel. ‘i know i’m young but if i had to choose her or the sun i’d be one nocturnal son of a gun’ your smile grew, staring at oikawa as he pulled into the jack in the box drive-thru.

there were no other cars, oikawa pulling straight up to the machine. “hi could we get two buttery jack meals with curly fries and chocolate milkshakes for both,”, the server read back your order, telling oikawa the total, oikawa saying a curt thank you.

oikawa had pulled into a an empty parking lot, the music shifted to nights by frank ocean, both you and oikawa digging into your food. oikawa looked over at you, seemingly mesmerized by your buttery jack. you looked up at the sound of his laughter, staring at him perplexed before laughing too.

oikawa had dragged you a party that daichi was throwing. you walked in waving at a girl from your history class, oikawa dragging you to the kitchen by your hand. he grabbed two shot glasses, pouring tequila into them. he clinked his glass with yours, throwing the liquid back into his throat

you walked next to oikawa working your way through the mass of sweaty bodies, spotting hajime in the crowd. oikawa patted him on the back, iwaizumi wincing at his heavy-handiness. while oikawa talked with hajime, you whispered letting him know you were gonna go talk to kiyoko, oikawa nodding and giving you a quick kiss. he watched you walk away, your ass looking so good in those pants. his eyes traveled up your figure to your smiling face, his own smile growing.

after talking for a while, oikawa walked over to you, wrapping his arms around your waist, and kissing your cheek. “wanna go dance?” you nodded, waving bye to kiyoko, oikawa leading you to the middle of the room. ‘can’t say’ by travis scott. oikawa’s chest pressed against your back, your hands looping around to the back of his neck.

after a few songs played, someone yelled out ‘body shots!’ people shuffling into the kitchen. oikawa pushed through the crowd bringing you to the countertop. he lifted you up to sit on the countertop, people cheering as you laid down. he poured a shot glass of tequila, sprinkling salt over your cleavage, while eyeing it heavily. he placed the lime in your mouth smirking at you.

oikawa shot back the alcohol, wincing at the burn. his tongue lolled out of his mouth, licking the salt on your cleavage, moving to your lips. his body hovered over yours, his lips meeting yours. he sucked the lime from your mouth, pulling away and spitting the lime out before moving down to your lips again, kissing you harshly. louder cheers sounded through the room.

oikawa pulled away as you blushed, grinning nonetheless. you grabbed the tequila pouring another shot and letting the liquid fall down your throat. ‘woo!’ you let out, shaking your head at the burn from the alcohol, dragging oikawa back out to the other room.

somehow, you and oikawa had navigated your way to the bathroom, tōru’s cock deep inside you as your moans accompanied the music playing throughout the house.

“g-gonna cum!” “me too, fuc-ah! come on angel, gotta come now,” oikawa pleaded with you, pushing you over the edge. oikawa pulled out, jerking himself off, and coming on your back.

“god,” he sighed, leaning on the wall next to you. you both grinned at each other, your lips meeting again.

your phone was ringing, tōru was calling. you answered as he said hi, his voice shaky. “are you okay?” you worried, oikawa assuring you everything was fine, “just come outside,”. confused, you threw on some pants and walked downstairs unlocking your front door.

“tōru? are you okay, you look sick,” “i need to tell you something,”. oikawa realizes now that maybe wording it that way was stupid, he could see in your facial expression your heart drop to your stomach. “no! nothing bad,” “oh okay” you sighed softly.

“i-i feel like i should’ve said this earlier, and i wanted t-to i just didn’t know how to,” you nodded at him, grabbing his hand and brushing your thumb along the back of his hand in an attempt to comfort him.

“i love you,” oikawa blurted out. “i love you so fucking much,” he said again. meeting your eyes, oikawa couldn’t help but feel nervous, he was stupid for doing this, he knew it too, yet all those thoughts melted away when he felt your lips on his.

“i love you too,” you said, smiling, your eyes slightly watering. though you and tōru had been dating for a decent amount of time, you both knew the weight those words carried.

tōru felt the weight of those words as they left his lips, and he wanted them to flow past his lips forever. he wanted their weight, he wanted his love to impact you and only you.

fin

yay! i loved writing this fic :D i really hope you guys enjoyed it, sending you so much love<3

#oikawa x y/n #oikawa toru smut #oikawa toru x reader #oikawa x reader #oikawa smut #oikawa fic #oikawa toru imagine #oikawa toru fic #haikyu x reader #haikyū!! smut #haikyuu smut #haikyuu!! x reader #haikyū smut #haikyuu!! smut

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ryuu-to-sobakasu-hime · 3 years ago

Text

Ryuu to Sobakasu no Hime (Belle) Novel | English Translation | Chapter 6

**This is a machine translation. I put it together by extracting text page-by-page from a .pdf version of the Japanese novel, and running it through Google translate. I have only minorly edited some of the more confusing lines to make it more read-able. It is still a very rough translation, but it’s good enough to understand what’s going on. If there is anyone out there who wants to properly translate the novel, I am more than happy to edit it, if you’ll contact me.**

———————————————

Chapter 6: Encounter

The crescent moon shining on the equator moves and brings darkness to the world of "U". In the city of "U" that continues like a big river, Az and others were overflowing more than usual today. There is a mysterious feeling of exhilaration here and there, and it seems that everyone is restless. Countless net news is broadcast in various languages. "... Soon, at 20:25 standard time on 'U', Belle's biggest live concert will take place here at 'U's spherical stadium."

The city of "U" is basically a "skyscraper" and a "park."

It consists of repeating two types of modules, "(Park)". However, there are some other special modules. One of them is a spherical module called "Stadium". "..... The number of Az that can watch at the same time in the world is said to be 100 million or 200 million, which is unusual for a newcomer who appeared within 6 months ..."

As you approach the spherical stadium, you can see that many small units are gathered together to form a sphere. It passes through the gaps of each unit and enters the inside. Each unit has multiple windows. The shape of the window matches the shape of the screen of the smartphone, and you can see Az in it. That is the audience seat of this spherical stadium.

A myriad of Az are waiting for the start of the live. The start time has come. The space of the wide sphere gradually darkens with the driving sound. The units are getting closer to each other and the gap is narrowing. Eventually, a roaring sound was heard. The gap between the units was completely closed, and the space was surrounded by darkness. A red line like the equator emerges in the darkness. It's the beginning of the live. Music starts. A huge drop of water can be seen floating in the center of the space. In front of this mysterious sight, the audience grabbed a sight of what was about to begin.

The huge water droplets began to emit light from the inside, shaking the surface with surface tension. A number of glittering lights are generated and are stored in water droplets. Eventually, the water droplets filled with light burst like a big bang. When a large amount of droplets diffuse into the space, a mysterious object that reflects light appears behind it. A huge splash with a dozen meters, assembled from delicate beads.

At the tip of the dress is Belle, me.

"Woooooooooo ...!"

The cheers of Az and others like the rumbling of the ground boiled up. Mosaic-like light is emitted from the countless windows of the audience seats. In response to the light, the color of the beads that make up the dress changes in a complex way. These are special beads whose brilliance changes depending on the light. It's the best outfit, coordinated by the best designers, from headdresses to high heels. I swam in the space, changing to various colors in response to the light. The parts of the huge dress are separated like a multi-stage rocket. In the meantime, it will be separated. The beads swirled like the swell of the sea, transforming into a virtual fluctuation of the sea surface.

Three whales with headphones appear there and slowly snuggle up to me in the center. The whales are top-notch dancers hired for this concert. When one of the whales hits the surface of the sea with its tail fin to the music, a beautiful wave appears. The crest has spread. Another one also hits the surface of the sea. The ripples overlapped. The other one blew up the tide from his nose. Next is my turn. Like the whale I mentioned earlier, I surrendered myself to music, twisted my body, and hit the surface of the sea. Ripples spread beautifully. I twist my body again and hit the surface of the sea, ripples piled up. And, like the squirting of a baby whale, I rushed out of the sea. The whales come in again and swim and dance in the calculated combination. I sing at the center. The sparkling flash of the audience seats reaches the dress, changing the color of the beads one after another. What a beauty. The colors that would never appear without each of the light from the windows of smartphones are a collaboration between me, the designer, and the audience. And again, it's a one-time art that can never be reproduced in the digital world where reproduction is natural. I finished singing proudly.

"Ooooooooooooooooo!"

The roaring cheers of Az and others shook the spherical stadium. The flashes in the audience seats disappear all at once, returning to the darkness of the equator. The prelude of the second song begins, and the next set of graphical steel frames slides from above and below. During the blackout, the producer of this live, Hiro-chan’s Az, slipped in.

"Belle is the best. I'll go next."

"Yes."

Hiro-chan’s Az threw a piece of cloth in her hand. It fluttered around my body and turned into a patchwork dress. This is also the work of the same designer as the bead dress, and is woven with fibers that change when exposed to light. Suddenly, there was a strange noise.

"ah…"

The gap between the rugged stadium and the spherical stadium opens a little.

"Who? You opened the door without permission!" Hiro-chan’s Az yells.

Someone invaded through a small gap in the unit. A lone Az at the beginning.

And then a group of Az. They are moving at high speed just past the audience unit. I can tell that the audience in the window is upset by this happening.

Hiro-chan’s Az is very angry. "Get out of here, asshole!”

The lone Az appears to be escaping from the group chasing him.

"Is he being chased?"

They go around the perimeter along the equator of the spherical stadium. The group of chasers was divided into two.

"Jeeze! What is that guy?" Hiro-chan’s Az looks up in the air and asks. Avatars all over the world instantly raise chat balloons:

《Dreki》

《Long》《continuar》《naga》《Dragon》《lass》

《Ejderha》

"Dragon?"

<<It's an ugly monster-type Az that lives in “U.”>>

Two protruding horns. Long nose. Sharp fangs and claws. The characteristic is exactly the dragon itself, and the impression is like a violent beast. Still, the crimson cloak with a raised collar and the white frills peeking through the sleeves of the suit reminded me of something like a nobleman. A mysterious balance in which this opposite nature coexists. The thin, sharp look that I could see in the gaps between his long, curly hair seemed mysterious to me. On the other hand, all his chasers have the unified appearance of a white battle suit with a red line. It looks like a group of justice heroes. The dragon flipped the cloak and I thought that he had soared, but then he twisted and plummeted. With a tricky move, he tossed the chase and swung it off in a blink of an eye, and this time he headed for the other group, which was split into two. Really. The stone mask Az, who leads the fist chaser group, thrusts in without fear. The two collided violently at the front. A fierce spark is scattered. The dragon extended his fist at a speed that my eyes couldn't follow. The chasers flew like pebbles. As it was, it emitted light like glitter and ice crystals, and stopped moving. The data was corrupted by too much blow and it froze.

I watched the dragon in a daze.

"Amazing…"

"What is he?" When Hiro-chan’s Az asked, the balloons answered immediately.

<<A few months ago, he suddenly appeared in the martial arts hall of "U" "He’s been breaking the record of consecutive wins since then" "But he has the worst fighting style">>

"How?"

When Ryu landed on the unit on the wall and turned around, he attacked the other group that he had just shaken off. He does not give them a chance to escape, and defeats them one after another with a quick move. Iconography of crystals, showing freezes, floats here and there.

《Spoil the game》《Attack until the data is corrupted and unusable》《It's like trying to get rid of my anger》 I was stunned and stared at the dragon without words.

"Ah..”

I noticed a lot of patterns on his tattered back.

"That is……?"

<< This is a nasty guy who is like the bruises on his back >> Adds a balloon. I saw it to make sure.

"There are so many bruises ..."

The group of chasers is increasing in number before I know it. When the Az of the dreadlocks led by him points to go, more than 10 members scream and head for Dragon all at once. It is one versus ten, but he heads for the fight without hesitation. The dragon rolled out his knife at a blazing speed. The chasers are beaten one after another.

"Waaaaaah!”

Even the last one - bang, smashed down in a breath. The dreadlocks Az was shocked to see that his allies were wiped out in an instant. While making a strange voice, "Woooooo!", He headed for the dragon in the dark clouds. However, immediately after that, Dragon knee-kicked him in the face. Then the upper combo is decided. The dreadlocks Az was blown off.

Hiro-chan’s Az listens with interest. "Who is chasing him?"

《The Justices》

"Justice?"

<<They insist on keeping the justice and order of U.>>

There are Az looking down from a distance. Like the Stone Mask Az and Dreadlocks Az, they were the executives of the Justice Corps. They are strong people who seem to be allies of justice. Half are female. Hiro-chan’s Az made a convincing voice when she saw them.

"Hmm. That's why they look like heroes."

A large number of the justice corps surround the dragon with various weapons such as spears, hammers, and blue swords. The members screamed and attacked all at once. It seems that there is no chance for the dragon to win. The dragon slowly crossed his hands. And he slashed the space at a tremendous speed. He slashed the men as if he were really manipulating a sword. A dense army corps bursts out all at once. "Waaaah!”

At the same time, it gave off a glittering and crystal-like light. The overwhelming strength of the crowd is breathtaking. The dragon turned his back and slowly got up. Justice corps executives were stunned and said, "What a terrible thing ...!"

"What can they do if you hurt them that much?"

"Is it okay that you’re the only one who is not wounded?” With that as a trigger, some spectator Az and others booed.

"That's right!" "You messed up Belle's concert!" "How will you take responsibility?” The voices eventually spread throughout the spherical stadium.

"Apologize to Belle!" "Give us back the time you wasted!" "Get out of here!" "Get out!" I looked around the stadium in a kind of strange atmosphere. Most of the Az on the spot are throwing a fierce boo like a rumbling at just one person. A dragon standing alone in the center. The bruise on his back seemed to me like a wound that had been hit by countless boos. I asked him unintentionally.

