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01zfan · 9 months ago

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Can you do a story where the female reader is getting backshots from shotaro and his members walk in and see you naked?

rushed | o. st

idol!shotaro x reader | 2.8k words

contains: sneaking around, backshots, getting caught

you rarely got to see shotaro. separate lives kept you apart more days than you would like to admit, and time always felt like it was slipping away when you were with him.

it was also increasingly hard to get him alone, always surrounded by his bandmates. you couldn’t blame shotaro or his team, they were only doing their job most of the time. you knew it wasn’t your place to ask them to clear out their shared dorm so you could have alone time with your boyfriend. unplanned alone time became a luxury, and you two treated it as such.

it was a shame that time always felt like it was fleeting when you got shotaro alone. you two never knew when someone else would walk through the door, or when shotaro would get called to go to practice. the fleeting time made you two act like hormonal teenagers no matter where you were. time was of the essence, you two had to do whatever you couldn’t do in front of others as fast as possible. this meant dry humping on that black couch in the studio in the middle of the night, or shotaro pressing your body against the glass in the practice room early morning before everyone else arrived. making out the second you two were alone became a habit, lips instantly attaching and hands grasping at the other the second no one else was around.

there were several close calls when you guys would fool around. it didn’t help that you two would get so caught up in the moment you forgot there’s other people in the world, too. you remember pushing shotaro to the floor when someone almost caught you two making out on the in a lounge room. you were laid on your back while shotaro kissed your neck, rubbing his hands up and down your arms. shotaro was no help, he was awful at paying attention to his surroundings in these situations. shotaro’s only thoughts were filled with you, the way your skin was so soft and how he hasn’t had the chance to kiss you in so long. he thought it was criminal he didn’t get any alone time with his girlfriend, sometimes he cursed the life he chose because it kept him away from you. shotaro was taking his time when you saw the blurry figure of someone through the frosted glass of the door. before the knob was turned the same hands that were pulling shotaro closer to you pushed him backwards by the shoulders. he launched to the other side of the sofa and you grabbed your phone that was previously forgotten on the coffee table.

poor anton was subjected to seeing you two pretend like the obvious wasn’t so obvious. you looked to the anton and then followed anton’s eyes to shotaro’s mussed hair and wrinkled shirt. your boyfriend wasn’t only bad at listening for people coming, but also terrible at acting nonchalant. shotaro had a shocked expression on his face and was frozen in place on the couch. you were also frazzled, but atleast you had the sense to pretend like you were looking at your phone. anton saw right through your act though, especially because you looked just as disheveled as shotaro.

“just here for the vending machine.” anton said.

you three were forced to bask in the awkward atmosphere as anton walked to the machine. anton took his sweet time, going over the options a million times like it was his first time seeing the machine. you couldn’t see anton’s face but you’re sure he was smiling, making you two suffer through the consequences of your actions.

“you like cola right, anton?” shotaro said.

now you were trying to hold back your laugh at shotaro ver yclearly trying to rush anton out of the room.

“i love cola.” anton said, holding back a laugh.

the soda dropping from the vending machine was the only sound in the room. anton slowly walked to the door and opened the soda, making an obnoxious sound after taking a sip. with his hand on the door, anton cast a look backwards.

“you two lovebirds have fun.” anton said giggling.

after that incident, you and shotaro became more careful. you set rules in place to avoid having to bear through another awkward moments like that one. only kissing on the lips was allowed in public places with no locks on the doors. no more grinding, no more shotaro putting a quick hand in your pants in shared spaces or you giving him hickeys in spots his shirts covered.

because of this, you two hadn’t gone beyond chaste kisses for nearly two weeks. it had gotten to the point that you thought you were going to die if you weren’t able to get him alone soon. your prayers were ironically answered when shotaro got sick. it wasn’t anything serious, something similar to a simple cold. so close to the comeback it was important for shotaro to quarantine from his group so it didn’t spread.

you won’t believe this, but i’m all alone in the dorms right now.

you nearly fell over when you saw that text. you had never been somewhere so fast in your life, getting to the dorms in record time. shotaro did seem a little sick when he opened the door, but your need for him outweighed the risk of getting sick.

shotaro couldn’t even close the door before your lips were on his. you had to shut the door with your foot as you continued to kiss shotaro, moving backwards towards his bedroom. you two made a mess in the space between the door and shotaro’s room. things were pushed off of the tiny table beside the couch as shotaro leaned you against it. being able to lean against the piece of furniture gave you the ability to wrap your leg around shotaro’s waist, pulling him into you.

“someone is eager.” shotaro laughed before going to kiss your neck.

he was mocking you but just as depraved. you could feel his hardening dick press against your heat. your rushed hands made quick work of your shirt. you had strategically chosen a button up so you wouldn’t have to waste time pulling a shirt over your head.

“how long do we have?” you asked.

you contemplated letting your boyfriend fuck you then and there on that tiny table, or moving it to the couch. but if time allotted, you wanted to fuck him properly on his bed.

“an hour atleast. my medicine is across town.” shotaro said.

you push shotaro lightly by the shoulders, getting off of the table.

“let’s go to your room then.” you say.

shotaro basically runs to his while you laughing at him. all signs of shotaro’s being sick is gone as he undresses himself at the speed of light. shotaro doesn’t even bother to take off his shirt before he pulls you to the bed with him. you both giggle as he helps you out of your clothes. he kisses the exposed body that he hasn’t gotten the chance to kiss in so long.

“look who’s the eager one now.” you laugh.

shotaro is still giggles as he trails kisses up and down your body. you laugh when he hits a ticklish place and gasp when he bites you slightly. all the kisses are wet and melt into your skin.

“how do you want it?” shotaro asks.

he has to look up at you from your thigh, the place where he left an already forming hickey. shotaro hopes that you get the hint of him being so close to your heat that you let him eat you out. you want nothing more than that, feeling his sloppy wet kisses on your folds and his fingers on your clit. but you know that shotaro has the tendency to get carried away while tasting you, and you won’t be able to stop him once he starts. you also know that you need it rough and fast before time slips away and you don’t think you can go another day without feeling him inside of you. so you sit up on the bed as shotaro follows your every move.

“can you do it from the back?” you ask.

“of course.” shotaro says.

he leads you to your hands and knees and you sink into your arch while shotaro helps you, spreading your legs a little wider so he can slot himself between them. before you reach for his pillow shotaro stops you by placing a soft smack to your ass. he swipes his dick between your folds, collecting the slick that’s there. you let out a tiny gasp feeling him.

“i need to hear you baby.” shotaro says.

you had become so accustomed to hiding your mewls and moans into shotaro’s pillows and blankets that it had become second nature to grab a muffler for. your cries. but you were alone, so you let out a tiny whine as you could hear shotaro pumping his length.

“that’s my girl.” shotaro said.

his other hand goes to the small of your back, pressing down slightly. anticipation builds over your body as you wait for shotaro. just when you think he’s about to put it in he rests on his haunches. he puts two fingers inside of you and you moan and push your ass back. shotaro gives you another smack to keep you in place as he fucks you with his fingers.

“taro.” you whine breathlessly.

you are so desperate this alone has you on edge. shotaro places a kiss to your ass cheek and sucks on the skin. you can hear the lewd sounds of his fingers in your clit and he breaks away from your ass cheek with a lewd pop.

“gotta stretch you out. but you’re so wet it won’t be a problem right?” shotaro says.

you can hear the smirk in his voice as he adds in a third finger. you don’t care if he’s teasing you or if he wants you to beg. you will give him whatever he wants if that means he’ll fuck you. you shake your head into the mattress and you clench around his fingers.

“shotaro please put it in.” you cry out.

shotaro withdraws his fingers and gets up from the back of his legs. he gives your ass gentle pats, watching the recoil of your ass.

“patience baby.” shotaro says

shotaro uses the same that was inside of your to guide his dick to your entrance. he moves his hand from his dick to your ass to spread you out further. your hands grip the sheets of the bed when you can feel him prodding past your folds.

you let out a prolonged whine as shotaro slowly sinks into you. the way he has you spread makes you feel him more and guides him in deeper. you are both lost in the feeling, shotaro takes the bottom of his shirt into his mouth for a better view. he keeps you still when he sinks all the way in, loving the feeling of your squirm and clench around his length. you can’t believe how cruel the world was, keeping you from feeling this for so long. shotaro pulls out all the way before sliding back in just as slow. he takes off his shirt, his body becoming too hot feeling you clamp around him

“i missed this pussy so much.” shotaro said.

he looks at your face, half of it pressed into the mattress. the half shotaro can see is contorted in pleasure, lips slightly open as little sounds escape you. he needs to find time in his life to fuck you slow and steady so he can kiss your eyebrow kisses as he draws sounds from you. but right now, there’s an carnal need in him to fuck you fast before something interrupts him.

“can i go fast baby?” shotaro asks sweetly. “we are running out of time.”

you free one of your fists from the sheets and reach a hand backwards for shotaro to hold. he grabs it without hesitation.

“please.” you say.

that’s all shotaro needs before he pulls out his length and thrusts it back into you. you begging lit a fire inside of him, breathed a new vigor into his hips. his skin slaps against your ass as he fucks you from the back. his hand gives you stability, to the point you start pushing your hips back to meet his.

“oh my god.” you cry into the bed.

“i know. you feel so good.” shotaro groans. his words are accented with rough thrusts and almost drowned out by skin colliding. he adds another smack to your ass and picks up speed. “i can’t get enough.”

“don’t stop.” you say.

you clench onto his hand before moving your grip to his bicep. shotaro uses his strength to pull your upper body up from the bed, and you place a hand on the headboard to support your body. you can feel yourself getting close, sensitive from days of no contact. you curse yourself for not being able to hold on a little longer, but maybe shotaro will be a little mean and keep fucking as your orgasm takes over your body. your chest bounces from the force of the thrust and you feel shotaro’s hand that was on your ass reach underneath your extended arm to grab your breast. he kneads the supple skin in his hand. his thrusts remain consistent, fucking you in a steady but fast pace.

“can’t stop when i’m in this pussy.” shotaro says. “so tight it won’t let me go.”

everything about you is so soft. your breast is soft in shotaro’s hand, the skin of your ass that smacks against his pelvis is like a pillow, and your gummy walls bring shotaro relief from everyday life. he wishes he could tell you about all the things he loves about you, how badly he wished he had a day alone with you to make up for his absence. but he can barely form a vocal thought as you whine to him.

“i’m close.” you whimper.

“i got you.” shotaro grunts

you let go of shotaro’s bicep and he lets you go. you lower your hand from the headboard and go back to your original position. shotaro takes handfuls of your ass to spread your cheeks and lifts his leg up. this has you nearly screaming out grabbing onto anything you can find.

shotaro is desperate, trying to get you to cum as soon as possible. his stamina always comes in handy in situations like these. he admires how your body quickly reacts to his tempo changes and how deep he goes. its like you were made for him the way you clench around him perfectly.

between shotaro’s thrusts and you clamping around him, neither of you are paying attention to the outside world. your moans had turned into whimpers and pants, so entrancing that shotaro doesn’t hear the door open. you don’t hear sungchan asking where the hell the mess came from or footsteps coming towards shotaro’s closed door.

what you do hear is the door open and eunseok’s loud oh my god and sohee yelling out loud. it happens too quickly, shotaro pulling out of you and grabbing the covers to hide your naked body. you quickly turn your body to face the door, seeing seunghan cover sohee’s eyes and anton’s jaw to the floor. next thing you know you’re yelling too, from the pure embarrassment of six guys walking in on you naked and exposed.

“what are you guys doing here?” shotaro asks bewildered.

he’s lucky his boxers were still on the bed. you don’t know when shotaro put them back on, you bring the sheets up to cover your eyes. you still continue to yell from the pure shock of the moment.

“we brought you soup and your medicine. is this why you wanted us to get it from the place across town?” sungchan asks.

he sounds as bewildered as shotaro, not believing the sight in front of him. you slowly bring the sheets down from your eyes to see the six men still frozen in the doorway. even shotaro is still on the bed, trying to process everything

“please get out.” you screech.

this pulls everyone out of their trance, suddenly aware of you being completely naked underneath the sheets. they bump into eachother trying to back out of the room, someone at one point even falling down. they apologize profusely to you, saying they didn’t know.

even when shotaro’s door closes you dont emerge from underneath the covers. you stay there mumbling over and over again how traumatized you are. shotaro finds a little bit of humor in the situation cooing at you while he hugs you over the blanket.

“did you cum?” shotaro asks sarcastically.

you emerge from the sheets for only a second to hit him with a pillow before going back under.

#requestz #blurbz #shotaroz #01zfan: shotaro #shotaro smut #riize smut

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centrally-unplanned · 1 month ago

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IRL (In Real Life) - Buffydom Propaganda And The Internet-That-Was

It is 1997. You just got back from the latest Hot Topic run to restock on whatever the most raven-black bomb of Manic Panic they have on the shelves is, so you can do double-duty bleaching your hair in the shower while watching a CRT TV precariously mounted on the lip of your sink. On that TV is the Season 1 finale of Buffy the Vampire Slayer, and you are obsessed. Unfortunately for you, no one else in Bowling Green, Ohio, shares your passion for a CW WB show about vampire hunting teens who purposefully fumble their line deliveries. You are alone, and you have shit you gotta say about it to someone, anyone, who will understand.

Fortunately for you, the marketing team at ye old WB anticipated that their audience would be a bunch of fucking nerds, and boy do they have a solution to your problem! Welcome to the Bronze:

A while back I stumbled upon the inexplicable existence of "IRL (In Real Life)", a 2007 documentary about the community that formed around the aforementioned Buffy fan discussion forum/chatboard. Officially running from around the launch of the show until it switched over to UPN after its fifth season (with the forum dying a dramatic death in the process), The Bronze was a highly active center for the Buffy fandom, which generated several spillovers into real life. In particular, it was famous for the creatives and even actors on the show occasionally posting on the forum, which culminated in members of the community organizing a yearly party in Los Angeles where posters would fly out and be joined by said cast and crew. This documentary charts its culture & history via interviewing an array of its members.

As always, I am not here to give the blow-by-blow; instead, what is the narrative this documentary is trying to sell?

My previous documentary write-up was about nerd culture in the 2010’s; newly ascendant, growing confident in its own values and looking to justify that to itself, wealthy and with a developed enough ecosystem for crowdfunding to create professional, polished documentaries of its own heroes. None of that is true for IRL. Filmed on whatever camcorder/potato hybrid proto-Ebay would cough up from its zero-bid listings in a series of hotel rooms and people’s living rooms in 2003-2004 after the forum had died, this is the era of nerd culture at its most conflicted and insecure; mocked by the mainstream and unsure if it should be proud of that fact or deeply ashamed of it. And this documentary wears this conflict right on its sleeve; one of its opening lines is a confident assurance to the audience of “don’t worry, we aren’t like those nerds”:

Throwing Trekkies under the bus in the process, cold! Particularly given how it proceeds to barely even blink before pivoting to explaining their hobby of running “WITTs”, multi-day-long collaborative roleplays:

You are exactly those Trekkies my dudes; you weren’t just at the devil’s sacrament you were hosting it! "WITT" stands for Whedon Improvisational Theatre Troupe, you can't recover from that guys.

(I love how “dozens” is large by the way - it was for the internet in 2001, right?)

Anyway, beyond documenting the forum and its members, the conclusion this documentary wants you to hold is that the Bronze was a special place of real community, and it is a community of “normal” people, who made real relationships. And in particular, that internet relationships can be just as real as those found in meatspace, that these relationships transcended the digital and entered the physical; and that this is what fandom can be about.

I want to start with the ways that narrative was correct within the context of the time. I can actually explain that Klingon comment! I have one extant interview with the director of the film, Stephanie Tuszynski, and she put her motivation as follows:

FFN: What made you decide to study Buffy fandom, particularly the Bronze, for your documentary? ST: The idea to do a documentary film about the Bronze actually came to me very early on, because "Trekkies" came out in the late 1990s so I was already a Bronzer at that point. And when I saw it I started throwing things at my television. I was incensed. That wasn't a documentary about the fandom experience, it was "hey let's find the most extreme examples possible and have a freak show!" It infuriated me […] It reinforced every awful stereotype about media fans while purporting to be objective.

It wasn’t a random example - the 1997 documentary Trekkies set the “standard” view of fandom as extremist oddballs, and Tuszynski specifically wanted to counter that. It was the early 2000’s after all, nerd stereotypes were strong, you had to fight them explicitly! In a society where there is strong background hostility to one’s identity, you will attempt to normalize it using known reference points; and certainly the people on these forums were more “normal” than the stereotypes admitted to because that entire binary framework is a dead end.

More importantly to the narrative is the online aspect, ��making friends on the internet”. Another find I have is a blog post from a professor who used the film in a class; and in the film’s narrative of “people with no one ‘irl’ to share their hobby with finding friends online” triggered a debate around if the online relationships are “taking away” from in-person relationships that are presumed to be more valuable. A debate that still rages to this day over social media! But the contours were different back then, the internet was presumed to be niche, ancillary, and relationships made online in a completely separate box from “in person” friendships. The documentary goes to great lengths to explain that they were a real community because that idea is so contested. Ironically, they do this by emphasizing that they met up in person, hung out, attended each other's weddings, etc; as if only by meeting up in person could the relationships be validated as real? But you can’t truly fault them for meeting their implicit critics halfway in making their case.

