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lovenona · 3 years

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ON THE SACRED BONDS OF BROTHERHOOD.

synopsis; choso may be their beloved frat brother, but he’ll always be your brother first. (for the frat au collab.)

pairing; frat boy! choso x f! reader

contains; stepcest, dubcon (reader is under the influence but having a good time), extensive descriptions of knife play and blood play, marking (choso carves his name into you), oral (f! receiving), borderline yandere/possessive choso (he loves you A Lot), choso goes from mean to Soft, consumption and romanticization of drugs and alcohol, (1) use of ‘angel’, reader is afab and uses she/her pronouns, this is essentially all foreplay and ends before the fucking because i got tired, minors do not interact or perish

word count; 6.5k

the yard outside is clean, well-kept. there’s talk that the house’s landlord is a retired gardener who receives great joy from keeping up the hydrangeas and peonies along the sidewalk. it’s certainly award-winning, that front yard, with its colorful blossoms and plush bees circling the mailbox.

they’re so lucky, students bemoan on their way to and from class. i can’t believe the frat boys get to live there. i bet they don’t even know how lucky they are.

it’s a seemingly kind house from the outside – recently renovated with navy blue paint and white trimming, a large front porch and a few inviting windows. the place that omega lambda now calls home is, simply put, a dream. it sits just a few minutes from campus and it tells the street proudly, fondly, that there is no better place to be than here.

it’s true, in some respects, that omega lambda likes to see themselves as above the sweat and grime of their fellow frat brothers. they don’t spend their weekends “fucking and drinking” and tracking dirt across the carpet like animals. their fun is calm, refined: to be invited to a night with omega lambda means a night of smoke curling into the air, of gossip over olive-colored couches, of pills under tongues, of ease and relaxation.

it’s slower than the others, they say in the back of monday morning lectures, but no less extreme, no matter what those boys try and tell you.

i think i was tripping for days, the girl from psychology 101 boasted. whatever the fuck yuuji gets is strong.

such stories amaze you: and even as you stand on the sidewalk outside the perfect blue house, petunias curling inward with the evening breeze, you cannot believe they are real. it’s hard to imagine the face of your beloved stepbrother tied to these antics. it’s hard to imagine that the boy who used to come home every winter and summer with bloodshot eyes and a beat-up skateboard also swore a loyal, unbreakable oath of brotherhood to a band of boys you’ve never met.

it’s hard to imagine that your own stepbrother, choso, the one who taught you how to ride a bike and how to apply eyeliner and how to kiss without teeth, quite literally runs what has been dubbed the chillest fraternity on campus.

but yet, here you are, new to university, fresh-faced and eager, cowering outside the door of the omega lambda residence. your favorite skirt hovers around your thighs and you tug at the collar of your shirt, fiddle with the charm of the necklace choso gave you for your birthday a few years ago.

he’d invited you here almost immediately after learning that you and your roommate had tried your hand at partying with beta pi epsilon. naoya is trash, choso’s fervent texts read the next morning. absolute dick – don’t trust him. come hang out with us instead. he’d attached the address of the blue house along with a reminder to have a snack and take some medicine for your godforsaken hangover.

the message had taken you a little by surprise. choso’s always been sweet to you – doting, even, if you wanted a better word for it – but you hadn’t been sure how he’d handle attending the same university. your other friends all complain that they’d rather die than see their families; twins separate after orientation, brothers and sisters look the other way if they pass each other in the quad. you feared choso would be the same, that the omnipotent attention he gave you at home would completely dissipate the moment you moved into your dorm.

but his text reaffirms you, if anything. and although your roommate had opted to be wined and dined by the boy from calculus this evening, you don’t mind attending alone. her absence from your side only means you will be able to see your stepbrother without a distraction.

the music buzzes through the door as you knock and wring your fingers on the doorstep. should you just walk in? should you text choso and wait for him to fetch you? the ins-and-outs of frat etiquette cloud your mind until the door swings open and you’re met, face-to-face, with a young pink-haired man dangling a blunt from one hand and his phone, opened to his spotify playlist, from the other.

“hi,” you say, words foreign in your throat. “choso invited me?”

“oh, cool,” itadori yuuji says, shrugging his shoulders like he never would have questioned it. “come on in. you can put your shoes over there.”

while omega lambda is not packed from wall to wall as your night at beta pi epsilon had been, the various couches propped against the walls and surrounding the living room coffee table are nearly packed to the brim with the frat brothers and their guests. the air, hazy with smoke and desire and drinking, shifts and swirls as it curls around purple LED lights before fogging up the windows and disappearing up the stairs. it is warm here, easy, like dropping into the depths of a pleasurable dream.

“there’s drinks in the kitchen,” yuuji is saying, voice thick with his high, “and we’ve got some other stuff on the table, although you’ll have to pay yuuta for those–”

yuuji’s narration is cut off as a familiar figure crashes into yours, sweeping you into a hug so tight you fear your bones will snap from the pressure. choso smells like the cologne you bought him for his birthday, like fresh laundry and comfort; you breathe him in, deeply, and let yourself relax into the soft cotton of his black t-shirt.

“glad you could make it,” choso mumbles into your skin. he draws back slightly, drinks you in, your little skirt and your dainty socks that he’s always been partial to. he looks from you to yuuji, still vibing to the side with his playlist, and his eyes crinkle in what must be mirth.

“it’s good to see you,” you say.

“you saw me at lunch with mom last week.” choso smiles, the black line across his nose crinkling when his eyes light up.

“you get what i mean.” you tap his shoulder, lightly, as emphasis. the anxiety dissolves; it’s you, and him, like it’s always been. it’s your stepbrother choso who watches your shadow and wraps you up to keep the rest of the world at bay.

but the tender moment is broken when someone, a tall blonde girl with the aura of a lioness, calls out to choso to ask him for assistance. he looks at you, a bit forlorn, before telling yuuji to help you get settled in and making his way to the other end of the living room.

“yes, this way!” yuuji grabs your arm and drags you across the floor like you’ve known each other forever. “i make some fucking good drinks if i do say so myself.”

which, consequently enough, is how you find yourself losing your mind within the walls of omega lambda.

it’s not that you’re a virgin to the world of cocktails and lime and pills: it’s that you’re too sweet to know when to stop. it’s hard to tell yuuji no more, thanks when his face is so bright, when he and the strange, blue-haired frat brother mahito are asking you to try this and try that and to let us know what you think.

so you let yourself sway through the house, from couch to couch, listening to this mahito boy tell you about his latest philosophy courses as he dances cold fingers across your shoulders, listening to yuuji explain the very serious business of pulling an all-nighter without coffee, watching the LED lights shift from purple to blue and back again.

(you’re not sure where choso is. perhaps, in your altered state, he’s sitting just across from you and you don’t even know it. but you don’t mind, because his brothers get along with you just as well. you don’t mind, because you’re too drunk or too high to know any better.)

“and how are you doing?” a dark-haired man slides into the empty couch space next to you. arms littered with various tattoos and dark hair pulled back into a casual half-bun, he could have been your beloved choso had he not exuded such finesse, such arrogance, which choso could never be capable of doing.

“i’m alright,” you say, but you’re more than alright. the room is so warm and your brain is so fuzzy that you might melt into the couch if someone looked away for even a minute. “i don’t think we’ve met before? i’m choso’s stepsister.”

he simpers, a humid thing, one that coils around your eyelids and sets your insides alight. “ah! i’ve heard a lot about you. it’s nice to meet you.” he holds out a manicured hand; black nail polish glimmers in the dim light. “geto. i’m one of choso’s frat brothers.”

his handshake might take your soul with it. his hands are smooth, refined. you swear he can feel your quickening pulse as you introduce yourself. he watches you like you might be the only person in the room, like you might be the sweetest thing to have ever crossed the threshold. and filled with rum and liqueur and confidence you take it, gladly, because you’re young and the thought of university still puts stars in your eyes.

“so what are you studying?” geto is saying, prying you apart, picking through your history. he’s in his final year and you’re in your first and he knows all there is to know while you still have nothing. you latch onto him because he gets it, because he’s handsome, because you’re silly and desperate and drunk. somewhere along the way your thighs touch and his hand greets your shoulder and you think that you finally made it into his lap because mahito complained that the couch was too full.

geto smells like expensive cologne. you smell vaguely of lemons and shampoo. yuuji jokes with you from across the table and you like it, the way these brothers’ eyes fall on you.

so you spiral, further and further, into a daze you cannot escape from. you barely react to geto’s firm hand snaking up your bare thigh because you are too busy trying yuuji’s latest creation and asking mahito for more of whatever he gave you. it’s fun, it’s weightless; you feel beautiful, supreme, like the kind of college girl you’re supposed to be. you’re desirable, cute. you’re the girl to be in love with, the one who sets the scene.

those rumors were right. the party is certainly slower than the other frats you’ve visited, with more emphasis on sitting and vibing than on dancing and drinking games, but no less extreme. you’re so far out of your brain that you wonder briefly if it will ever be possible to come back down. maybe you’ll be her, on monday morning, the girl who’s still tripping.

“you know,” geto is saying, his breath eerily close to your pulse, a moment away from pressing a kiss to your cheek, your neck, “you should stop by more often.”

“yeah?” you hope you sound sexier than you are. “i’d love to–”

“excuse me,” choso’s voice cuts through your lazy fantasy like the sharp fall of a guillotine. “i’d prefer if you didn’t hit on my sister, geto.”

geto’s laugh reverberates against your back, your ears. his grip on you lightens immediately, and whatever words he’d saved for you die away. “i’m not,” he says, but his voice is too easy to be honest. “just keeping her company. right, sweetheart?”

you’re finding it hard to see straight. caught in this game of cat and mouse you find you can do nothing but sit lamely in geto’s lap and watch choso’s favorite necklace reflect the purple light. it’s only after a revolution around the sun you realize you haven’t spoken, that you’ve done nothing but hover, a lot of drunk and a little high and a little nervous, between one man and the other. you mumble a yes in affirmation but it’s clear from the tension that choso doesn’t believe it.

“oh, for fuck’s sake,” choso sighs. “come on, then. you’ve had enough for one night.” familiar arms lift you off the couch and you stumble, much like a baby gazelle, into the safety of choso’s chest. the room spins with the sudden change; you cling to him like a lifeline as you abandon the party to head upstairs.

of course, bedazzled out of your mind, you do not question when choso leads you to the end of the hallway and over the threshold of his bedroom. it feels expected in a way, safe, as if the party had always been meaning to end here. as if there was no other place you should be.

“so?” choso asks, casually, shutting the door behind him with a damning click. “did you enjoy being a little whore with my brothers?”

his words take a long moment to settle in your ears. you’re caught in the swirl of euphoria in your brain, the black t-shirts scattered across the floor, the small houseplant you once bought him seated on the windowsill. it warms your heart to see it there, after all this time.

“well?” choso demands your attention. he takes your jaw in his hand and lifts your eyes to meet his gaze. his silver rings, imposing and cool on slender fingers, burn into your heated flesh like embers. his eyes swim with distaste and you know it’s your fault, somehow, but when the walls tilt and your rationality fogs over, you can’t quite pinpoint why.

“i–” your words catch in your throat. it’s clear, from the darkness in his eyes, from the way his nails dig into the soft flesh of your jawline, that anything you say to defend yourself will be futile. it’s choso’s world, you’ve always known, and even now, you’re merely living in it.

“i invite my sister to see me, because i miss her,” choso’s words nestle themselves deep into your bloodstream, settling amongst the brandy and wine, “and she chooses to spend the night bending over for my brothers. how do you think that makes me feel?”

it’s a look you know: a look that has haunted you for hours and days, a look that you know better than any other. it’s the look that guides the hand between your legs at night and the look you recreate in your mind’s eye when your vibrator just isn’t enough. you’re crumbling already, like sand beneath his touch.