"You…"

The dragon turned around slowly and looked at me with a keen eye.

[............]

"Who are you..…?"

I asked unquestioned questions at will. Then the dragon opened his mouth for the first time. It was a muffled voice, like a filter.

"...Don’t look.”

"Huh?"

"Don’t look at me."

The dragon's gaze peeking through his curly hair indicates refusal. I can't hear any more.

At that time, there was a sharp voice that echoed in the spherical stadium.

“Dragon!!”

A man is standing. "I can't forgive you anymore ... I can't forgive you! If I don't defeat the dragon, I can't keep the peace of 'U'!"

"Is that the leader?" Asked Hiro-chan’s Az.

<<Yes. He is Justine>>

It was a blue-eyed Az with blonde hair. His toned, muscular, majestic body reminded me of strength and courage, and the white battle suit that wrapped around him represented his noble personality. He deserves to be called a hero, a mighty man, an ally of justice, a savior.

Justine raised his right arm and pointed to the coat of arms on his wrist. "Look!"

The Metamorphose coat of arms was wrapped in light and became huge, transforming into a winged metal lion head. A jewel-like lens body pops out from the lion's mouth by bolt action. It's like a cannon. Justine raises the gun and shows it off.

"This is the true light that protects the justice and order of 'U'! We will definitely unveil the evil dragon!" He declared in a voice that pervaded the entire "U". Then, banners with the names of the companies came flying one after another and piled up behind him. It seems that these supporting companies support his activities. Hiro-chan’s Az pointed with her eyes rounded.

"Look, the number of sponsor logos!"

"What is Unveil?"

To my question, Hiro-chan’s Az answered "Unveil" with the gesture of Peek-a-boo. Justine holds his right hand to aim at him, and the inside of his lens body shimmers like a mosaic. The particles focused and emitted a green light. Pow! The light cut through the darkness and headed straight toward the dragon. The dragon barely avoids the light. The particles focused again on Justine's right hand and fired two shots in quick succession. The dragon kept a sufficient distance and avoided it carefully. It seems that he is very cautious about this unknown light. "Nuu ..." Justin groaned, lowering his right hand. A long, thin light that moves far away. There is too much distance to hit Dragon.

He signaled, "Door!" In response, the justice executives scattered in all directions. Soon, the gap between the unit and the unit begins to move, and the interval narrows.

"Eh ...?" As it goes on, the brightness disappears. The spherical stadium was engulfed in darkness, with a completely closed sound. Many searchlights owned by the executives turned on all at once. It illuminates a dragon at one point in the center of intersection.

"You can't run away anymore, dragon! I'll uncover your origin right here, you ugly thing!"

Justine's speech wowed the audience.

"Ooooooooooo!"

The field is in full favor of Justine. Hiro-chan’s Az also goes along.

"Good, do it ~~!"

Origin? Uncover? Can he do that? I wondered. Justine said earlier, "The true light that protects the justice and order of 'U'(that green light) will surely unveil the evil dragon." The meaning may be "to clarify who the real person who controls the dragon is.” It means that there is no privacy that should be equally protected by the security of "U". I understood that was what he meant by "unveiling." If it's aimed at the dragon, which is hated by all over the world, everyone will be convinced it’s the right thing to do. But what if I was in his position?

Then, the story is different. I don't want to be unveiled. Anyone wouldn’t. Shouldn't that be the case? Shouldn't security equality be maintained? Executives approach the dragon with a searchlight. The dragon blocks the light with his hands, as if he hates the dazzling lights. However, the executives continue to shine a strong light without mercy. The dragon moves because of the glare, looks like he can't get rid of it. Justine aims carefully from a distance. The searchlight is caught. It seems very easy to shed light on the dragon that has stopped moving. Kuun ……, and the inside of the gun lens shines brilliantly, and the light is focused.

"Get him!!” Hiro-chan’s Az screams with excitement. Next to that, I kept staring at the dragon.

[.............]

The dragon looked up at me as if he had noticed me. His eyes met mine and my heart pulsated.

"Huh?"

From the narrow center of the searchlight, the dragon jumped towards us. The search light suddenly loses sight of the dragon and sways in a confused manner.

"Uh!"

Once Justine lowered his gun in the situation, but quickly repositioned it, he fired two consecutive shots. However, passing through it, the dragon rises at high speed and heads straight toward us.

"Ahhhhh!"

I and Hiro-chan’s Az are upset by the oppressive feeling and cannot move. The dragon approaches at a tremendous speed. Collide!

"Kyaaaa!" We screamed. But the dragon barely slipped beside us. A violent gust of wind occurs with a slight delay. The dragon rose as it was, turned around, and landed on the steel frame of the set. Hiro-chan’s Az was angry and looked up. "You’ve got to be kidding me, you idiot! What if Belle had been injured?"

Dragon approaches us again. "Ah!" The dragon rubbed right next to Hiro-chan’s Az and I, who were shrinking tightly, at a tremendous speed. His goal is the executives of the Justice Corps.

"Waaaaah!” The executives screamed, throwing out searchlights and escaping in all directions. As soon as the dragon did not let them escape, he swung a steel frame over his head and approached.

The light of the searchlight went out, and the area was surrounded by darkness again.

Only the cruel hitting sound and the painful screams of the executives echoed there. What's happening in the dark? Invisible horror dominated the field. Justine shouted, unbearably. "Open the door ..., open the door!"

A gap in the spherical stadium opens to follow the instructions. When it got brighter, I saw the sad appearance of the executives who were knocked down and couldn't move. How many Az did the dragon beat in this short time? It was overwhelming and strong. Justine stepped back, stiffening his face.

"This ... this shouldn't be allowed ...!"

The dragon flew with recoil when he released the steel frame he had in his hand. I look up at him with my eyes. Justine shouted to swear revenge.

"I will be sure to unveil you!"

As if he couldn't hear such a voice, the dragon went out of the stadium through the gap between the units on the ceiling and disappeared somewhere. I kept looking at the empty space where he had disappeared into.

"Who are you……?"

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

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1Dcx2NedPVBEdbfQaU-WC0pJMRmn20ASn7HSC0KY9R7E/edit?usp=sharing ~ Google Doc of the English-translated novel.

ryuutosobakasuhime.wordpress.com ~ English fan-site for Ryuu to Sobakasu no Hime where translations, scans, and other content is posted.

#belle #belle movie #belle 2021 #ryuu to sobakasu no hime #ryu to sobakasu no hime #ryu #ryuu #studio chizu #hime #mamoru hosoda #竜とそばかすの姫

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whatifyoulivelikethat · 4 years ago

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erotica, m | myg

pairing(s): yoongi x reader

summary: Your roommate, Min Yoongi, catches you masturbating. You catch him masturbating. Well then, dear reader... This should be interesting, shouldn’t it?

warnings: rated M (18+) for language, smut (fem reader, f and m-masturbation, cum eating); non-idol!AU; switches between Yoongi’s POV and your POV

Being in the music industry was rough. It meant long nights struggling for inspiration, fervent mania when it did hit, and crippling anxiety when it was being evaluated. But being a music producer was all Min Yoongi ever wanted.

He had given up a lot to chase his dreams, moving to the big city alone, friendless, trying to find his way, living meal by meal. He needed a roommate, but finding a trustworthy one was difficult. Friend of a friend of a friend and he finally found someone who seemed alright. A young woman in the middle of grad school, who was looking for a place to stay. At first Yoongi thought it would be weird to room with a girl, but one conversation and he realized it would be a good match. Her first question was if he was going to have guests over often. Of course not, Yoongi had music to work on. Her second question was if he was clean, because she couldn’t stand a dirty living situation.

In short, he now had a quiet, paying roommate who kept to herself, holed up in her room all day studying or rushing to class.

Yoongi worked for a small entertainment company, but he also had a home studio because he couldn’t afford to rent a space. This was enough for now. He asked if she was fine with a little noise and she responded by holding up her over-the-ear headphones.

But Min Yoongi had a secret.

Nothing that incriminating. Nothing like drugs or a gambling problem or a recurring STD or something like that. It was in innocent secret, a very small one.

Min Yoongi liked to read erotica blogs.

Now, Yoongi could watch porn. He could go through all the hoops and find some to jack off to. That wasn’t why he preferred to read smut stories online. He just liked to use his own imagination. He liked closing his eyes and painting the scene, but he wasn’t creative enough to dream up all the freaky scenarios he could read online. Some people had some… big brain energy. Some wrinkly brains. He was pretty sure all his gray matter was used on music, so why not let someone else craft the story for him? It took the work out the equation and he could get off. Win-win.

Also, it was much easier to hide it in public. All people would see is him scrolling on his phone, the same thing everyone else did.

Yoongi had his favorites he went back to. They were updated often. Every week there was something new. He checked at least once a week, since that was his usual routine his body wanted. And it was fine. No one knew. He could do it whenever he wanted and relatively quickly. So, all in all, not that bad of a secret, really.

It was six in the morning and Yoongi was scrolling on his phone, mildly horny. Oh! One of his favorite blogs had updated late in the night. Nice. He chewed on his lower lip, reading the summary.

There was a knock on his door.

He nearly dropped his phone. The door was locked, thankfully.

“Yoongi-ssi?” He heard his roommate yawn sleepily. “Did you drink the last of the milk?”

He screwed up his face to think. “Maybe? I’ll buy some the next time I’m at the store.”

He heard the sounds of teeth being brushed and a muffled, “Nah, I’ll place a delivery order right now. I need stuff.”

And that was that. He heard her wander off.

Okay, a very, very, very small part of him did kind of want to get caught. Not embarrassingly or shamefully caught. Just… maybe if it ended in something kind of sexy. Like the stories.

That was would fun.

Yoongi went back to his phone.

You cracked your neck in the mirror, yawning again as you brushed your teeth. You rubbed your eyes, inspecting your dark circles. Ugh. Maybe a little concealer today couldn’t hurt.

You had stayed up late again, writing.

You hadn’t meant to. It happened every once in a while, when the scene played out in your head and you needed to write it down immediately. When inspiration struck, you couldn’t let it run away from you. Sometimes the best things come in short bursts of energy.

At least you didn’t have class today. You were caught up on your classes, so you could spend today writing for your blog. What you posted last night was written several days ago. You had a slight backlog so that you could review things multiple times before posting. Even if it was something as meaningless as smut posted on the internet, you took that shit seriously. This was your outlet and you wanted to personally like everything you posted.

If what you wrote didn’t make you horny, it wasn’t going to make anyone else horny either.

You spat and rinsed out your mouth.

You stared at yourself in the mirror, your tired eyes looking back to you. Maybe you needed some socialization. Real socialization, not you eventually venturing outside because you needed to get laid for… research purposes. You chuckled. Well, you weren’t going to get that here. All your male roommate ever did was work on his music or eat. Which was alright; people were allowed to do what makes them happy. And besides, it was better that way, because you did actually need to study and eventually write your thesis. Less distraction at home was always better.

You turned off the lights in the bathroom and stepped out.

A strange noise came from Min Yoongi’s door.

You blinked, staring at the door several feet away from you. Then you shrugged. He probably just tripped. He was kind of clumsy sometimes, knocking shit over with his fat ass. Well, not really, but it was funny to think of it that way.

You went back to your room.

Oh fuck.

Yoongi stared at his door, clutching the toilet paper roll he hid in his nightstand. He was usually quite skilled at keeping quiet, but he accidentally moaned a little too loud. His hands were still sticky. He waited.

Her bedroom door down the hall closed and he sighed with relief.

When you got back to your room, you made the online grocery order. You needed pads anyway. Then you checked your blog. At this point, you had some familiar usernames you watched for. People rarely commented. Maybe their hands were busy or something. You could forgive. Besides, there were likes and that was enough. To be honest, you never expected anyone to actually do more than read. It felt kind of nice, knowing someone out there was willing to take one second to press one button to let you know.

It made you grateful, even if it was a small thing.

Your eye paused at one particular username. You only noticed it because it was gendered.

daeguboy0613.

Huh.

For the life of you, you couldn’t understand why someone would put their location and gender in their username. Maybe it was a reference to their favorite singer or something. Probably. You shrugged it off and flopped on your bed.

You fell asleep.

Big surprise since you had posted at four in the morning and only gotten up to brush your teeth because your mouth was too disgusting to exist. Ah well. Sleep was good.

You woke up, super groggy. You stared out the window, seeing that it was already dark. With a sigh, you looked into the tiny mirror beside your bed. Yikes. A master yikes even. You climbed your hair with your fingers and got out of bed, your purple pajamas rumpled and crazy. Maybe a shower would do you good. Or a bath. Oh! That sounded nice.

You looked around for your slippers. You found one. Ack, so annoying. You weren’t a messy person, but when you were preoccupied with something, you forgot everything else. You straightened your room and found the other slipper. It was in your blankets, oof.

You opened your door and realized you forgot clean underwear. You stuck your head out, looking around. Faint bass was coming from Yoongi’s room. He’d be there for a while. Eh. You still had your violet pajamas, with long sleeves and long pants. Fully covered. He wasn’t going to know in the two seconds it would take you to get to your room. A good shake of the fleece fabric and the wrinkles would fall out. You’d look way less crazy after a good bath.

You hummed to yourself as you made your way to the bathroom.

Yoongi rubbed his neck, frowning.

It wasn’t coming out the way he wanted. The sound just wasn’t right. He leaned back in his chair, furrowing his brow. Maybe he needed to move on for now. Leave it and work on something else. He spun around in his chair, lazing about. He hadn’t heard his roommate make much noise all day. Was she dead? Yoongi heard the water running in the bathroom. Oh. She was taking a shower.