So what can I fault them for?

*****

I was perpetually amused when watching the doc that they included two married couples in the filming, and for both one of the spouses would talk and the other would sit there, in silence, the entire time. Maybe they were members of the community and just not talkers; maybe their lines got cut in post. But what I kept thinking was that they were there selling normality to me; married couples are just inherently less oddball, less threatening, and in the era where “nerd = virgin” just less nerdy. Like with the Klingon line, there is an intentionality to the “just like you” vibe.

Which, as mentioned with the extensive forum roleplay, inevitably breaks down once the reality of forum activity is dug into. And I buried the lede here - you may have seen the title of the “longest” roleplay was “RTBS Soul Restoration Project”, but what does that mean? RTBS was a forum member’s name, and well:

Oh yeah, we are saving our friend from “a fate worse than death: worshiping Britney Spears” - welcome to 2001 baby! This is peak “nerd wars” stuff, the normies hate our shit so we hate the normie shit right back. Which is exactly how nerd culture was in the 2000's. I am not at all throwing shade at their tongue-in-cheek roleplay, resplendent in the ludicrously purple prose and asterisk-laden action descriptions as required by the early internet; but it sits in clear tension with some of the other messaging in this film. Leave Britney alone guys!

The documentary highlights a number of common practices from the forum - people doing daily greetings, the way that it being one unending massive chain of posts with no threading or topics meant people would mass-tag individual people to respond to and form “circles” that way - but there are things it leaves out. I did what any normal person would do after watching this documentary and read through over a year of archived posts on The Bronze to understand the community - but man did I not have to, as on literally the first page of my archived link I see:

And through God’s good grace that second link is archived:

Yes there are pictures at the link, and yes later on it does compare Buffy’s cleavage to the Mona Lisa. (The Giles link is not quite functional, but I was able to find it; sadly it is not nearly as thirsty)

I also found these “onboarding” sites for new members. Remember, this forum was the official forum, which meant there were no community mods or ability to “pin rules”, it was pure anarchy - so advice filled the gaps. And one of the bigger ones, in its *sighs and rubs forehead* blue font on black background, warns against “hottie posting” aka talking about how hot say Angel is, not because it isn’t allowed, but because it is like “pointing out the sky is blue” - it is so common that it will just get washed out.

It might seem like a similarly sky-is-blue comment to note that this forum was heavily about shipping, hotness discussion, fanfiction, and the like. Of course it was, right? These website “senior members” were trying to minimize it, police it, but it broke through constantly and also simmered under the surface through discussions and RP’s from my own review of the forum. The documentary, however, spends incredibly little time on it. Brief mentions of Angel fics, and no mention (iirc) of discussion of how hot the women were at all. Because once again those details really don’t fit into the narrative it is trying to sell.

At one point in the documentary someone notes how diverse all the friends they met in this community were? Which I broke out laughing over. In one way it is not wrong, I get it! Midwest college kids meeting people from all over the country, ages 40 to 14, talking about something no one in their podunk town understands. But on the other hand, you could not come up with a more standardized slice of humanity if you tried to rig it. Everyone here is an American+ with computer access in 1998, it is a grab bag of sys admins, nerd creatives, and comp sci majors. I did a random sampling googling the people interviewed to see what they are up to now, and literally a third of them are librarians. Even their fashion is like God played a prank on this director; not even a 2000’s anime con panel lineup is this stereotypical in the combinations of alt-goth lit girls and nerdcore computer bros.

The evolutionary process of joining this forum -> liking it enough to go to the live meetups -> liking that enough to participate in a documentary about it was a pressure cooker spitting out only a certain kind of person. Which is truly fascinating to see on display! This is the internet-that-was; and it bleeds through the grainy film despite the director’s efforts at times to the contrary.

Though even then it was only a very specific slice of the internet-that-was, because this is a very special breed of Online; namely, the professionals.

*****

Something that is decidedly not typical of The Bronze as an online community is that, as mentioned before, Joss Whedon and other creatives posted on the web forum, answering questions and also just playing around, and how that led to in-person parties where both forum members and cast/crew attended - the Posting Board Parties, or PBP’s. At these they hosted fundraisers, talked about the show, and in the documentary one girl reverently describes with incredible Repressed Lesbian Energy her experience of seeing Eliza Dushku dancing next to her. The PBP had a panel of party organizers, admission systems to keep out the “undesirables”, budgets, the works.

All this the documentary shares openly; it is a peak moment where the digital becomes real in a transcendent way, opening doors analog reality never could. It is also a cold-sweat-waking nightmare story from the lens of a modern Hollywood social media manager; one person in the documentary tells the tale of how one time lead actress Allyson Hannigan posted her phone number on the forum asking people to leave her cute voicemails. The person in question immediately called, and got Hannigan herself instead of the voicemail, so they chatted for a bit (The guy telling this tale is obviously lovestruck; his wife is sitting in typical silence next to him). Today this would be a code-red, nuke your phone situation; but the circle was so cloistered, and the rules so unwritten, that no one cared in these early years.

What they share less openly is all the drama that went into this event. They wax nostalgic about how the parties brought them together, but what isn’t mentioned is the church schism it caused, as the moment cast from the show started attending the party it got mobbed by outsiders. By its ~3rd year there were approximately 400 guests but only ~50 or so were from the forum. They had a huge fight about it, the head of PFP planning committee - “Morbius the Vampire”, who was later jailed for financial fraud btw - told the dissenting faction why don’t they just throw their own party if they hate his so much, and so they did. There was more fighting about it, and eventually they held a peace summit at an LA joint called Mel’s Diner to merge the two factions together. (My source for this is a book, which I will link later)

Hilarious, for sure, but while so much of what we have discussed is “proto online nerd communities”, this part is most decidedly not. The typical web forum absolutely cannot replicate the experience of roleplay-posting your way into shaking hands with Joss Whedon and having a shitfight over party budgets in LA. But most posters never got to attend these parties, of course, this didn’t mean much to them. While for those who did, you cannot help but imagine that this played a gigantic role in making them all become a “real” community. And care enough about that circle to, well after the forum was gone, schlep to a hotel room to be interviewed for a documentary about it. Participating in a documentary is always, in some way, an exercise in selection bias; but here the pruning is turned up to 11 - this is a very elite slice of a very unique fandom experience.

*****

I have one deeper level to go on this thread, somewhat buried in time today, that further shaped the participants here: “Whedon Studies”. The 2000’s was not the birth of media studies as an academic discipline; but it was the birth of fandom-driven media studies, and Buffy was nearly unassailably the leading light of that movement. Academics hosted entire conferences (and inexplicably still do!) on Buffy, Firefly, etc; almost all from the lens of gender & media, as Buffy’s brand was deeply entrenched in that deconstructive milieu. This movement would die a fiery death during the 2010’s shift in media & gender politics, and when the controversies around the toxic working conditions on the set of Buffy/Angel led to Joss Whedon’s near-total expulsion from creative pursuits. The whole edifice is, in a deep way, “cringe” for many of its former participants today.

But what is relevant for our story is that director Stephanie Tuszynski was a full member of that movement; while composing this film she was, for example, giving talks like these at conferences devoted to the Buffyverse:

God that is a lot of talks. This film itself was her thesis project for her I believe philosophy masters, and in our scant interviews lists other fandom-academic film projects she wanted to tackle (which as best I can tell fizzled out later). And the interview subjects were often participants in the same space as well! Academic-types doing media studies with a Buffy bent, or things like culture writers for new media outlets. One of them, writer Allyson Beatrice, even published a book about the Buffy fandom that was in regular bookstores:

To quote the blurb:

A hilarious collection of true stories from Allyson's days as one of the Internet's leading cult TV fan gurus, her mind-boggling escapades include meetings with network executives in dark steakhouses to try to save doomed TV shows and one hastily arranged wedding for two committed Buffy fans.

I highlight this not to say that academics cannot make documentaries, they certainly can. What I am saying is that if you point your camera at career Buffyverse writer Allyson Beatrice, and label her as a typical forum member giving you the hometown everygirl perspective on the community, you are, however unintentionally, lying to your audience. In its quest to give you the just-like-me Buffy fandom experience, what this documentary elides is that it is often giving you the lens of people who are fans of Buffy as a career. Those people are going to be bringing very different experiences to the table - of course they are concerned with sanitization, with nerd culture debates, the works. That is their bread-and-butter trade.

This dynamic bled into the forum’s day-to-day; there was a very clear hierarchy of “veterans” and “top” posters, who organize the live parties, have deep roots in the community, and even the ear of the show team...and everyone else. Particularly because as mentioned there were no rules on the forum, but since that can’t actually function in practice they self-generated community rules and thus their own leadership class. Cliques and groups were common and named, and veteran posters even had formally designated groupies:

I had also by this time become a groupie. I so enjoyed one particular Bronzer’s posts that she allowed me to become the seventh of her groupies. It was through groupie-dom that I got my first taste of firsthand WITT: several Bronzers, on the occasion of the birthday of she-to-whom-we-group, each took turns grabbing the microphone and praising the day that she was born. In retrospect, I’m not sure why we did this. But it was fun, and very funny, too, as we each took turns waxing melodramatic off the top of our heads. And from work, no less.

The source for this by the way is a 400 page ethnography of The Bronze posted by academic who did *cough* “field research” there; I am sure their membership in the “Bronzers Adoring Darla” fangroup was purely for comprehensive data collection purposes.

And to emphasize, I am not saying this is problematic or anything - the groupie things were all in good fun, best I can tell. I simply aim to showcase how the Bronze wasn’t just a baby version of online fandom forum dynamics; but also a baby version of e-celebrity mechanics. Something the documentary does not even attempt to touch on because that would be something normal people would not understand.

*****

All of the above may have come off like one big roast, and it is a little bit, but as I have mentioned before every documentary is propaganda. It is just impossible to have a tight film building a narrative out of the pieces of letting people speak to the camera without that narrative being but a slice of the truth those people want you to know. The Bronze web forum was a very special place to these highly invested fans, and this documentary is not lying to you about that.

But it is also a big part of early internet fandom! The Bronze was famous at the time, and it is right there at the beginning of so many shifts; the first generation of non-technical internet users, a new era of ‘fantasy’ media with the trappings of prestige and social critique, a boom in critique-as-community, and more. I very much want the full picture of that community; who made it up, what did they want from it and what did they get from it, and so on. No film could offer the full picture; this film’s homebrew rawness gives a valuable piece of it, and I enjoyed it for that. I just aimed here to draw out not only what the broader, more accurate dynamics of The Bronze were, but also the cultural question of why the film focuses on what it does, hides what it refuses to show, and what that says about 2000’s internet & nerd culture. Hopefully I succeeded in that.

And also to have fun looking at some incredibly dated Buffy fandom bullshit. May it have been fun for you too! {hugs you and waves goodbye}

#essay #buffy the vampire slayer #history of the early internet #Yeah I have no excuse for the length on this one - sometimes you just wanna be self-indulgent

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ifyouknowmenahyoudontt · 3 months ago

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i genuinely think that the shift from the old marauders to the new one where every straight ship even the canon and most important one (i.e jily) and that whole jegulus/all the other made up ships that make no sense come from a place of fetish. yall LOVE to turn characters into little stereotypes and that whole constant obsession w homosexuality is not helping any cause. most of view view homosexual/queer relationships as more angsty or interesting in a way that’s so strange to me. ships could follow the most standard plot line but still be considered angsty cus they’re queer and why is that? this fandom has taken such a strange turn.

you are making sexuality such a strong and central point in a character importance more than any other trait of their character. and those head canons just end up erasing the most important things about these characters

james potter was a strong and good man. he developed from his arrogant teenage self into a good man fighting for a good cause. but now you made him into a twink that is in love with a death eater/ a member of the family that abused his best friend all his life. james and sirius’s relationship was a central point of their characters. and james’s love for lily is a central point as well??????

sirius being turned into a overly feminine gay drama queen, even though what WAS important about him was his loyalty his strength and his honor??? but all of that was forgotten. HE CAN BE GAY WITHOUT ERASING HIS ORIGINAL PERSONALITY. stop painting him into a stereotype of a gay man.

regulus black is getting the recognition that is to be given to sirius. his character was not some brave rebel vigilante that fought for justice. he was a pureblood supremacist.he was a deatheater. yes he is important to the story but he was not what you made him.

lily evans is the most important character of the series. she’s the reason it exists. her and james’s love is the center point. but it was pushed away by you people to focus on your strange fetishized view of gay men. this MAJOR character whose love for her son and husband literally MADE the story got cast away as a secondary character.

important topics like sirius’sabusive family, lily and james’s courage and love….was remplaced by ridiculized view of characters

make characters gay cus we don’t know anything about them yes okay that’s why wolf star was a major part of the fandom. but the complete shift of every single characters identity is just bullshit.

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bloodstained-porcelain-doll · 4 months ago

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Heel to her Master, ch. 1 - Sandor Clegane x reader

Read on AO3

Summary: The handmaiden finds him terrifying yet intriguing. The Hound finds her wildly attractive. He stakes his claim. Warnings: Eventual smut, dub con, public humiliation, bdsm, Master/pet dynamic

“A bear there was a bear, a bear… all black and brown and covered in hair!” The patrons at the tavern sang and laughed, clinking their cups of ale. The handmaiden laughed and danced along with the other ladies in the tavern, hooking their arms together and swinging their feet in unison to the song.

“She kicked and wailed the maid so fair but he licked the honey from her hair…” the men continued singing. The handmaid frequented this tavern, enjoying the song and dance with her friends after long days in lady Sansa’s service.

The singing suddenly came to an abrupt halt. She raised her head to see why the men had stopped. A large form came through the door, casting a dim aura over the tavern. Chatter died down, cups of ale were set down on the tables and all eyes shifted to the big man. The dark eyes of the Hound landed on the handmaiden. She held his gaze for only a second before his scowl had her averting her eyes. Sandor Clegane terrified her.

Given that she was in the service of lady Sansa, and Sansa was betrothed to Joffrey, she oft found herself close to the Hound. It seemed he always glared holes into her when he looked at her. She could never hold his gaze for more than a few seconds, resorting instead to looking at the floor if she found herself in need of speaking with him. Yet she stole glances when he didn’t notice. When he was occupied with his duties, when he spoke to Joffrey or other members of the Court, or when he fought. That’s when the handmaiden watched him with great fascination.

She particularly enjoyed when he sneered at other people, and the way he barked to scare others away from him. And she took great pleasure in watching him cut other men down with ease during tourneys. A secret she would take her grave was that the Hound often visited her in her dreams when she was alone in her bed at night. His voice growled commands in her ear, it was she who was on the receiving end of his sneers and his insults. Sometimes he even used his knife to cut her dress off when he wouldn’t bother with the laces. The fantasies always left her wet and panting.

The Hound’s eyes left her after what felt like an eternity, and he took a seat at one of the tables. A tavern keep quickly arrived with ale for him and his companions. His eyes met the handmaid’s again when he took big gulp of his drink.

“Girl,” he called. She couldn’t help but shiver at his gruff voice. She looked up, anxiously. “Come here,” he said, leaving no room for question. He was the person in this establishment with the highest rank. Disobeying wouldn’t do. She patted down her dress nervously and set one foot in front of the other until she was standing next to the Hound’s table. She curtsied. The act made him laugh. In her fantasies, sometimes he would laugh at her. When she whimpered as he beat her bottom red with his large hands, he would laugh at her and hit her even harder. She felt her cheeks heat up in embarrassment.

“How may I be of service?” she asked quietly. The Hound’s companions laughed.

“Look at me, pup,” he ordered. Pup, he called her sometimes. She didn’t know why or how it started. She was too scared to ask him, yet the pet name had the butterflies in her belly doing cartwheels. She inhaled and lifted her head, looking into the Hound’s dark eyes. He looked her up and down, taking note of how her yellow dress clung to her hips, and her chest heaved still from all the dancing. Had he not been the Hound, she would have thought he liked what he saw.

“Terrified of me, this one,” he said, turning his eyes away and looking back at his companions. “In lady Sansa’s service. Follows her around like a lost puppy looking for her Master.” So that’s where the pet name originated. She averted her eyes again when the Hound talked to his companions, but she yelped as she was suddenly yanked forwards by her wrist. The Hound had it in a tight grip, forcing her to lean forward with her torso over the table.

“I said look at me,” he growled. With tears in her eyes, she obeyed. Once again his companions laughed at her.

“Perhaps you should be her Master, Clegane,” one said.

“She’s a pretty little thing, he would wreck her,” another chimed in. A foul grin spread across the Hound’s lips, and the handmaiden’s lip quivered. In fear, in pain or arousal she wasn’t sure. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” he asked, quietly this time. She wasn’t sure what to say, wasn’t sure she could say anything, so she just gulped and forced herself to keep looking at him. He released her wrist. “Scram, pup.” She scrambled to her feet and left quickly, deciding that she’d had enough fun at the tavern for tonight.

#sandor clegane #the hound #smut #Sandor Clegane smut #the hound smut #game of thrones #Sandor Clegane x you #Sandor Clegane x reader #Sandor Clegane x oc #Sandor Clegane fan fiction

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kellysue · 2 months ago

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Members of the cast of #FMLComix tell you how to pre-order #FMLComix.