“i’m sorry,” you say to him, but the words are soft and whispered things, shy beneath the weight of your own guilt and disappointment. “i didn’t mean to–”

“no,” choso admonishes. he steps closer, guiding you backwards until his bedsheets brush the backs of your knees. “of course you didn’t. you’re still too dumb to know what you’re doing.” his voice, evenly condescending, hardly matches the gentle brush of his fingers as he moves to cup your cheeks. you close your eyes against it, savoring the shivers he sends across you body with every heartbeat, every movement. “still need your big brother to keep you in check.”

you do not respond: he does not intend for you too. instead choso presses you back until you fall onto his bed, crawling over you to cage your body beneath him like a predator and its prey. your brain falters with the sudden movement, with the lateness of the hour and the depravity of your position, but you can do nothing but look at him with your helpless doe-eyes while something saccharine pools in your belly.

“look at you,” choso says. “high out of your damn mind. good thing i caught you when i did. who knows what would have happened.”

you believe him, you do, especially when choso dips his head to kiss you and demands your subservience. his tongue licks the aftermath of your cocktails from your lips and claims the expanse of your mouth, your teeth, your sanity. you let him take you, body and soul, even when you’re clamoring for air and freedom. there is no safety but choso’s lips, flavored with his cinnamon chapstick, no sacred home but the warmth of his mouth.

“there’s my girl,” choso breathes, nose brushing against yours as he pulls back for air. “going to be good for me now? going to make it up to your big brother?”

he doesn’t wait for a response; fingers dance along the silk of your blouse as he undoes each button, one by one, letting his fingers dip slyly against the newly exposed expanse of your collarbone and your chest and your stomach. you make no move to stop him, caught somewhere between choso’s aura and reality and time.

(and maybe in another life you would have stopped him. maybe in another life you would have been ashamed. but it’s choso, your sworn protector and god among men, and you would be a fool to try and stop the one who knows best. he is safety, protection. who knows what would have happened if he hadn’t taken you away when he did.)

“is this new?” choso asks, studying the curve of your bra as he rests against your hips. “who are you trying to impress?”

it’s thin lavender lace, choso’s favorite. your face warms at the observation and you turn your head away, nestling among the sheets, as if you could escape choso’s eyes: but his fingers still trace the material and you can still hear him breathing and you know he will never look away.

“i just got it,” you answer, humbled and mildly humiliated and certainly a little fucked up. the words are slow and imprecise as you stumble over your own tongue. “i wanted to…treat myself.”

choso’s exploratory hands move from your bra to the waistband of your skirt. “could’ve just asked me,” he says earnestly, intently. “i would’ve gotten it for you.”

your affirmative hum is lost when choso mindfully pulls your skirt down your legs and discards it somewhere in the shadows of the room. he says nothing of it, of the thin fabric or the way it flattered you just right. perhaps he is jealous of it. perhaps he does not want to remember the way his brothers looked at you when you wore it, the way geto’s hands caressed the places no other man should go.

“they match, i see,” choso gestures towards your underwear. terrified and knowing and aware that you’re growing damper with each passing minute, you press your thighs together. “they’re cute.”

“t-thank you,” you whisper. “i… i got them for you. your favorite color.”

he smiles, a precious and glorious thing, a smile that causes flowers to grow and birds to sing. you electrify at the sight of it, blissful only when he is.

“i’d hope so,” choso says, “because i don’t think i could take it if this was meant for someone else.”

he reaches over to the nightstand while his words claw through you. choso smells like cinnamon and safety and pleasure; your heartbeat quickens as his t-shirt brushes against you, as your world collapses into nothing but choso’s profile, his butterfly hair-clips and his glowing skin and his power.

when choso settles back over you, resting against your thighs until you think you might die of it, something silver and shiny rests in his palm. you’d recognize it even if your eyes were closed, if the room were so dark that you couldn’t see if you tried. a searing and insatiable sensation lodges itself in your veins; it is fear personified, it is anticipation of a behavior you cannot even name.

choso twirls his beloved switchblade deftly between his well-manicured fingertips. it reflects the low-light of the room. it calls out to you, the beautiful and dangerous thing, a siren’s song that promises both your misery and your fortune. choso’s face is relaxed, serene, as the envy and the fury seemingly melts away from him and leaves only a disinterested vessel behind.

he lets you study it, lets you study him, and you know he’s pleased when he can feel your thighs tense, when you try so damn hard not to let choso know just how affected you really are. he shifts, grinding gently against your pelvis as he moves, causing you to bite your lip in a desperate attempt to surpress the gentlest of moans.

“well,” choso says, disregarding the state he’s slowly working you into. he shifts down your body and runs a lackluster hand across the lacy expanse of your underwear. shivers pierce your navel, silver rings poison your skin. it’s all you can do to watch him, his heartless eyes and his casual form, as his thumb prods at the place where you underwear crosses your hip. “let’s get these off. i’d hate to have anyone else see you in them.”

you feel the blade before you see it. cold, unfriendly, it rests against the gentle skin of your hip, a killer ready to take a life. a humiliatingly choked whine is out of your mouth before you can swallow it; your gasp reverberates throughout the room, the sound of one who knows they’ve lost a fight.

“choso–” you breathe, but you don’t know quite what it is you’re asking him for.

he doesn’t answer immediately, opting instead to tease you further with the blade as he presses it against you until goosebumps rise in chorus. your fingers curl in on themselves, desperate for purchase, while fear and longing hum everywhere in your being.

“don’t worry,” choso says. “i’ll buy you more. now be good and stay still.”

you want to writhe, to lash out and squirm beneath the intensity of the moment, but you fear choso’s disappointment more than you crave such release. your big brother choso has never been afraid to hurt you: to pierce the skin where it hurts, to draw blood where he means it. if you move, the blade will move with you. you know this as you know every scar choso has left behind.

it’s agonizing, this pace. choso’s tongue peeks out from between his teeth as he works with the ease of a great master. it’s like watching paint dry, like waiting for grass to grow or continents to shift. he cuts away at the expensive lingerie you bought just last weekend like he has all the time in the world, like he does not care if the sun rises and you are still crying beneath him.

(and he does it, you know, because you’ve never been one to be patient.)

“choso,” you whine, drawing his name out, long and frustrated, as if in song. “go faster.” your legs twitch in protest and the blade comes ever closer.

“no.” choso does not even spare the kindness to look at you, his beloved little sister. “stop whining.”

the rest of your complaints lodge in your throat. you fear disobeying him, so you grip the comforter like a lifeline, exasperated tears pooling in the corners of your eyes as the blade cuts through your clothes and ghosts across the bare skin beneath. it’s embarrassing, really, the way you can feel yourself becoming more and more desperate the further choso drifts away from you, the more he refuses to indulge.

you wonder if he can sense the arousal on you, feel it, smell it, even, like you’re nothing but his own little plaything in heat.

after an eternity, the blade finally cuts through your panties with a satisfying rip. the torn fabric sits pitifully against your hips, a reminder of your own subservience, until choso peels it away from you with enough condescension to move you to tears. the cool air of the room hits your thighs, your cunt, like a ghost who’s taken up residence beside you.

blissfully unaware of your feelings, choso studies the remains of your ruined underwear, the thin fabric and the obvious stain of your arousal. locking eyes with you, he bring it to his nose for a brief and pleasurable inhale before he discards it somewhere on the other side of the room.

“there we are,” he says, as if he hadn’t just smelled yourself in front of you. “now no one will ever know about it but me.”

“choso,” you whimper, hot. it’s a gift and a humiliation to be beneath him like this, to shake with need and yet to be denied it, to ask for something, for anything, in a voice so unabashedly loud that anyone who passes by the door might hear it.

he ignores you, again, and turns his attention to your bra as it flutters against your fervent chest. you watch with wide eyes as the blade comes closer, closer, dancing against your ribcage and sending ice into your lungs until it slices through the front of your bra, down the center of your chest, like the thin fabric was made of nothing but water.

“get rid of this,” he says; you listen. with quick and quivering fingertips you shimmy your way out of the delicate material and toss it over the side of the bed faster than the speed of sound. choso, pleased with your obedience, intently traces the curve of your breasts, thumbing your nipples until you find yourself arching into his touch.

(choso, you mumble, eyes falling shut at the feeling. still, as always, he does not listen. he draws his hands away.)

it kills you, the way choso’s eyes possess you, own you, dictate the movement in your bloodstream. it’s akin to being pulled along on marionette strings, a puppet of choso’s own design, made to dance for him and him alone.

it’s the prize he deserves, your big brother, to own you and protect you, body and soul.

it’s that very intensity which moves you to misty tears, which causes your hands to fly out to meet him against your better judgement. choso lets you pleasure yourself for a moment with the texture of his t-shirt and the outline of his shoulders before brushing your hands away like unnecessary flies.

“did you whore yourself out like this when you went to naoya’s?” choso prods. the patronization lies beneath feigned and genuine curiosity. there are no inflections, no signs of anger. this is how your big brother gets you, every time: it’s the neglect, the disinterest, that breeds your guilt. “are you really so easy for every boy that comes your way?”

you shake your head and wish you could bury yourself further into the bedsheets. no, never. try as you might the first-year college boys here just haven’t been enough, the older ones too preoccupied with better cunts to look your way.

“just because those guys are my brothers,” choso continues, shifting further and further down your body, spreading your legs until he can fit himself comfortably between them, “doesn’t mean i have to share everything with them.”

“i’m sorry, choso,” you try again, “i’m sorry. i don’t want anyone else–”

“that’s right,” choso interrupts. “you don’t need anyone else. no one is ever going to love you the way i do.”

the way your big brother does, his eyes say, but he doesn’t have to voice it. you already know. it’s true that no one knows you better than choso does. no one understands your limits and your desires the way your brother has for as long as you’ve known him. no one knows how to caress you when you cry, how to run their tongue across your lips to silence you when you’re too eager. it’s always choso. it’s always been choso; but sometimes you’re just too much of a fool to see it.

the blade, cool and demanding, presses against the soft flesh of your thigh, just below the hip. you twitch in surprise at the sensation and curl your toes to quell the ache in your cunt. it’s slick, weeping; you can feel it, the arousal, as it pools and pools and drips quietly onto the comforter.

“choso, what are you–” you ask, breathily, pitifully, but choso’s quick glare reduces you into obedient silence.

he licks the cinnamon chapstick on his lips. a stray hair falls across his eyes and kisses the dark line across his nose. he is love and danger, a cocktail of possession and surrender. “i think,” choso says, the words slow and thoughtful, “you need a reminder of who loves you the most.”

a strangled cry escapes your lips when the blade pierces your skin just enough to draw blood. the sting travels up through your spine and fogs up your senses, causes your cunt to weep in horrible anticipation. it hurts, it does, the first cut, but still you find yourself waiting for more of it, more, in terror and lust and love.

“choso–” you cry, a misty tear escaping out of the corner of your eye, but the call is met by another stroke, longer this time, drawn out, until your knuckles clutch the bedsheets so tensely they might as well turn to stone.

“stay still,” choso admonishes amidst the burn of it. “you’ll hurt yourself.”

as if you were the one in control. but you listen, obediently as always, and the alcohol from earlier combined with the need in your chest mixes together until your body is as taut as a desperate wire, until you no longer have control of yourself or your limbs. the knife cuts easily, choso’s hands as steady and precise as ever. you can feel the blood dripping onto his sheets like a series of hot tears.

it’s too much, all at once. it is a fire which destroys you, which renders every coherent thought into ash and causes you to sob nothing but drawn-out cries and pleads of choso’s name into the dark bedroom. he has you just where he wants you: pliant, dumb, obedient. if he asked you to fetch him a star, you would have asked him which one he needed.

choso’s tongue darts between his teeth as a steady hand continues its masterpiece. you sob unabashedly in reply with every stroke, with every flex of his fingers as he works his blade against your tender skin. and yet, as the pain grows, so does your need for something, for anything, for release; with every aching minute your cunt grows hotter and lonelier and emptier between your thighs.

you crave something, anything, choso, perhaps even more than you wish for air.