He thought about her for a moment. She was generally calm person, quiet and reserved. The only time he had ever seen her panic was when she was late to class, which wasn’t often. Other than that, she was kind of boring. It was like the only thing she thought about was school. She was pretty in a casual sort of way. Yoongi rarely saw her dressed up, but the few times she left at night, she always looked very nice in a short black dress and black heels. Probably a recurring outfit she used at every outing. He could respect that. Being strapped for cash meant a lot of repeating outfits.

Anyway, they didn’t interact much at all. They had their respective things to do, so they co-existed in a mutualistic, symbiotic relationship. It was nice not having to be distracted by a bad roommate, so for that he was grateful.

You pushed back the shower curtain, dripping water.

That was nice. You waited as the bathwater drained. Your hair was wet, kind of by accident, but whatever, you needed to wash your hair anyway. Your brushed water off your body absentmindedly, poking your nipples. They were hard from the cold air.

Hm.

The water gurgled as you rubbed them slowly, sighing softly. That was nice. When was the last time you masturbated? You couldn’t remember. You looked at the bathroom door. It wasn’t locked, but what was Yoongi going to do? Open the door on you? Yeah, right. You pinched and pulled your nipples, sucking in a breath. It was nice to touch yourself, to cup your breasts and press them together, grazing your nails over the hardened nubs, imagining someone else’s hands touching you, wanting you.

You slid against the wall, moaning quietly as you played with your breasts, water beading on your skin. One of your hands slid down between your legs and slid around your folds. The wetness of your pussy was different from water, thicker, more viscous. Your eyes closed as you stroked your clit, slow and gentle and pretty. Imagining a tongue there, licking you softly, giving you just the right amount of pressure to build your arousal. No rushing, letting it last.

You ended up sliding to your knees, spreading your thighs wide to give your hand space. Your other hand played with your nipples leisurely, pinching and pulling, making your heart jump. You were quiet, barely making any noise.

Drip.

Your eyes opened hazily. They shifted slowly to the faucet. It was dripping water. Slow, fat plops hitting the bathtub.

Drip.

You pressed harder on your clit, rubbing roughly.

Drip.

Your eyes shifted to the silver faucet again. It was right there, after all.

Fuck it.

You turned the water on again, setting it to a nice temperature. You waited impatiently, touching the water. It heated up quickly. You bit your lower lip, and then raised the temperature a tad. It torrented down and, for a split second, you thought you weren’t going to do it.

Then you adjusted your hips and planted your ass on bottom of the bathtub and slid down to the water.

Instant, unyielding. You shivered, the blasting water jet-streaming right into your pussy. Holy fuck. You slid down a little more and moaned, hoping the water masked your sound as the high-pressure water smacked your clit, lowering to your elbows to get a better angle. Heart beating fast, legs folded flat against the edge of the tub, leaning your head back, tits straight up. It was a difficult position to keep, but a rewarding one, because the water was getting you off fast, gentle enough that you weren’t in pain but hard enough that you could really feel it radiate all over you, the heat adding to the pleasure.

So close, so close…

You closed your eyes, thighs burning, core tightening as your entire body began to throb. A slow hiss escaped your lips as you felt your orgasm unfurl and hit you, wave after wave of delicious pleasure swimming through you, spreading to every point of your body.

“Are you drowning or wasting water, the fuck is–”

Min Yoongi’s voice was trying to cut through your reverie but it was impossible because you were too far gone now, legs collapsing inward, body falling flat against the tub. The door was open and he was staring at you, eyes so wide they looked like dinner plates. Water flowed over your hot body, blanketing you. Slowly, slowly, you came down, like an addict losing their high. His mouth was slightly open, kitten-like. His white t-shirt stuck to his chest and black track pants far too oversized for his slim legs.

You might have been ashamed if you were younger, but you were older now. If he couldn’t handle you getting off every once in a while, then he was the one who needed help.

You reached up and turned the water off, panting. You quirked an eyebrow at him.

“If you’re so worried about it, I’ll pay the whole water bill this month,” you gasped, chest heaving as you glared back at him.

Yoongi sputtered back to life.

“N-no, that’s fine.”

And then he slammed the door.

You sighed, frowning. Now things were going to get weird.

Holy shit.

Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit.

He just witnessed his roommate masturbating with the goddamn water faucet.

Yoongi scrambled into his room and onto his bed, red in the face. He hadn’t meant to. He thought something weird was going on when he heard all the water. And, oh fuck, something was, but not the something he thought. His mind replayed the image for him, her legs spread, her breasts glistening with water, nipples hard and out, head tipped back and mouth open, tongue peeking out.

He was still hard.

His heart was thumping in his ribcage. Yoongi grabbed his phone and flipped through his liked posts. He had to get off. Now. Anything else could wait.

He slid in, hard, rough, gasping at her pretty lips opened and her eyes closed in bliss, enjoying his cock, just his, enjoying the way he felt, enjoying his hips slapping into hers and his cock twitching inside her.

Impatiently, he reached down and fished his dick out of his pants, sliding to his back and pushing his track pants down. Oh fuck, sweet relief. Yoongi stroked himself, reading, imagining her wet body, her slick hair, those fucking delicious breasts right in front of his face. Had Yoongi ever fantasized about his roommate before? Hell no, he wasn’t a damn pervert. But he was doing it now, because, fuck, how could he not? How could he not want to fuck her, press himself against her, hearing that soft moan against his ear, her wet body and smooth skin on his?

Yoongi dropped his phone, pushing his head back against the pillows, closing his eyes. Yes, he’d jacked off in the morning, but it was already late and he was so fucking horny it didn’t take very long for him to bite the inside of his cheek, trying to muffle his noise, trying to silence himself as the familiar wind-up came. He cracked his eyes open. His door was slightly ajar. Had he left it like that? Whatever, she was probably too embarrassed to come over here anyway.

Yoongi shut his eyes again, a soft cry leaving his lips as he chased his orgasm.

Then he felt it. A presence to his left. But he was so close, so close, so close, he couldn’t stop. His hand moved at a feverish pace, spreading the pre-cum over his length, adding to the pleasure. He felt lips on his cheek, her soft breathy moans against his skin. Was he imagining it? Then her lips on his, softly licking his tongue, so sensual and sexy that he was losing it, moaning into her mouth. He felt her hot breath glide into his and he groaned, too loud this time, feeling his cock twitch and spurt his cum everywhere, sliding down his hand, his wrist, onto his pants and shirt.

Yoongi panted, opening his eyes.

His roommate moved away from his face. Eyes dark in the low light of his room, pupils blown wide with lust. Her hair was still damp, slicked against her purple pajama shirt. He didn’t know what to do. Hos hand was a mess, covered in his cum. She leaned forward, tongue sliding out.

“Um…”

His thought was cut off as her warm tongue ran over his knuckles, scooping up his cum and eating it off his hand. His eyes went wide as she licked all around his hand, his fingers, dipping her tongue into the crevices. Yoongi could barely process what was happening right now. Was his nerdy, school-obsessed roommate licking his cum off his hand after he just masturbated? After he just witnessed her masturbating? Her mouth enveloped the head and part of his hand and Yoongi moaned, feeling her tongue press against the tip and tease the sensitive opening, licking it all clean.

After a sufficient amount, she removed her mouth and backed off. Yoongi blinked blearily, slowly detaching his hand from his limp cock. He didn’t know what to say. Or do, really. Her eyes were on his phone, screen still lit up. Then she shifted her eyes to his raised hand. Gently, she took him by the wrist and brought his hand to her face, placing his fingers in her mouth, sucking on them.

Yoongi was speechless.

Her tongue slipped between each finger, prodding around his joints, slurping slightly. She was still looking at his phone, eyes pensive. Yoongi wished his cock would wake up, but it wasn’t meant to be.

“I…”

Her eyes went to his, his fingers still in her mouth. Shit. His brain tried to process the thought, trying not to fixate on her pink tongue moving amongst his fingers.

“I can’t fuck you…” he mumbled, swallowing. “I already came twice today.”

She nodded. Slowly, she pulled his fingers out of her mouth, joint by joint. His body jerked at the movement, aroused but unable to get hard. Strings of saliva snapped as she removed her mouth from his hand. She turned it around and licked his palm lightly, making him shiver.

“You like my blog?” she finally said.

He blinked.

“What?”

She pointed to his phone. “That’s my blog.”

Yoongi’s eyes went wide. He stared at his phone and then at her. Then back at the phone. Then back at her. What? She cocked an eyebrow, smiling at him.

“So, you’re daeguboy0613, huh?”

He blinked rapidly. “I… what… ah…?”

“Guess that makes sense when you like my posts at two in the morning and such.”

She climbed on the bed – where were her pajama pants? Her panties? – and laid down next to him.

“You don’t seem like the type to read erotica,” she said absentmindedly. “I thought only girls read erotica.”

Yoongi stared at the ceiling. “Obviously not, since I’m a guy.”

She nodded. “You’re right. I shouldn’t stereotype like that.”

Silence.

“We can always do more in the morning, Yoongi-ssi.”

Two things happened that day. One, Yoongi’s secret was exposed. And two, the source of Yoongi’s secret passed out in bed next to him, head on his shoulder.

34+35

masterpost

#yoongi x reader #min yoongi x reader #bts smut #yoongi smut #min yoongi smut #min yoongi x you #yoongi x you

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poison--ivory · 4 years ago

Text

Haikyuu! Domestic Life (Captains/ Reader) Quirks

WARNING: NSFW

*This is my first headcanon and I just wanted to mix haikyuu and bnha. I hope you enjoy* (Don’t own the picture found it on pinterest)

Daichi, Kuroo, Oikawa, Futakuchi, Bokuto, Ushijima and Kita

Daichi- Telekinesis

-In a world full of quirks rules, Daichi follows each one of those rules even when he's by himself. -But, he does make some exceptions. Like when he's by himself and too tired from practice, he'll use his quirk to levitate whatever he needs from the other room. -Daichi bends the rule a bit when the first years get out of hand, throwing a volleyball at full speed hitting Kageyama and Tsukishima at the same time. Quickly deactivating it when Mr. Takeda glances over. -When the both of you started dating he used his quirk more frequently. When he first asked you out he used his quirk to grab your school bag and lead you to an empty gym. The only person in there was a nervous Daichi and a floating banner that read: Will you go out with me? -Later in your relationship you'll notice Daichi doing small things for you with the assistance of his power. -For instance, when it's really windy he'll turn on his quirk to hold the ends of your skirt down. On one occasion you wore a cute skirt on one of your dates and a guy passing by decided to stop right behind you and tried to lift it up only to have his hand thrown to the side by an unknown source. When you did look behind you all you saw was a lady hitting a man with her purse and a small crowd forming around them. -Since he's any average teen he has normal hormones. This causes his quirk to go off anytime he's aroused. You gave him a handy once and next thing you knew the bed was floating. As he finally climaxed the bed fell down and made a loud thump against the floor. -His younger siblings came knocking on the door and Daichi had to calmly explain to them that he wasn't killing you.

Kuroo- Plasma

-Kuroo on the other hand wouldn't care all that much about quirk rules, but holds out because his quirk is a bit more dangerous than most.

-If he tried to explain his quirk to someone he'll go all into the science of his abilities. But, if he's talking to people like Hinata or Lev he'll dial it down a smidge.

-His quirk in simple terms is like kai blast in DBZ. When he told Bokuto and Hinata this they non stop did kamehameha for a half hour.

-When he asked you out it was in the middle of lunch time. He gradually brought up the topic of relationships and once you were in depth with his questions he popped his initial question.

-Since his quirk is more in the danger zone , so he'll go through extra steps to keep you safe. Like buying quirk protection gloves online with money his dad gave him.

-Hand holding was a lot nicer and more comfortable once the gloves were in the equation.

-Much like Daichi, he had problems controlling his quirk in intimate situations.

-Burned his sheets after getting a blowjob, so glad he settled or the bed spread instead of your head.

Oikawa- Shapeshift

-Oikawa broke the rules literally all the time and the only reason he wasn't caught most of the time is, because he planned out when and where he used his power.

-If someone left a certain class at a certain time, he would change his appearance to that specific person.

-The only people who have ever caught him are Iwaizumi and his sister on multiple occasions.

-When he first met you he decided to get to know you through Iwaizumi, literally. He learned all he needed to know about you and even added some good quips about himself.

-It started out quite well, but soon back fired when Hajime ran into you and him. Which caused a big rift between you and him for a really long time.

-Iwaizumi himself mended the issues between the two teens. Later, in life he would be the mediator for all your falling outs.

-Oikawa, not like the other two, can control his shapeshifting ability when aroused. Even changes into other people midway in a makeout session to scare you.

-On the downside he can't seem to handle climaxing well. A very confused Oikawa wonders why you're staring at him with a weird face. Not until he looks into the mirror that he sees, Matsukawa’s face staring back at him.

Futakuchi- Stitches

-Futakuchi is someone who would break a rule and go all the way around the subject to throw off as much blame as possible.

-His quirk isn’t all that special to him, but others would find it pretty useful or cool. Sometimes when he’s really irritated with his teammates he stitches their feet to the ground. He gets detention and has to spend it cleaning the gym floors by himself.

-He accidentally stitched your feet to the ground when you first met. It was mostly Koganegawa fault for moving out of the way and you so happened to be standing right behind him. Tripping you fell out of your shoes and flat on your face.

-Aone nudged him forward in order to apologize and ever since then you both kept talking with each other. Even skipping out on the guys to eat with you on the rooftop.

- Little dates here and there before he had the courage to officially ask you out. Giving you small gifts in between class periods that he hand crafts in each class.

-He’s all talk, especially in bed. This man’s quirk went off when your hand brushed up against his bulge. Took a while to release yourself from his thread, it takes a week before he could even look you in the eye again.