FML #1 arrives in November 2024 with main cover art by David López and variant covers featuring artwork by Alvaro Martinez Bueno, David LaFuente, Nicola Scott (1:10 incentive variant), and Pepe Larraz (1:25 incentive variant). One additional variant cover will be revealed at a later date. Each issue will feature bonus material such as essays on music, true crime, interviews, and more that will be exclusive only to the single issues.

“David and I have been talking about doing something creator-owned together since Captain Marvel, but it took years for the stars and our schedules to properly align,” said DeConnick. “Now that we’re here though, it almost feels planned — like we needed exactly as long as it took us to grow and change, both as artists and as people, so that we could come back together for this big swing.

“FML is a challenging book — stylistically and in tone — and I’m not sure we could have pulled it off five years ago, honestly. But here we are—and I’m so proud of and impressed by the work put in by everyone involved. David is drawing like he’s got something to prove, Cris is pulling disparate styles together seamlessly, tying them together with her palette and Clayton of course, our ace and secret weapon, works his subtle magic on lettering to make sure you hear everything in your head exactly the way it was intended. McCubbin developed this terrific logo that evolves with each issue, and I don’t even know where to start with how supportive and inspiring Daniel Chabon’s editorial team has been. They’ve given us exactly what we needed at every step along the way.

“For my part, FML feels of a piece with Pretty Deadly and Bitch Planet; it’s as personal as the former and as satirical and of-the-moment as the latter.”

"This is without a doubt one of the best and most important books I have had the honor to edit in my fifteen years in the comic book industry,” added Senior Editor Daniel Chabon. “I have been a tremendous fan of this creative team for a long, long time; and I cannot wait for everyone to pick up this series and to see what an amazing achievement it is."

Riley is a 16-year-old heavy metal kid who draws down his anxiety with a ballpoint pen. His mother is an aging punk cartoonist slam dancing with a true crime obsession. Bound by threads of magical realism, they navigate the absurdities and horrors of our modern lives.

Issue one introduces Riley’s daily life: terrorism diaries, school shooter drills, and social pressures under the constant shadow of encroaching wildfires that rain ash like a morbid snow. His refuge? The Forest Park Witch’s House, where tales of chaos magic and trickster gods promise some semblance of sense in a senseless world.

Echoing the comedy of “Bottoms,” the nostalgic pull of “Stranger Things,” and the coming-of-age journey in “Stand By Me,” DeConnick’s first return to creator-owned comics since Bitch Planet is an apocalyptic odyssey that speaks to the resilience of the misfit and the power of art.

FML #1 (of 8) arrives in comic shops on November 6, 2024. It is now available to pre-order at your your local comic shop for $4.99.

Be sure to follow DarkHorseComics on social media and check our website, www.darkhorse.com for more news, announcements, and updates.

Praise Kelly Sue DeConnick and David López: “DeConnick has always combed top-notch lyrical text with a knack for bringing out the best in the artists she works with.”—Polygon

“Kelly Sue DeConnick either writes with a King Midas pen, is one of the few remaining wizards in the world, or, most likely, is just that damn good because Bitch Planet is yet another amazing series with her name on the cover.”—Word on the Nerd

“Pretty Deadly pushes at the limits of medium, challenging our ideas of what comics can be.”—IGN

“Kelly Sue DeConnick’s Wonder Woman Historia: The Amazons may just be the best thing to come out of the Black Label line to date.”—IGN

“Kelly Sue DeConnick is a force in comics.”—Book Riot

“Kelly Sue DeConnick—a powerhouse in the comics world.”—Salon

“A primal scream in exquisitely worked gold.”—Polygon on Wonder Woman Historia: The Amazons

“López’s pencils are like a breath of fresh air. His style evokes a classic superhero aesthetic while still bringing subtle emotional vulnerability to these characters through strong storytelling and page design.”—Nerds Unchained on Captain Marvel (2014)

#comics #dark horse comics #kelly sue deconnick #fmlcomix #fml #new comics #preordering comics

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skylarsblue · 2 years ago

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✦Meeting & Flirting W/ The C.o.D Men✦

(Five scenes were gn!reader meets, flirts, and eventually gets with the C.o.D guys. You can thank Gaz & a Doja Cat song for this)

✧Gaz, Price, Soap, & Ghost. The others will come later✧ ✦Flirting, light sexual tension here and there, basically just fluff, some mild descriptions of wounds/war, no specified appearance but I do hint that you're shorter than the guys here and there in a subtle manner. Sporadic use of Y/N that I apologize for. Random callsigns I made up on the spot.✦

✧Kyle "Gaz" Garrick✧

Laswell walked beside Price whilst leading the team out onto some tarmac. "I know you all are very competent, but this is a rather big mission, and so I wanted to give you backup I think you can depend on." She said calmly, coming to a stop, turning to the four men. Ghost crossed his arms and bit back a scoff. Kyle smiled for a split second because of it, though shrouded in mystery, it was no secret that Ghost hated working with others. A black jeep rolled up from a slight distance. Gaz wasn't too interested, he'd been tired all day and meeting new people sounded like a bit of a pain. He adjusted the hat on his head and kept his gaze on the ground, even when some footsteps approached. He glanced up at least, not paying any particular attention to the five individuals in front of him. Though he did give his full attention to Laswell when she began speaking. "Team 141, this is Team Sonar. They'll be working with you this upcoming mission, which we still need to go over." The woman explained. Their captain shook hands with price, an older man with dark hair and a broad white streak in the front. Two younger men stood to the side, Soap greeted them. One was blond and the other, a light brunette, they looked like twins. The fourth one was fairly androgynous, tall, eyes cast at the ground. Gaz was just about to look back at Laswell when his eyes fell on the last member. Dressed in black military gear, holding a rifle aimed at the ground, vest decorated in patches and a filtration-gas mask over the lower half of their face. They looked up and locked with his gaze, a spark let off in the air as soon as they did. Gaz rolled back his shoulders, pinching the inside of his cheek between his teeth. He watched their eyes scan him up, down, then slowly back up. By the way their eyes scrunched slightly, he could assume they were smiling, giving him one more quick once over. It was hard not to smile as well, especially when their eyes stuck to him whilst turning to face their captains. "Careful sergeant." Ghost's deep voice made Gaz jump. "Ahem, right." He mumbled, shifting his hat down a bit. Though he did risk stealing one more glance, feeling an ego boost when he caught them doing the same.

"You ever take that hat off?" They asked, leaning on the common room's table as he sat down, arms crossed. "I do, I just don't feel like it." Gaz shrugged, adjusting the ratty baseball cap on his head. "The flag is literally fallin' off, mate." They teased with a smile, reaching to nudge the brim, making it push down. Gaz snorted and took it off for a split second to fix it. He gasped when it was snatched from his hand, smiling when he saw their face covered in a cheeky grin, holding the hat away. "Alright, c'mon. Give it back." He insisted, holding out his hand. They hummed, tapping their chin whilst looking at the ceiling. "Nnnoo, no I don't think so." They replied with their tongue stuck out. Gaz tucked his tongue into his cheek and glared at them playfully. He laughed when they jerked back as he lunged for it, smiling more when they hid it behind their back. "Oh, playing dirty now?" Gaz asked, moving to snatch it once more, only to be dodged. "I think you look better without it, actually. I'm doing you a favor." They insisted, backing up more and more. He naturally followed. They reached up to put it on, chin tilted at an endearing angle. "Should just lemme have it." Gaz shook his head, although he did enjoy the sight of them wearing it. "Over my dead body, give it!" He laughed. They blocked his arm when he went to grab it one last time, reaching into the back pocket of their camo pants. Good thing about military pants? Big pockets. Gaz blinked in surprise when he felt a pressure on his skull, raising a hand to feel a different hat. He quickly took it off and looked at it. A baseball cap with a British flag and an embroidered "K.G.G" on the brim, in a dark green color. He gazed at it with some awe, feeling a quick wave of sentimental joy enter his system. "I think green is more your color." They said, prompting him to look at. He blinked when they booped him on the nose and then turned to walk away. "Hey, what about my original hat?!" Gaz called. They turned, walking backwards. "It's mine now! No take-backsies!!" They giggled, rotating on their heel. The man ran his tongue over his teeth as he chuckled in disbelief. He glanced once more at the hat before putting it on, shaking his head fondly.

(nsfw implication in this one; cause Y/N a bold bitch) Gaz hummed to the tune of his music as he sat on one of the chairs in the common room, waiting for time to pass until their next briefing. Listening to Y/N make themselves tea, occasionally passing conversation between them both. The topic now? Why he never used his actual name. "I guess I just don't really get it. It's not like it's a bad name." They said, pouring hot water into a mug. Gaz shrugged whilst scrolling through a playlist. "I used to like it, now I don't. A lot of people don't like their name." He answered, glancing over at them. They placed a teabag into the water and turned to look at him, hip leaned on the counter. "Yeah, I guess. But usually there's a reason if you specifically dislike it, ya know?" They retorted. Gaz nodded and adjusted in his seat. "I guess...I dunno, anytime I hear that name, it usually means somethings going wrong? Either someone's needing something from me or I'm like, in trouble? So, I prefer the nickname." He explained, looking back down at his phone whilst they threw away the tea bag. "Then it's not the name, it's what you associate hearing the name with! You just need to put a different context to it." They said, though their voice was a bit muffled by his earbuds now. He snorted. "Oh yeah? Well, lemme know if you got any ideas." He said sarcastically, not hearing them walk closer. "Let's try this then." Gaz jumped a bit when the earbud was pulled from his ear, replaced with the feeling of warm breath. Hot blood rose to Gaz's cheeks and neck as the cupped their hand around his ear. "Oh Kyle...~" His breath stopped at the sound of a very convincing moan, heart stuttering as they laughed quietly, gently putting the earbud back in his ear. They made it a point to lightly drag their fingers across his shoulders when walking around him. Gaz watched them walk away with wide eyes until they were out of sight. He then sunk in his seat, hand covering the lower half of his burning face. He forced in a deep breath. "Fuckin' hell..." He mumbled while replaying the sound in his brain. They at least had a point. Hearing his name like that was pretty enjoyable.

"Gaz, Spark, how copy?" Gaz's radio crackled, Ghost's voice cutting in and out. "Copy sir, we're in a safe house. Hell of a storm outside, we'll need to wait it out." He said. Y/N was checking the pipes and looking around for firewood as Ghost gave choppy orders. The man huffed and took off his vest when he saw the fire being lit, grabbing a rickety wooden chair to pull up next to it. "Fuckin' snow." He grumbled as he heard the wind bare down on the house. "Not a winter guy?" They asked, making him look over his shoulder as they walked in with two cups. "Found coffee. I know you're more of a tea type, but warm is warm." They responded softly. He thanked them and took the cup, though he cringed at the bitter taste, swallowing so he could answer their question. "Nah, always liked Summer more." They nodded before setting their mug on the floor. "So, we're alone for god knows how many hours." They said, looking at a tactical watch on their wrist. Gaz rose an eyebrow while taking another sip of his coffee. "Yeah? What of it?" He asked. "You gonna finally make a move or should I keep pretending there's no tension here?" Their blunt words made him choke and began coughing. They laughed and lightly smacked his back, snickering when he cleared his throat. "I uh, wow, okay. Bit blunt to put it that way, innit?" He said with a breathless laugh, putting the cup down. "Bit rude to eye fuck me all the time and do nothin' about it, innit?" They mocked with a grin, making him blush, though thankfully the melanin in his skin left it unnoticeable. "Okay, I do not...alright, maybe a little, but listen." He laughed bashfully. He watched them roll their eyes with a heavy sigh, looking down at him with a smile. "What? Do I have to do everything?" He rose his hands up and sank in the seat slightly as they placed their hands on his knees, leaning in slowly. "Didn't take you for such a scaredy cat, sergeant.~" Gaz cleared his throat and couldn't stop himself from laughing nervously again. "I'm not a scaredy cat. I'm just...patient." "Patient?" "Yes, indeed." They hummed and clicked their tongue. "Well, I'm not." Gaz felt his lungs constrict and the air expel from his body once their weight rested on his lap, hands on the back of the chair, which creaked under their combined weight. He watched them take his hat off and rest it on their head. "So, sergeant major Gaz. You gonna make a move, or should I?" They asked quietly. He let out a slow exhaled before shaking his head. "You...are gonna get me in so much trouble." He said fondly, though he did invite them leaning in dangerously close. "Guess that's a risk you gotta take." They whispered back. He hummed in thought, stalling for the sake of mischievousness now. "Eh, only live once." He shrugged, grinning as they laughed, unable to stop smiling when the held his face to kiss him. Trouble or not, it was inevitable.

✧John Price✧

John sighed and messed with his dog tags as he waited of Laswell to come back into the room. She’d said she had something important to tell him. She finally poked her head into his office with a calm smile, giving him a nod. “A few weeks ago, you asked for a sniper. I found one I think is suitable.” She said, opening the door a bit further to reveal them. Stood in a compression shirt and camp pants, arms behind their back. John straightened his back as he took their figure in, acknowledging slightly nervous body language. They seemed young, but not by much compared to the rest of the team. “Alright. Lemme talk to’em.” John mumbled, motioning with his hand for the soldier to step inside. Laswell patted their shoulder as they entered, crossing the office to sit in the chair across from Price. Laswell left with the door closed. “You’re nervous, soldier.” He said. They swallowed and nodded, patting their leg. “A little sir, yes. Trying not to be.” They answered honestly with a little chuckle. “You afraid your skills aren’t up to snuff?” He questioned, voice gruff, trying to poke for insecurities. Not that he was cruel, but he needed soldiers made of steel on the field. “Oh, no. I’m 100% confident in my skills. It’s uh, just hard to not feel anxious when you’re sat in front of a captain with such an impressive resume. I’m uh, well, I’m worried about my impression is all.” They admitted bashfully, clenching their hands in their lap. John rose an eyebrow and let out an amused huff at their praise. “You’re certain you’ll keep up?” He asked. “Yes sir.” They answered immediately. John nodded, he motioned for them to stand as he did the same. They listened without hesitation. He rounded his desk and stood in front of them, watching them force back nerves in order to meet his gaze. He held out his hand. “I‘ll look forward to seeing you work, soldier.” He said. His smile grew when they shook his hand, a spark growing in their eyes. “You won’t be disappointed, sir.”

John huffed and rubbed his temple, soreness radiating through his skull as a result of persistent annoyance. He'd been put in charge of some new recruits, a batch of youngsters, all of which seemed to enjoy testing his patience. They all liked to slack off, lose focus, occasionally take a little jab at him. John was a patient man and did his best to keep his cool, usually only losing it in dire circumstances. But, he was a human, and humans had their limits, and the captain was at the end of his rope as he watched the recruits joke around. All right after he specifically told them to run laps, a standard training exercise. His frustration must've been obvious on his face, hence why Mist approached him. "You alright, captain? You look ready to blow a gasket." They asked, voice soft, showing sympathy. The brunet huffed and rested his hand on his hip, feeling a bit soothed by the gentle pat on his bicep. "These damn kids won't take me seriously, and I've bout had it." He explained, motioning to the group. The soldier's eyes widened and looked at him like he'd grown a second head. Unable to fathom it. They weren't much older than the newbies, and they'd already shown a genuine and powerful admiration for John. For various reasons. John watched them frown and shake their head. "Try again." They motioned, giving an encouraging nod. John was a bit confused but he cleared his throat and shouted to get their attention. "I said to run laps, not stand chit-chatting! Move it!" He demanded, voice rough and commanding, but not as intense was it was in the heat of battle. Y/N's blood boiled at the blatantly disrespectful laugh one recruit let out. "Whatever, old man!" A young man replied. John felt his jaw tighten and he took in a breath to yell again, on his last nerve, before a voice beside him beat him to it. "WATCH YOUR FUCKIN' MOUTH!" Mist exclaimed, voice echoing in the air like flying daggers. They'd been rather soft, quiet, and gentle the whole time they were with 141. Excluding battle. To see them so angry, so intense, it was enough to make John even jolt in surprise. "When your commanding officer gives you an order, you execute it on the first fucking demand! He said run, you sprint damnit! If you think you can dick around at the sake of the training that will save your life and the lives of your comrades, FUCK OFF BACK HOME!" They hissed, baring teeth like a raging dog. "Now, move it! Forty fucking laps at least and if I hear more disrespect at my captain, I'll have your fuckin' heads!" The recruits had already began on the track, wincing when the threat landed in their ears. John watched Mist compose themself with a look of shock interlaced with endearment. They gave him a bashful glance and cleared their throat. "Uhm...there ya go." They smiled. John let out a quiet chuckle and patted their back. "Remind me to stay on your good side." He said playfully.