“there you go,” choso says, just as you release another cry so piercing there’s no way even yuuji wouldn’t have heard it. “all done.”

you sit up on your elbows to peer down at the masterpiece below your hip. smeared with blood, aching and raw from the blade, the word CHOSO spreads across your upper thigh in an uneven but heartfelt script. it makes you dizzy, this marking, this sign that no one owns you better than your sacred brother does. you wonder if it will leave a scar, if it will heal; and even more so, you wonder if choso will merely rewrite it, again and again, until every cell in your body knows that you are nothing without him.

you say nothing; a whine escapes your lips as your eyes flit from the mark to choso’s eyes, dark and possessive, as he looks back at you.

“you like it?” he asks, once again the sweet thing, the doting one.

“yes,” you whisper back, never one to lie to your perfect big brother.

but you cannot hide the insatiability. choso notices the way your thighs twitch from the intensity, the way your cunt drools and your eyebrows furrow because you cannot relieve this ache on your own. you’re helpless, entirely at his mercy. choso tilts his head with a soft and unreadable simper at the sight.

“you’re really worked up, huh?” he pretends your distress is not blatantly obvious. he twirls the bloodstained knife between his fingertips for a moment before bringing the flat edge of the blade against his lips in a somber kiss. “this little thing’s got you down bad, i see.” he flashes the switchblade at you like a diamond. you watch, entranced, as choso slides his tongue across the metal until any traces of your blood disappear into his mouth.

your belly’s on fire. the switchblade shines with choso’s spit and he smiles, your blood on his tongue, while he prods your legs apart, further, until you’re entirely open for him with nothing to hide. you whine lowly as choso’s eyes flicker between your eyes, dazed and helpless, and the slick on the bedsheets.

“choso,” you repeat. “please, help me.” your eyes are wide and your voice is small and you crumble beneath the weight of your own needing, of your own body working of its own volition, of the high that collapses all over you.

perhaps it’s the way you call for him, your big brother, in your time of need. perhaps it’s the way choso can never really deny you, even when he feigns disappointment or rage or neglect. he’s bound to you, your protector, and you can see in the way his eyes soften ever so slightly that choso will not deny you this request.

“sure thing, angel. let me clean this up for you.” choso’s voice is generous as he bows his face towards your hips with the reverence of one before the altar. he leaves no room for your answer. an eager tongue swipes across your thigh and laps at the blood which pools there. his movements are indulgent, refined, as he holds your legs open with intimidating palms and drinks you in like medicine.

“choso–” you gasp, unable to look away. his eyes flit back to meet yours in reply but he continues his ministrations, slow, teasing, as he ignores your cunt entirely and licks at the fresh wound until it’s finally, sacredly, clean. your newly beloved CHOSO glimmers with his spit when he pulls away. he smiles at you then, praying over your hips, lips stained red with your blood, with your being.

“i may be their brother,” choso gestures towards the door, to the party which must still rage below, “but i’m your brother first, and now you’ll never forget it.”

the words are followed by his tongue on your inner thigh, fervent this time, as he travels downwards, downwards from his name on your leg until his nose is a breath away from your clit. you thrust your hips towards him impatiently and he accepts it, gratefully, burying his face deep into your cunt like he’s searching for gold. choso lavishes your clit with plump lips and an eager tongue, drawing the bud into his mouth and kissing it until you cry, until your legs tremble as they ensnare him in your garden.

“choso–” you’re crying, voice transcendent throughout the frat house, his favorite song. there’s a tongue prodding against your hole and a silver ring on your clit and you lose yourself within it, within choso’s breath on your folds and the fire which erupts into chaos.

when it comes to pleasing you, choso does not require air. he refuses to resurface as his tongue explores every inch, as he laps away at you with the passionate abandon only an older brother can provide. what you need, he needs, and what you desire most, choso is always willing to provide. he holds you steady as he works so you cannot escape him. he forces you into stillness as he abuses every sacred inch of your cunt, as he works you into a frenzy with his fingers and his tongue until you can think of nothing but wanting to cum.

and then, then, at the precipice of pleasure, choso pulls away. you pause as you catch your breath, heartbeat like an earthquake, and recollect your shock. why has he stopped? where has he gone? you’re about to sit up, to feign sobriety, to demand what the matter is, when something cool and smooth presses against your clit.

choso’s cheek rests against your inner thigh as he presses the flat edge of the switchblade against your cunt. it’s cold and dangerous and sublime and you cannot help but think of the way it could ruin you, that if you shifted or choso wanted it everything could end here, now, forever. and it is this fear, coupled with the coolness of the blade suffocating your clit, with the alcohol in your bloodstream, that sends you into a place from which you may never return.

the orgasm is as violent as a hurricane. the moment you tense and begin to quake with a strangled sob choso replaces the blade with his tongue and rides you through it, coating his lips with your cum and swallowing the vibrations and heightening the sensation until you are tortured by it, by the sting of pleasure and overstimulation and want.

(“that’s it,” you think he says into your skin, but your ears ring too loudly to know. “cum for me, just like that.”)

it takes some time for the waves to recede and for your body to become still again. with a head comprised of of jelly and limbs made of water you lie still, panting, as choso nonchalantly licks your slick from the switchblade with a hum and gingerly sets it back down on his dresser. you watch as he slides the belt out of his jeans and tosses it into the dark room, as he hovers above you like an angel and its lover.

“better now?” he asks against your parted lips. you nod. he kisses you, deeply, a kiss made of iron and cum and blood, tongue swiping across your teeth before he draws the air from your lungs. your vision swims when he plants a kiss on the tip of your nose, your cheeks, your forehead, between your eyebrows. he plants his love until there is nowhere left untouched, until you are buzzing with the security only your brother choso can give you.

“yeah,” you mumble back to him, content, satisfied. even the sting of his name on your body is a pleasantry now.

“good.” choso wipes the perspiration from your brow. his jeans scratch against your pelvis, and it is only then that you finally register his cock, hard and eager, waiting patiently for its turn. it is only then that you realize choso’s lesson is not yet over, that your brother’s desperate need has only begun.

“now,” he purrs, gently, lovingly, “can you show me how much you love me?”

(as always, forever, you do. you show him your love, endlessly, even when the party ends and the house falls eerily silent. you show choso everything, all of it, loyally, just as he asks, with an only you, choso, and a no one else loves me like you.

because although choso offers his love to the brothers downstairs, he will always, forever, be your brother first, til death do you part.)

#tw incest #tw dubcon #tw knife play #tw blood play #tw marking #tw yandere #choso smut #choso.#it's dark in here #it's hot in here

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itssuppertim3 · 3 years

Note

How would the husbands react if the LDB wanted to introduce them to their parents?

Skyrim Husbandos Meeting the Folks:

Just to clarify! Usually all of my fics are written with a female reader unless requested otherwise! I apologize if you meant for it to be a gender neutral headcanon ;-;

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

Ulfric Stormcloak: Preps his hair a few too many times. You're the Dragonborn. Such a gorgeous and powerful woman must have parents kin to deities! He'll have to make sure the meeting goes without a single flaw if he wishes to impress them.

He'll be even more anxious if they're supporters of the Empire. Gods, they'll despise him! You know that dinner scene in Shrek 2? That's pretty much how he'll expect it to go. But don't worry. In reality, he learns that your parents happily accept him as their son-to-be. (Forgive him if he gets political)

Veezara: He's a bit surprised by your invitation. If anything, he didn't expect you to even be in contact with your family due to your, ahem, unflattering occupation. Nevertheless, he feels more than honored to meet them.

His outfit choice will be his usual Brotherhood armor, to which you hastily advice him to think a bit longer on the matter. The next issue will be whether or not he should strap a dagger in his boot. "Just in case," he says. Veezara is actually very charismatic with your parents, despite the fact that he's never really had any. But soon enough, he'll come to treasue them as if they were.

Argis the Bulwark: Gods above, he'll love your folks more than a child loves sweetrolls. If the two of you aren't busy, he'll make a request to go visit them. It takes no time at all for your housecarl to immediately feel a part of the family, and he will brag frequently about you, as will they. In the end, the three of them are just sitting in front of the hearth, speaking nothing but pure love and adoration for you.

If Argis had to take a survey concerning his favorite things, it would most likely be structured like this:

My Favorite Things: -Y/n -Y/n's parents -everything Y/n likes -beef roast

Teldryn Sero: Much like Ulfric, he's also very nervous believe it or not. Teldryn is convinced that he's lacking in the career department, and he expects your parents to be underwhelmed once meeting him. The last thing he wants is to disappoint your family by admitting that he's just your average mercenary who used to drink himself sour in a sleezy inn every day.

He's a bit, I dare say, timid upon first greetings. For the most part, he'll let you do all of the talking until the conversation finally steers in his direction. He swears he can feel his heart rest at ease when your parents take a huge liking to his work. He deeply respects your father, and your father respects him all the same. Meanwhile, your mother is busy flashing you giddy looks as she whispers, "such a handsome man, he is!"

Ancano: He's very curious to say the least. He's well aware of the existence of your parents, for you speak about them quite often to him. In reality, he can't help but feel a bit of jealousy stirring in his stomach. To have people that cherish him deeply has been a secret desire of his since childhood.

Your parents are a bit astounded by your taste in men. They might exchange a few worried glances at first, murmuring to one another if letting a Thalmor into their home is the best choice. This causes Ancano to feel disheartened, but that doubt is quickly erased after sharing a chat with them. Your parents will then apologize for their caution, and surprisingly the three of them will get along very well! On your way back to the College, he'll have a pleased smile accenting his lips.

Miraak: He's skilled at maintaining his poker face, but the anticipation is definitely eminent. In his eyes, meeting your parents is the greatest privilege he's ever been bestowed. He already has a deeply profound and complex respect for you, and now he gets to meet the very people who birthed you?! He's screaming. Inwardly, I mean.

Disclosing the topic on how you both met will certainly be interesting. He'll make it elaborate, dramatic, and overall heart-wrenching. "It all started during the era of my rebellion against the Dragon Cult..." "Do you favor the color green, Mrs. L/n? I onced favored green. And then I spent 3000 years imprisoned in a green and goopy dimension, consumed by an endless abyss of vengeance and rage." "Y/n was so beautiful upon first laying my eyes on her. She was on the floor, of course. But even still, her eyes shimmered like jewels (probably from tears of agony :3)" "Ah yes... then she beat the daylights of me and commanded me to be her pissbaby servant. Such a strong and charming woman!"

Savos Aren: Will over apply cologne for the sake of masking his natural herbal scent. He knows well how much you love the way he smells, however he kind of wants to prevent your folks from realizing just how often he spends in his garden.

He's enchanted by your parents from the start, and he simply loves them to death. Savos doesn't categorize in the "young people" flock, so it's only safe to invision three seniors chatting away over a hot brew of tea and rocking chairs. He'll mainly discuss his role as Arch Mage, along with how amazingly talented you are as both apprentice and Dragonborn. Ah, but they obviously knew that already.

Romlyn Dreth: He isn't going to charm your parents, oh no. He's going to dazzle them. He'll wear his best clothing, have his hair combed back, conjure up the best manners known to man and mer, etcetera. And when they ask what he does for a living, Romlyn with flutter out a confident chuckle before saying, "I sell good mead for cheap."