-He settled with giving you oral instead, he loves the expressions on your face when you moan for more.

Bokuto- Soaring Parliament

-To be quite honest he followed the quirk rules pretty well, until he starts thinking too hard on a topic and completely forgets.

-He takes pride in his volleyball skills and quirk usage. Whenever he said his quirk name out loud he never could associate it with his owl wings. Until Akaashi explained to him that a parliament is a group of owls and his wings look like they had three owl faces on each wing.

-Bokuto knew you since you were on the girl’s volleyball team, a libero. One day they let the both of the teams practice together and he had zero to no filter on asking you out. Even if you were in the back row and were receiving balls.

-Any where you went he held your hand, walking to class, lunch or going home together. There was no time or place anyone at Fukurodani didn’t see you two hanging off each other.

-Down feathers are found scattered around his room and if you're lucky enough his mom might show you his baby photos. His baby photos consist of him smiling in each picture in cute little outfits.

-Making out was usually slow and sensual, but sometimes it can get pretty sloppy when he’s heated. Like when he came back from summer training and hastily kissed and pinned your small frame to the bed.

-His wing size is pretty big for a horned owl and they pop out whenever you guys indulge in sexual favors. Riding him requires him to sit up since his bed is next to the wall and his wings get really uncomfortable.

Ushijima- Nature Speaker

-Ushijima follows the rules without even knowing he was doing it. Kind of forgetful when it comes to quirk rules.

-His quirk described by his mother is the Greek twins, Flora and Fauna. He calls it like it is a nature speaker, someone who can get on a speaking level of the non human language.

-Scared his dad one day when he saw his son talking to the neighbors cat.

-That’s kind of how you two met when your dog came running up to him. You were so scared that might hurt him, but soon calmed down when your dog sat himself down in front of the tall man. They had a long staring contest before your dog slowly trotted back over to you with the man.

-On closer inspection you recognized the man from school and he was much taller when presented in front of you.

-Ushijima unraveled to you that your dog wasn’t feeling good. He gave you directions to a vet that was actually pretty good at handling their animals.

-You two met again through Tendou(he was playing matchmaker) he left you both in the library. You would be surprised how much you and Ushijima got along.

-He uses his quirk whenever you guys wanna have fun, like at the park and two birds are hoping around each other. He tells you that the bread crumbs on the ground taste like absolute shit.

-Eyes widened when he actually cursed.

- Fingering was always rough on your end, until you vocalized why he should prepare you first before just sticking them in.

-His quirk doesn’t really act up when he engages in sex, but he did come pretty early when you gave him head one time.

Kita- Aura

-Kita has never broken a quirk law, he believes it brings more bad habits later on in life.

-His quirk manifested at an early age of 4, he just thought everyone had the same vision as himself. Until he asked his grandma why the clerk at the store always had dark red surrounding them. Turns out the guy had issues with his manager, he never got the full story.

-It explains why he can read people so easily, but like Ushijima he has no filter when he talks to someone and just gives the full truth.

-He’s in the same class as you and takes a really close notice when your aura changes from whatever color you just had to light pastel pink. It only happened when you were around him.

-He wasn’t stupid, so he decided to ask you out between classes. After that you two were always seen together before and after classes. Aran had to ask one of his classmates to walk home with him, so he wouldn’t feel like a third wheel

-His quirk never acted up whenever he had sex with you, even when he was balls deep inside your pussy.

-Kita is a caring lover in and out of bed, even goes the extra steps of carrying you to the bathroom to take a bath.

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andromedasstarship · 4 years ago

Text

in the stars - chapter 1

photo credit: @ssahotchnerr

pairing - aaron hotchner x reader

warnings - canon-typical criminal minds violence, show rating 16+ for reference. depictions of violence, stalking, murder, angst, age gap couple, drinking, brief mention of drugs.

summary - You finally meet the BAU, little progress is made in terms of the case.

a/n - early update yay! i take a lot of liberties with movies that reader has starred in, pls dont take irl movie release dates into consideration here lol. more notes at the end

blog rules

masterlist // read it on ao3 here

prologue // next chapter

-----

Chapter 1

Flights to California always took an extra toll on the team. Reid had explained it once, in a too long ramble, how the wind worked against the plane lengthening the flight at least an hour longer than the trip back home.

Hotch was finding it difficult to focus on the files in front of him. The first photo he opened was of victim #3, with her eyes closed and face turned to the side, even Hotch could’ve been fooled that it was you lying there dead. While the rest of the team was mulling over the facts of the case, he was debating whether or not to tell the team about your history. The Unit Chief in him knew this was important information that had the potential to hinder the case; his relationship to you was too personal and his withholding of information could even turn him into a suspect. If the roles had been reversed with another member of the team, he’d have concerns over their ability to even be on the case. For now, Hotch forced himself to tune into the conversation the rest of the team was having; promising himself he’d figure out what to do later.

“Garcia, what do we know about L/N,” Emily asked, turning ever so slightly towards the screen Garcia had just popped up on.

“I’m glad you asked my dear Emily. Y/N L/N is totally Hollywood’s It Girl right now, it’s rumored you can’t even get a meeting with her without forking over at least twenty big ones. She’s never had a bad role in her career. Personally, my favorite movie she starred in was Mamma Mia, but like I said never a bad role,” Garcia paused for a moment, the sound of her typing filling the silence, “is it inappropriate for me to ask one of you to get her signature for-”

“Garcia,” Rossi interjected, “anything else we need to know about her right now?”

“Sorry sir, I promise to be on my best professional behavior. But come on, remember when she swept the Oscars three years-”

Hotch felt himself detach from the conversation yet again, staring out the window as memories of the two of you flooded his brain.

Three Years Ago

The team had just finished a grueling case in Georgia. It was long, taking nearly two weeks to catch the unsub, in which he had managed to murder three additional couples right under their noses. Inclement weather forced them to stay another night until the storm passed, leaving them all stranded by the airport. In a turnaround way, being stuck gave them the rare opportunity to relax and bond as a team. Rather than all disappear to their own rooms for the night, they all packed into one small hotel room. Boxes of Chinese takeout were littered around the room, along with various bottles of alcohol. The Oscars were on that night and Hotch knew you’d be on the screen at some point, not wanting to miss it he proposed watching it to the team and they all happily agreed. While it was difficult with their schedules to be avid movie goers, they all were relatively familiar with the contenders for big awards such as Best Picture and Best Actor.

You were nominated for two separate awards that night, along with starring in a film nominated for Best Picture. It had been a monumental year for you, with three separate feature films hitting theaters and all becoming major successes both financially and socially. You had spent so much time jet setting for press conferences and movie tours that you rivaled Aaron in terms of suitcase living.

“Everyone shut up! They’re about to do Best Supporting Actress, oh I just know it’s going to be Y/N. Emily agree with me! We saw her in Little Women together, I cried. Oh don’t give me that look Emily, you cried too and you know it!” Penelope said enthusiastically, waving her chopsticks around. It was rare that Garcia ever came with on a case, but the location had been in a remote part of the state and they wanted to avoid being unable to reach her and her technical wizardry; a fact she was particularly grateful for, had this watch party been happening without her, she would’ve been so jealous.

To anyone else, the grin on Hotch’s face would have been easily equated to the bickering going on between his friends and the effects of the few drinks he had thrown back. It was all for you though, he had caught glimpses of you on screen throughout the night and had snuck more than one glance at his phone to see the pictures of your outfit you’d sent him yourself. When the presenters walked on stage, Hotch sat up a bit straighter, his body naturally inching closer to the edge of his seat. The screen set up so the faces of all nominees and their reactions could be seen, Hotch’s eyes glued to the box you were in.

“And the winner of Best Supporting Actress goes to…,” the first presenter started, slowly opening the envelope they held, “Y/N L/N!” The crowd roared and the camera focused in on you sitting stunned in your seat, surrounded by coworkers and friends. The team was cheering too, the liquor in their system loosening everyone up. Hotch clapping uncharacteristically loud and long even went unnoticed by the others.

“I was right, I knew it!! I should start betting on this, you know what I bet I could hack into the system-” Garcia’s voice barely even registered in Hotch’s brain as he watched you. With one hand clasped over your mouth and the other holding your dress you made your way up the stairs and to the center of the stage.

“Wow,” you started, eyes wide as you stared down at the award in your hands, slowly you looked back up into the crowd and continued, “I really mean it when I say I wasn’t expecting this. I didn’t even prepare a speech, I’m so sorry,” you paused again, the biggest smile plastered on your face as you quickly wiped a few tears threatening to fall, “thank you all so much, for supporting me and letting me do what I love. Thank you to my fellow coworkers who pushed me in this project and thank you so much to the fans who give me the strength to do this every day. Thank you! Thank you so much!” You ended, making your way back towards your seat. Hotch grinned as you flashed a wide smile to the camera following you, throwing a flirty winky that he knew was just for him.

The rest of the night went by in a blur. When you won again for Best Actress, you were barely able to contain yourself on stage, tears flowing freely down your face as you gave your thanks. The joy you felt in that moment was unlike anything you’d ever experienced in your life. At just 24, you had become the first person ever to win both awards in the same night. Hotch had actually jumped out of his seat at your second win, a motion that confused the rest of the team, but the liquor in everyone’s system forced them to ignore it; more glad than anything to see Hotch loosening up for once.

After the team finally retreated into their own rooms for the night, Hotch wasted no time in texting you, asking if you were free to talk on the phone. His excitement palpable when not even a minute later your contact came up on the screen.

“Aaron,” your excited voice came through the phone, just being able to hear you eased tension he wasn’t even aware he had been carrying, “can you believe it!”

“Congratulations, Miss Double Oscar winner.” Even after a year of being together, his voice made you giddy. “Where are you?” He asked, unable to ignore the pounding sound of music and people in the background.

“After party, top secret location Mr. Agent. I’m in the bathroom! Am I allowed to tell you I definitely see some residue of a line on the counter,” your voice was slurred and rushed, the energy of the moment combined with the liquor in your system causing your mouth to move faster than your brain, “probably not, ignore that. Where are you?”

Aaron relayed various info about closing the case and what the team had gotten up to that night. When you began telling him about your night, he couldn’t help but feel insecure. Where he told you about $8 takeout meals and rural Georgia, you were talking about some of the biggest names in Hollywood and the luxury treatment you’d been subject to all night. He forced himself to focus on your voice anyway; not wanting to take this time ‘with’ you for granted. The two of you could’ve talked for hours, had it not been for Hotch pushing you to go enjoy the celebrations.

“I’m so proud of you angel,” he said softly, voice swelling with adoration, “I’ll see you soon, I promise.”

“I love you Aaron.”

“I love you too Y/N.”

When he finally hung up, he leaned against the wall with a sigh, running his hands through his hair. Relationship wise, it had been a tough year for the two of you. With your schedule busier than you’d ever expected, it meant seeing each other in person was nearly impossible. In good conscience you refused to take him away from Jack on the rare weekends he had off. Instead you’d fly in whenever possible, the two of you spending low profile nights together in fancy hotels or his house if Jack was away with friends. It was excruciating maintaining a relationship like this, but something about the success of the night made the sacrifices feel worth it.

Present Day

“Look into her dating history, any exes that would want to hurt her?” JJ asked, her question pulling Hotch back into the present. Adjusting to the constant publicity you were subject to had been a learning curve for Hotch, the first time the tabloids ran a story of you photographed with some Hollywood Hunk his bad mood had the entire team walking on eggshells for a week.

“According to my search she hasn’t dated anyone in years, or at least not publicly. I have a theory she’s secretly dating Henry Ca-.” Hotch zoned back out before Garcia could finish, having no interest in hearing or seeing whoever the media was speculating to be involved with you this time. Willing the plane to land faster, he ignored the faint voice in the back of his head that was telling him you were free to be with whoever you wanted.

----

“If you’d follow me Miss L/N, the BAU has set up in the back conference room, they’ve been waiting for you.” Officer Reynolds said, her back to you as you followed her down the hallway. It was nearly 9am and you had spent the better half of the morning hyping yourself up to see Aaron for the first time in nearly two years. You made last second adjustments to your outfit; an outfit you definitely hadn’t spent all of last night picking out because you definitely did not want to look good for Aaron Hotchner. As Officer Reynolds moved to open the door you held your breath, thanking the years of experience in manipulating your outward expressions. When four heads turned in unison to look at you, you let out a sigh of relief. Aaron wasn’t in the room.

“This is Y/N L/N. Miss L/N, meet the BAU,” Officer Reynolds said, extending her arm outwards towards the rest of the room, “I’ll leave you guys to do introductions, if you need anything, find me,” and with that she exited the room. A blonde woman stepped forward first, extending her hand out to you. You knew who she was before she even said her name.

“My name is Jennifer Jareau, I’m the media liaison with the BAU.” She said, she gave you the same smile all the other officers had been giving you, but unlike theirs that reeked of pity, something in Jennifer’s felt authentic to you. After shaking hands with her, the rest of the room took a moment to introduce themselves. You never thought you’d meet Aaron’s team like this. Over the years, he had shown you countless photos of the team, along with hundreds of stories and tidbits concerning their lives. Even though you knew they had probably spent the entire flight to LA looking at your life, it still felt as if you had some creepy advantage over the situation.

“The rest of our team, Agents Hotchner and Morgan, are currently doing some research in the field, but until they return we’d love to brief you and ask you a few questions, is that alright?” JJ asked, stepping backwards and motioning for you to take a seat at the round table.

“Of course,” you quickly replied, moving to take a seat; internally you were laughing at the irony of her asking if it was alright, what would you do, say no? Looking up at the other three members still standing you motioned for them to sit as well, “I don’t know if you’re doing it on purpose, but I’d prefer if you all sat down too,” you paused, before adding, “kinda makes me feel like I’m back at school.” They seemed to smile at that, everyone else moving to find a seat at the table. Before the silence could turn uncomfortable, JJ spoke up again.