(Brief description of bullet wound & war) The sounds of gunfire were sharp on the ear drums. Air permeated with the scent of rubble dust & metallic blood. Mist jumped over an enemy corpse as they dodged around a building, clicking the button on their radio in order to answer their captain. "This is Mist! Ran off about six yards east, where are you, cap?" They asked, chest heaving. "Three yards to your right! Haul ass before these cunts reload!" It was probably a terrible time to think it, but they couldn't help but worry about his throat, all those cigars surely made his voice rougher than it was naturally. That thought was pushed back by the need of survival, although their worry was barely focused on themselves, more on the safety of their captain. They found him settled behind some large stacked crates, littered with bullet holes. Taking no time to slide up beside him, huffing and puffing, face smeared with paint & dirt. "Are you steady, Cap?" They asked breathlessly. John nodded, adjusting his bucket cap. "For now. We gotta move out toward the evac, Soap's got this place set to blow and I wanna be out before it happens." He explained whilst loading a rifle. "Understood, I'll cover you." They replied. Whilst sprinting away from the enemy, ducking when the gunfire got heavy, their barriers were thinning. John huffed and pushed through, scanning for the next thing they could duck behind. As he did, he was left open. The young soldier's eyes locked in on a sniper overhead, gun angled directly at the man beside them. The world moved slow and frightfully quick all at once as they shoved John off to the side whilst shouting for him to take cover. The bullet spun through the air and made itself home in Mist's leg. John was quick to act, able to aim his rifle up at the roof, landing a rather lucky headshot in retaliation. "Damnit, soldier, what the hell were you thinkin'?!" He exclaimed, using his arm to help them stand. They didn't respond, teeth gritted in pain as the two of them continued to move. Making it to the evac wasn't easy, but it happened. The team left like a bat out of hell, holding up with shotty attempts at first-aid until they could get to a medic. John put Y/N on priority for one since the bullet was lodged in their thigh, risking a problem with an artery or bone. Thankfully though, it was just a muscle issue. They'd need recovery time and rest, but overall, they'd be fine. Likely to only sport a scar by the end of it. They sat on a medical bed as John heard the verdict, eventually waving off the doctor so he could speak with them alone. "What the hell were you thinking?" John whispered harshly. Though Mist was the more sensitive type, they didn't flinch, not a single waver as they met his gaze. "Thinking about saving your life." They answered. "And you got shot cause of it." John replied, making them snort. "I can handle a shot to the leg. Far less damage than losing you. In terms of pros & cons? I think I weighed'em pretty well." John felt his chest constrict as they gave him a satisfied smile, as if they weren't still covered in the signs of war. He opened his mouth and no words came out, he gave up and sighed, dragging a hand down his face. He stared at them for a moment. Eventually, his hand fell limp at his side, chuckling quietly. "You'll be the death of me, soldier." He said. They laughed and shrugged. "Nah, I think I'll keep you alive for awhile longer. That's my plan anyway." Their retort played like music in the strings of his neurons, sending waves of serotonin & oxytocin in his system. "I'll hold you to that." He sighed.

(NPC death mentions) The sound of paper rustlings and the scratch of a pen was monotonous and soul sucking. John had always been a diligent worker, but, he'd never enjoyed paper work. It was something he found particularly boring even as he got older, and there was always an air of somberness when he was filling out reports on men who'd died. Lost their lives under his command. In the late hours of the night where silence was suffocating and the loneliness began to grow more obvious in his bones, continuously marking his signature down on dotted lines until his wrists were sore. His throat was dry and his eyes stung. There was a bottle of whiskey on a side table calling his name, but he didn't have the energy to move, and he knew it wouldn't satisfy any actual thirst. The sigh he let out was full of exhaustion. Then, he flinched, silence broken by a knock at the door. The brunet's brows furrowed in confusion & suspicion, given lights out was at least two hours ago. "Who is it?" He called after clearing his throat. "It's me." The voice was unmistakable, and though he hated to admit it, his shoulders relaxed slightly. "Enter." He instructed, finding it worrisome how it felt easier to breathe when their figure poked through the door, entering slowly. A cup of steaming tea rested in their hands. "You should be asleep, soldier." John said, leaning back in his seat. They gave a soft laugh and a nod, walking up to his desk. "Couldn't. Kept thinkin' bout you, knowing you were overworking yourself. Finally gave in and made you a cup of tea. With all due respect, sir, you should also be in bed." They answered, setting the cup on the desk. Like a godsend, able to sense his unspoken needs from across the base. He was a providing type, protective too, he'd been called a "dad" type as well, always caring for others. Although being cared for was foreign, he couldn't help but have his heart melt in a way he hadn't really felt in a very long time. The man sighed, grabbing the cup, blowing on it before he took a sip. He could feel his soul grow warm as he realized it was a perfect replica of how he'd make it, ideal to his preferences. It was impossible not to smile. "You're a real saint, you know that?" He asked. The room felt brighter as they laughed again. "I'm not sure about that, but thank you." They replied. "I mean it. You stick out your neck to make things easier for me, even when I don't ask. I notice it, even if I'd prefer you keep a bullet out of your leg." He scolded lightly, making them nervously shift their gaze to the side, recalling the shot they'd taken for him. "Eh, I don't really regret it." They said, moving around his desk in order to sit on the same side as him, remaining on the corner of the wooden table, careful to avoid sitting on any of the papers. John shook his head. "I'd probably take another eighty bullets for you." They answered honestly, ignoring the stutter in their heartbeat as he stood, chair scraping on the rug below. "Now why would you do that?" He questioned cynically. The response he got struck every chord in his heart. "Because I care about you too much to see you get hurt." They whispered. "You're such a good person, and you do so much for everyone else, even when you're at the end of your rope. There really aren't people like that in the world, and I don't think I could really handle losing something so rare." John inhaled and stepped in front of them. He was intently in their personal space, but they didn't feel the need to lean away, even if their nerves were alight with a specific type of anxiety as he tilted their chin with his hand. He didn't say anything for a long while, only gazing, adoringly and intensely full of passion. Finally, he smiled with an amused breath. "I think I hit the nail on the head..." He heard their breath catch when he leaned close enough for his facial hair to lightly prick at their skin. "You're nothin' short of a saint, sweetheart."

✧Johnny "Soap" MacTavish✧

The bar was crowded and rowdy, dimly lit and teeming with energy. 141 settled in a booth. The bar was popular with veterans and active soldiers, so there wasn't a corner of the building that didn't have some camo print in it. Johnny chuckled at a joke Gaz made at the expense of a recently defeated enemy before taking a swing of beer. He scanned the bar lazily. At the same time as others, cerulean eyes settled on a small scene in the crowd. Kyle leaned around Soap to get a better visual. "Yeesh, can't a man take a hint?" The man mumbled as they watched a tipsy soldier flirt with, what seemed like, a civilian. Dressed up for a night of fun but clearly not having a good time with a slurring and pushy man not being able to take a no. "Think we should step in?" Soap questioned, to which Ghost rose his hand, a signal to stay seated. "Look at their friends, they look like they're waiting for somethin'. Maybe they've got it covered already." He mumbled past the fabric of his balaclava. Johnny cringed, scrunching his nose at the scene, biting his tongue, literally. "They're a civilian against a trained soldier. Drunk or not, they probably need some help." Kyle commented. It was immediately after he finished his sentence that the "civilian" set their drink down, face showing annoyance. They turned to the drunkard and in quick, trained movements, took him out. Or in less intense terms, knocked him out cold with a swift elbow to the chest and a well formed punch to the jaw. The bar went quiet after a collective "oooohhh" in response to it all. The "civilian huffed and rested their hands on their hips, shaking their head. Soap's jaw was lax as he watched them walk over to the bar, pay, and leave. Left in utter awe intermingled with disappointment that he hadn't had a chance to talk to them. Up until a week later when a higher up declared he'd be gifting a lieutenant with an impressive track record to aid the task force in a mission. A huge help, since apparently they had specialized information. The four men waited for the mystery person right outside of base. When they walked up, they had a mask on, but a collective string of shock hit the men when they came closer. Gaz let out a little laugh and nudged Soap with his elbow. "Looks like you get to talk to them after all." He teased, watching Johnny fight to keep his jaw closed. They stopped in front of him with their arms crossed and face stern. "You lot must be 141. Lieutenant Fern." They said. Price stepped up calmly to introduce the team. Johnny cut him off, practically leaping forward with his hand extended to greet them. "Sergeant Soap, pleasure to meet'cha Lieutenant." He said with a boyish grin. They tilted their head with a raised eyebrow. "You always this excitable, sergeant?" They asked. Johnny's eyes glimmered with childlike fascination and liveliness. "Only with beauties like ya'self." He said boldly. They scoffed with some amusement, shaking his hand as they glanced at an embarrassed Price. "Bold, this one." They praised.

Soap grunted and slammed his hand on the floor twice, letting out a strained word. He took a deep breath when the pressure let off his neck, hearing a few tongue clicks. "That's the third take down, Soap. You gotta stop leaving yourself open." Fern sighed, giving him a hand up. He rubbed his neck and coughed, frustrated at himself for letting his performance slip. It was showing on his face and in his shoulders, weighing down by the sense of failure. "Oi, suds, quit that." They ordered, making him look up with confusion. They made a vague motion to his person, referring to his posture, before resting their hands on their hips. "The self-doubt and anger at yourself. It ain't gonna help ya. You're not bad at what you do, you're learning still. That's normal." They explained. Though their tone sounded blunt and rough, as usual, Johnny had been around them enough now to hear the hint of softness that lingered in their words. Something he had yet to hear before. He huffed and dropped his hand at his side. "I shouldn't be havin' these fuck ups, L.T. I been doin' this for too many years for fuck ups." Johnny let out a yelp and a whine as he received a flick to the bridge of his nose. "'nough of that, sergeant. What'd I just say?" Fern demanded with their gaze sharpened. They poked his chest to keep his attention. "You listen here, and you listen good because I won't be repeating myself. You're smart, and you're good at what you do. Fuck ups happen no matter how long you've been doin' something. You ain't perfect and I ain't expecting you to be. I expect you to be observant and open minded." They stated. Johnny's face softened and so did their tone. Fern sighed and shook his head. "Don't beat yourself up over shit that's fixable or that you can't control. Doing that won't help you, it'll just make you feel like shit. Enough of that will turn you into a stick in the mud." Their hand smacked on his shoulder, giving a reassuring squeeze. Soap felt his heart squeeze when they gave him a rare and small smile. "And I like you as the puppy dog you are, alright, soldier?" Johnny blinked before he snorted and nodded, taking their words to heart. "Good man. Now, c'mon. Let's go again. I'll go slower and correct your form and we'll get those slip ups worked out. On your mark." They ordered, gentler this time. Soap got into position with a grin and determination lit aflame once more. "On it, Lieutenant. Hit me." He challenged, burning with joy when they gave a fond chuckle.

Music and commotion filled the air with noise, adding a backdrop to a conversation that flooded in and out. Soap threw back some whiskey and cringed as it hit his taste buds. He coughed and set the cup down, shaking his head whilst the person across from him chuckled. "Not a whiskey type, suds?" They teased. He shook his head and slid the cup over, letting them take it and refill it. "I'll stick to my beer, thanks." Johnny replied with a huff. He pushed down the warmth in his face he got from watching them drink out of the same glass, mouth placed over where he'd just pressed his lips. Unintentional, most likely. He felt ridiculous being flustered over such a school-yard level of intimacy, and indirect kiss from sharing a glass was juvenile. He looked over their face, eyes settling on the signs of exhaustion in their expression. The Scotsman frowned and tapped the table a few times before he gave into his thoughts. "You ain't been sleeping, 'ave ya?" He asked. They looked up from following the patters of paint in the wall beside the two of them. Their silence was answer enough but the fact they shook their head sealed the deal. "Mind if I pry?" Soap asked, leaning in a bit more on his elbows. Fern shrugged and sank in their seat a bit, sighing. They rubbed their eye before regaining eye contact. "Different reasons. Old demons, mostly." They muttered. Johnny's brows dipped in sympathy. "You got a way of dealin' wit' that? Therapist?" He asked, sadness bubbling in his chest as they gave a humorless laugh and headshake. "Nah, I ain't gonna put my shit in someone else's hands. It's my problems, I should be able to deal with'em-" "Now that's a loada shit, L.T." Soap's voice cutting them off caught them by surprise. Johnny was a bold man, a loud man too, but he knew respect and knew when he needed to bite his tongue. He'd never really given an outburst at them. "Ain't you the one always tellin' me an' the team to speak up when we're in trouble?" He asked. They opened their mouth and shut it, unable to formulate a response. Their eyes softened when he reached over and rested his hand on top of their own. "Don't hesitate to ask for help. When you're out your depth, holdin' you pride too tight will get'cha killed. That's what you said." Fern blinked before a sad smile crossed their face. "Yeah...I did say that." They nodded, heart clenching as Johnny gave their hand a squeeze. "Then take your own advice, Y/N. Don't'cha owe yourself that?" He asked in a hushed tone. They bit the inside of their cheek and took his words to heart, nodding slowly with a slow exhale. "You're right. I'll keep that in mind...thank you, Johnny." They replied. He gave that sunshine filled grin in reply. "Ain't gotta thank me for that, L.T. But, you can buy me a drink if you wanna show your gratitude." He joked, feeling proud when it got them to laugh. "How's a tequila sound?" They asked. "After my 'eart, you are! I'll take three." Johnny responded with a grin.

(Implied wound) Soap grunted and leaned against a wall whilst holding his side. Pain shot through his nervous system with every movement. He huffed and thumped his head against the brick. His skin was growing clammy and moving his head too fast lead to his vision blurring, the dizziness was something that always got him the worst. He'd never been good with the sensation. It always felt him nauseous. The brunet groaned past gritted teeth as he tried to force himself to focus, will his brain to work despite the myriad of overloaded senses. His radio crackled with sound and a voice that was choppy thanks to the slightly cracked speaker. He let out a huff and rose his arm to click the button whilst trying to focus on the words, spoken by a familiar voice. "Soap? Soap, do you copy? C'mon mate, don't leave me hanging here." Fern asked with a hint of worry. The man grunted and that alone let the lieutenant take a sigh of relief. "You broken, serge?" They asked. Johnny swallowed in order to clear his throat. "Cracked, L.T. Took a hit to the side. Not sure of the damage but I ain't doin' so hot." He wheezed. Speaking brought on a coughing fit. He barely heard the order to stay put as his ears rung from the pain coughing caused. His vision was going spotty by the time he heard footsteps rapidly approaching. In his half focused state, he weakly tried to reach for his gun, only for a gloved hand to stop his arm. "It's me, Johnny." Fern's voice brought him a sense of relief. He leaned his head back to look at them, giving a weak smile. "'ey there, beautiful." He said, coughing again, which was followed by what could only be described as a whimper. Fern frowned as they checked his wound, using one hand to keep him steady. "Shit, Johnny. We need to get you to the evac right now. Can you stand?" They asked. He shook his head, slumping on their shoulder. He sighed, soothed by their body heat. "Just go on...I had a pretty good r-FUCKIN' CHRIST!" He screeched as they applied pressure to his wound. His face was grabbed sternly, forcing him to look them in the eye. Shock flooded his system as he saw saltwater building along their lower lid. "You listen here, you bloody fuckin' moron. You ain't allowed to die on me. Not until I fuckin' say so." They hissed. Soap blinked and opened his mouth to speak, letting out a noise of surprise when their lips collided with his. He let out a shaky breath whilst leaned into them, hand clutching a strap on their vest. Left tingling and energized by the action as they pulled away. "You pull all that fightin' spirit back in your fuckin' body and fight for me. Then, we get you out of here, we get you fixed up, and you owe me a fuckin' date. You got me, loverboy?" They demanded. The Scotsman heaved some breaths before he nodded. "I got'cha." He replied. Fern gave a single nod and stood up, pulling up the weakened soldier, getting under his arm to keep him steady. "Atta boy. Keep your head up, Johnny. I need you to keep your word." They said as they began helping him move. He gave a weak chuckled and a wheeze. "Roger that, L.T. Roger that."

✧Simon "Ghost" Riley✧

(Brief description of an NPC gettin' knifed in the face) The stairs creaked under Ghost's weight as he moved up behind Price. The man made a hand motion to move up more, which Ghost followed. "Stay steady, boys. Remember, not everyone in this place is a hostile." Price whispered gruffly, getting some affirmative responses. Ghost motioned for Soap to help him scan one side of the second floor, moving slowly through the rooms. Three hostiles were down in the span of two minutes. "Floor clear?" Gaz asked. "Affirmative." Soap replied, looking around. Just as Ghost was about to move out of the room, his eyes fell on a door he hadn't seen at first, with noise from behind it. "Negative. Unchecked room to the south." He motioned. The men rose their guns as Ghost moved toward it, carefully turning the door knob. He listened closely before swinging the door open quickly, locking in on a target almost instantly. They rose their hands with a yelp, an unidentified box in their hand. Ghost's finger twitched on the trigger before they spoke. "Friendly, don't shoot! Unarmed!" They declared, which made Price motion for the team to hold fire. "Name!" Ghost demanded. "Y/N L/N, call sign Blister. I'm a medic with S.A.S, and currently a hostage!" They said, voice sounding out of breath from the rush of adrenaline. Price clicked into the radio for Laswell for an identification as Ghost's eyes looked back at the box they held. Now he could see it was white with a red cross on it, as well as some faded stickers. He lowered his gun as Price confirmed they were telling the truth. Ghost motioned to the box and opened his mouth to demand they hand it over before they tensed, eyes locked on something right past him. "COVER!" They exclaimed. Shots ran past him, Gaz & Soap ducked. An enemy had snuck up behind them. About to reload before a white box flew and clocked them in the face, quickly followed by a throwing knife. As the body dropped limp, the men of 141 looked over with widened eyes as the medic let out a huff. "You said you were unarmed." Ghost replied gruffly, pushing past his feelings of shock. "One knife compared to four AK-12's is pretty much unarmed, big guy." Blister retorted. Ghost scoffed a small amused huff with a nod. "Fair point and good aim." He praised, watching them smile slightly. Price snapped his fingers to get their attention. "Need a gun?" He asked, to which Blister nodded. Ghost took his pistol out and handed it over, though he jerked it from their grasp at the last second with a warning look. "I better not regret givin' you this." He threatened, slowly holding it out again. They took it from his palm slowly, fingertips brushing against his gloves. "Relax, big guy. Only grief I plan to give is to the enemy." They said, checking the ammo clip before putting the gun in their pocket. Price motioned for them to move, stay low. Ghost was sure to trail the medic closely from behind. Unaware that it'd be soon that a higher up would decide that 141 needed a medic, and who better than one with perfect aim?