In truth, he's never been so intrigued by your personal life. He didn't even know you had parents! Boy, was he ecstatic to hear that you wanted him to meet them. He was a tad intimidated by the thought, but he became comfortable rather quickly. Sometimes, it feels as if he literally stole them from you, for he speaks with them as if he's their most treasured son!

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

I'll be thinking about this all night, holy shit. Thanks for a awesome request, Anon!

#skyrim #elder scrolls #teldryn sero #savos aren #argis the bulwark #miraak #ulfric stormcloak #romlyn dreth #veezara #ancano #skyrim husbandos #romance headcanons #x reader

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parchmentedpetrichor · 3 years

Text

➳a mastermind ♡

in which fred weasley turns to the resident mastermind, y/n l/n, in hogwarts for advice. the problem? he has a crush on the same girl george does: angelina johnson. the story spans over a couple of months in their second last year at hogwarts.

fred weasley x ravenclaw!fem!reader

word count: ±1.4 k

tw: nothing really??

drop a follow if you wanna see more of this content!!

my masterlist:D

ft. cassius warrington

wit beyond measure is man's greatest treasure

a mastermind

after fred and george weasley had given up trying to enter the triwizard tournament, their sights set on a different matter. for george, it had always roamed his head. for fred, it simply popped up at the randomest of a time.

they were in the age of chasing after pretty girls with pretty smiles.

one pretty girl in particular. angelina johnson.

george's crush really wasn't a crush. it was more like a deep love for angie. he knew her really well, they were almost best friends. and angie loved him back.

fred knew both these facts, yet he couldn't possibly grasp why he still had a good old schoolboy crush on her. and he couldn't tell george either. no, george was too considerate and needed a girlfriend. and he had been patiently waiting long enough to deserve something.

sometimes he wished he was george. still funny and prank-loving, but calm and collected at times. but sometimes he liked himself just as he was. spontaneous, dramatic and terribly idiotic.

and hey, george was handsome, so he must be too, right?

one morning after tossing and turning all night, he decided he needed help.

he spotted the girl in the blue uniform and the glasses, she had the brightest yet the wisest eyes. even before he approached her, she swiftly lifted her head from the parchment she had been writing on and saw him. she met eyes with him. she didn't show any emotion she hadn't already been showing, but the simplicity of understanding was written, like all the ravenclaws, in her brain.

"um, hello," fred started.

"good afternoon, what's up?" y/n replied friendlily, parchment now away and now doodling randomly on a scrap piece of it.

"i need some help."

"okay then, go on, i'm listening," her tone was gentle and reassuring.

"i like the same girl as my brother. i don't know what to do, really."

there was silence for a little while. her eyes were focused, her hand absentmindedly drawing across the parchment.

she pushed her glasses up.

"would you consider this 'liking' you say, to be potentially love?"

"no, not at all, it's just a crush, y'know."

"a silly one? i know we all have silly crushes which are full of quite foolish feelings. but they're nice for a while."

"yeah, that's the feeling."

"why do you think you like this girl?"

"um, because-because she's pretty, and she's nice."

"two very valid reasons," y/n chirped, "and why does your brother like this girl?"

"he loves her, because she understands him and she puts up with him and they've been best friends for years. they like the same things and have the same beliefs."

"mhm."

she was still deep in thought.

"does this girl like one of you?"

"that's the problem. she's in love with him and we all know that. i just can't get over her."

"oh, moving on is easier than you think it is. simply put, your brother or the girl?"

your brother or the girl?

everything seemed so much more clearer.

"think about it this way, fred weasley, if your brother is happy, are you? good day, sir!" she saluted jokingly and set off merrily, her steps quick and paced.

she knew it was good to be cheerful around him, because if she was cynical and way too practical, it would break him. he needed to get over angelina, she thought, or it would severely affect his and george's brotherhood.

she didn't tell him that though, that would be mean and sad.

fred was quite astounded. he didn't know how this girl, who was, to him, small in size and in ego, and probably younger by a few months, knew this much.

that's the eagleclaws for you, he thought.

she didn't look intimidating, if anything, she was nice and fun, but she somehow seemed like she could be the end of you.

she knew, she knew, she knew.

she knew who the girl was, who the brother was, she knew more about him than he did himself, and she barely knew him. she about solved his issue.

he found himself being drawn to her. instead of his eyes floating to angie, they were on the chatting, studying, daydreaming girl who wore the ravenclaw blue with much nonchalence.

☆

y/n was freezing. it was the end of the school day and it was snowing. so she made her way to the ravenclaw common room, muttering a haphazard answer to the riddle, told her best friend julia that she was going to take a nap and then bundled up in the heavy sheets.

julia just smirked. she quickly went to grab fred.

"oi, fred!"

he was laughing with george and lee.

they would make cute babies, julia pondered.

"oh, hello," he said.

"come with me."

her tone was ominous and commanding.

"okayyyy."

he followed her to the ravenclaw common room, where she sat down next to a telephone.

"in a few minutes, y/n will call for a blanket because it's cold. just wait."

"and how does this concern me?"

he got a scorching glance in return.

"i have to talk to cassius in a few minutes."

sure enough, the phone rang.

"juliaaa, you're a darling, you know that right??" y/n flattered her.

"yeap." julia's face broke into a smile.

"yeah, so be a darling and could you please possibly send a nice blanket up here?? or two or even three??"

"of course, and a handsome prince with the hair colour of fire too to cuddle," she winked at fred who turned red.

"yEs oF cOurSe, juLiE, aNd prEfEraBlY thAt hE hAs sTaRs iN hIs eyEs aNd gAlAxIeS iN hIs MinD tOo," she joked back.

"okay. right up."

"wha- julia what??!!! thanks."

they both chuckled.

he handed fred a stack of neatly folded blue blankets.

"go. fifth door on the left."

and so he did. it seemed the ravenclaws were too mature to need barriers on their dormitory quarters. the door was open and the room was insanely neat. y/n was lying in a bed, eyes wide open, a small pout on her lips.

she was clearly surprised to see him. when he placed all the blankets nicely on her she smiled.

"thank you, freddie."

"aren't you gonna let me in too?" he asked, smirking.

"oh," her cheeks heated up, "i thought julia was just joking!!!"

"apparently i am indeed a handsome prince with hair of fire, stars in his eyes and galaxies in his mind," fred smirked and y/n huffed.

"it's an expression. and i didn't know she was talking about you!"

"well, scoot over."

y/n just stared at him, before shuffling over.

"i hate you."

fred just scooped her up in his arms.

"you smell good," she blurted out, before immediately turning red.

"mhm, 'pparently my cologne does have that effect on girls."

"pretty sad that only your cologne attracts girls," y/n retorted, "and i was just telling you. it does not have an effect on me."

"'kay, whatever you say."

there was a silence.

"this is boring," y/n frowned.

"wanna make out then?"

y/n glanced at him. was he for real?

she thought not. so she pretended she was asleep, and soon she really was.

fred didn't feel defeated at all.

for he had noticed the faint blush rise on her cheeks.

☆

y/n decided it was probably time she asked fred out or something. if she got rejected, she was great at moving on.

so she asked him to meet her at the corner of the library on a thursday afternoon. he didn't show.

dismayed, she went out of the library, and met george weasley.

"hey george!"

"yello!"

"have you seen fred?"

"check the astronomy tower."

"okay."

there was something mischievous about the way he winked at her as she departed. then again, it was george.

the astronomy tower was well lit and there in all his glory, stood fred. she felt a frown on her face as she approached him. he turned around and smirked at her.

"stop it. i invited you to the library to tell you that-"

her voice was muffled as fred put a hand to her lips.

"you are not going to beat me to this."

"this isn't a game!"

"eh, everything is. i really really really like you, y/n."

he anxiously awaited her answer.

a cheshire cat smile formed on her lips.

"well i was just going to tell you that transfiguration homework is due tomorrow but okay."

"..." he was staring grumpily at her, lips in a pout.

"i like you too."

he smiled, "good."

"isn't this the part you ask me on a date or something?" y/n teased, "or should i? wanna go to hogsmeade with me?"

"you beat me to it."

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mythicalninjas · 3 years

Text

A Hard Choice To Make - Part 1

"Go talk to him. It's the only way to wash your emotions away." April, the reporter of Channel 6, advise you.

"No!" Your eyes went wide "No, I won't!"

"Then do you want to live with it stuck into you for the rest of your life?"

You lower your head, not knowing what kind of response you should give besides this not-desired possibility. April is right.

Since you met the brothers—three years ago—you have created a strong family bond with all of them, specially with the fearless leader in blue who your heart shines for. You knew that something within you is brougth to life every time Leonardo is around, and it is kind of torture because you literally fell in love with this terrapin.

But there's a doubt haunting you: Is Leo with the same feelings about you? The objection behind it is almost invalid in your point of view. He is the leader of his group, known as being the only one who tries to keep his brothers in line, making decisions for each time they are out for patrol, dealing with the most heavy and difficult choices and moments throughout their adventures. And you... You are just a human as you always say.

You sigh, turning your eyes back at April "Ya know, I have no idea if he feels the same about me. I'm afraid of how he'd react from my declaration."

April leaves her desk, and sits next to you on the sofa in the living room of her apartment. "Y/N..." she said softly, landing her slender hand on your shoulder "Soon or late he will know; but if I were you, I would go talk to him. He won't figure it out alone". You nodded, staring at the floor again with your mind lost in an ocean of thoughts and emotions. "Try, Y/N. Do not let it consume you; or it will get worse" the reporter rubs your shoulder and embrace you in a comfort hug.

"Would you like me to talk to him?" She offered herself.

"No! No... I must be prepare myself first."

April let's out a soft giggle "Okay. Take your time, sweetheart. Call me if you need help." She smiled.

You let the comfort of her embrace take you completely as a help to try to kick out your anxiety, but your nervousness insists to stay. How would you say to the most respectable man that you're in love with? How would he reacts? Will he treat you in a bad or good way? You knew he wouldn't treat you like an idiot or something but even that you are not secure.

A few weeks has passed since April's advice.

You and Casey Jones were called by Chief Vicent to attend a meeting at NYPD police station for a debate about Shredder after his sudden disappearance in the day that Technodrome has appeared in the sky. And for your surprise you're not the only one who were invited.

Your mutant turtles best friends are there.

And speaking of them...

"Hey Casey and Y/N!" Mikey was the first one who came up to welcome you both as you enter in the police station. "Finally you're here! Chief Vicent is waiting for you" the young brother pointed at up stairs of the building.

You and Casey went quickly to the second floor.

Arriving there, Mikey pointed at one of the several rooms throughout the large corridor. From outside you could see three shells facing the only door of the small space, and your eyes shone. In the middle of the three massive terrapins, a blue and well-written kanji with a pair of katanas.

"Y/N? Are you coming or...?" Casey called, noticing your behaving.

You froze, desperate about what you would do with that handsome man a few steps away from you—actually standing on the other side of the table.

Gulping, you walked behind Casey as you both enter the room.

"Good evening, Casey Jones." the blond-haired woman nodded from the other side of the rectangular table, facing you both "And Y/N" she nodded again, sharing a polite smile. Other three pairs of eyes landed on you while you stand beside Casey "Hey, guys" Donnie waved with that cute grin he has. "Hey..." Raphael said with a neutral voice; and finally Leonardo who, as Chief Vicent, shares a nod and a smile.

Oh God, that smile makes your bones shiver.

"So what are the news, Chief?" Casey asked, leaning above the table to watch papers and pictures scattered above it.

"We got a prove that Shredder must be still alive" she continued "We have captured Karai who was with him in the day that Kraang has arrived on Earth for the first time, and has confessed that Shredder was teleported into Technodrome. It was the last time she has seen him" she finished, glancing quickly at Shredder's picture on her right side and then looked up at everybody there present.