“Does anyone else in your life know about the murders?”

You shook your head no before replying, “my agent knows just in case I have to go underground and my security guard is aware, but besides them and the police, I haven’t told anyone.”

“Go underground?”

“Uh yea, a few years ago I had a stalker. I went ‘underground’ for about three months and the guy seemed to give up. The police have already cleared him, he hasn’t been to LA in over a year,” you explained.

“That’s good to know. We want to keep your involvement in the case completely out of the media. I can only imagine you want that too,” JJ started, angling her body towards you, “I know you’re probably more than well versed in dealing with the press, but if anyone comes up to you asking about the murders we want you to completely disengage. And of course, don’t tell anyone else about what’s going on.”

“Alright, now that that’s settled, we just have a couple questions for you,” Emily asked as she stood up, opening up a file from the table, “so what can you tell us about-”

----

The dump site wasn’t showing any promise. Situated near a highway, the field was hidden from the road, yet still accessible by car. The constant stir caused by the speeding cars meant any leftover DNA or footprints were effectively blown away.

“Our guy’s gotta be fit. The drop into the field is just steep enough he would’ve had to carry the body at least fifty feet to get it here from the road. He could’ve rolled it, but the bodies were too pristine to have been dropped on the ground like that.” Derek said, looking over at Hotch. The two of them were standing at the edge of the road, looking down at the now empty field. “Not only that, but this is a nice spot. Normally places like this so close to a highway are filled with trash, do you think he might’ve cleaned up?”

Hotch was silent as he considered this, before slowly nodding, “it’d make sense if he did. Everything we have concerning his treatment to the victims post mortem has been nothing but affectionate.”

“Do you think there could be two unsubs?” Derek asked, when Hotch looked at him with mild confusion he continued, “All the victims were strangled to death, ME report assumes it was by hand. It takes a lot of strength and persistence to kill someone by hand like that, not only that but it’s intimate, he’s staring them in the face as he kills them. The level of care displayed here seems way more than just remorse.”

Hotch took another moment to consider Derek’s proposition before shaking his head, “we’ll keep it in mind, but it’s clear whatever connection he has to L/N is personal, at least to him. These women could be failing to replicate some part of her personality and in his rage he kills them. But when they’re silent and unmoving, their likeness to L/N lets him fall back into the fantasy, hence the care.”

“We should start heading back, Reid just texted me they’re almost done with the initial briefing with L/N, and we should meet her before she takes off for the day.” Derek said, putting his phone back in his pocket before turning on his heel to head back to the car. Hotch’s shoulders tensed at the idea of seeing you, looking back at the field once more. Giving the field one last look, he felt a shiver run up his spine at the idea of finding you in a field like this. Shaking the idea out of his, he turned to join Derek in the car.

Hotch took the driver's seat, glad to be able to use the road as a needed distraction from the impending face to face. The drive was only twenty minutes, but Hotch didn’t think any time would truly be long enough to prepare himself to see you again. He found himself wondering if anything would be different from the last time he saw you. Did you still smell the same? You had always been quite adamant about your preference for scented lotion, rather than perfumes. What if you completely changed your hair? Were you worrying about seeing him as much as he was?

“You think she’s gonna be easy to work with?” Derek asked, breaking Hotch out of his mental spiral.

“What do you mean?”

“Y/N, you know, “Hollywood’s It Girl”,” Derek explained, “if she’s as in demand as Garcia said she was-”

“While we work this case Morgan, I expect you to conduct yourself appropriately,” Hotch interjected, his voice tight, “we treat Y/N the way we would anyone else, do I make myself clear?” His eyes not leaving the road at all, knuckles tight around the steering wheel.

“Crystal,” Derek responded, raising his hands up in mock surrender.

As they turned into the parking lot, Hotch scanned the parking lot before finally noticing your car parked in the back of the lot. You used to always park as far as you could, constantly complaining about how people in parking lots stressed you out and you wanted to be able to drive in and out as easy as possible. The corners of his lips turned up, ever so slightly, thinking maybe nothing had really changed for you, at least in that regard.

“You go ahead, I’m just going to send a message to Jack real quick,” Hotch lied, pulling his phone from his pocket. Derek nodded and got out of the car, quickly entering the building. Hotch put his phone down in his lap and gripped the steering wheel once more. You were one of the few people to ever wind him up this way; it had been like that from the first day he met you, as if you managed to make him melt under your gaze. Five minutes, he would give himself five minutes to pull himself together before letting the Unit Chief in him take over.

----

“I’m sorry, I just, can I take a break,” you asked, looking up at the agents who were still grilling you about facets of your life you never would’ve considered relevant, “I just need to get some air.” Without really waiting for permission, you were pushing back on your chair to stand up. Slinging on your thin jacket you exited the room, heading for the entrance of the building. The agents had been kind, but you were starting to feel a bit useless. Each time they had a new theory, you came up short in terms of material for them to actually use. They kept reassuring you that what you were able to come up with was helpful, but you weren't convinced.

You had been in and out of this office so many times, your body went into autopilot as you made your way to the entrance, not even pausing to look up as you started to push open the door. What you missed was the distinct outline of a body pulling the door open at the same time. The added force made you stumble, nearly crashing straight into the man on the other side. Brown eyes met yours and you both froze, uncertain of what to say before speaking at the same time.

“Y/N.”

“Agent.”

-----

a/n - wow wow! things are gonna start moving in the next chapter, i promise. the response to ‘in the stars’ so far has been so heartwarming. ive said it before, but this is my first fic and i cant even fathom that people are actually interested in what im writing. your support means the world! im trying to get stuff written before university starts up again, but i dont want to nix quality for faster updates so if updates slow down im sorry! comments always appreciated. leave a reply or ask if youd like to be added to the taglist! if you requested before but arent added, just ask again i mustve missed it on accident

Taglist: @mac99martin @iwaizumiee @kylorendrip @hqtchner @lieswithoutfairytales @ssahoodrathotchner @midsummernightdream @weasleylovers @evans-dejong

no permission is given to republish or upload my fics anywhere else. if you see this story not on my tumblr or ao3 it is stolen work. i do not own criminal minds or any of the characters involved

#aaron hotchner x reader #hotch x reader #hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner #criminal minds fanfiction #hotchner #in the stars #'stori writes #in the stars chapter 1

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does-it-really-matter · 3 years ago

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Demonising Femininity

🤍 Disclaimer- In this article, we are mostly talking about femininity in the aspect of make-up, fashion, etc. Stereotypically feminine and masculine things are a social construct, and it is okay for anyone of any gender to engage in their preferred form of expression.

“You run like a girl.”

“Man up.”

These two sentences both talk about behaving like a certain gender, yet one is uplifting, while the other is an insult. It’s not hard to guess which is which.

We know that misogyny exists, and being a woman in itself comes with a lot of challenges. But it’s even worse when one is traditionally feminine.

So, what is femininity?

The concept of femininity varies across cultures, but it is generally the various characteristics and traits that are attributed to women. However, as these are personality traits, they can be exhibited by anybody regardless of gender. According to popular belief, it includes sensitivity, tenderness, kindness, passiveness, etc. In the modern world, it is also equated with the combination of wearing make-up, being concerned about their physical appearance, and ambition. But there isn’t a real definition of femininity as it is pretty much a spectrum encompassing certain traits. These certain personality traits and characteristics got gendered because society had a specific role for each gender, and they evolved these traits to better adapt to those particular roles. While both masculine and feminine traits can be found in everyone in various combinations, society expects men to show more masculinity, and women to show more femininity.

When and how did it get demonised?

Misogyny can be traced all the way back to ancient Greece, with the myth of Pandora’s box, where Pandora opened the box and unleashed misery upon mankind. Therefore the blame for all of man’s problems was placed upon the shoulders of a woman, and it all went downhill from there. As the original colonizers, the Greek spread this tale into the places they conquered, and misogyny took root in all the cultures around. This idea of women being inferior was also propagated by the tale of Adam and Eve in the Old Testament, where Eve made Adam eat the forbidden apple, which led to the downfall of man.

In the 1950s in the USA, women who had taken up civilian jobs during world war 2, were now expected to go back to being housewives, or taking up more ‘feminine’ jobs which would ultimately pay less. Due to this, in the second wave of feminism that started in the early 1960s, women rioted and started dressing and acting more ‘masculine’ in the hopes of being taken seriously by their male counterparts, and getting the jobs they needed. This meant that they denounced make-up and high heels and other such ‘feminine’ things.

So presenting as more masculine in that era was unfortunately required for women to empower themselves. But why do we still look down on those who present themselves in a feminine fashion today? We see it everyday; women who wear more make-up are considered shallow, women who like to dress in pink and have blonde hair are considered to be stupid and childish, and those who conform to this kind of femininity and are ambitious are chalked up to be mean and selfish, especially in the media.

In common teenage coming-of-age movies, and young adult fiction, the antagonist is generally a stereotypically feminine and preppy girl, while the protagonist is more of a tomboy and an outcast. The antagonist is made to be a villain with only their own motives in mind, with no other personality traits whatsoever. Though this does not embody what femininity means, it still depicts the appearance of hyper femininity as something that should be shunned. This is common even in movies targeted towards other audiences, such as Dreamworks' 'Shark Tale', where one female fish is strongly ambitious, while being concerned about her physical appearance. However, she is given the role of the villain, while the female love interest is, to be frank, bland and more passive, with her whole personality being just the love interest.

This kind of stereotyping women into two very strict boxes damages us more than we think. People knowingly or unknowingly absorb a lot of concepts from the media, and when we are presented with the idea that being ambitious and rocking a pink outfit = bad, while being passive and dressing down makes them more interesting, we apply this in our day to day life as well. But this narrative is absolutely wrong, because women cannot be pushed into such strong stereotypes. People are complex beings, and with each person's personality being so drastically different, it goes without saying that the same applies to women.

Studies have found that women who wear more make-up in their workplace are less likely to be given a promotion, solely because of their make-up. It is commonly viewed that women who wear heavy make-up are considered to be less competent than the other female workers. But this is a misconception, as the productivity of a person is in no way related to the amount of make-up they wear, or the way they choose to dress.

Another way this is expressed is that parents allow their daughters to play with ‘boy’s’ toys and games, but the same is not applicable the other way around. Sons are rarely given dolls and Barbies to play with, for the reason that it will somehow make them less masculine. What scares people so much about femininity?

Demonising femininity affects the mentality of almost everyone. It pits women against women, and pushes back the feminism movement as well. In the end, only the patriarchy benefits from this. Femininity being labelled as something that is evil has given rise to the ‘not like other girls’ and ‘pick-me girls’ trope.

The ‘not like other girls’ trope is basically when a girl, typically a pre-teen or teenager, believes that she is different from other girls because she is not into mainstream pop music, or doesn’t wear make-up and dresses.

Okay, she believes that she’s different. What’s wrong with that?

The problem is that when this phrase is used, it’s usually in the context that the girl being referred to is better than other girls just because she doesn’t wear make-up. The phrase puts down the entire gender, while trying to compliment one girl in a back-handed way. Dressing in a different way isn’t a reason to put a person on a pedestal, and it builds up a superiority complex for something that is pretty much inane. The phrase doesn’t even bring into consideration the personality of the girl in question as well as the personalities of the other girls.

This also results in internalised misogyny, since the girl believes she is better than other girls because she is being as masculine as possible, hence leading to the conclusion that being a girl in itself is bad. Internalised sexism, according to Wikipedia, is when an individual enacts sexist actions and attitudes towards themselves and people of their own sex. They further propagate the ideals and behaviour imposed upon them by their oppressors. This causes a bigger divide within women, as they subconsciously put down other women who do not conform to the patriarchy, and they tend to believe gender biases in favour of men.

This kind of mentality is hard to shake out, and it is damaging in both the short and the long run. Embracing your ‘feminine’ side is something that’s not only fun to do, but it also makes us human. Being feminine is not something to be ashamed of, or something to be demonized. The whole idea plays into the patriarchy. The ideology of ‘live and let live’ is very important in this aspect. We shouldn’t put down women just because of the way they dress. Many aspects of femininity help make us better people, and that is something we should celebrate.

We should no longer have to be apologetic or embarrassed for our femininity. We deserve to be respected for all our femaleness.

#we r back!!#blog #blogging #personal blog #bloggers #feminine #feminism #misogyny #women deserve to get good rep whilst being feminine #the media rep for women and poc and lgbtqia+ sucks man #feminist #the media needs to stop demonising femininity esp ultra femininity

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oscopelabs · 4 years ago

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‘America’s Not a Country, It’s Just a Business’: On Andrew Dominik’s ‘Killing Them Softly’ By Roxana Hadadi

“Shitsville.” That’s the name Killing Them Softly director Andrew Dominik gave to the film’s nameless town, in which low-level criminals, ambitious mid-tier gangsters, nihilistic assassins, and the mob’s professional managerial class engage in warfare of the most savage kind. Onscreen, other states are mentioned (New York, Maryland, Florida), and the film itself was filmed in post-Hurricane Katrina New Orleans, though some of the characters speak with Boston accents that are pulled from the source material, George V. Higgins’s novel Cogan’s Trade. But Dominik, by shifting Higgins’s narrative 30 or so years into the future and situating it specifically during the 2008 Presidential election, refuses to limit this story to one place. His frustrations with America as an institution that works for some and not all are broad and borderless, and so Shitsville serves as a stand-in for all the places not pretty enough for gentrifying developers to turn into income-generating properties, for all the cities whose industrial booms are decades in the past, and for all the communities forgotten by the idea of progress._ Killing Them Softly_ is a movie about the American dream as an unbeatable addiction, the kind of thing that invigorates and poisons you both, and that story isn’t just about one place. That’s everywhere in America, and nearly a decade after the release of Dominik’s film, that bitter bleakness still has grim resonance.