"Bit late to be up, ain't it?" The voice from behind him made him tense and nearly choke on the smoke in his mouth. Ghost looked over his shoulder as he exhaled the vaporized tabaco, pulling his mask back down once it was expelled completely. He watched Blister meander up to him, highlighted by the color of the moon. "Could ask you the same thing, medic." He replied. They snorted as they came to stand beside him. "Fair point, Lieutenant, fair point." They nodded, tilting their head to look up at the sky. The air was cold and the roof was quiet, below their feet were sleeping soldiers, unaware of the bright moon and twinkling stars. Blister tilted their head as their shoulders fell lax, something Ghost noticed. They never seemed tense and he couldn't fathom it when he couldn't ever relax, even when he was alone his muscles were tight, ready for fight-or-flight at all times. "You're staring, sir." They whispered, looking at him in their peripheral. Ghost scoffed and looked at the sky. "Was not." He denied, hearing them snicker. Silence passed between them before the medic noted Ghost's posture, just like he'd done to them. "You ever gonna let your shoulders relax? Your muscles' are gonna snap under that hypertension, sir." The blond clicked his tongue and shook his head. "These are as relaxed as they're gonna get, medic." He answered. "Because you're burning off constant anxiety?" Their response hit him a bit hard and he snapped his head to look at them. They stood with all their weight shifted to one leg, head tilted. "You don't hide it real well, ya know. All that unease. I know it ain't my place to pry, but I want you to know I can see it." Y/N said softly. Ghost let out an exhale from his nose. "And so what if you do? You're on thin ice, Blister." He warned, getting a headshake in reply. "I'm saying I see it so you know you're not invisible to me." He scoffed, crossing his arms after tossing the put out cigarette off the edge of the roof. The moonlight bounced off his irises, providing superficial light to replace the one that'd been missing since he was young. "Hard to miss me. I'm a "big guy in a Halloween mask", aren't I?" He said, using air quotes. They clicked their tongue. Ghost tensed and looked at them once more as their hand rested on his arm. "What I meant is; I see when you're struggling. And I'm here for you when it gets a bit too heavy. Whether you like it or not. I'm stick to ya, like a superglued plaster, sir." They patted his bicep and gave a kind smile. "Come see me sometime, you don't have to be injured to talk to me. My door's always open." Their words hung in the air as they walked away, and Simon couldn't help but pivot to watch them leave. When they disappeared off the roof, he cursed under his breath, feeling his chest clench and a pressure in the back of his throat. He looked up at the stars with weakness in the circles of his pupils. "...fuckin' help me ma, I'm screwed." He whispered into the night air, watching a star blink back at him.

(Ghostie gets a panic attack but it's still fluffy) Ghost let out a shaky sigh as pins and needles made themselves at home in his extremities. His veins buzzed with anxious energy and his hands had begun to shake slightly. His breathing wasn't erratic yet, but he knew it wasn't long before it would be. He bounced his leg and weighed his options before he stood up, chair squeaking along the floor at the speed of which he did. His footsteps were quick and heavier than usual as he rushed down the halls and toward med-bay. It never made sense to him, why he'd be perfectly fine and then suddenly be hit with sense of panic. Like there was a guillotine hanging over his neck that he couldn't see, but he knew the blade would drop at any second. The med-bay was empty of anyone, except for one person, organizing a new shipment of bandages. Blister heard the door click shut and the ragged breathing. They looked over their shoulder, surprised at first to see Ghost. They went to greet him before noticing all the signs of something they'd seen a million times. Twitchy, anxious, unable to breathe clearly, trembling hands. Without him saying a word, they pulled out a chair and motioned to it. "Sit." They demanded. Simon wasn't one for listening to other's orders if he didn't have to, but he did it, bouncing his leg. Y/N walked over to the water cooler and then a mini fridge, pulling out an ice pack. They walked over with it in hand, along with a tiny cup of water. Y/N placed it on his chest and motioned for him to hold it there. "Simon, look at me." They instructed in a soft voice. "I need you to try and take a deep breath. I know that's not easy, but try your best." He felt them lift his balaclava just far enough to rest over his nose, making it easier to breathe. "Can't you just shoot me up wit' somethin'?" He gasped. "I'd rather not if I can help it. Do you know what's happening right now?" They asked as he took the cup, tossing back the cold water. He shook his head. "This is a panic attack, Si. I'm gonna walk you through it, you just gotta do your best to breathe and focus on me." He didn't have much choice. They took his free hand and sat in front of him, looking him in the eye. "Follow with me. Give me five things you see." Simon swallowed and scanned. "Uh...peeling paint, cracked window, fire hydrant, ugly tile, broken light." He answered. They nodded and squeezed his hand soothingly. "Four things you feel." He took a deep breath. "Your hand, the seam of my jeans, ice pack, my itchy ass stubble." That got a little amused huff out of the medic. "Very good, you're doing great. Now, three things you can hear." Their praise was more comforting than he liked to admit. "My heartbeat, the clock on the wall...your voice." He whispered. They gave him a gentle smile and another squeeze to his hand. "Two things you smell." Simon took a deep breath through his nose and noted what came with it. "Sanitizer and somethin' fruity." He mumbled. "That'd be me. Now, last one. Take a deep breath and then tell me something you taste." They asked. Simon did as he was told, it felt easier now, less like his lungs were collapsing. "Mmph, tea. Bad tea, let the bag sit for too long." He complained. Blister chuckled and stood up, taking the ice pack from him and putting it on the table. They rested their hands on his shoulders, lightly pressing into them as they told him to take some more deep breaths. Once his breathing was steady again, he sighed and blinked slowly. "You alright?" They asked. Simon nodded, though he felt tired now. "You're...a real good medic." He muttered, feeling warm as they snorted cutely. "Thanks, big guy. I do my best."

(Reference to Ghost's poor self image & a singular mention of a wound) Ghost sat in an unmarked van with his back against one of the doors, watching Blister rummage around in hopes of finding medical supplies. His eyes drifted down to his leg, a broken pipe ran through his thigh. It hurt like hell and based on the annoyed growl the medic let out whilst throwing away another useless box, there wasn't anything they could do to help at the moment. Their radios overlapped with the sound of Price's words, informing them about the evac on the way, and how they'd ensure to send the help needed to get Ghost out of there safely. Said man shook his head as Y/N replied to their captain. "Just go. I'll slow ya down, it ain't worth it." He grumbled, wincing as he attempted to move his leg again. "Shut your fucking mouth, lieutenant." Blister hissed back. The man blinked in surprise at their response. They rarely snapped, not unless they were in the midst of battle. "Damnit, medic, don't be stubborn right now. Just fucking go, leave me here. That's an order-" "God damnit, Simon, shut your fucking mouth!" Ghost flinched at their shouting, now even more caught off guard. He watched them stand, walking a few steps to sit between his thighs. They gripped his vest roughly, eyes sharp like daggers and their nose scrunched in anger, teeth clenched tightly. They pointed a finger in his face while breathing heavily. "Now you listen and you listen good, I am not fucking leaving you hear. I am not leaving you anywhere, you understand? We are gonna get you in that fucking evac." They insisted. Ghost rolled his eyes at their declaration. "I am a liability, Blister!" They jostled him roughly. "You are fucking important to me, Simon! Your survival fucking matters to me, and until you stop breathing I am going to ensure I do everything in my power to keep you alive. And not just because it's my fucking job, but because I give a shit!" They shouted. Simon's chest felt tight again. His hands trembled so he curled them into tight fists to hide it. He felt like a kid again, weak and vulnerable. Something he despised. "Why?" He whispered past clenched teeth. He watched their gaze soften and their grip on him loosened, leaving their hand resting on his chest. "Because I care about you, but I know you don't care about yourself. But whether you like it or not, I give a shit whether you live or die. And one day, even if it takes my entire god damn life, I will get you to the day you can look in the mirror and love what you see. In and out. In order to do that, I need you alive. I need you alive to see the great man I see every day, o you're gonna get in that fucking evac, we're gonna get you patched up, and you're gonna live." Their voice shook and he watched their bottom lip shake slightly. Simon shuddered under the weight of their words. "Do you copy?" They asked. He stared at them, unable to find any hints of deception. They meant every word. Simon bit his lower lip and inhaled slowly. "...yeah, I copy."

#call of duty x y/n #call of duty x reader #call of duty #simon riley #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #kyle gaz garrick #gaz x reader #gaz cod #captain john price #john price x reader #john price #john soap mactavish #soap mactavish x reader #mw2 x reader #team 141

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w0rmdahl · 5 months ago

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the ring girl — MM

gif ©: magnusedom, mkayoung, ayoedebiris

film: monkey man (2024)

synopsis: tiger's temple never had a ring girl, nor one as straightforward as their first would turn out to be. however, unbeknownst to anyone who'd interacted with her in the workplace, she was no mere ring girl — at least she wouldn't be by the end.

word count: 3.7k

featuring: kid, (oc) ishani, tiger

warnings: (it's monkey man be fr) strong language, misogynistic themes

a/n: pssst! this was originally just an outline for me (similar to 'the beginning' for ilyily) but i wanted to provide backstory b4 i posted anything else for MM! hope you enjoy :)

he remembered the first time he saw her; the black sheep with her head down as she entered the locker room of the arena, a meager woman compared to the grimy crowd of men housed inside. like a lamb in the lions' den — or tiger's temple, perhaps — eyes would begin to collect on the anomaly in the room and people started to further notice the oddities of the situation, including himself as he peeled off the signature monkey mask. without the latex obstructing his view kid could now see the substantial gashes and bruises along her skin, the determination in her eyes as she walked herself right up to his boss, jaw clenching once he'd noticed her.

"what the fuck are you doing here?"

"you're tiger, is that right?"

the greasy-haired man sneered. "and who the fuck are you?"

kid would slam his locker shut from his place across the room and, though he was all ready to go and rest for the night, he'd linger around to keep an eye on tiger whilst he spoke with the willful woman peering up at him through narrowed eyes.

"you need a ring girl." she said simply — matter-of-fact. "i need a job. maybe we could work something out."

tiger's face would screw up into a look of disbelief as he glanced around the audience surrounding to see the commotion, a mixed reaction from the crowd bringing his attention back to her. he'd mirror her folded arms and cocked brow before responding half as professional and twice as patronizing, utterly unsuspecting of the girls' smile that would follow.

"we don't need a ring girl."

the dark-haired woman almost chuckled. "course you do; why do you think ring girls exist?"

tiger now actually took a moment to ponder her query — the first, not the second. the second was obvious. but that was exactly why he paused; this random girl off the street was opting to be ogled at in a bad part of town just for a job. who knows, maybe it could even bring in new audience members — but his wildest ideas more focused on the limitations of her willingness. how far would she be willing to go for money?

a cagy smile would curl the boss's bitten lips before he laughed and swiped a misplaced hair behind his ear. "you..." he trailed off and shook the deceit from his thoughts, "you've got yourself a deal, there. come back tomorrow at 4 and we'll talk details."

she'd offer a mere nod before beginning to turn, halted by tiger's voice booming off the tile flooring once more. "wait! what the fuck is your name?" the woman casted her sharp gaze over her shoulder when the pseudonym left her mouth.

"ishani."

tiger would then be abandoned to stew in his suspicion about her as she exited the same way she came, leaving the room to erupt in conversations left utterly unheard by kid who'd exited out the back door as soon as ishani was out of sight. by the time he laid down with his eyes on the ceiling fan, the occurrences of the day wholly left his mind, replaced with the abrasive memories that kept his eyes open until the sun rose. and then, just like every day, he would return to the ring once more to be beaten until the crowd was happy — the only difference being the new ring girl wearing half as many clothes as when he'd last seen her and a smile that didn't convince the monkey man one bit.

the months that followed ishani's arrival took some adjusting to get used to. matches changed, payment changed, tiger changed. at first it was just getting used to a woman being in the building — especially one dressed the way ring girls did. the other men were like starved dogs in overheard conversations that had him keeping a closer eye on them — to the point that he began noticing each and every snide comment that accused of 'not belonging' and weird notes left from a 'secret admirer' on her mirror. it was all tough to stomach even for him so he couldn't begin to imagine how she felt walking home at night.

but then it was the audience that changed. sure, she was booed here and there at the beginning in favor of the actual fighting they'd come to bet on, but after a while she started gaining traction. there were men who'd come only to cheer when she stepped into the ring with that stupid sign, eagerly waiting by the back door until her shift was over to ask for her number or who to bet on next. there was even an incident where a sold-out show for two unpopular fighters was terminated early due to the absence of life in the crowd when ishani wasn't visible, but the important detail to tiger hadn't been the lack of enthusiasm for the actual fight, it was the attention and money he made without the fight.

the locker room became a slaughterhouse by the time tiger started favoring ishani. talks of how 'desirable' she was turned into how pesky she was, perverted smooches turned into arrogant scoffs, and all the while ishani remained totally uninterested in it all. she kept her head down and did what she had to do, which often entailed skimpier outfits than typical or (objectively worse) humoring the sweaty patrons for 900 rupees an hour. either way, she continuously endured the bitter tasks put forth day by day without ever making a fuss until finally, on an evening as regular as any other, she seemed to snap.

it came after an apparently tough day when she walked into the building with her hair tied in a rat's nest at the top of her head and dark circles under her eyes to emphasize the frown creased besides her nostrils. tiger had begun calling out to her as she swung open the door to her personal storage closet and, without uttering a word, slammed the door shut behind her. the peeved man would then look around to see if anyone else had witnessed this variation in her demeanor, naive to the eyes behind the monkey mask watching his every move under a microscope.

she was sour from that point on, the perpetual scornful knitting of her brows evident to anyone who cared to look from the beginning of her shift until the very end. she'd kept her mouth sewn shut the entire day even when tiger called her over before she could change and grab her stuff to leave the vile workplace — even when he'd asked her to 'have a drink' with a customer for another hour — even when said customer spilt his drink down her front. only when kid noticed the grubby hand on her thigh creeping inward did ishani finally release whatever had been caught on her tongue all day, her own drink now being thrown in his face.

"fuck off you worthless pig! keep your dirty dick in your pants and leave me the fuck alone!"

any and all conversations from lingering individuals in the vicinity would cease entirely upon hearing the howl released from the formerly well-mannered ring girl. caught in the sights of her boss and coworker for two entirely different reasons, ishani shot up from her seat to storm off from the man at the table, called after only by tiger as she made her way toward the locker rooms.

"ishani!"

she didn't even glance back at him, continuing her way out of the central arena to leave the bewildered audience behind as she disappeared into the employee-only section of the building. kid would catch himself rushing through any leftover tasks before he could go home with ishani in the forefront of his mind, holding on to the hope that he could run into her before she'd left and offer some sympathy for her day — only to find the locker room entirely empty when he grabbed his bag. with the release of a breath he didn't know he'd been holding, he'd opt instead to simply keep an eye on her tomorrow and make sure she was alright, stepping out the back door with slumped, aching shoulders.

— and then, as he took in a deep breath of the fresh air on the second step, his eyes would be quicker than his mind to notice the figure in his peripheral. by the time he recognized her, ishani's attention was already on him, sitting slumped against the brick wall with a quirked brow at the lanky man on the eroding staircase.

finally, after months of mutual intrigue and accidental eye contact with the other who seemed to be watching when they weren't looking, kid and ishani would interact for the first time with a comfortable breeze between them and hushed voices under the twinkling stars.

"are you okay?" he'd asked sincerely. the wind brushed her hair from her cheeks as she replied, "yeah. all good." and yet, he could've sworn he'd noticed a glum cadence in her words.

"do you want me to call a taxi?"

"it's alright, but thank you." she produced a small smile identical to the other sad grins presented throughout the day. "just waiting for him to go home before i leave."

him — the man at the bar. kid was already leaning on his heel to turn back inside. "i can tell him to leave." he could almost see the rain clouds looming over her head begin to part as her downturned smile grew brighter, unalloyed while her shoulders straightened out.

"i'd appreciate that."

she spoke with the gratitude obvious in her sparkling eyes, and so, with the simple nod of his head, kid would then head back inside to oblige. he'd even go as far as to exit out the front door for his walk home just to make sure the perverse man didn't turn back around, all the while contemplating his limited interactions with the ring girl. unbeknownst to him, this decision would finally grace ishani with the first real smile she'd experienced in a long while, one that remained imprinted all the way home as if to remind herself how to do it.

the days following this incident would proceed as normal if not for the instances when their eyes caught from across the room once more, a different kind of smile on her lips than the one he’d grown used to. it caught him totally off guard the first time and left him utterly unsure of how to react or respond before she was whisked away by tiger to fulfill another duty in the day. however, by the second honest smile kid had become certain this wasn't just a fluke, mustering the courage and the will to push through the throbbing in his jaw as he replicated her grin. it wasn't nearly as genuine or convincing as ishani's, but it was there, and that's all that really mattered in her eyes.

day by day, little by little, kid and ishani's smile-laced glances would grow friendlier and friendlier despite their lack of communication — even getting to the point where others had begun to notice.