"Wait, wait..." The hot head turtle interferes "Last time? But how? Karai and Shredder used to work together all the time! Perhaps she is laying-"

"We don't know, Raph." The leader cuts his brother, then Mikey continued "Or maybe Shredder is working for Kraang.", Donnie moved his body a bit to stand face-to-face with his brothers and continued "We do not know if all those suggestions are valid, but I fear what Mikey said. Shredder must be working for Kraang."

Chief Vicent nodded positively, leaning above the table "I wouldn't discard this possibility."

The idea of Shredder working for Kraang freaks you out. Shredder is known for being dangerous, and Kraang is known for being deadly; and the two of them together is a nightmare.

After a few minutes of silence, Casey questioned "So, what are we gonna do now?"

"Wait. For now." Chief Vicent responded, not breaking her eye contact with the Shredder's picture beside her, and the room was filled with Raph's indignation voice "Wait?! How much time of wait?!"

"Raph, more respect!" Leo punch his brother's arm, murmuring and shaking his head in disapprove by his brother's behaving.

You tried to not giggle by their brotherhood behaving.

"We don't know..." Chief Vicent replied "but all we can do now is use what we have available to find Shredder; and Kraang. I'm highly doubt that Shredder isn't on Earth. Maybe he was brought back by Kraang. As you said before, Donatello" she pointed "the atmosphere in Technodrome is toxic for those who have a normal cardiovascular system. Hardly Shredder would survive in that thing out there".

"There's an interesting point" Leo continued "But It's been months since his disappearance and till now no one has seen him. For sure, if someone have, they would warn us."

"Or they would help him" Raph participated one more time "We don't know if someone is his follower."

"You mean a new Shredder?" Mikey asked, surprised.

"I would freak out if it is true." You said.

"Me too." Chief Vicent agreed, sighing.

The worst nightmare of the boys is that another (or other) person ended up like Shredder. For sure someone out there have inspired themselves on that horrible assassin and perhaps will keep on doing his dirty work as a next generation of the Foot Clan. It must be happening in any city, state or country right now.

After two hours of debate, Chief Vicent has decided give a break, and then back to the reunion.

You are checking out your Pinterest in another small room of the building to spend some time. But your is mind busy thinking more about Leo than paying attention to the pics on your social media. You just scroll down, the pics passing through your phone screen quickly; then your mind focused in flashbacks of your conversation with April a few weeks ago.

You want to confess your love for Leonardo. You want to face him and say how much you love him.

But why are you feeling something negative inside you?

You sighed, without knowing what to do. Your eyes lift from the screen and scanned the small room around you. There's a desk with a deactivated computer in the left and a cupboard on the right. Cupboard? Why is it here in a office? Maybe this room is used like a kitchen. And speaking of it... where's the coffee machine and other stuff used by workers?

You shrugged, ignoring it and paying attention to your phone again.

"Y/N?" A familiar deep voice called from the door frame. You jumped and quickly looked up at the person.

Actually, at the turtle.

"Oh, hey Leo" you smiled, pretending you didn't got scared by his sudden apparence. But he was giggling a bit "Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you" he came in, picking up a chair and sitting beside you.

Butterflies started to fly wildly in your belly.

"Come on, Y/N! Say something!" you thought. "So... How's things going?". "Really, Y/N?! Is it all you can say?!" You coursed at yourself.

Leo glanced at you and says confused "Um... Things are great. Thanks." he smiled.

Now is the time. You have to tell! You want to tell! But you're fucking afraid.

Your thoughts says to do not do it but your heart says yes. You took a deep breathe, rubbing your hands on your thighs nervously and finally looked up at him.

"Leo..." You called softly.

"Hm?" He looked back at you in the eyes. It seems that your heart will get out of your chest, and you could feel your cheeks burning.

"I...".

He just tilted his head, waiting for your answer.

"I... am gonna take some coffee. W-Would you like some?" That's it. You wanna punch yourself in the face.

He lift an eyebrow—at least you could see.

"Um... Yes, please". He answered, still suspicious about why are you acting that way. You got up from the chair where you were and walked out of the room, but before you could leave, Leo grabs your arm and makes eye contact with you, worried "Are you okay?"

"Why? Yeah! Why wouldn't I am?" You tried to act as normal as possible, but you couldn't hide it from him. This man can notice if something is right or not. And you fear that. You don't wanna mess your moment. You just want to relax with him, and not put more worry into him. Leo and his brothers are already dealing with Shredder's disappearance which is shaking them inside out frenetically. And the last thing you want is bother him with your love.

"I'll be right back." You gently released from his massive hand and left the room, leaving him alone.

"Damn, Y/N! What's wrong with you?" the whisper leaves your mouth and suddenly you bumped with another woman, hitting your shoulder with hers.

"Oh my God, I'm so sorry! Are you okay?"

"Oh, no. It's okay" the red-haired waved, grinning "I must apologize, I was distracted".

"Don't worry, I was distracted too." You giggled, then kept on your way to find a coffee machine which you have no idea where it is.

For sure your thoughts are torturing and preventing you by something you wish to do. You've been hiding your love for Leo for almost three years.

After ask a cob where to find a coffee machine you finally have found it in somewhere on the third floor of the police station.

"Okay, Y/N. You can do this" you whispered while you fill almost to the top two cups with the dark liquid. "You can do this. You can do this..." You continued to repeat, trying to fill you with courage.

"I'm ready. I can do this!"

Picking up the two cups with dark coffee youheaded back to the small room where the handsome man is waiting for you.

Stopping beside the door frame—you can't see what is happening inside the small room—you took a deep breath and get yourself ready for the long-awaited moment of your life.

Smiling, you walked in.

And froze.

Leo was there, as you expected, but he was kissing the woman who you accidentally bumped early on your way to get the coffee.

Your heart broke like someone has ripped it out from you.

It seems that the world has fallen under you; your body falling into an precipice.

You prepared yourself for three years for nothing. All the worries, expectations, and hopes you used to have, all that moments you've spent practicing what you would say to your best friend, all the great moments you and him spent. Three years of your life were wasted.

Leo and the red-haired woman broke the kiss and directed their eyes on you, surprised. You have to admit that you saw a light blush covering on his cheeks.

"Oh, Y/N." He said, smiling "Allow me to introduce you my girlfriend".

You felt a knot forming in your throat.

"Y/N, this is Melissa. Melissa, this is my best friend, Y/N." He used his hand to mention you and his girlfriend while introduce you both.

"Nice to meet you, Y/N." Melissa waved.

"Nice to meet you, Melissa..." You shares a small smile, hiding your frustrating, and waved back.

You take a step forward to place the cup on the small desk next to you. Some drops of the dark liquid slipped out from the object "You should drink before it gets cold, Leonardo." You simply said, trying so hard to not cry. The leader got surprised when you said his full name. It's rare to you do it. Since you both got intimate—as best friends—you started to say his nickname as you do with the others. He doesn't understand very well the reason of your sudden change.

"Um... Yes, I will". He pronounced every single word slowly, tilting his head a bit as he looks at you. Melissa noticed your uncomfortable expression and asked worried "Are you okay, sweetheart?"

"No!" you screamed mentally. "Yes! I am. I gotta go. Sorry." You whispered the last word, turning and heading out of the room, leaving the woman and your best friend together. Your eyes starts to get warm and a wet feeling of tears disturbs you completely; you refuse to cry in front of important and serious people from this place. So you forced your legs to walk fast towards the exit.

You were so distracted that you almost bumped Chief Vicent. You gasped.

"Hey, Y/N. We're going to back to our reunion right now. Have you seen Leo? I can't find him anywhere." the blond-haired woman asked.

"He-*deep breath* He's in that room." You pointed at the door in the end of the corridor. C. Vicent lift an eyebrow, studying your facial expression.

"Are you okay, Y/N?"

"No, I'm not!" You gulped as see Chief Vicent's eyes going wide by your anger, then you immediately completed, "I'm not feeling good..."

But before Chief Vicent had a chance to talk to you, you lower your head and ran away, the knot in your throat and the pain in your heart growing up wildly.

You couldn't stay in that building anymore, not with Leo there. Not with the news of his sudden dating with someone. All you want now is go home, lay down on your bed, bury your face into a pillow, and cry like there's no tomorrow—well, actually there's no tomorrow for you.

How much time Leonardo is dating? And why April didn't tell you about it? Or any of his brothers? Do someone know about his dating? Or does he didn't tell to anyone yet?

You don't wanna know.

Actually you couldn't blame him because he has no idea that you are in love with him.

And now you have to deal with a new reality.

#tmnt #bayverse tmnt #tmnt bayverse #tmnt x reader #tmnt 2016 #tmnt 2014 #tmnt leonardo #tmnt leo x reader #teenage mutant ninja turtles #teenage mutant ninja turtles out of the shadows

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maddogofshimano · 3 years

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Apology Ring: Rikiya Scratcher Event

A new Rikiya event! I was very excited about what nonsense this one would be and it did not disappoint.

I couldn’t tell you why Kuze’s a reward, but I sure did get 6 of him, so I can’t complain. Let’s get started!

Summary: While Rikiya has come to adore Kiryu as his aniki, Haruka is still cold and distant towards him. In his desperation to win back her favor, he learns that Haruka’s after a prize from the scratcher event happening at the local grocery store, and is determined to win it for her no matter the cost

2008 Shimabukuro Rikiya had been charmed by Kiryu Kazuma, and his yearning to have him as his aniki has led to him often visiting Morning Glory.

Rikiya: Aniki! Let's go get drinks together! Standing by for your answer!

Kiryu: Rikiya...... I already gave you an answer earlier. I'm busy today. You should get back to work. <Kiryu walks away> Rikiya: W-Wait for me anikiiii~!

Rikiya: Haaa.... Alone again..... Though, that's just one of the things that makes him so cool. (Tl note: overwhelmingly tempted to use the "attractive/good looking/handsome" meanings on かっこいい instead of cool lol) Rikiya: ....Oh? Haruka: Ah..... Rikiya-san. Good afternoon. ...............Bye. <She leaves>

Rikiya: Ah, Haruka-chan.... Rikiya: She sure didn't look happy to see me... Guess she still hates me.

Rikiya: Well... I guess being hated by her can't be helped. She was real scared I was going to evict everyone in Morning Glory after all... Rikiya: Kiryu no aniki swore an oath of brotherhood though... So I can't just leave things like this. Rikiya: If I apologize from the bottom of my heart, maybe Haruka-chan will forgive me... Rikiya: .........Hn? Koji: I want to get Haruka a gift for always working so hard, but I can't think of a single thing to get her.... Koji: Have you thought of anything Taichi? Taichi: I got this! Isn't this rock pretty? I found it out on the beach! Koji: ....A rock, huh. Well, Haruka will still be thrilled to get it. Now what am I gonna do.... Taichi: What about the scratchers down at the shopping center? Koji: Scratchers? What's that? Taichi: Haruka said she wanted to the prize from them, and wouldn't doing scratchers be fun? Koji: No way. I don't trust that it won't be a total bust. Taichi: But think about how happy she'd be. Rikiya: ....Scratchers at the shopping center? Hmm, come to think of it I was supposed to go to the super market. Rikiya: ......If I can get that thing Haruka-chan wants, she might forgive me, so it's worth a shot. Rikiya: With a little bit of luck and money, let's take a gamble on scratchers! <He runs downtown> Manager: Hey welcome! Right now we're running a scratcher campaign~.