In November 2012, though, when Killing Them Softly was originally released, Dominik’s gangster picture-cum-pointed criticism of then-President Barack Obama’s vision of an America united in the same neoliberal goals received reviews that were decidedly mixed, tipping toward negative. (Audiences, meanwhile, stayed away, with Killing Them Softly opening at No. 7 with $7 million, one of the worst box office weekends of Brad Pitt’s entire career at that time.) Obama’s first term had been won on a tide of hope, optimism, and “better angels of our nature” solidarity, and he had just defeated Mitt Romney for another four years in the White House when Killing Them Softly hit theaters on Nov. 30. Cogan’s Trade had no political components, and no connections between the thieving and killing promulgated by these criminals and the country at large. Killing Them Softly, meanwhile, took every opportunity it could to chip away at the idea that a better life awaits us all if we just buy into the idea of American exceptionalism and pull-yourself-up-by-your-bootstraps ingenuity. A fair amount of reviews didn’t hold back their loathing toward this approach. A.O. Scott with the New York Times dismissed Dominik’s frame as “a clumsy device, a feint toward significance that nothing else in the movie earns … the movie is more concerned with conjuring an aura of meaningfulness than with actually meaning anything.” Many critics lambasted Dominik’s nihilism: For Deadspin, Will Leitch called it a “crutch, and an awfully flimsy one,” while Richard Roeper thought the film collapsed under the “crushing weight” of Dominik’s philosophy. It was the beginning of Obama’s second term, and people still thought things might get better.

But Dominik’s film—like another that came out a few years earlier, Adam McKay’s 2010 political comedy The Other Guys—has maintained a crystalline kind of ideological purity, and perhaps gained a certain prescience. Its idea that America is less a bastion of betterment than a collection of corporate interests, and the simmering anger Brad Pitt’s Jackie Cogan captures in the film’s final moments, are increasingly difficult to brush off given the past decade or so in American life. This is not to say that Obama’s second term was a failure, but that it was defined over and over again by the limitations of top-down reform. Ceaseless Republican obstruction, widespread economic instability, and unapologetic police brutality marred the encouraging tenor of Obama’s presidency. Donald Trump’s subsequent four years in office were spent stacking the federal judiciary with young, conservative judges sympathetic toward his pro-big-business, fuck-the-little-guy approach, and his primary legislative triumph was a tax bill that will steadily hurt working-class people year after year.

The election of Obama’s vice president Joe Biden, and the Democratic Party securing control of the U.S. Senate, were enough for a brief sigh of relief in November 2020. The $1.9 trillion stimulus bill passed in March 2021 does a lot of good in extending (albeit lessened) unemployment benefits, providing a child credit to qualifying families, and funneling further COVID-19 support to school districts after a year of the coronavirus pandemic. But Republicans? They all voted no to helping the Americans they represent. Stimulus checks to the middle-class voters who voted Biden into office? Decreased for some, totally cut off for others, because of Biden’s appeasement to the centrists in his party. $15 minimum wage? Struck down, by both Republicans and Democrats. In how many more ways can those politicians who are meant to serve us indicate that they have little interest in doing anything of the kind?

Modern American politics, then, can be seen as quite a performative endeavor, and an exercise in passing blame. Who caused the economic collapse of 2008? Some bad actors, who the government bailed out. Who suffered the most as a result? Everyday Americans, many of whom have never recovered. Killing Them Softly mimics this dynamic, and emphasizes the gulf between the oppressors and the oppressed. The nameless elites of the mob, sending a middle manager to oversee their dirty work. The poker-game organizer, who must be brutally punished for a mistake made years before. The felons let down by the criminal justice system, who turn again to crime for a lack of other options. The hitman who brushes off all questions of morality, and whose primary concern is getting adequately paid for his work. Money, money, money. “This country is fucked, I’m telling ya. There’s a plague coming,” Jackie Cogan says to the Driver who delivers the mob’s by-committee rulings as to who Jackie should intimidate, threaten, and kill so their coffers can start getting filled again. Perhaps the plague is already here.

“Total fucking economic collapse.”

In terms of pure gumption, you have to applaud Dominik for taking aim at some of the biggest myths America likes to tell about itself. After analyzing the dueling natures of fame and infamy through the lens of American outlaw mystique in The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford, Dominik thought bigger, taking on the entire American dream itself in Killing Them Softly. From the film’s very first second, Dominik doesn’t hold back, equating an easy path of forward progress with literal trash. Discordant tones and the film’s stark, white-on-black title cards interrupt Presidential hopeful Barack Obama’s speech about “the American promise,” slicing apart Obama’s words and his crowd’s responding cheers as felon Frankie (Scoot McNairy), in the all-American outfit of a denim jacket and jeans, cuts through what looks like a shut-down factory, debris and garbage blowing around him. Obama’s assurances sound very encouraging indeed: “Each of us has the freedom to make of our own lives what we will.” But when Frankie—surrounded by trash, cigarette dangling from his mouth, and eyes squinting shut against the wind—walks under dueling billboards of Obama, with the word “CHANGE” in all-caps, and Republican opponent John McCain, paired with the phrase “KEEPING AMERICA STRONG,” a better future doesn’t exactly seem possible. Frankie looks too downtrodden, too weary of all the emptiness around him, for that.

Dominik and cinematographer Greig Fraser spoke to American Cinematographer magazine in October 2012 about shooting in post-Hurricane Katrina New Orleans: “We were aiming for something generic, a little town between New Orleans, Boston and D.C. that we called Shitsville. We wanted the place to look like it’s on the down-and-down, on the way out. We wanted viewers to feel just how smelly and grimy and horrible it was, but at the same time, we didn’t want to alienate them visually.” They were successful: Every location has a rundown quality, from the empty lot in which Frankie waits for friend and partner-in-crime Russell (Ben Mendelsohn)—a concrete expanse decorated with a couple of wooden chairs, as if people with nowhere else to go use this as a gathering spot—to the dingy laundromat backroom where Frankie and Russell meet with criminal mastermind Johnny “Squirrel” Amato (Vincent Curatola), who enlists them to rob a mafia game night run by Markie Trattman (Ray Liotta), to the restaurant kitchen where the game is run, all sickly fluorescent lights, cracked tile, and makeshift tables. Holding up a game like this, from which the cash left on the tables flows upward into the mob’s pockets, is dangerous indeed. But years before, Markie himself engineered a robbery of the game, and although that transgression was forgiven because of how well-liked Markie is in this institution, it would be easy to lay the blame on him again. And that’s exactly what Squirrel, Frankie, and Russell plan to do.

The “Why?” for such a risk isn’t that hard to figure out. Squirrel sees an opportunity to make off with other people’s money, he knows that any accusatory fingers will point elsewhere first, and he wants to act on it before some other aspiring baddie does. (Ahem, sound like the 2008 mortgage crisis to you?) Frankie, tired of the crappy jobs his probation officer keeps suggesting—jobs that require both long hours and a long commute, when Frankie can’t even afford a car (“Why the fuck do they think I need a job in the first place? Fucking assholes”)—is drawn in by desperation borne from a lack of options. If he doesn’t come into some kind of money soon, “I’m gonna have to go back and knock on the gate and say, ‘Let me back in, I can’t think of nothing and it’s starting to get cold,’” Frankie admits. And Australian immigrant and heroin addict Russell is nursing his own version of the American dream: He’s going to steal a bunch of purebred dogs, drive them down to Florida to sell for thousands of dollars, buy an ounce of heroin once he has $7,000 in hand, and then step on the heroin enough to become a dealer. It’s only a few moves from where he is to where he wants to be, he figures, and this card-game heist can help him get there.

In softly lit rooms, where the men in the frame are in focus and their surroundings and backgrounds are slightly blown out, slightly blurred, or slightly fuzzy (“Creaminess is something you feel you can enter into, like a bath; you want to be absorbed and encompassed by it” Fraser told American Cinematographer of his approach), garish deals are made, and then somehow pulled off with a sobering combination of ineptitude and ugliness. Russell buys yellow dishwashing gloves for himself and Frankie to wear during the holdup, and they look absurd—but the pistol-whipping Russell doles out to Markie still hurts like hell, no matter what accessories he’s wearing. Dominik gives this holdup the paranoia and claustrophobia it requires, revolving his camera around the barely-holding-it-together Frankie and cutting every so often to the enraged players, their eyes glancing up to look at Frankie’s face, their hands twitching toward their guns. But in the end, nobody moves. When Frankie and Russell add insult to injury by picking the players’ pockets (“It’s only money,” they say, as if this entire ordeal isn’t exclusively about wanting other people’s money), nobody fights back. Nobody dies. Frankie and Russell make off with thousands of dollars in two suitcases, while Markie is left bamboozled—and afraid—by what just happened. And the players? They’ll get their revenge eventually. You can count on that.

So it goes that Dominik smash cuts us from the elated and triumphant Russell and Frankie driving away from the heist in their stolen 1971 Buick Riviera, its headlights interrupting the inky-black night, to the inside of Jackie Cogan’s 1967 Oldsmobile Toronado, with Johnny Cash’s “The Man Comes Around” providing an evocative accompaniment. “There’s a man going around taking names/And he decides who to free, and who to blame/Everybody won’t be treated all the same,” Cash sings in that unmistakably gravelly voice, and that’s exactly what Jackie does. Called in by the mob to capture who robbed the game so that gambling can begin again, Jackie meets with an unnamed character, referred to only as the Driver (Richard Jenkins), who serves as the mob’s representative in these sorts of matters. Unlike the other criminals in this film—Frankie, with his tousled hair and sheepish face; Russell, with his constant sweatiness and dog-funk smell; Jackie, in his tailored three-piece suits and slicked-back hair; Markie, with those uncannily blue eyes and his matching slate sportscoat—the Driver looks like a square.

He is, like the men who replace Mike Milligan in the second season of Fargo, a kind of accountant, a man with an office and a secretary. “The past can no more become the future than the future can become the past,” Milligan had said, and for all the backward-looking details of Killing Them Softly—American cars from the 1960s and 1970s, that whole masculine code-of-honor thing that Frankie and Russell break by ripping off Markie’s game, the post-industrial economic slump that brings to mind the American recession of 1973 to 1975—the Driver is very much an arm of a new kind of organized crime. He keeps his hands clean, and he delivers what the ruling-by-committee organized criminals decide, and he’s fussy about Jackie smoking cigarettes in his car, and he’s so bland as to be utterly forgettable. And he has the power, as authorized by his higher-ups, to approve Jackie putting pressure on Markie for more information about the robbery. It doesn’t matter that neither Jackie nor the mob thinks Markie actually did it. What matters more is that “People are losing money. They don’t like to lose money,” and so Jackie can do whatever he needs. Dominik gives him this primacy through a beautiful shot of Jackie’s reflection in the car window, his aviators a glinting interruption to the gray concrete overpass under which the Driver’s car is parked, to the smoke billowing out from faraway stacks, and to the overall gloominess of the day.

“We regret having to take these actions. Today’s actions are not what we ever wanted to do, but today’s actions are what we must do to restore confidence to our financial system,” we hear Treasury Secretary Henry Paulson say on the radio in the Driver’s car, and his October 14, 2008, remarks are about the Emergency Economic Stabilization Act of 2008—the government bailout of banks and other financial institutions that cost taxpayers $700 billion. (Remember Will Ferrell’s deadpan delivery in The Other Guys of “From everything I’ve heard, you guys [at the Securities and Exchange Commission] are the best at these types of investigations. Outside of Enron and AIG, and Bernie Madoff, WorldCom, Bear Stearns, Lehman Brothers ...”) Yet the appeasing sentiment of Paulson’s words applies to Jackie, too, and to the beating he orders for Markie—a man he suspects did nothing wrong, at least not this time. But debts must be settled. Heads must roll. “Whoever is unjust, let him be unjust still/Whoever is righteous, let him be righteous still/Whoever is filthy, let him be filthy still,” Cash sang, and Jackie is all those men, and he’ll collect the stolen golden crowns as best he can. For a price, of course. Always for a price.

“I like to kill them softly, from a distance, not close enough for feelings. Don’t like feelings. Don’t want to think about them.”

In “Bad Dreams,” the penultimate episode of the second season of The Wire, International Brotherhood of Stevedores union representative Frank Sobotka (Chris Bauer), having seen his brothers in arms made immaterial by the lack of work at the Baltimore ports and the collapse of their industry, learns that his years of bribing politicians to vote for expanded funding for the longshoremen isn’t going to pay off. He is furious, and he is exhausted. “We used to make shit in this country, build shit. Now we just put our hand in the next guy’s pocket,” he says with the fatigue of a man who knows his time has run out, and you can draw a direct line from Bauer’s beleaguered delivery of those lines to Liotta’s aghast reaction to the horrendous beating he receives from Jackie’s henchmen. Sobotka in The Wire had no idea how he got to that helpless place, and neither does Markie in Killing Them Softly—he made a mistake, but that was years ago. Everyone forgave him. Didn’t they?