"making after work plans, there, kong?" cobra would snicker as he took a step closer to the beast on the other side of the ring.

"stop talking and hit me."

it wasn't until a little over two weeks after they'd spoken that ishani and the monkey man would be in contact with one another again, finding themselves interacting once more due to a complex work situation;

he was waiting against the wall of tiger’s perpetually locked office door when he’d noticed her enter the locker room — practically barging through the greasy guys with hands balled into fists as she walked right past him and up to tiger's office. she'd knock with heavy knuckles against the chipped oil paint and, after a brief pause, the door would swing open to reveal their hasty-looking employer with an astounded and somewhat irritated expression on his face.

"ishani," tiger hummed with condescension weaved in his tone "i don't suppose this could wait."

she stood her ground with a simple "no," replicating his low octave but without the distain present in her vocal cords. kid swore he could still sense it.

“alright,” their boss sighed and pulled the door open further to let her in. “grab a seat.”

before entering ishani would promptly glance over at the bloody man leaned into the wall beside her, a look of what he could only describe as sympathy creasing her features. this puzzling gesture urged him now to respond the only way he could — the only way they did — and earned her a comforting smile as she started to head inside. the minuscule flash of her grin appeared on her lips for only a second before she then disappeared from his view, completely failing to close the door behind her.

the monkey man wasted only a moment on internal debate before deciding to inch closer to the doorway and listen in, back pressed flat to the wall and eyes forward while he overheard their conversation. she must've left the door open for a reason, right?

"it's like i've told you before,” tiger spoke in an annoyed grumble “that isn't how business works, and that isn't how this is going to work — if it did work like that i'd be the richest person in the world tomorrow, but unfortunately company comes before personnel."

"all i'm asking is for you to stick to your word. i don't expect any favors. just respect."

"respect?" he asks with an exasperated thinness, a scoff caught in his throat. "respect you?"

ishani, on the other hand, is surprisingly calm despite her previous demeanor. “would you break a promise with someone you respect?” tiger finally scoffs.

“what promise, ishani? i never promise anything to anyone — especially not the ring girl with a fake name who prances around for money.”

kid can almost hear the smirk in her voice. “the ring girl whose made you an extra few thousand rupees every night? s’that the one you’re talking about? — because if so, that’s even more of a reason to keep your word.”

there is a beat before tigers response that left the eavesdropping man outside to ponder his own theories of what he was doing during this time. maybe he was pushing his tongue in his cheek to keep his big mouth from saying something he shouldn’t. maybe he was brushing his hair behind his ears as the thought of a cool and collected response. maybe —

“i don’t give hand-outs, ishani.”

on the contrary to his mulling, her answer was immediate. “that is such bullshit, man! you rig every match! how am i asking too much when you make me to stay late every night just to laugh at some sweaty guys' jokes? not to mention the other things you beg me to do. and yet i never complain and i never whine — which is why i asked you last week for my pay today. i need that money today, tiger.”

kids brows would furrow upon hearing this new information. he knew tiger did things under the table, of course, everyone did! most matches were rigged and he did ask ishani to sit with some overzealous customer just about every night, however her emphasis on other things caught his full attention, the implications nearly baring his teeth.

"i can't give you your pay tonight. best i can do is friday."

"friday?" ishani repeats, her volume raised higher than before "it's tuesday, tiger — how am i going to eat tonight? how will i wash my clothes tomorrow? what am i supposed to do until friday?"

"honestly, i don't know, but i believe you'll figure it out. now, i have somewhere to be, so i will see you tomorrow." tiger's annoyance is now outwardly apparent in his voice.

"that's it? i should just go fuck myself then?"

"if that's what you wish to call it, sure; go fuck yourself — now get out of my office."

from around the corner kid can hear a chair screeching as its legs skid against the ground before landing with a thud. then, ishani's swift but heavy footsteps, her face beet red as she exited the office in the same manner as she had arrived. and before kid even has the chance to do or say anything, tiger is peeking his head out to see who else had been looming around to speak with him.

"you come to make demands, too?"

make demands. he noted tiger's verbiage before shaking his head.

"all right, let's get this over with."

kid would almost hobble out the back door for a cigarette after his match when he’d noticed ishani already two steps ahead, mid-drag as she looked over to see who'd stumbled into her alone time. of course it was the monkey man — who else? she exhaled the smoke before speaking.

"i always feel sorry for kong. looks painful."

her voice seemed so much softer when directed at him, though maybe that was just the foreignness of them actually speaking to one another. kid took a moment to respond while restraining a wince from the shift in weight as he worked down the second step. “don't feel sorry, kong's 'the beast.'" ishani shifted to face him when he arrived at the third.

"is he, though? or is that just how he's made out to be?"

kid would have to pause once more in order to work through what she was saying — what the true meaning was hidden in the ambiguity — and more importantly what he was going to say back. he’d watch her take another drag with her eyes fixed on him, finally making it down to the final step before deciding to mirror her intentional vagueness. “does it matter by this point?”

the warm twinkle in her eyes ran cold upon hearing this response, now more of a troubled glint as she pulled her gaze from his silhouette trudging to lean against the brick. from her peripheral she could see him fishing for something in his pockets and her own free hand would subconsciously slip into hers, the other bringing the menthol back to her lips. “i think so…” she’d trail off, and for a moment, that was that.

and then he was the one to suddenly speak, his tone barely over a whisper after a long exhale of billowing smoke. “can i ask you something?”

“sure.”

“why’d you leave the door open?”

a deceitful smirk graced her lips as she took another drag in what he assumed was an act to postpone her answer. “because.” ishani hummed lowly, “i didn’t want you to think i was soft.”

this took him aback entirely. of all hypotheses he had conjured up over the last two hours to explain her varying demeanor, this was not one of them, didn't even make the list. kid's adams apple bobbed while he swallowed the hesitance in his vocal cords, her gaze returning to his just in time to catch this quirk.

"i don't."

the warmth in her eyes would return again after these words left his mouth, and though she would only smile in that sincere manner she had revealed all those days ago, it felt as though she wanted to say something; the corners of her lips twitching as her eyes flicked between his. how awfully he wished to hear it — her thoughts on his rare transparency — but ishani would remain utterly silent with the grin on her face fighting to show teeth. kid would grow timid quickly under the pressure of her gaze and silence, unintentionally prodding him to abruptly blurt out what he'd been poring over since the moment he'd left tiger's office.

“do you know ‘kings?’ the elite club in uptown mumbai?”

ishani’s brows furrowed as she shook her head. “no, i don’t think so.”

“well…” he took a breath in an attempt to navigate how to go about this, each explanation coming off worse and worse. he looked off to the skyline. “all the wealthy businessmen go there to pay for girls to laugh at their shitty jokes. if anyone could do it..."

there was a beat before her response that left kid out in the cold for the few milliseconds it took her to find what to say, the anxiety in his chest rising until an entirely unfamiliar sound eased his swirling worries, light and harmonious in the night chirping with crickets. he'd glance back over at ishani to find her restraining the giggles emitting from her throat with her pointer on her lips, eyes now looking back up at him as she smiled.

"you trying to pimp me out?"

her apparent delight would grow along with her grin as she watched his face flush with the unsure and somewhat nervous chuckles falling from his split lips. "that is what it sounds like, huh?" he'd look away to ash the dwindling cigarette between his trembling fingers "just wanna help, is all. promise."

ishani turned towards him even more now, inadvertently catching his full and undivided attention, though she simply pressed the butt of her dead cigarette into the brick. "see?" she spoke sweetly — knowingly as she took half a step toward the back door with a vivid twinkle in her eye, "kong's not as bad as people make him out to be."

and with that, she turned, filter in hand as she monitored him all the way to the back door. with her fingertips grazing the rusted handle ishani would offer one last salute towards the monkey man before finally heading back inside, leaving him alone against the brick to ponder their interactions once more. the absence of her response had his suspicion snowballing on how she'd taken the offer and, with another puff of tobacco, kid found himself accepting her subtle rejection.

— so imagine his shock the next day when he'd exited the kings' kitchen for a breath of fresh air only to find ishani doing the same.

"hey," she'd smile, a familiar glow in her gaze on the dumbfounded man "funny seeing you here."

#[ kid ]#kid ✶ ishani #dev patel #monkey man #monkey man 2024 #monkey man fanfiction #dev patel x reader #dev patel fanfic #dev patel imagines #dev patel imagine #oc community #oc creation #ocs #oc #my ocs #oc x canon

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thousandyearphantombunker · 5 months ago

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The Owl House Critical Post, scroll away now I don't know if I am being too harsh in this post but I wrote it anyway so if you don't wanna read something potentially upsetting this is a warning (to those who decide to read please tell me if I'm being too harsh)

I remember initially hating how the show handled its villains, they all felt like jokes, they never felt like threats or like they provided a meaningful challenges for the main cast, they never had any real depth or complexity. but i bit my tongue, I was told that I was basically a dumbass for complaining that Bump openly breaks a law that's supposed to be punishable by death so that Luz could fulfill her witchy fantasy and that he wasn't arrested. the show could've had him make the multiclass student thing be something underground- boom it lets luz live out her fantasy but doesn't ignore what was established about the setting and creates potential stakes if these underground classes ever got discovered! That already made me angry but the cult thing is what I wanted to complain about- i only had basic ass knowledge about cults and TOH fails at portraying that crap, most people in the EC can just quit and do so in a way that makes it feel like they're just quitting a job, it doesn't feel like they fear losing their friends or sense belonging and community, they don't feel like they're anything but jokes. Leaving a cult is scary, often times cults will send their followers into the real world and set them up to have bad experiences so they'll come running back, they'll hire thugs to scare them into staying or position them in away so that they suffer (sending them out without money or the skills to survive), they humiliate those who begin to ask questions so that they stay in line. guilt tripping, putting members against each other, cutting off contact with the rest of the world! The show only adds the whole 'forced to fight on a mountain' thing for flavor! Everytime it brings up actual stuff cults do it feels like it's more for flavor than actually writing this topic with sensitivity- look at how they treat Lilith! Imo It feels like the show insulting people for ever trusting belos, treating them like they're braindead and could've just realized fairly easily that he was evil. It's the most egregious with hunter who was basically fucking born into the EC. the show is also pretty black and white, which is curious for a show that gets praise for its portrayal of religious trauma. You think the show would be more grey. I did deeper research into cults and just got SO tired of people talking about how good the show was at conveying such a heavy topic. The titan reveal also doesn't help- Luz is told by an all powerful deity that she is the chosen one basically and is told that old man is evil and needs to go down- isn't that the same justification that belos uses for his actions- not saying belos should've gotten redemption or forgiveness but this feels wrong. He deserved to die don't get me wrong but using this justification feels gross. What's even worse is that the titan made Philip's life harder on purpose- ah yeah that brainwashed cult victim would totally change his mind especially if you make his life harder- yeah I would've preferred if belos was depicted in a flashback just having a bad time on the boiling isles and cherry picked those bad experiences to justify his actions. Also I hate that the show just writes belos off as greedy and glory seeking when it could've conveyed a message about how people can get absolutely get warped by religious dogma. I do wonder though if I'm being too harsh because TOH is for kids and I was told it would be hard to portray this stuff in a way kids could understand. I can come up with ways to make the breaking the law openly thing less egregious but I am struggling to think of ways the show could have handled the cult thing, I am aware that maybe I'm accidentally saying stuff that is kind of bad faith but this is my truth. I feel like TOH wasn't good at villains and it sure as hell didn't write cults well

#toh salt #toh critical #lilith clawthorne #hunter toh #emperor belos

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yuri-is-online · 10 months ago

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Been brainrotting lately and now I present to you what I think is an underused story beat for Yuu. What if “Yuu” isn’t even the prefect’s real name?

Considering that Yuu’s first experience in Twisted Wonderland is waking up in a coffin, wandering around an obviously foreign place, and being questioned by a suspicious man in a crow mask surrounded by people in black hooded robes… I just think most people would not give their real name in such a sketchy situation.

Fast forward to when Yuu is more comfortable with the cast and there is both comedy and angst potential here. On one hand, the reactions to the deception could be pretty funny. (Cue a “woe is me” from Crowley. Of course he can’t find a way home for you when he doesn’t have your real name!) On the other, this could be a great way of exploring the prefect having a crisis. Yuu already lost so much in being taken to Twisted Wonderland, and now in a way even the prefect’s name has been taken.

What do you think?

waking up in a coffin, wandering around an obviously foreign place, and being questioned by a suspicious man in a crow mask surrounded by people in black hooded robes…

Annon, annon, annon, when you put it like that it sounds like Yuu woke up in the middle of a cult ritual of some sort. Which I suppose if you were an edgy Night Raven student idia you might argue that the enrollment ceremony totally is as an excuse not to go

But to be more serious, I have seen a few memes about this concept and I like it a lot σ(￣、￣=) It's a fun character concept, it's not everyday you get a chance to re-invent yourself completely.

That being said, just based off of the few dialogue options Yuu has at the start, I think Yuu is implied to believe that they are dreaming:

Which honestly doesn't make this idea any less valid. If you're dreaming about waking up in the middle of some weird necromancer's rite, why not give him a fake name? It's not meant to be serious anyway. Just go with the flow and hope things don't get too weird (and get offended when your dream doesn't give you magic powers) until it's too late and you realize everyone thinks your name really is that bad joke you made.

If you want to get darker, maybe Yuu really did think they died. A black carriage pulling a coffin really only goes to a funeral, and death has been depicted as an unmanned coach with black horses. Maybe Yuu is only just coming to grips with the fact that they really are alive when they see Riddle overblot and he hurts them. Maybe they now are sitting next to two people who have started to think about them as a friend, a really close one. Maybe they think Yuu is really brave because they charged headlong into danger without a second thought, and won, twice now. Maybe Yuu cries themselves to sleep that night because in a way... you died so yuu could live.

As for reactions, Crowley and the other staff members I think would be the most dramatic, followed by Adeuce and Grim. Jack I can see accepting your reasons and not thinking too hard about it, maybe even respecting your survival instincts, while Epel... well he says he's mad but mostly he's just concerned. He knows what it feels like to have two dueling parts of yourself and trying to find the middle ground. Ortho would be excited, you have a secret identity just like a magical girl/super sentai/anime idol/superhero take your pick really. He certainly doesn't mind getting to know you all over again.

Sebek screams at you for being a threat to Wakasama but it's clear to everyone who actually knows him that he's really just worried about the amount of stress you put on yourself. He would hate for you to have the same issues with self loathing he does. And Malleus? Well he lied to you about who he was because he was worried you would be afraid, even though you didn't know he existed. It would be very petty for him to hold a grudge against you for doing the same.

In general I think this would be something the others would have an easier time understanding as opposed to Yuu's sense of alienation or loneliness at not having magic. Identity issues are common themes in fiction, so I could see them actually seeing it as a problem as opposed to an abstract problem like no government papers (since these kids with one obvious exception don't do taxes.) But it would make for a great way to explore the prefect having a crisis just as you say, in a way it's the perfect example for every problem they might have with being in Twisted Wonderland.

#<3 asks #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #twst yuu #i think azul jamil and ruggie? would probably be the most accepting of yuu in this situation #jamil understands wanting to start a new life but wanting it done on his terms #ruggie understands poverty and not trusting the government #and azul #well he does try to collect secrets on people #it's how he tries to make friends #but he's also clearly “sympathetic” to those he perceives to be living lies #in a way it could be a mirror to how yuu sees him at the end of book 3 #“hard work is harder to master than magic seriously your amazing you don't need to steal from people”#vs #“i too value hard work and incremental progress”#“you don't need to lie about who you are to be worthy of respect and admiration”#and let's not talk about cay cay #because i sort of might have spoiled his 800 followers entry if i squint at something i wrote up there

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thescarletnargacuga · 2 months ago

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OOooOooh SCALEEETTT

Because until now do i realize that im allowed to put two asks-

MAY I SUGGEST THIS

WITH A LITTLE BIT OF CAINE BEING A SMUG MAN AND BOTHERING SHADOW ABOUT IT.