Manager: The top prize, a trip to Tokyo, has already been claimed, but we still have a ring from a brand that's very popular with women, a coffee maker, an electric razor, and a 100kg of rice among the fabulous prizes jostling around! You can't miss this opportunity! Rikiya: (.....The only thing he listed that a girl her age would want is that ring. That must be what Haruka-chan is after!) Rikiya: Sir! Give me a scratcher! Manager: Ah, Rikiya-kun. Ready to have some fun? One entry for every 1,000 yen you spend at the store! <scratching noises> Manager: Annnnd... no luck. For the bottom prize, here's your free pack of pocket tissues. Rikiya: Damn... Totally drained, huh. I really don't have any more cash to blow on scratchers. Manager: That's a shame, Rikiya-kun. I'll be here with the scratchers for a while longer if you change your mind and want to try again. Rikiya: ....Say, mister. I really just gotta get my hands on that ring. Is there any way we could make that happen? Rikiya: ....I beg you! Truly!! Manager: No, and the answer stays no no matter how many times you ask~. Manager: Right now the odds are stacked in the customer's favor with how many scratchers have been pulled, so good luck. Rikiya: ....Man, that's really how it is, huh. I getcha... Gimme a bit to scrape up some cash. <Rikiya leaves, makes a phonecall> Rikiya: ....I'm all out. Mikio's broke too. I guess I could try getting a loan.... hmmmmm.....

Rikiya: What am I gonna do... My plan to show my sincere apologies to Haruka with that ring is turning out to be a huge bust. Rikiya: I gotta get more cash to do pulls with... If only there was some way to do free pulls...... (Tl note: Rikiya is the prime target for gatcha games) <he moves on> Rikiya: ....I ended up walking all the way around Ryukyu without getting a single idea. What am I gonna do.... Hm? Blond Chinpira A: Hehehe, look at all these scratchers. I'm a almost afraid I'll get sick of doing scratchers from this.

Blond Chinpira B: Mhm~! Hey, did ya see that employee's face? He was so scared, it was hilarious! Hehehe. <they leave> Rikiya: ....What were those bastards up to? <Rikiya returns to the store> Rikiya: !? Manager: Uughh.... Rikiya: Hey, hey..... you're not looking good. All your merch has been scattered and all the shelves are all smashed up....

Rikiya: What the heck happened while I was gone? Manager: Ah, Rikiya-kun... The truth is.... some blond haired chinpira came and stole all the scratchers..... Rikiya: Blond haired chinpira...? You mean those assholes just a minute ago did this? Manager: When they found out the top prize had already been claimed... they flew into a rage and started smashing things.... Manager: They stole all the scratchers and remaining prizes and said "You better have that top prize restocked by the time we're back".... Rikiya: What the hell? Manager: I don't know if the police could do anything, and I have no idea how I could get another trip to Tokyo lined up..... Manager: Rikiya-kun, I'm sorry. I really did want you to have fun with this scratcher campaign... Manager: Haa... I started this up intending to give back to my regulars... but now it's going to end like this... I guess it can't be helped. Rikiya: ..........It's just like you to still be thinking about your customers. Even at a time like this they're the ones you're worried about.... Rikiya: ...Sir, I'm going to crush those assholes. I swear it. Manager: Eh? Rikiya: I can't stand cowardly civilians like that. ....So I'm gonna kick their asses. Rikiya: While I'm at it I'll get back all the scratchers and all the prizes and return them to you. Manager: R-Rikiya-kun.... but.... Rikiya: Don't worry about it. This is my job as a member of the Ryudo Family. My boss would yell at me if I turned a blind eye to this. Rikiya: So, I'm off! <Rikiya leaves> Manager: Rikiya-kun..... <EVENT START>

Blonde Chinpira A: Ughhh......

Rikiya: ......Hand over the scratchers and the prizes.

Blonde Chinpira A: W-Who the fuck are you....

Rikiya: Ryudo family captain, Shimabukuro Rikiya. Chinpira: R-....Ryudo Family!? Y-You're... a professional....... Rikiya: ......We good? I don't think ya want this again.

Rikiya: If I ever hear that you're causing problems for that shop again then I'm going to silence you myself!!!! Chinpira: I-I got it.... it won't happen again. <back at the store> Rikiya: There you are, manager. The scratchers and the prizes. With this, you should be able to continue your campaign, right? Manager: R-Rikiya-kun...... Rikiya: I really nailed those shitheads, so you shouldn't need to worry about them coming after you for revenge. Rikiya: Of course if they do show up, just give me a ring. I'll handle 'em for you. Any time you need. Manager: Th-Thank you Rikiya-kun.... What can I ever do to repay you...... Rikiya: Don't sweat it. This is just the job of a member of the Ryudo Family. <Rikiya begins walking away> Manager: Ah, Rikiya-kun! Rikiya: ......I'm up shit creek here. What about Haruka-chan's present....

Rikiya: What am I gonna do..... I'm outta cash......... I got it. I'm sure I got some pachinko balls tucked away.... ???: Rikiya-kun! <manager runs up> Rikiya: Manager? Manager: Ha... Ha.... This.... I wanted to give this to you. Rikiya: This is..... the ring that was one of the scratcher prizes!? Manager: Yep. You said you wanted it. So I figured to repay you somewhere... I'd like to give this to you. Rikiya: Manager..... But isn't this a real major prize? Manager: It's fine. Without you the scratcher campaign wouldn't have continued at all. Manager: Oh, are you turning this down? I know this doesn't remotely make up for everything you did, and I'm truly sorry. Rikiya: ....I ain't turning it down! Thank you, manager! Manager: Hehe, that makes me glad to hear. Well, I'm heading back to the store now. See ya. <Manager leaves> Rikiya: Hell yes... Now I can give this to Haruka-chan as an apology! Rikiya: Finally we'll be able to wrap this whole thing up and move past things with one big gesture! Rikiya: Wait for me! Haruka-chan! <Rikiya runs off> Rikiya: .......Pardon my intrusion.

Haruka: Ah...... Rikiya-san.

Rikiya: (....She's still so distant. Guess she still doesn't like me one bit....) Kiryu: What is it? Rikiya. I can't get drinks with you today. Rikiya: Nah, I'm actually here for Haruka-chan this time. Kiryu: To see Haruka? Rikiya: Yes... Um, Haruka-chan. I actually have something to give to you. Haruka: Something to give to... me? Rikiya: Here, this. It's some kind of ring from a famous brand. Haruka-chan, this was that thing you wanted, right? Haruka: Eh!?

Kiryu: A ring? What's this about Haruka?

Haruka: N-.... No. I, don't really like rings...

Rikiya: Right. As soon as I heard you wanted this I rushed out frantically to-........ Rikiya: .......Eh!!??

Rikiya: What do you mean, you don't really like rings...... But.... Isn't this the ring you said you wanted? Haruka: ...N-No. I don't remember ever saying I wanted that..... Rikiya: That's.... B-But, you wanted one of the prizes from the scratchers....... Haruka: Scratchers.....? Oh, of course.... Rikiya: Of course....? Haruka: I wanted the rice so that everyone could have it to eat. Is that what you were thinking of? Rikiya: R-Rice!!?? <flashback to the manager talking about all the prizes they had> Rikiya: The thing that Haruka-chan actually wanted..... was the 100kg of rice.......... Rikiya: I was so sure it was the ring.... Seriously, man......... Haruka: I-I'm so sorry. Kiryu: ....Say, Rikiya. What's with the sudden present? Haruka's birthday's still a ways off, right? Rikiya: .........I wanted to give it to Haruka-chan as an apology. Kiryu: ....Apology? Rikiya: Yes. When I came to Morning Glory and threatened to evict everyone, for kids that have nowhere else to go, wouldn't that have been terrifying? Rikiya: Since then, Haruka's hated me. But I wanted to earn Haruka's forgiveness... Rikiya: That's why.... I thought I could give her that ring as an earnest apology. Rikiya: But then I went and got her something she didn't even want, so instead of being happy she's bothered by it... I really am a fool, huh. (Tl note: we might not have gotten to hear Rikiya sing bakamitai but he did at least say the phrase here lol) Haruka: .....Rikiya-san. Even though I never said I wanted it..... I really am happy to get it. Rikiya: ....That's sweet of you to say, Haruka-chan. But you don't have to lie like that to me.... Haruka: No, it's true. Rikiya-san, you picked out that ring to give me because you thought it'd make me happy, right? Haruka: The fact that you were thinking about me like that and working so hard to make me happy, well, how could I not be! Rikiya: Haruka-chan.....

Haruka: Really though.... I don't hate you, okay? Rikiya: Eh? Haruka: I... think you're a good person, Rikiya-san. So I don't have a reason to dislike you. Rikiya: Wait, but... Earlier when you saw my mug you looked real upset and ran off immediately, didn't you? Haruka: That was... sorry... I think I was trying to hold in a sneeze. Rikiya: .......a sneeze? Haruka: Right. Honestly I was dealing with a cold earlier.... I didn't want to get you sick, so I was trying really hard not to sneeze..... Rikiya: --Which explains why you were keeping your distance..... What the hell. Have I just been totally overthinking this........ Kiryu: ...Heh, I'm glad for you Rikiya. Your worries were misplaced, and this is all settled now. Rikiya: A-Anikiii.... Haruka-chan's.... a good kid....... Rikiya: I horribly threaten her and she doesn't hate me...... I don't even get her the present she wants and she's still thrilled..... Rikiya: Even if it was my job to scare her.... She's... She's such a good kid, that Haruka-chan.... <Rikiya drops to the ground> Rikiya: I'M SO SO SORRYYYYYYYYYY!!!!

Haruka: R-Rikiya-san!? Kiryu: H-Hey. Rikiya, quit grovelling!

Rikiya kept his head bowed in apology for a long time, until Kiryu and Haruka were both troubled by the excessiveness.

Bonus stuff:

I was so sure Haruka wanted to trip to Tokyo to give to Kiryu so that he could go visit. The rice was my second guess, but I was so ready for the emotional pain. Shout outs to @agentshilonglang for correctly guessing it though!

This one wasn’t as long or a fraction as difficult to translate as the previous Rikiya board game event, but I am thrilled to have more Rikiya content. This card also has a new character story, and I pulled it so I’ll get that translated sometime soon-ish! I’m actually thinking of holding a poll on which story to do next when I hit 300 followers.

Finally this was the song that played on the main page of the event, tho they skipped the intro portion:

youtube

#rggo #ryu ga gotoku #ryu ga gotoku online #yakuza #Rikiya #rikiya shimabukuro #Haruka #Kiryu

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wolf-and-bard · 4 years

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The Geraskier dark academia AU of my dreams (because writing these up keeps me sane; TLDR at the bottom because this escalated):

-Jaskier is so ready for college. Like, the readiest he's ever been for anything in his life. He couldn't wait to get out of his stuffy family home, away from his narrow-minded hometown, he is ready. He signs up for a Liberal Arts major, moves into a dorm, drinks his brains away during the first week. He makes an archnemesis, he makes friends, he live-documents the whole affair on Snapchat for his friend Triss who lives across the country, but is always with him in spirit. Life is good.

-Jaskier doesn't think twice when his roommate Zoltan invites him to come along to a party at the Kaer Morhen fraternity house because hello? Orientation week was last month, high time he goes to an actual frat party full of guys like wardrobes that eminate sexual self-assuredness and hopefully some sexual flexibility as well. He puts on his most revealing shirt and too tight jeans and joins Zoltan. The fraternity house is old, red-brick with sandstone pillars and iron-wrought gates which would seem rusty if not for the ivy that curls around them. It's chock-full with people of every kind of major and age, most of them drunk beyond reason by the time Jaskier and Zoltan arrive. Zoltan disappears in a tangle of rugby-players and leaves Jaskier to his own devices. He befriends a group of Archeology majors, their leader being a cute blond called Filavandrel, and they share a bottle of red wine, round and round. He meets his archnemesis, the one he spent all orientation week bickering about music with, Valdo or some nonsense, and they do tequila shots. It’s a nice party and Jaskier has the time of his life until he returns from the bathroom to find a god of a guy standing in the hallway.