The vicious assault leveled upon Markie is a harrowing, horrifying sequence that is also unnervingly beautiful, and made all the more awful as a result of that visual splendor. In the pouring rain, Markie is held captive by the two men, who deliver bruising body shots, break his noise, batter his body against the car, and kick in his ribs. “You see fight scenes a lot in movies, but you don’t see people systematically beating somebody else. The idea was just to make it really, really, really ugly,” Dominik told the New York Times in November 2012, and sound mixer Leslie Shatz and cinematographer Fraser also contributed to this unforgettable scene. Shatz used the sound of a squeegee across a windshield to accentuate Markie’s increasingly destroyed body slumping against the car, and also incorporated flash bulbs going off as punches were thrown, adding a kind of lingering effect to the scene’s soundscape. And although the scene looks like it’s shot in slow motion, Fraser explained to American Cinematographer that the combination of an overhead softbox and dozens of background lights helped build that layered effect in which Liotta is fully illuminated while the dark night around him remains impenetrable. Every drop of rain and every splatter of blood stands out on Markie’s face as he confesses ignorance regarding the robbery and begs for mercy from Jackie’s men, but Markie has already been marked for death. When the time comes, Jackie will shoot him in the head in another exquisitely detailed, shot-in-ultrahigh-speed scene that bounces back and forth between the initial act of violence and its ensuing destruction. The cartridges flying out of Jackie’s gun, and the bullets destroying Markie’s window, and then his brain. Markie’s car, now no longer in his control, rolling forward into an intersection where it’s hit not just once, but twice, by oncoming cars. The crunching sound of Markie’s head against his windshield, and the vision of that glass splintering from the impact of his flung body, are impossible to shake.

“Cause and effect,” Dominik seems to be telling us, and Killing Them Softly follows Jackie as he cleans up the mess Squirrel, Frankie, and Russell have made. After he enlists another hitman, Mickey (a fantastically whoozy James Gandolfini, who carries his bulk like the armor of a samurai searching for a new master), whose constant boozing, whoring, and laziness shock Jackie after years of successful work together, and who refuses to do the killing for which Jackie secured him a $15,000 payday, Jackie realizes he’ll need to do this all himself. He’ll need to gather the intel that fingers Frankie, Russell, and Squirrel. He’ll need to set up a police sting to entrap Russell on his purchased ounce of heroin, violating the terms of his probation, and he’ll need to set up another police sting to entrap Mickey for getting in a fight with a prostitute, violating the terms of his probation. For Jackie, a career criminal for whom ethical questions have long since evaporated, Russell’s and Frankie’s sloppiness in terms of bragging about their score is a source of disgust. “I guess these guys, they just want to go to jail. They probably feel at home there,” he muses, and he’s then exasperated by the Driver’s trepidation regarding the brutality of his methods. Did the Driver’s bosses want the job done or not? “We aim to please,” Jackie smirks, and that shark smile is the sign of a predator getting ready to feast.

Things progress rapidly then: Jackie tracks Frankie down to the bar where he hangs out, and sneers at Frankie’s reticence to turn on Squirrel. “They’re real nice guys,” he says mockingly to Frankie of the criminal underworld of which they’re a part, brushing off Frankie’s defense that Squirrel “didn’t mean it.” “That’s got nothing to do with it. Nothing at all,” Jackie replies, and that’s the kind of distance that keeps Jackie in this job. Sure, the vast majority of us aren’t murderers. But as a question of scale, aren’t all of us as workers compromised in some way? Employees of companies, institutions, or billionaires that, say, pollute the environment, or underpay their staff, or shirk labor laws, or rake in unheard-of profits during an international pandemic? Or a government that spreads imperialism through allegedly righteous military action (referenced in Killing Them Softly, as news coverage of the economic crisis mentions the reckless rapidity with which President George W. Bush invaded Afghanistan and Iraq after Sept. 11, 2001), or that can’t quite figure out how to house the nation’s homeless into the millions of vacant homes sitting empty around the country, or that refuses, over and over again, to raise the minimum wage workers are paid so that they have enough financial security to live decent lives?

Perhaps you bristle at this comparison to Jackie Cogan, a man who has no qualms blowing apart Squirrel with a shotgun at close range, or unloading a revolver into Frankie after spending an evening driving around with him. But the guiding American principle when it comes to work is that you do a job and you get paid: It’s a very simple contract, and both sides need to operate in good faith to fulfill it. Salaried employees, hourly workers, freelancers, contractors, day laborers, the underemployed—all operate under the assumption that they’ll be compensated, and all live with the fear that they won’t. Jackie knows this, as evidenced by his loathing toward compatriot Kenny (Slaine) when the man tries to pocket the tip Jackie left for his diner waitress. “For fuck’s sake,” Jackie says in response to Kenny’s attempted theft, and you can sense that if Jackie could kill him in that moment, he would. In this way, Jackie is rigidly conservative, and strictly old-school. Someone else’s money isn’t yours to take; it’s your responsibility to earn, and your employer’s responsibility to pay. Jackie cleaned up the mob’s mess, and the gambling tables opened again because of his work, and his labor resulted in their continued profits. And Jackie wants what he’s owed.

“Don’t make me laugh. ‘We’re one people.’”

We hear two main voices of authority urging calm throughout Killing Them Softly. Then-President Bush: “I understand your worries and your frustration. … We’re in the midst of a serious financial crisis, and the federal government is responding with decisive action.” Presidential hopeful Obama: “There’s only the road we’re traveling on as Americans.” Paulson speaks on the Emergency Economic Stabilization Act, and various news commentators chime in, too: “There needs to be consequences, and there needs to be major change.” Radio commentary and C-SPAN coverage combine into a sort of secondary accompaniment to Marc Streitenfeld’s score, which incorporates lyrically germane Big Band standards like “Life Is Just a Bowl of Cherries” (“You work, you save, you worry so/But you can’t take your dough”) and “It’s Only a Paper Moon” (“It's a Barnum and Bailey world/Just as phony as it can be”). All of these are Dominik’s additions to Cogan’s Trade, which is a slim, 19-chapter book without any political angle, and this frame is what met so much resistance from contemporaneous reviews.

But what Dominik accomplishes with this approach is twofold. First, a reminder of the ceaseless tension and all-encompassing anxiety of that time, which would spill into the Occupy Wall Street movement, coalesce support around politicians like Bernie Sanders and Elizabeth Warren, and fuel growing national interest in policies like universal health care and universal basic income. For anyone who struggled during that time—as I did, a college graduate entering the 2009 job market after the journalism industry was already beginning its still-continuing freefall—Killing Them Softly captures the free-floating anger so many of us felt at politicians bailing out corporations rather than people. Perhaps in 2012, only weeks after the re-election of Obama and with the potential that his second term could deliver on some of his campaign promises (closing Guantanamo Bay, maybe, or passing significant gun control reform, maybe), this cinematic scolding felt like medicine. But nearly a decade later, with neither of these legislative successes in hand, and with the wins for America’s workers so few and far between—still a $7.25 federal minimum wage, still no federal paid maternity and family leave act, still the refusal by many states to let their government employees unionize—if you don’t feel demoralized by how often the successes of the Democratic Party are stifled by the party’s own moderates or thoroughly curtailed by saboteur Republicans, maybe you’re not paying attention.

More acutely, then, the mutinous spirit of Killing Them Softly accomplishes something similar to what 1990’s Pump Up the Volume did: It allows one to say, with no irony whatsoever, “Do you ever get the feeling everything in America is completely fucked up?” The disparities of the financial system, and the yawning gap between the rich and the poor. The utter lack of accountability toward those who were supposed to protect us, and didn’t. And the sense that we’re always being a little bit cheated by a ruling class who, like Sobotka observed on The Wire, is always putting their hand in our pocket. Consider Killing Them Softly’s quietest moment, in which Frankie realizes that he’s a hunted man, and that the people from whom he stole would never let him live. Dominik frames McNairy tight, his expression a flickering mixture of plaintive yearning and melancholic regret, as he quietly says, “It’s just shit, you know? The world is just shit. We’re all just on our own.” A day or so later, McNairy’s Frankie will be lying on a medical examiner’s table, his head partially collapsed from a bullet to the brain, an identification tag looped around his pinky toe. And the men who ordered his death want to underpay the man who carried it out for them. Isn’t that the shit?

That leads us, then, to the film’s angriest moment, and to a scene that stands alongside the climaxes of so many other post-recession films: Chris Pine’s Toby Howard paying off the predatory bank that swindled his mother with its own stolen money in Hell or High Water, Lakeith Stanfield’s Cash Green and his fellow Equisapiens storming billionaire Steve Lift’s (Armie Hammer’s) mansion in Sorry to Bother You, Viola Davis’s Veronica Rawlings shooting her cheating husband and keeping the heist take for herself and her female comrades in Widows. So far in Killing Them Softly, Pitt has played Jackie with a certain level of remove. A man’s got to have a code, and his is fairly simple: Don’t get involved emotionally with the assignment. Pitt’s Jackie is susceptible to flashes of irritation, though, that manifest as a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes, and as an octave-lower growl that belies his impatience: with the Driver, for not understanding how Markie’s reputation has doomed him; with Mickey, for his procrastination and his slovenliness; with Kenny, for stealing a hardworking woman’s tip; with Frankie, when he tries to distract Jackie from killing Squirrel. Jackie is a professional, and he is intolerant of people failing to work at his level, and Pitt plays the man as tiptoeing along a knife’s edge. Remember Daniel Craig’s “’Cause it’s all so fucking hysterical” line delivery in Road to Perdition? Pitt’s whole performance is that: a hybrid offering of bemusement, smugness, and ferocity that suggests a man who’s seen it all, and hasn’t been impressed by much.

In the final minutes of Killing Them Softly, Obama has won his historic first term in the White House, and Pitt’s Jackie strides through a red haze of celebratory fireworks as he walks to meet the Driver at a bar to retrieve payment. An American flag hangs in this dive, and the TV broadcasts Obama’s victory speech, delivered in Chicago to a crowd of more than 240,000. “Crime stories, to some extent, always felt like the capitalist ideal in motion,” Dominik told the New York Times. “Because it’s the one genre where it’s perfectly acceptable for the characters to be motivated solely by money.” And so it goes that Jackie feels no guilt for the men he’s killed, or the men he’s sent away. Nor does he feel any empathy or kinship with the newly elected Obama, whose messages of unity and community he finds amusingly irrelevant. The life Jackie lives is one defined by how little people value each other, and how quick they are to attack one another if that means more opportunity—and more money—for them. Thomas Hobbes said that a life without social structure and political representation would be “solitary, poor, nasty, brutish, and short,” and perhaps that’s exactly what Jackie’s is. Unlike the character in Cogan’s Trade, Dominik’s Jackie has no wife and no personal life. But he’s surviving this way with his eyes wide open, and he will not be undervalued.

The contrast between Obama’s speech about “the enduring power of our ideas—democracy, liberty, opportunity, and unyielding hope”—and Jackie’s realization that the mob is trying to underpay him for the three men he assassinated at their behest makes for a kind of nauseating, thrilling coda. He’s owed $45,000, and the envelope the Driver paid him only has $30,000 in it. Obama’s audience chanting “Yes, we can,” the English translation of the United Farm Workers of America’s slogan and the activist César Chávez’s iconic “Sí, se puede” catchphrase, adds an ironic edge to the argument between the Driver and Jackie about the value of his labor. Whatever the Driver can use to try and shrug off Jackie’s advocacy for himself, he will. Jackie’s killings were too messy. Jackie is asking for more than the mob’s usual enforcer, Dillon (Sam Shepard), who would have done a better job. Jackie is ignoring that the mob is limited to “Recession prices”—they’re suffering, so that suffering has to trickle down to someone. Jackie made the deal with Mickey for $15,000 per head, and the mob isn’t beholden to pay Jackie what they agreed to pay Mickey.

On and on, excuse after excuse, until one finally pushes Jackie over the edge: “This business is a business of relationships,” the Driver says, which is one step away from the “We’re all family here” line that so many abusive companies use to manipulate their cowed employees. And so when Jackie goes coolly feral in his response, dropping knowledge not only about the artifice of the racist Thomas Jefferson as a Founding Father but underscoring the idea that America has always been, and will always be, a capitalist enterprise first, the moment slaps all the harder for all the ways we know we’ve been let down by feckless bureaucrats like the Driver, who do only as they’re told; by faceless corporate overlords like the mob, issuing orders to Jackie from on high; and by a broader country that seems like it couldn’t care less about us. “I’m living in America, and in America, you’re on your own … Now fucking pay me” serves as a kind of clarion call, an expression of vehemence and resentment, and a direct line into the kind of anger that still festers among those continuously left behind—still living in Shitstown, still trying to make a better life for themselves, and still asking for a little more respect from their fellow Americans. For all of Killing Them Softly’s ugliness, for all its nihilism, and for all its commentary on how our country’s ruthless individualism has turned chasing the American dream into a crippling addiction we all share, that demand for dignity remains distressingly relevant. Maybe it’s time to listen.

#killing them softly #andrew dominik #andrew dominik film #brad pitt #Jackie Cogan #james gandolfini #richard jenkins #ray liotta #scoot mcnairy #ben mendelsohn #american cinematographer #financial crisis 2008 #independent film #beastie boys #oscilloscope laboratories #film writing #musings

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imagineurfavs · 4 years ago

Text

Astro: Moonbin A-Z

“Can you do A-Z nsfw for Moobin from Astro? Ty if you do!”

“hihi can I get a astro moonbin A-Z like you did for eunwoo? thank you so much, love your writing :)”

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A - Aftercare He’d be super into aftercare, but from more of a health conscious perspective lol. Like to be fair, y’all have just exerted a huge amount of energy so I guess it’s considered a workout?? He’d probably turn back up with a banana and some oat milk afterwards lol

B - Body Part (their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner) On himself he likes his back, he loves nothing more than feeling your nails running down his spine. On his partner, he loves their thighs/butt, anything he can grab a handful of basically lmao

C - Cum Boy can get kinda aggressive when he cums lol like he’d really be slamming against you, lowkey growling and everything lmao. Has zero preference for where he cums lol, it’s honestly the last thing on his mind at the time

D - Dirty Secret (a dirty secret of theirs) He’s kinda always had a bit of an attraction to pet play. Not like all of what it entails, but like the whole owner/property aspect of it, as well as the outfits which he finds super hot. Just picturing you in cat ears...only cat ears and maybe a tail, really gets him going. He just doesn't want you to accuse him of being a furry so he never brings it up lol

E - Experience Maybe a little bit, like he’s no stranger to those kinda things, but I dont think he’s some kinda sex guru either lol

F - Favourite Position doggy for suuuuure. He’ll keep a vice grip on your hips the entire time, hard enough to leave tiny fingertip sized bruises for the next couple of days.