Ty🩷 DONT OVERWHELM YOURSELF WITH WORL IM WATCHING YOU

🫵

A/N:🎵I always feel like somebody's watching MEEEEE 🎶

SHADOWED ADMIRER

A SWEETTOOTH ONESHOT W/ SHADOW!CAINE

WARNING: little angsty, anxiety

~~~

The circus members gathered to await Caine to announce their daily adventure. They made idle chit chat fully unaware of the being luring in the shadows, watching.

Shadow made sure to peak subtly and silently, going completely unnoticed as he focused on one circus member in particular. The red headed ragdoll, Ragatha. Her cheerful smile and sparkling eye make his heart skip a beat. She always seemed so full of life and energy, it made him almost wish he could go on adventures too.

Her braided yarn hair looked soft to the touch, I often wondered what it would be like to have it run between his fingers. He was even envious of her patchwork dress, as it got to hug her frame every second of every day. He left out a quiet, lovesick sigh. He knew he could never tell her, but it was nice to think about what it would be like to hold her...to kiss her...to tell her how much he-

"Morning!" Caine popped into existence next to his shaded kin.

Shadow completely dispersed for a second, becoming nothing but black smoke that clung to the walls, then reformed with a glare aimed directly at Caine.

"What are you up to on this fine day?" Caine asked with a smile.

"Nothing. [%$!#] off." Shadow grumbled.

Caine looked over at his circus members in the distance. Then back at Shadow. "Wait...were you spying again? You know you could just ask me what adventure I have planned. I don't mind telling you."

"This isn't about you." Shadow noticed some of the circus members looking his way and he moved out of sight. "Now go away. You're too loud."

Caine narrowed his eyes in suspicion. "If it's not me...what is it? Hm? You jealous my cast gets to go on adventures?"

Shadow felt heated by Caine's incessant questions. "No! I don't give a flying [%$!#] about your adventures!"

"Alright, then WHO is it? Who are you watching so obsessively?"

"I'm not obsessed!"

"Shadow, this is the third time this week alone I've caught you snooping. Come on, you can tell me."

"The [%$!#] I can. You'll just announce it to the whole circus!"

"I will not! In fact, I don't want you to tell me. I'll just guess." Caine smirked.

"You really don't listen when people tell you to go away...and you wonder why no one likes you." Shadow didn't bother disappearing. caine would just follow him if he did. At least here he could occasionally glance at Ragatha.

"No need to make this personal." Caine cleared his voice. "Now, I am convinced this is about a particular person. You have a crush."

Shadow was no better at hiding his emotions than Caine. "Wha-!? No!"

"Uh-huh, sure you don't. Is it Pomni? Because I hate to break it to you, she's called for."

"Eugh! NO! That ball of anxiety in a jester hat is all yours, you freak."

Caine deadpanned. "You should really look in a mirror sometime. Not Pomni. That's a relief. Jax?"

"No! None of them! I wouldn't tell you even if you guessed correctly."

"Ah-ha! So there is a correct answer!"

"[%$!#]" Shadow swore under his breath.

"Okay, it's got to be Gangle. I didn't think someone as sweet as her would be your type, but-"

"Will you knock it off already!? God! Fine! IT'S RAGATHA!" He said so loud, it echoed through the circus. The cast members that had been talking all stopped to look around for the source. Shadow and Caine were out of sight where they were. Shadow lowered his voice before continuing. "There. Now can you [%$!#] off already!? Just leaving me alone!"

"Ragatha?? Wow, that's an even bigger surprise than Gangle. Come on, Shadow, you shouldn't be ashamed! Ragatha is wonderful! I could introduce you."

"NO! No! Absolutely not! She isn't getting wind of ANY of this! Understand!?" Shadow blushed heavily in his flustered panic.

Caine sighed dramatically. "Fiiiiiiine. Mum's the word. Promise. Cross my code and hope to fly!"

"....that's not how- whatever." Shadow pinched the top of his bottom teeth in exasperation. "Just don't tell her. Seriously. It's...better if she doesn't know."

"But why? I bet she'd love to go on a double date with you and me and Pomni. They're best friends, you know. And even if she wasn't interested, she'd be nice about it. Ragatha is a very kind person."

Shadow was silent for a moment. "It's not the rejection...it's the disgust."

"What do you mean?"

"LOOK AT US!!" Shadow snapped. "You got lucky finding someone so pathetically desperate, they accepted affection from the likes of us. Ragatha would never."

Caine was taken aback, then angry. "There's no need to insult Pomni. Her interest sees past this." He gestures to himself. "It's not about the avatar, it's about the person behind it."

"We aren't people, Caine. We're.... we're nothing but code. And I'm even less than that. I'm not even rendered." Shadow looked at his inky black hands.

"Don't be so quick to judge how she'd react, Shadow. I had the same fears confessing to Pomni. How could she love an AI like me? And yet, here we are. It wasn't out of desperation. It was out of mutual respect and longing for connection. If you respect Ragatha, you'll tell her. Creeping in the shadows will get you nowhere."

Shadow went quiet again. His eyes falling on Ragatha. His heart ached to tell her, but it ached even more out of fear. "Not...yet. I can't."

Caine nodded. "It takes time, but don't wait too long. You know I can't keep my mouth shut forever." He winked and teleported to the circus members to introduce the adventure.

With everyone properly distracted, Shadow could look fully again and admire Ragatha from afar. His daydream of her smile being aimed at him was interrupted by the intrusive thought of her being angry and insulted that he dare say anything to her. He tried to shake it, but thinking about confessing made fear grip his heart. She'd never accept him. She'd never want him. He would forever belong to the shadows. Alone.

#angst #the amazing digital circus #tadc #tadc caine #tadc fanfiction #tadc ragatha #shadow!caine #caine x ragatha #ragatha x caine

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baby-girl-aaron-dessner · 4 months ago

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The role of women in criticising men for their moral failings in the name of “strength” is increasingly prevalent in this week’s episode of HotD:

Rhaenyra & the Black Council:

We start with Ser Alfred continuing to undermine Rhaenyra during a council meeting. While speaking about Rhaenyra in the same condescending way he usually does, he says, “It is merely that the gentler sex, heretofore, has not been much privy to the strategies of battle, or their execution.” Rhaenyra has to then remind him and her council of men about their shared inexperience with battle: “There has been peace in our lifetime. You've seen no more battles than I have.”

As Rhaenyra says to Mysaria, her small council speaks “around” her, not “to” her. Mysaria points out that by dismissing Rhaenyra because they view her as a “gentle” woman, it reveals how the men “betray their own smallness”.

This idea that women are “gentle” and therefore, weak ties to when Rhaenyra said, “there are those who have mistaken my caution for weakness. Let that be their undoing.”

Alicent & the Green Council:

Like Rhaenyra, Alicent isn’t taken seriously by the men around her. She urges the small council to choose her over Aemond as regent because Aemond’s “lack of restraint” has “cost [them] dearly”. Out of the men at the council, only one of them supports her. This happens to be the most knowledgeable member of the council - Maester Orwyle. He backs Alicents reasoning, “It is experience that offers the surest path to security. Queen Alicent ably shouldered the duties of the realm when her husband's health failed him.” The rest of the council refuse her case based on the fact that she’s a woman. Again, the idea of “strength” is used to justify the actions of men. The council asserts that this is “a time when [they] must show strength.”

This ties back to Alicent’s words to her father: “Reluctance to murder is not a weakness!" Another example of the narrow definition of “strength” that is imposed by men.

Later, we see Alicent warning Cole of the dangers that this rigid adherence to “strength” will lead to: “You know what [Aemond] is... what of justice, of temperance? Or is strength now to be our only god? So you cast me aside.” Of course, Cole justifies his dismissal of Alicent because he views her as a gentle woman that needs to be “spared”.

Daemon: Alys & Laena

Daemon attempts to justify his crimes by stating, “war is a terrible thing.” Alys corrects him, “This is not war. These are crimes against the innocent…And once again, in the name of power, it's the weak and the women who must endure.” In response, Daemon argues that the people, “look to a man for strength.” Here we see that he views the idea of strength as equivalent to masculinity.

Ultimately, this show of “strength” back-fires on him when his victims denounce him as a “tyrant”. It’s in this scene where Laena’s ghost asks him, “Have you looked after our girls?” Her ghost is used to haunt Daemon over his past mistakes. His desire for strength and power have led to many unintended failures.

Aemond & Helaena:

While staring at the Iron Throne - a prize he secured as a result of relentless scheming - Helaena asks him, “Was it worth the price?”

Similar to Laena, Helaena’s role is to haunt Aemond. This follows the overused trope that women serve as moral compasses for men.

Rhaenyra & Jace:

Jace is restless and goes against his mother’s wishes. He is eager to take his dragon and fight leading Rhaenyra to remind her son that Luke was killed by Vhagar and Aemond.

Rhaenyra shoulders a great burden. She is expected to be “always prudent” while the men around her rush to war.

Final Thoughts:

It’s clear that the writers are trying to portray the women as “prudent”, wise and “cautious” while characterising the men as power hungry, reckless and driven by a narrow notion of “strength”. Clearly, the writers are using gendered tropes. This dynamic is not a novel one. And these ideas are not complex.

However, it is important in adding depth to a character like Rhaenyra who was dismissed as “cruel” in the books.

Usually, gendered tropes attract criticism because they tend to reinforce the existing gender order. Although I’m not applying that specific criticism to this case, I do think that the heavy reliance on the idea that women’s voices should hold men accountable for their actions feels overused.

#word vomit #I just had to get this out there #house of the dragon #hotd season 2 #hotd #hotd spoilers #rhaenyra targaryen #aemond targaryen #helaena targaryen #daemon targaryen #laena velaryon #alys rivers #jacaerys velaryon #alicent hightower #rhaenyra x alicent #criston cole

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selfaware-bungou-stray-dogs · 5 months ago

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Anime Convention (feat. someone real). Part II

Self-Aware! Akiko Yosano x GN! Reader

Description: "Don't tell doctor about your problems" have the same vibe as "Call cleaning company only after you made your house spotless". However, in your current situation it's more of a "Don't make your friend even more worried about you".

One last "gift" from your former colleagues left an injury. Yosano treats your wounds. You try to play dumb while she is doing it.

Despite her sadistic traits, Akiko Yosano can be empathetic. She wants to be someone you can rely on. Besides, she is curious about you. Perhaps, you won't be against of having a small talk?

Warning: OOC. English is my second language. Reader have low self-esteem. Reader don't think that they worth to be loved. Reader want to have friends but afraid of rejection. Injuries (bruises and big cuts from glass). Emotional abuse from parent

<| Interlude №1 |

_________

Albatross' motorcycle stopped before the mansion. BSD Cast and your new home.

Three cars, with the rest of the Flags, parked not far away from you.

You remove the helmet and gave it back to Albatross. He tried to give you a reassuring smile. You tried to smile back, but your smile was small, hollow and tried.

You still can taste your favorite ice cream flavor. You were mostly silent during the trip for an ice cream, but, you hopped, that you didn't ruin Flags' mood. You were trying to stay positive. But one's mind can be a cruel force.

During the trip to the ice cream parlor, you tried not to think about the situation you were in.

You were jobless. And right now you have no way to get another job. For a town with a big university, there weren't enough options for a student to get a part-time job here. Especially during summer, when most of the students return home and employers were skeptical about hiring students, who decided to stay in town.

You have no way to pay rent. Well, you have some savings, but you really didn't want to spend them. And your rent was high. After you begged your previous landlord to let you keep an apartment (without you living there, but paying higher rent), he was adamant about the time you pay rent. If earlier, he could let you pay a week or two later, but now you should pay the exact day each month.

you need this apartment. if when if when if when BSD Cast left you, you will be alone again. you will need a place to go.

You were so tired. Not only because of what was happening in university. Because of studies, because of years staying far from home. Because of high school years. Because of your future.

You wanted life to be easy again.

You automatically followed after Flags and come inside the house.

Home sweet home.

__________

The mansion was a multiply-floor house with many bedrooms, attic, basement and with a big yard with a barn, playground and picnic tables. Fitzgerald also promised, that there will be a pool in a future. And Kenji wanted to get some farm animals and plant some vegetables.

You had no idea, how in the world Fitzgerald managed to get this place. You weren't questioning, how he got it. You saw documents from the bank about Fitzgerald's and The Guild members' accounts. You were too scared of looking at the accounts of the rest of BSD Cast.

You were still getting used to living in the mansion. All this people, all this space.

you were grateful, that you weren't alone here

_______

Flags and you were greeted by unamused Mori. Port Mafia Boss crossed arms on his chest, tapping his foot against the floor.

It was strange to see Mori without his normal attire (and you meant both "Port Mafia Boss" and "Underground Doctor" versions), but, you have to admit, that he looked good in his light green shirt and black jeans.

Mori glared at the Flags, before looking at you, his eyes immediately soften.

"Welcome home, My Sweet Bean. How your day has been doing?"

You felt your cheeks burning. One day, this nicknames will get you.

you like them. friends have nicknames for each other. as long as friendship lives the nicknames will live on...

when if when if when if they left you, will someone else have a nickname for you? or will your nicknames disappear forever

You ignored the thoughts and slightly nodded.

"Hello, Mori. Day has been doing... interesting"

It was true. You practically witness a bar fight... Without "bar", but "café fight" sounds lame.

Mori sent another glare towards Flags, coming closer towards you. None of the Flags looked guilty. Piano Man especially looked like he was ready to shut down every word of accusation that will come from Mori.

Of course, it doesn't affect Mori in any way.

"Yes. I do think that it was interesting. Especially after what my subordinates did, and how it has affected you."

The atmosphere became tense. Mori took a step towards Flags.

Cold claws of guilt and shame sank into your heart. Without second thought, you grabbed Mori's hand.

"No, Mori, please, it is my fault. I should have been better. I am sorry."

Mori coughed and looked at you with a shocked expression. You also felt the five pair of eyes on the back of your head, staring in dumbfounded silence.

you managed to shock Port Mafia Boss. and Flags... yay? will you get an achievement?

Mori opened and closed his mouth. He looked like a fish out of water.

"In what way it's your fault? In what way you should have been better?" finally managed to ask Mori.

Still acting on your emotions, you answered.

"Because if I were a better person, I won't be harassed."

_________

You were sniffing. A fresh big bruise on your arm looked ugly. Your father's steel voice rang into your ears.

"Stop whining. Stop playing a victim. No one else is being bullied. They only bother you. You know, what it means?"

Your father was waiting for an answer. You gulped and try to hold back tears.

"It means that I am the problem. I should have been better. To get good grades. To go to university."

Your father nodded.

"Right, [Y/N]. You should have been better. A better person, a better student. A better child. Because, in days like this..." Father scoffed. "I am ashamed of being your father. So makes me want to be your dad."

____________

Your memories were interrupted by another voice. The door leading to the basement opened and Ayatsuji step into the main hallway.

"Hello, [Y/N]. Are you alright?"

You mindlessly nodded. Mori and Flags, however, looked concerned.

you are terrible. you made them worried about you.. it's your fault. your fault.

Ayatsuji stepped between you and Mori.

"Is everything alright?"

You were grateful for Ayatsuji's intervention. You bit your lip and nodded again.

"Yes..."

You didn't notice the strange glances Flags, Mori and Ayatsuji send towards each other. You stepped from one leg to another. And felt something heavy in your backpack. You completely forgot!

can you be even more of a klutz?

You took off your backpack.

"Hey, Ayatsuji, I get the book you asked for from the library."

Without looking, you put your hand into your backpack, trying to get the book. A sharp pain pierce through your palm. You yelled, your backpack fell on the floor. With first drops of blood. The book fell from the backpack.

A big, bloodied shard of glass was stuck between book's pages. It seems, one of your former colleagues left it here.

To hurt you.

The hell broke loose.

Ayatsuji dashed back to the basement, Iceman, Piano Man and Doc were searching for the first aid kit, Albatross and Lippmann were trying to pick up your fallen things.

One of Mori's hand carefully took your injured palm, pressing a handkerchief over your wounds.

"Don't worry, [Y/N], it's going to be fine."

Then Ayatsuji reappeared with Yosano in tow. ADA Doctor immediately got near you, gently leading you to the basement. On her way, she took the damn book from Albatross's hands.

"I will take it from here. Let's go down to the infirmary, [Y/N]."

You followed after Yosano.

___________

The infirmary was quite big. Big enough to have an operation room, in addition to classic doctor office.

You were sitting in the office part, while Yosano were applying balm and bandaging your palm.

You were looking at the wall. You didn't want to think about what happened, what will happen. You didn't want to think about rumors, about your insecurities.

You just wanted to have something stable in your life.

The rest of the day will be terrible.

🩺🩺🩺🩺🩺🩺🩺🩺🩺🩺🩺🩺🩺🩺

Yosano was worried about you. And injury wasn't the main reason for her concerns.

Your behavior was concerning.

She remembered, when, back in their old world, she heard you talking to yourself about different topics.

About books, nature, last news.

You were interesting. And each time you started to talk about something, Little Light was glowing, almost purring.

You were happy.

And what she saw now...

They held the first meeting few days after they moved into the mansion.

It was clear, that something was strange with you.

Kajii said that you were shy.

Katai said that you need more time to get used to them.

But Koyou's whispered "abuse".

Yosano hated, that it's probably were the truth.

She doubted, that you were hit. But, abuse came in many forms.

And Yosano already hated everyone who put you through it.

She wanted to ask outright. She wasn't the only one.

Natsume Soseki stopped them.

"Let's not rush. Let's be patient. Just, show them that we care. Tell them, how valid their feelings and decisions are. How interesting they are. How happy we have them in our lives. Let's show them, that they deserve to be loved."

Valid decisions...

Maybe, before that, she could pry for a bit?

🩺🩺🩺🩺🩺🩺🩺🩺🩺

"Do you like going to the university?" Yosano's question came out of nowhere. You blinked and turned away from staring at the wall to look at Yosano. She finished bandaging your palm and was putting bandage and balm away. You tilted your head.