-"Oh hello," Jaskier mutters under his breath. Before, his evening was aimless, he let the wave of the vibe take him wherever, let the alcohol blur the world around him. But now, he has an objective. And that objective stands all by his lonesome, scowling down the hallway. Man, does he brood well. Jaskier usually goes for people that are easy to read if some casual fun is what he has in mind -and it's not out of his mind just yet - but this guy intrigues him; there is more to him than simple dudebro-ness. He has shock-grey hair and startling amber eyes and seems to cast the longest shadow. Jaskier wants to ride him. Jaskier also wants to serenade him on a starlit wooden bridge and collect all the guy's deepest secrets and desires to keep under his pillow and draw divine inspiration from. Okay, that may be the Tequila shots talking. He scurries over to the bar, downs another two, then approaches the guy.

-"Hi," Jaskier says as he sidles up to him. The guy half-heartedly raises his beer in greeting. Taciturn, dark, dramatic. Jaskier decides to go for it. "I absolutely adore the way you just stand here and brood." (Jaskier will only learn much much later that he accidentally used some weird Kaer Morhen frat code and set off a chain of events that changed his life forever). "Lamb," the guy calls out instead of answering, something that makes Jaskier think he's so far gone that he's actively hallucinating. But no, seconds later a guy with equally lush red hair and equally thick arms appears from the crowd. He wears a scowl which has Jaskier's throat tighten. "What is it, Wolf?" Wolf, huh? "Go collect Goat and Kitty-Cat. I found him." And Wolf-Guy grabs Jaskier by the back of the neck and hauls him through a door, down some stairs - is that marble? are those torches? GARGOYLES? - and into pitch blackness. Jaskier squeals. This is what he imagined when he dreamt of college. Well not exactly this, but close enough.

-They bind him with silk scarfs and put a blindfold over his eyes which, okay. Jaskier knows he shouldn't find this as sexy as he does, but he can't help it. He has no sense of self-preservation and this will just be the best of fuel for the first assignment in his screenwriting class. "Oh, this is fun," he murmurs when someone tugs off his boots and someone else smears a fatty paste onto his lips. It smells like... okay it smells lot like his uncle Matthew's pigsty. Weirdly disgusting. "Who are you guys anyway?"

-They don't speak at all that night, don't take off the blind-fold until way later. All night, Jaskier can hear them rustling around him, chanting in some language he doesn't understand. They give him several drinks, most of which honestly taste like asphalt, but make his insides go fuzzy. When the blindfold comes off eventually, Jaskier finds himself on the front-seat of a pick up truck, Wolf guy behind the wheel. They are parked behind the frat house. "Look, I don't think you're a suitable candidate. The guys all said they want to keep you, but my friend recognized you from the freshman introduction party and we usually only inaugurate sophomores." Jaskier blinks. He has absolutely no idea what's going in anymore. His friend Triss is probably worried sick because he hasn't checked in all evening. The faint taste of burned rubber clings to his lips and all Jaskier can think is: Fuck, is this man hot. "Go out with me," he blurts. "Go out with me, I'll show you how suitable I am."

-Over the course of a month's worth of introductions, preparation and inauguration traditions (which, among other things, have him dropped butt-naked in the middle of the forest, requiring him to find his way back to campus; have him spend more time learning long-dead languages than he is comfortbale with; have him getting thoroughly intimate with Eskel's (Goat) helper syndrome, Lambert (Lamb) and Aiden's (Kitty-Cat) ostentatiously loud fucking, Coen's (Hawk) frequent absences and Geralt's (Wolf) quiet, but passionate idealism) Jaskier learns the truth at the core of Kaer Morhen. It is more than a fraternity, it is a brotherhood of students that spend their free time in rituals to protect the college, its city, likely even the whole state from supernatural creatures that threaten to cross over into the world. The existence of these is no surprise to Jaskier who's come out of an adolescence of escapism and coping through fiction and song, but the fact that there are handsome tough guys who work to banish him is too much of a dream to be true. It is true. Unofficially, the call themselves Witchers. They catch wraiths in cricles of runes, they re-direct necrophages into Kaer Morhen's basement and slay them with blades of silver. They brew potions and cast minor spells to get rid of mutated insectoids. And Jaskier is to be one of them. They call him Lark.

-His first ritual goes bat-shit wrong. Jaskier is reasonably sure he did everything right, but the wraith doesn't stay contained after they bound it . "Fuck," Geralt growns after, pressing a cloth to the gaping wound in Jaskier's shoulder while they wait for Eskel to whip out the first aid kit. Jaskier shudders, can taste blood. "There shouldn't be fireflies here, right?" - "Ah, nope," Lambert says. He keeps snapping his fingers before Jaskier's eyes. "Hey, Lark, stay with us, okay?" - "He's fine," Aiden says, inspecting his nails. "If anything, it's Geralt we should be worried about. He's about to have a full blown panic attack." Geralt grunts and holds Jaskier closer.

-"Does this mean I can ask Priscilla to let me copy her homework," Jaskier asks later. He's in bed, bundled up in one of Kaer Morhen's bedrooms. Portraits of alumni line the wall and a hearth crackles away. Geralt sits next to the bed, a pretense-book on his lap. His eyes bore into Jaskier, wide, haunted. "Jask," he breathes out shakily. - "Hello, big guy. How are we doing?" - "Better now that you're awake. We... we had to call in Vesemir. He will want to talk to you." - "Alright, okay," Jaskier says. He knows who Vesemir is of course, but he has no idea what exactly his job entails or what having to talk to him means. "Geralt?" - "Hmm?" - "What did I do wrong?" - "Nothing. You were uncharacteristically precise... but it turns out I was right all along. You're not suited for this kind of work." - "Because I'm not big and buff like all of you?" Jaskier asks, pouting. Geralt has the audacity to laugh. But he also takes Jaskier's hands and kisses his knuckles and huh? What? Jaskier's brain short-circuits. Fuck when did he fall so hard for Geralt? "No, Jask, you're perfect. I mean, uh, ah, perfectly annoying." That bastard. "The wraith went crazy because it turns out you're an amplifier. That means supernatural creatures are pulled to you and can draw from you to manifest easier in our world. You wouldn't have noticed this unless you ever passed by a spot where the spheres overlap significantly. As it is, your participation in the ritual poses a danger." - "TLDR: I'm fired?" - "That's for Vesemir to decide... truth be told, I don't want you to go. But I can't stand the thought of you being in danger. Because of me, this." - "Go out with me, Geralt. Please. One coffee," Jaskier practically begs. Yes, his shoulder is minced meat and he feels exhausted from the blood loss but Geralt has never been this open and honest with him. "...fine."

-Jaskier heals up under the diligent care of his friends. Priscilla is allowed over too, practically drags him though his classes with tutoring and copies of her homework and sugar-coated emails to his various professors. Triss video-calls him three times a day. Eskel's med school expertise leaves Jaskier with the most neat scar he is ever going to get out of this, Lambert and Aiden hang out to play Gwent with him, a strange card game they invented and custom-painted, Coën even pops in to bring Jaskier his guitar and a venti Matcha Tea Latte even though the nearest Starbucks is miles away. Geralt... Geralt is there almost all the way. He sleeps in the chair at first, then - on Jaskier's stern insistence - in the bed with him, though careful to keep his distance. He helps Jaskier into the shower, something so strangely intimate without feeling innately sexual, he takes him out on slow walks. Geralt doesn't talk much, but Jaskier knows he feels responsible. It's fine. Sure. Absolutely fine. Jaskier is so far gone for this man by the time he moves back into his own dorm that he considers getting injured again just to have Geralt by his side. They never do go out for coffee.

-Vesemir doesn't so much invite Jaskier as have him called out of his choir session by a girl about Jaskier's age. She has the same hair color as Geralt and Jaskier thinks he's seen her around Kaer Morhen's bigger parties. "Hello, Jaskier," she says sweetly, but one look at her tells Jaskier she's deadlier than any of the frat boys. If his drunk memory serves correctly she also does a phenomenal keg stand. "Ves sends me to collect you." Which has Jaskier even more impressed with her. None of the boys dare to call him anything but Vesemir or Sir, even when he's not around. - "I've been expecting this," Jaskier says, shouldering his bag. The girl laughs and grabs his arm to guide him out of the building and across campus. - "You are cute," she says. "Geralt said so, but I thought that was just because he's so infatuated with you. I'm Ciri, by the way, his younger sister." Infatuated, huh? Jaskier has just enough brainspace left to save her name. Ciri. They will have to become very good friends. Infatuated.

-It turns out, Vesemir isn't half as scary as the boys made him out to be. He's closer to sixty than fifty, has a stern face, but a kindly voice and the first thing he does after dismissing Ciri with a meaningful glance is offer Jaskier a glass of whiskey. Jaskier sneaks a photograph of the bottle's label when Vesemir stands at the window and glances down at the campus, hands clasped behind his back. Triss will never believe this. It's the sort of alcohol that exists only in myth, at least to college students. "So, Mr. Pankratz. I'm afraid apologies are in order." - "Please, I prefer Jaskier." - "I know," Vesemir says and turns. "I would kindly ask you to delete that picture, my office and its contents fall under the terms of the non-disclosure agreement you signed when entering our brotherhood." Jaskier gulps heavily, the whiskey suddenly sour on his tongue. But he's quick to paste over a smile. He's gotten this far with the mysterious Kaer Morhen fraternity, he can pull all the way through. He deletes the picture. "Good," Vesemir says. "Now down to business." Vesemir gives him two options. Jaskier can consult a local magical artisan and have his memories of Kaer Morhen's true purpose removed. It is an easy procedure, won't cost him anything. Except for his new-found friends and the love he feels for Geralt. Except for the only place he's ever truly felt at home. Jaskier chooses the latter option which is to become the fraternity's chronicler.

-After that, things are supposed to calm down and they do, for a bit. Geralt still dodges any and all attempts Jaskier makes at flirting even though it's evident his resolve is thinning out. Jaskier observes and documents the rituals, begins to collect old notebooks. He's planning to go above and beyond his job and compile a comprehensive history of Kaer Morhen and its members before he's graduated. He may not be able to partake in the rituals or help the guys protect this city from monsters, but he can play his part. Leave behind a legacy.

-Between that and his normal studies, hanging out with his theater group, meeting Triss on alternate weekends and throwing epic frat parties, all of Jaskier's time is consumed. There are several instances in which Geralt and him almost manage to have their coffee, but then they have Eskel on the phone because Lambert and Aiden managed to give themselves poisoning over a simple Endrega job, or Priscilla needs an emergency stand-in for her weekly performances at a local bar, or Jaskier is simply too tired and falls into bed, sleeping over Zoltan's aggressive snoring. Jaskier doesn't mind so much. They catch glimpses of intimacy, Geralt's hand on the small of his back as he guides him downstairs for another ritual, a good night kiss on the cheeks once it's done, a spot of quiet homework-doing in Kaer Morhen's common room together, their legs pressed close under the table. One of these days, Jaskier will find the courage to close the last bridge between them. He just wants to wait until Geralt seems absolutely comfortable with it.

-All is as well as can be until Vesemir comes up with an idea. Because more and more creatures have been getting through and they are unable to hold off all, he wants to capture one of them, an Archgriffin, to bind in their world and act as guardian against lesser creatures. "You're mad," Aiden says. "That's fucking brilliant." - "It's a good idea," Eskel and Coën agree. Lambert keeps exchanging grim glances with Geralt because they both know what this means. They will have to use Jaskier to lure the beast. Which is why they both protest the idea heavily and Geralt gets into a fight with Vesemir. Jaskier is not there for it, but Aiden and Lambert tell him later, once he's back from theatre rehearsal. He watches them fight over it too and then it's only him and Lambert. Jaskier steals one of Zoltan's bottles of spirits and they get stupidly drunk, wandering around campus all night until Eskel collects them and tucks them into bed at Kaer Morhen. "I will not stand to lose you," Lambert slurs, arm dragged over Jaskier's chest. "You're like, almost my best friend. Plus, Wolf would be devastated." - "Aiden seems to think it'll be fine," Jaskier says, snuggling up to Lambert. - "Yeah, fuck him." They fall asleep like that and the first thing Geralt does when he finds them is kick Lambert all the way down the stairs.