G - Goofy (are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous etc) It’s more so afterwards, when he comes back down to earth, that he goes back to being all smiley and silly. In the moment he’s really not goofy at all, he’s in dom mode lmao this aint no time for giggles.

H - Hair (how well groomed are they) He tries to keep it well groomed, but sometimes he just really can’t be bothered lol so it varies between super tidy and neat, to being kinda unkempt

I - Intimacy (how are they during the moment, romantic aspect) His intimacy would usually come out after the fact, but during, he’s really not that intimate. Like, if it’s a special occasion; valentines day, your birthday etc maybe then he’d make an exception. But aside from that, not really lol

J - Jack Off (Masturbation) I picture it being something he does after working out lol, as a way to channel all that excess energy. So, basically look at how jacked he is, think about how often he must work out...that’s how often he does it lmao

K - Kinks (one of more of their kinks) Loves bringing food into the equation lol, he’d definitely have wanted to try licking melted chocolate off of you numerous times.

L - Location (Favourite places to do the do) I feel like, privacy being guaranteed; he’d love to have sex somewhere outdoors. Like even if that meant renting someones airbnb to go on holiday just to have sex in the garden lmao. As long as it’s private, and preferably grassy, that’s all that matters

M - Motivation (What turns them on) He loves it when you dress up for him. Not even particularly in a sexy lingerie type of way lol, just when you put on something specifically bc you know he likes it. Just fills him with the urge to rip it all right off you

N - NO (something they won't do, turn offs) I don’t really think there’s that many things he’s totally opposed to,

O - Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc) This could be a good or a bad thing depending on your own taste lol but he gets super messy when giving oral like, he’s all over the place

P - Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc) Definitely on the rougher end of the scale. He’ll start off slower, but somehow always ends up getting to an unholy pace lmao.

Q - Quickies (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc) He likes them, he really likes them, he’s just not very good at them if that makes sense lol. He’s not very good at making it quick, and he always ends up getting carried away.

R - Risk (are they down to experiment, do they take risks?) He’s definitely down, he’ll be open to try literally whatever you might suggest lol. He’ll definitely have his own list of stuff to try out as well

S - Stamina (how many rounds can they go, how long do they last? etc) Honestly he’s not gonna wanna stop until you ask him to. He can go for however long you need

T - Toy (do they own toys do they use them on a partner or on themselves?) I don’t think he’d own any himself, but he’s for sure open to y’all getting a bunch to experiment with. He’d love to have them used on him as much as being used on you. He particularly likes being blindfolded lmao

U - Unfair (how much they like to tease) He’s more so a tease with his words than with his actions, the shit he’d say good lord, who knew he had such a dirty mouth :oooo Needless to say he loves it just as much when you say equally explicit things right back to him

V - Volume (how loud are they, what type of sounds they make) He’s a growler lol, they can be kinda quiet, but they are there. I feel like he’ll be super quiet during the build up/foreplay, but as he really gets going, he can get reeally loud. rip neighbours lol

W - Wild Card (a random headcannon) Two words. Sex swing. He’s had the urge to buy one for the longest time but is lowkey intimidated by them bc they look like...a lot to deal with. But the thought of cumming whilst suspended in midair, or hitting it from the back whilst gravity propels you onto his cock is just something that gets him hard just thinking about

X - X-ray (what's going on inside those pants) Pretty much average in length, maybe a tiny bit thicker than average, quite veiny

Y - Yearning (How high is their sex drive) It’s pretty high, or at least a little higher than average. Maybe 3-4 times a week lol, could be less depending on how intense the sessions get

Z - Zzz... (How quickly they fall asleep afterwards) He’ll be knocked out RIGHT AWAY. Like its honestly kinda insane how quickly he can just clock out afterwards

#astro reactions #astro smut #astro imagines #astro scenario #astro moonbin #astro moon bin #moonbin #moonbin smut #moonbin scenarios #moonbin imagine #moonbin reactions #moon bin

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bookcoversalt · 4 years ago

Note

Have you noticed the latest edition of Charlie Bowater can only draw one (1) face? She did The Princess Will Save You and Cast In Firelight both YA Fantasy set to be released this year. And they are how you say... the same fucking cover

Ah yes so you saw the same tweet I did

I know I literally just posted that we cannot outlaw book covers from looking like each other, but ! Oof!

The only thing that softens the blow here is that Charlie has improved at representing nonwhite features such that characters look like POC rather than tan white people, although,, that bar was low. Anybody remember the ACOTAR coloring book.

(Would you have guessed that 2/3 of these people are nonwhite? Or even that they’re supposed to be three different men? I guess all the men in Prythian have the same haircut?)

But that minor victory is mostly lost in the quagmires of the fact that Charlie’s style is to give everyone instagram face:

I wouldn’t even call this “Sameface” necessarily: that implies limitation, that an artist is only capable of drawing a single facial structure competently. Bowater is incredibly technically talented, she just chooses to give everyone catlike fae eyes and the cheekbones of a starving nymph. (My previous post on this here.)

But I don’t really blame her for that, or for these hilariously identical, nearly devoid of personality covers. Artists are allowed to do whatever they want. Artists who make art for covers are being art directed by designers and marketing teams who bear responsibility for how the finished pieces turn out.

No, this is our fault, as a community and an industry and..... society, kind of, for valuing character portraits that are “pretty” (“pretty” being an extremely loaded, culturally subjective concept) over art that actually Says Something About The Story. Bowater’s style happens to dovetail perfectly with what we currently collectively find pretty, and so we’ve put her art on a pedestal at the cost of everything else art can or should do for our stories.

And this is understandable: in contemporary western culture, pretty is a value unto itself. Seeing our characters portrayed as pretty denotes them as special, as smart, as powerful. It’s almost impossible to de-program ourselves from that reaction. There are approximately five kajillion studies on how beautiful people are at personal and professional advantages; how they’re perceived to be happier, healthier, more successful, and how those perceptions can translate into realities. (Nevermind how thinness and whiteness enter that equation, see above note about “pretty”.) I would love to see more “average” or weird- looking characters abound (and be accurately visually represented) in the YA/ Genre lit sphere, but for now... everyone is pretty.

Which sometimes means everyone is pretty boring.

But that’s just the specific, "What’s the deal with Bowater’s success in book circles and her style and all the sameiness” part of this equation. What if we backed up and asked: why character art at all? Beyond a question of “pretty”-ness (and general obvious Artistic Quality), why do we gravitate towards it, what's the purpose of it, how does it fall flat in a general sense, and how can it be utilized more effectively?

This is something I think about all the time. I follow writers on social media (because..... I am a writer on social media, regrettably), and we have an enormous collective boner for character art. “Getting fanart [of the characters]” is one of the achievement pinnacles constantly cited when people get or want to get published. Commissioning character art is something we reward ourselves with, or save up for (WHICH IS GOOD AND CORRECT. FREE ART IS GREAT BUT DO NOT SOLICIT IT. PAY YOUR ARTISTS). And like???? Same????? We love our stories because we’re invested in our characters. Most humans, even prose writers, are visual creatures to some extent, and no matter how happy we are with our text-based art, it’s exciting to see our creations exist in that form. So we turn that art into promo material and we advocate for it on our covers-- because it’s so meaningful to us! It goes with the story perfectly!! Look at my dumb beautiful children!!!!!

But on an emotional level, it’s hard to grasp that it only means something to us. Particularly when you take into account the aforementioned vast landscape of beautiful visual blandness of many characters (in the YA/ genre lit sphere, that’s pretty much all I’m ever talking about), character art can be like baby photos. If you know the baby, if that baby is your new niece or your friend’s kid, if you’ve held them and their parent texts you updates when they do cute shit, you’re probably excited to see that baby photo. But unless it’s exceptionally cute, a random stranger’s baby photo isn’t likely to invoke an emotional reaction other than “this is why I don’t get on facebook.”

Seeing art of characters they don’t know might intrigue a reader, but especially if the characters or art are unremarkable-looking, it’s doing a hell of a lot more for the people who already have an emotional attachment to that character than anybody else. And that’s fine. Art for a small, invested audience is incredibly rewarding. But like the parent who cannot see why you don’t think their baby is THE MOST BEAUTIFUL BABY IN THE WORLD???? I think we have trouble divesting our emotional reaction to character art from its actual marketing value, which.... is often pretty minimal. This is my hill to die on #143:

Character portraits, even beautiful ones, are meaningless as a marketing tool without additional context or imagery.

I love character art! I’m not saying it should not exist or that it’s worthless! Even art that appeals to only the one single person who made it has value and the right to exist. And part of this conversation is how important for POC to see themselves on covers, whether illustrations or stock imagery, particularly in YA/kidlit. I’m not saying character portrait covers are “bad”.

I am saying that I have seen dozens and dozens of sets of character art for characters who look interchangeable, and it has never driven me to preorder a book. (Also one character portrait for a high-profile 2019 debut that was clearly just a painting of Amanda Seyfriend. You know the one. There’s nothing wrong with faceclaims but lmfao, girl,,,,)

I’m sure that’s not true for everyone! I am incredibly picky about art. It’s my job. There’s nothing wrong with your card deck of cell-shaded boys of ambiguous age and ethnicity who all have the same button nose and smirk if it Sparks Joy for you.

But if your goal is not only to delight yourself, but to sell books, it’s in your best interest to remember that art, like writing, is a form of communication. The publishing industry runs on pitches: querys, blurbs, proposals, self-promo tweets. What if we applied that logic to our visuals? How can we utilize our character design and art to communicate as much about our stories as possible, in the most enticing way?

Social media has already driven the embrace of this concept in a very general sense. Authors are now supposed to have ~ aesthetics. “Picspams” or graphics, modular collages that function as mini moodboards, are commonplace. But the labor intensity and relative scarcity of character art visible in bookish circles, even on covers, means that application of marketing sensibility to it is less intuitive than throwing together a pinterest board.

Since we were talking about it earlier, WICKED SAINTS, as a case study of a recent “successful” fantasy YA debut, arguably owed a lot of its early social media momentum to fanart.

(Early fanart by @warickaart)

The most frequently drawn character, Malachiasz, has long hair, claws, and distinctive face tattoos. WS has a strong aesthetic in general, but those features clearly marked his fanart as him in a way even someone unfamiliar with the book could clearly track across different styles. Different interpretations of his tattoos from different artists even became a point of interest.

(Art by Jaria Rambaran, also super early days of WS Being A Thing)

Aside from distinctiveness, it's a clear visual representation of his history as a cult member, his monstrous powers, and the story’s dark, medieval tone. The above image is also a great example of character interaction, something missing from straightforward portraits, that communicates a dynamic. Character dynamics draw people into stories: enemies-to-lovers, friends-to-lovers, childhood rivals, platonic life partners, love triangles, devoted siblings, exes who still carry the flame-- there’s a reason we codify these into tropes, and integrate that language and shared knowledge into our marketing. For another example in that vein, I really love this art by @MabyMin, commissioned by Gina Chen:

The wrist grip! The fancy outfits! These are two nobles who hate each other and want to bone and I am sold.

In terms of true portraits, the best recent example I can think of is the set @NicoleDeal did for Roshani Chokshi’s GILDED WOLVES (I believe as a preorder incentive of some kind?):

They showcase settings, props, and poses that all communicate the characters’ interests, skills, and personality, as well as the glamorous, elaborate aesthetic of the overall story. Even elements in the gold borders change, alluding to other plot points and symbology.

For painterly accuracy in character portraits on covers, I love SPIN THE DAWN. The heroine looks like a beautiful badass, yes, but the thoughtful, detailed rendering of every element, soft textures, and dynamic, fluid composition form a really cohesive, stunning illustration that presents an intriguing collection of story elements.

The devil isn’t always in the details, though: stark, moody, highly stylized or graphic art with an emphasis on textural contrast and bold color and shape rather than representational accuracy can communicate a lot (emotionally and tonally) while pretty much foregoing realism.

The new Lunar Chronicles covers are actually the best examples I found of this (Trying to stay within the realm of existing bookish art rather than branch into All Art Of Human Figures Forever):

Taking cues from styles more typical of the comics and video game industries. (Games and comics, as visual mediums, are sources of incredible character art and I highly recommend following artists in those industries if you want to See More Cool Art On Your Timeline.)

TL;DR: Character art and design, as a marketing tool (even an incidental one) should be as unique to your story and your characters as possible, and tell us about the story in ways that make us want to read it. I tried to give examples because there are so many ways to do this, and so many different kinds of art, and I could give many more! But I’m bored now. So to circle all the way back:

These are not just bad because they look like each other, although that is embarrassing and illuminating. These are bad covers (although,,,,, PRINCESS is the far worse offender, at least FIRELIGHT suggests a thoughtful cultural analogue) because a desire for Pretty Character Art overrode the basic cover function to tell us about the story. We get no sense of who these people are, what their relationships are, what these books are about beyond the most general genre, or why we might care. The expressions are vague, the characters generic-looking, the compositions uninteresting and the colors failing to be indicative of anything in particular.

They’re somebody else’s baby pictures.

(And yes, that’s the CRUEL PRINCE font on PRINCESS. I better not have to do a roundup post but it’s on thin fucking ice.)

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