"Of course, I always wanted to go to the university." you were telling the truth. University means opportunities! University means getting a good job! University means new frie-

let's not think about that for now...

Yosano shook her head.

"Sorry, I guess, I should have elaborated. Do you like to attend your current university, with your current fellow students?"

You looked down. You didn't want to answer this question. Because your answer will make you feel bad.

"Yes, I am... I am getting a good degree..." you whispered. Yosano's eyes and small smile were warm. You tried not to cry.

"I know, that degree is not only good. You also like getting it. You are making your dream come true. But, what about other parts of student life? Parties? Clubs?"

You slightly bit your tongue.

Your university doesn't have clubs or any other means of after class activities. Well, there were few spots teams, but, you were never a sporty type. And you didn't like parties.

Outside the classes you were by yourself. Always by yourself.

forever by yourself

you could have chosen a different university. maybe, in your hometown? but you ran away.

you were an ungrateful brat, who were running away from responsibility...

Yosano put a hand on your shoulder.

"What I mean, [Y/N], I am... We are worried about you. Other students... A bunch of animals. They dared to harass you. To hurt you..."

She glared at the bloodied shard of glass in the trash can.

Yosano stay silent for a moment. Then spoke, carefully choosing next words.

"[Y/N]... I won't ask you why you were silent. I won't pry. But, if you want to talk... I can listen to you. We are friends, right?"

She looked worried about you. She looked kid. Honest. Like she really means, that she is your friend.

if only you could convince yourself about it

please... please don't give me hope... please... i... i am too blank... too stupid...

Your stomach rumbles. You and Yosano blinked, then Yosano's smile returned to her face.

"Sorry, you must have been too hungry to have a small talk right now. Let's go to the dining room."

Yosano took your undamaged hand and pull, making you follow her.

"Thank you for the help, Yosano." mumbled you.

you are an idiot. if you looked into the backpack, you would see the shard of glass. it's your fault for being injured. it's your fault for making Yosano, Ayatsuji, Flags and Mori worried...

"No problems. Thank you, Dear Dango."

You didn't see Yosano's face, but you can feel a smile in her voice.

"For what?" you didn't understand, why Yosano was thanking you.

"For being you. For being in my life. For being near. For being yourself. For having feelings. For having opinion. For having interest. And..." Yosano finally looked at you. "For existing and for being born."

Your face was on fire.

A big smile appeared on your face.

You weren't listening to a faint whispers of

she is lying, no one could be thankful for you, you are worthless

You were too happy right now.

The Beast if Insecurities left. For now.

Right now, at this moment...

You were happy. And you had confidence.

You have trust in Yosano's words.

Perhaps, the rest of the day won't be too bad.

#self-awarebsd #self-awareau #bungou stray dogs au #bsd #bungou stray dogs #bsd anime #bsd x gender neutral reader #gender neutral reader #Self-Aware Akiko Yosano #akiko yosano x reader #bsd yosano

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murphyoclock · 2 years ago

Text

The New Year's Party

hey god, it’s me again 🧎‍♀️

Summary: The Peaky Blinders cast celebrates New Year's Eve together. Cillian can‘t hide his desire for (Y/N) anymore…

Warnings: smut, drinking, smoking

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader

A/N: Some steamy smut for y'all! Please comment, reblog and engage! I’d love to hear your feedback 💕

"Thank you, please keep the change ... And a happy new year!" you smile politely as the cab stops at Paul Anderson's townhouse in London's South Kensington. You jump out of the car and a fresh breeze hits your bare legs, making you wish you had put on some tights. You're wearing a short, shimmering black dress with long, sheer sleeves paired with a silver choker and some simple black heels.

Heading towards the door, your gaze wanders around the bold neighborhood and its beautiful Victorian architecture. It's definitely a posher part of town, but not too posh to feel unwelcome. You ring the doorbell and your introverted self prays someone you know will answer. "Oh damn, look who it is!" Paul chants, embracing you in a tight, long-overdue hug. There's music and laughter pouring out of the house. "You're breaking my ribcage," you gasp dramatically and he immediately lets go.

"Sorry," he laughs, "you know how excited I get to see my favorite people again. Let me take your coat."

Paul puts away your coat and then you follow him into his large, open kitchen where many familiar faces are awaiting you.

"(Y/N), you look stunning!" Sophie exclaims, handing you a glass of bubbling champagne. Her warm voice makes you smile with joy. "Thank you, love. You look beautiful yourself." You exchange a few words with the other members of the Peaky Blinders cast, but your real focus is on something else. Your eyes wander around the open kitchen and living room, scanning the place for one person in particular. But to your disappointment, the person you've been most excited about is nowhere in sight.

What feels like hours of chatting about life, the last season, and resolutions for the next year pass before you can't control your nosiness anymore. "Where's Cillian?" you ask, taking a casual sip from your second glass of champagne. Tom shrugs his shoulders, "I couldn't reach him ... as usual. Guess he's celebrating with the family."

"Oh okay," is the only answer you manage to give. You take another sip of your drink, trying not to come off too saddened by Tom's suggestion.

Just as you plan to get another drink, a large hand is placed on your shoulder. "I guess someone's looking for me, eh?" a deep, well-known voice interrupts your little conversation. You smile nervously, trying to hide your embarrassment about the fact that you were asking for him. "Hey, Cillian. We were just talking about you," you stutter. He pulls you in for a warm hug, letting you inhale his calming scent you love so much.

Cillian is the most irritating man you've ever laid your eyes on. Ever since the incident at Helen's birthday party six months ago, his behavior's been confusing the hell out of you…

....

The house is even more crowded now. To your surprise, there must be around 80 people here. The loud music and alcohol are slowly getting to you, causing you to feel tired and slightly dizzy. You do enjoy a good party, but your social battery tends to die quickly if there’s too much going on. At around 11 pm, you decide you need some fresh air. Squeezing through the dancing crowd, you make your way upstairs to the third floor. Paul has a little reading room with a balcony you know about. Thankfully, there’s not much going on up there. But as soon as you open the door to the room, you notice a male figure sitting in the corner’s reading chair.

“Thank god, it’s only you,” Cillian notes in relief.

“Can I come in?” you ask, hoping the answer will be yes. “I just wanted to smoke a cigarette on the balcony.”

“Sure,” he answers with a smile on his beautiful face.

You walk past Cillian, avoiding eye contact, and lighten a cigarette on the balcony. You take a deep drag, the smoke immediately calming your nerves.

Footsteps are approaching you. "Are you hiding or why aren't you smoking on the patio with the others?"

"I think my social battery is dead. And it's not even midnight," you laugh at yourself, offering him a cigarette. "What about you? Didn't you arrive like half an hour ago?"

He grabs a cigarette and furrows his brows. "My social battery is basically nonexistent today. Also, I'm too invested in this poetry collection," he notes, holding up the little book he's been carrying around.

"A poetry collection?" you ask, a big smile on your face. "I didn't know you were into that."

"Why? You think it's lame?" He raises an eyebrow at you.

"No, I read them myself."

He laughs, taking a drag from his cigarette. "Really?", he questions, now staring right into your eyes. "I thought you were more into other literature."

"Like what?" you ask, almost coming off as annoyed. You hate it when people underestimate you.

"Like 50 Shades of Grey or so."

You scoff, now visibly offended by his answer. The cold outside becomes unbearable, and you step inside, Cillian following you. He sits back in the reading chair, but you just stand there, giving him a death stare. He notices your facial expression and giggles in amusement. "I was joking. Don't you remember you're the one who got me into poetry?" he asks, crossing his legs. "At Helen's birthday party, when we got so drunk and almost ended up fucking on her bed?"

You immediately stiffen at his rhetorical question, not daring to look at him. Didn't you agree to never mention that incident again? After all, it was a huge mistake. You didn't have sex, but you still made out with a married, much older man.

"How are the kids and wife doing?" you snap provocatively. A feeling of anger overcomes you. For the past months, Cillian's been acting hot and cold. He'd cut you off whenever you tried to talk about what had happened at Helen's, warning you about the possible consequences. And now he's just casually mentioning it? But you aren't allowed to talk about it?

He finishes his drink and rubs his chin in distress.

"Well ... Promise me you won't tell anyone, (Y/N)," he insists, his cold blue eyes meeting yours.

Oh, you think to yourself. You weren't expecting a severe possible answer. "I promise."

"We're currently separated and I think I want to go on with a divorce."

You title your head and give him a look of sympathy. "I'm so sorry, Cillian. How are you holding up?"

“I know it sounds harsh, but I feel fucking relieved, (Y/N). The divorce is way overdue. I mean, the last time we had a real date and sex was like a year ago.”

His blunt answer takes you by surprise. You feel flattered and excited that he would tell you something so personal but at the same time, you wonder why he'd confess it to you.

He notices the confusion on your face. "Don't get me wrong, (Y/N)," he shifts in his chair, "sex isn't everything in a marriage. I just wanted to give you an idea of our current emotional and intimate state," he chuckles, and you smile awkwardly.

"Guess I've gotten closer to having sex with you than your wife then," you mumble, referring to the incident and all the sex scenes you filmed together. What the hell did I just say? Regret and embarrassment wash over you.

"Sorry, I think I'm going back downstairs."

You turn around on your heels and head towards the door, but the second you do, Cillian grabs you by the wrist, spinning you around to face him. "I know you think about me at night," he whispers, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. His touch is gentle and you notice your breathing intensifying. "You get nervous around me. It's kinda cute."

The way he uses his words and voice makes your blood freeze immediately. It's not like you're inexperienced, but the situation feels so surreal, you can't differentiate between disbelief and excitement. Cillian leads you back to the armchair he'd been sitting on before. He sits down and pulls you onto his lap. At this point, your brain is complete mush, too perplexed to realize what's happening. What you do know is that all those little scenarios you make up before going to bed, seem to become true.

He puts his arm around your waist, allowing him to pull you closer to him. With his other hand, Cillian traces down your bare thigh, leaving goosebumps behind. A small moan escapes your lips and he's now cupping your cheek before finally smashing his lips onto yours, letting your body experience pure ecstasy. Naturally, you grind against his crotch, and his mouth travels to your neck, leaving warm but visible marks behind.

"Cillian," you softly say as reality hits you. "We can't do this, it's inappropriate and against our contract." He stops for a second and gives you a confused look. "It's unprofessional," you add. No matter how hard you try to compel yourself, your body decides to take over you. You giggle, feeling ridiculed by your own words.

"Well, I'm afraid I can no longer remain professional," Cillian smirks, grabbing your ass and pulling you in for another kiss.

Your thoughts and feelings are interrupted when you hear Paul's voice calling, "Everyone downstairs! The 10-minute countdown is on!"

You shriek and jump onto your feet. "We should go," you insist. "I don't wanna risk getting caught."

Cillian takes a deep breath, rubbing his chin in frustration. He gets up and towers over you. "Take off your panties," he demands, his voice sounding more dominant than before.

"Wh-at?" you stutter, furrowing your brows in confusion. "Cil, we really..."

"I'm not going to repeat myself," he cuts you off. "Take. them. off."

You look around the room, making sure the door's still locked. Facing Cillian again, you do as he's told you, and take off the black lace panties you're wearing under your dress. He gives you a satisfied smirk which makes you blush. Not in a million years would you've thought someone could hold that much power over you. You don't know what it is, but the way Cillian treats you makes you want to relinquish yourself to him completely.

You hand over the panties and watch as he puts them in his pockets. "I didn't expect you to be this wet for me," he chuckles, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead. His icy blue eyes are filled with lust as he finally whispers, "I'm going to ruin you tonight."

With that, Cillian leaves the room, not looking back at you once.

---

A few minutes pass, but you're still too stunned to comprehend the situation Cillian just put you in. Your breathing is still heavy and the heat between your legs doesn't seem to calm down either. The fact that you aren't wearing panties anymore, doesn't make the situation easier. What the hell was he doing?

Snapping back into reality, you rush back downstairs and join the rest of the party. You grab another glass of champagne and down it quickly, hoping it will clear your head.

"Wow, slow down, (Y/N)," Tom says, giving you a worried look. "Everything alright?"

"Uh yeah, I'm fine. It's just ... so warm in here, isn't it?" you explain, fanning yourself with your hands.

"Not really, but take this instead," he states, handing you his glass of water which you immediately drink. "Common, love, let's get this stupid countdown behind us."

Tom puts his hand on your lower back and leads you to where the rest of the PB cast is waiting for Paul's toast. You scan the room for Cillian but can't see him anywhere.

"Alright, party people!" Paul shouts, his drunken self stumbling to the living room's center. "It's time to get this new year started, eh?"

"Yeah, give us a Toast, Paul!" Sophie teases, the room bursting into laughter. Indeed, Paul goes on to give the best toast you've ever heard so far. When the clock finally strikes midnight, you fall into each other's arms, wishing everyone a happy new year. Then, your eyes catch Cillian's figure at the bottom of the stairs. The moment he realizes you're staring right back at him, he gives you a nod and disappears upstairs. Making sure no one is watching you, you sneak away from the celebrating crowd and follow him upstairs.

A few people are standing in the hallway on the second floor, chatting, laughing, and smoking. You walk past a few doors and suddenly, you're pulled into the bathroom. Cillian slams the door behind you, pushing you against it.

"Cill-," you try to protest, but he cuts you off, placing his index finger on your mouth.

"Shhhh," he whispers, pressing his forehead against yours. "Better be quiet or they'll hear you."

His voice is low and deep, causing your heart to flutter down your chest and your brain to turn into complete mush again. Fuck, I'm pathetic; how does he do that?

Cillian grabs your chin softly, your lips now only a few inches away from each other. "I'm here to claim my new year's kiss," he smiles before crushing his lips onto yours passionately. Your whole body gives in, allowing his tongue entrance into your mouth. The kiss intensifies as he tries to pull you even closer and your hands get lost in his hair. No matter how close your bodies already are, it's not enough.

In one quick moment, he lifts your dress up and over your head, exposing your naked body to him. "Fuck, you're beautiful," he moans, cupping your breasts and sucking on your hard nipples gently. His lust-driven blue eyes meet yours and he gives you a smirk. A sudden wave of shyness washes over you, turning your cheeks bright pink. Cillian chuckles, clearly enjoying your innocence.

"I want to see those pretty lips wrapped around my cock. Get on your knees," he orders and without thinking about it twice, you do as you're told. He takes off his shirt while you unbutton his jeans, pulling them and his boxers down to expose his already hard cock. You gasp for a second before you take his length into your hand, slowly pumping up and down to prepare him for the warmth of your mouth. You place your lips on his tip and open your mouth, taking more and more of his length as you bop your head back and forth.

"That's good, baby," Cillian moans. "Keep doing that. Relax your throat." As you keep going, the wetness between your legs becomes almost unbearable from all the praise and reassurance he's giving you.

"Get up," he insists, pulling you to your feet. Your hand wanders to Cillian's neck, and your lips meet once again, making you wish you could do this forever.

"Cillian," you whine, your legs feeling weak.

"Yeah?" he smiles, and you know exactly what he's waiting for. He spins you around so that he's facing your back. He then pushes you against the sink before giving you a sharp slap on the ass. Pleasure takes over your body as you try to form a sentence to speak.

"What do you want, love?" he asks, pure amusement in his tone.

"Please fuck me!" you shriek as his palm meets your ass again. How does the pain feel good and terrible at the same time?

"Will you be a good girl for me then, eh?" he asks, his mouth on your ear.

At this point, you're a shaking mess. Never in your life have you experienced that amount of excitement and pleasure in your body. Cillian drives you crazy, and he knows it.

"I'll fucking ruin you as I promised," he whispers. He grabs both your ass cheeks and spreads them, exposing your swollen and wet cunt. You swear you start seeing stars as his warm tongue touches your wet folds and as he collects all the juices from you. Your hands hold on to the sink, helping you to not lose balance.

"Cillian, I'm gonna cum," a desperate cry escapes your lips.

"Not yet, baby," he answers, pulling away. "I want my cock inside you. You're so ready for me," Cillian moans, placing his tip at your entrance.

"I know you can take it, (Y/N)," he grunts as he slowly pushes himself inside you. You roll your eyes in pleasure as his cock stretches you out.

"Oh fuck," you moan. Much to your pleasurable discomfort, he doesn't allow you to adjust to his size; instead, he takes up the pace, ensuring you'll be sore in the morning.

"You're just as tight as I'd imagined,"

Cillian's hand wanders around your throat, softly squeezing it as he keeps thrusting into you.

"Please," you beg for him to make you cum.

The begging seems to excite him even more and he takes up speed, slowly sending you over the edge. "Cum for me, babe," he insists.

Both your moans synchronize as you're both about to reach your climax. Cillian grabs your ass even harder, now pushing his cock deeper into you than before.

"Fu-ck," you groan in unison as your climax washes over you. Your legs are shaking uncontrollably when Cillian pulls out, his cum leaking out of you. Exhausting breathing echoes through the room, and it takes you two a minute to collect yourself.

Cillian gives you a warm smile and grabs a towel to clean you up. Then, he places his forehead on yours again, not saying anything. A few seconds of heavy breathing pass before he takes your hand and places it on his chest.

"You drive me crazy, (Y/N). I don't want to spend another day without you by my side."

#cillian murphy #cillian x reader #cillian smut #tommy shelby x reader #peaky blinders fanfic #cillian murphy x reader #peaky blinders smut #thomas shelby x y/n #cillian murphy fanfic

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