-In the end, Geralt and Lambert are outvoted, not that they can stop Vesemir. Geralt is more silent than usual throughout prep and Jaskier can't seem to cheer him up. He knows his life is likely on the line, but he wants to help so badly. These guys are his family after all. If he can make their lives a little easier by doing this... well, he wants to. He needs to. Being in Kaer Morhen is the first time he seems to have a purpose other than writing angsty teenage songs. Eskel keeps checking up on him. Vesemir writes preliminary excuses for all Jaskier's exams which leave him with only A's, something Priscilla does not appreciate in the slightest. Lambert and Aiden fight and fight and won't stop fighting over this whole affair until Jaskier sits them down and makes them talk. Geralt... remains quiet. Jaskier can tell he doesn't sleep. Can tell he rarely eats. He decides now is as good a time as ever.

-It's the night before and the others have all returned to their dorms, but Jaskier stayed in Kaer Morhen under the pretext of Zoltan having his girlfriend over, and Geralt rarely ever goes home. He has a flat off campus, but Jaskier suspects it's drab and lonely. He gets it. Kaer Morhen has soft fluffly beds and fire places and wards and books. Currently, it has the two of them, bundled up in one of the upstairs rooms. They share an armchair before a low fire, not an unusual sight for them, not anymore. And still, Geralt pretends they're just friends. It's ridiculous. "You know I'll be fine, right?" Jaskier says. He has his head tucked under Geralt's chin and has been humming show tunes under his breath for the last half hour, something that usually puts Geralt right to sleep. Not so now. "I can't know that," Geralt replies. He lifts Jaskier's hand which he's been holding and traces the veins on the back of it with his thumb. "You've no idea how dangerous the ritual is. Even more so with you being an amplifier." - "So protect me." - "I will. I promise, I will." - "Geralt, when are you going to finally give in?" Jaskier sighs and pulls back a little. Geralt stares at him, a little cross-eyed and Jaskier gives a shaky laugh. "I'm going to kiss you now. Pull back if you don't want to, but allow it and I'll never let you go." Geralt allows it, kisses back. It's the first night they indulge in a love that has been growing for almost a year and it's gloriously sweet, blazing, beautiful. It leaves Jaskier with faith that, even if things go sideways, Geralt will get them both out of it alive.

-The ritual goes well thanks to the Witchers' meticulous preparations, the dozen or so warding spells they put on Jaskier and Geralt's reflexes that save him from a swipe of the Griffin's claw. They bind the creature to one of the basement holding cells and celebrate with excessive amoutns of vodka and cake. "All is well that ends well, huh?" Jaskier asks from where he sits on Geralt's lap. Strong arms hold him and his chest is full of nightingales that flutter and sing. He watches Eskel drunkenly dance-offing with Coen in a corner, watches Lambert and Aiden make out in another. Vesemir took off, but Ciri is there, lounging next to them on the couch, nose buried in her phone. "I will never put you through such danger again," Geralt grunts, his nose buried in Jaskier's hair. "Of course, love." Jaskier relaxes into the embrace. All is well, though it is not nearly the end of this story.

-TLDR: Kaer Morhen is an occultist fraternity that keeps supernatural beings away from campus. Jaskier, unable to participate in the actual rituals due to a genetic predisposition, becomes their chronicler. Geralt worries a lot. Jaskier tries for the longest time to get him to go on a coffee date or something. Lambert and Aiden are a disaster couple. Eskel keeps them all together, literally and figuratively. Ciri is the one who got all the brain cells.

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anasticep · 4 years

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Why Julie and the Phantoms is a masterpiece of a show. Part 2. Heroes and Villains or Let that foil shine

NOTE: Thanks again for your kind response to Part 1. I never expected that. It being my first tumblr post and a first meta in quite a long time I was blown away. I read all the tags, some were really hilarious. About having more than one brain cell xDDD I laughed so hard. It means a lot.

NOTE2: Please remember that the gifs are made by me, so don't crop, edit or give as yours.

Part 1.

Before diving into meta, I have to mention that the Villain of the story is actually one of the best in the decade. He’s cool, evil from the start, we understand his motives and we certainly are not supposed to love and make excuses for him. The writers made sure of that. So back to the main topic.

A foil is a character who contrasts with another character; typically, a character who contrasts with the protagonist, in order to better highlight or differentiate certain qualities of the protagonist

Foils in literature are not necessarily antagonists. A friend can be a foil or sometimes even a thing, a song. Whatever can make a good and real contrast to the protagonist. But it’s not very simple to use this author’s device and not fall down a deep hole. Because you have to make sure you did just the right amount of work to make it understandable for a reader, the things you want to contrast are definitely there and still you don't waste a character. On TV it can be even harder given limited air time. And, well, I don’t come across this device being used in full very often nowadays. It’s usually good and evil fighting for the plot. That’s why I personally appreciate JaTP so much.

Caleb is clearly a foil to Luke. As much as I’d love to say that Julie also has one, that’s not entirely true, at least not this season. Carrie is not her foil though it may seem so, and I really think that’s cool as Julie’s journey is being presented through her own demons and I'm going to cover that next. That being said, of course Caleb doubles as an antagonist plotwise, but I personally consider him being written more as a contract to Luke so we could see and appreciate his character and journey better.

1. Origins

Caleb and Luke have extremely similar backgrounds. They are both natural performers. They know how to deliver, because c’mon, “Now or Never” is something and so is “The other side of Hollywood”. Stage is their natural habitat, their element, power. Although they channel this power from completely different places.

Let’s start with our little ball of energy. It’s emphasized TWICE that he doesn’t care about the money aka the physical side of art.

All Luke wants is to make music. Connect with people. He is so happy just to be heard despite him loving to perform. Making music is what makes him feel alive and basically that’s enough. I think if there was no “hologram” magic at all, Luke would have still been extremely happy to make music with and for Julie. Because that’s the way he is.

But Caleb doesn’t know that. He knows, and I’m standing by that, right away that Luke is the one to aim at. Because we always feel the similarity in people. If Luke said yes, Reggie and Alex would have followed. So Caleb recognizes the passion and shoots at them what he thinks is appealing. And, oh boy, he delivers.

“The Other Side of Hollywood” is a perfect song to emphasize Luke and Caleb being foils for each other. Follow me here:

But these lines come from very different places. For Caleb the only thing that matters is himself. He owns the show, he IS the show. It’s about being famous, drowning in applause, admiration. Look at how he performs. Confident, yes, but still very much in control. He must keep his perfect face. No flaws, no real emotions, no real connection (Did you miss ME? I did too // This band is back). Whereas Luke is simply living the best time of his life each time he performs. Is it just jamming? Bring it on. Doing fun riffs? He’s all for it. He doesn’t care how he looks (though who could deny gorgeous sweaty Luke), he owns the show just because he is a natural.

So back to the business. Caleb immediately puts the boys in his own shoes:

On the other side we live like kings // Your soulprint on the walk of fame on the boulevard of your wildest dreams // I got your glamour, got your gold, got all you’ll ever need

And, I mean, he is not that wrong. You can see the appeal on the boys’ faces. They are young, passionate, handsome, talented musicians. Of course they wouldn’t deny fame. Of course they would want all that to some extent. And Caleb is very sure he pulled the right strings.

Watch me make a move, I’m your number one choice

Also I have to mention, as we are talking about TOSOH (IKEA name again) and it being a foil for Luke, thy lyrics still don’t forget about what is important for Reggie and Alex (we’ll talk about that just a bit later):

Welcome to the brotherhood -> Reggie

Where you won’t be misunderstood -> Alex

Then again, lots of foreshadowing in the song, if you listen carefully the lyrics are stressing the true colors of the offer:

A tomb with a view

Man, what a metaphor. I would have run out of there the minute I heard this line. But our boys share one brain cell (I can’t get over how funny this is) and it’s currently taken by Julie, so I don’t blame them.

Disappointment is huge. Caleb read it all wrong. So we are moving to the next point in our Heroes and Villains essay.

2. Recruitment

It’s very cool that Caleb offers the boys to join his band right after Luke offers Julie to join Sunset Curve. They both are going out of their ways to get that (although have different budgets apparently. But look, they live in a garage). Luke made a hit with a bunch of Julie’s not very well structured lines (I love Flying Solo with all my heart as a song, but as a poem it just looks weird to me) to impress her, and we all saw the show Caleb had thrown to impress the boys. Plus food. And fancy dancing. But here is where contrast comes again.

Caleb offers to join the band, yes, but only as backup singers. It’s his show, remember? It’s only about him. He doesn’t care if they are even good. He wants their magic under control.

Share the spotlight with ME / How do you like MY new band?!

Luke offering Julie a spot in the band is a completely different story. He saw what she is capable of. He instantly knows she must be the key to a new sound, a new level. And he, a natural performer, frontman, lead guitarist, steps back and gives the spotlight to Julie. To think about it, he could have just got her magic under control by giving her simple lines, incorporating piano in the songs and that’s all. They would be visible, he would still be a center of attention, and Julie herself wouldn't mind that much. But that’s not who Luke is. Yes, there is a funny scene of “Hey, I’m your lead singer” and “you don’t have to be mean”, but it’s just messing around. Because right after that he finishes Flying Solo, writes several other songs with Julie, seeks her approval of Sunset Curve songs and basically follows her around like an adorable excited puppy.

Moving on and back to the rejection. Again the writers are mirroring them. Julie quits the band & the boys decline the offer. What does Luke do? Well, he tries the way he knows: books a gig, makes Reggie and Alex sing in perfect harmonies and does his puppy eyes thing. And it doesn’t work. And Luke goes to reflect and then probably try to come up with a plan. But something tells me he would not have haunted Julie until she joined them.

What does Caleb do after the initial rejection? Puts a cursed stamp that leaves them no choice but to join HGC. You don’t need to say more.

But in fact the more I think about it, the more I suspect Caleb also not possessing enough mental capacity for a human being. Like, if it wasn’t for Willie, how would they even know? Has Caleb planned to simply show up one day and casually explain? Look, foils in everything.

“You’re in a tough spot… So, you wanna join the band?” | “Looked like it hurt… you know where to find me”

But we sidestepped a bit.

3. Pulling the strings

After the song Caleb comes out to consolidate his success. What he does is clever and, btw, that’s the only time he becomes Julie’s foil. They are stating basically the same thing.

Again, Julie is concerned about the band and the boys, while Caleb is only concerned about having them under control. But they both are pulling basically the right strings.

What is interesting, Caleb actually impressed the wrong person (and that person is our sweet Reggie). Luke follows the string Julie pulled. Although the offer is tempting, he insists twice that they are in a band already directly to Caleb and then in Eats&Beats he says "It's like Julie said, we have a new band, a new sound». No matter what Caleb promised, Luke is not affected at all although Caleb’s offer is a very-very safe choice.

Speaking about using friends as foils, Alex and Reggie also serve as contrast characters for Luke at some points. Luke’s indifference to money is first stressed through Alex who is clearly the chief accountant for the band. His lines about not getting tips, living in a garage and «it’s a little bit about the money» are waved aside by Luke. Reggie is clearly the most affected by the whole Bobbie thing. His lines «I don’t care what Julie said, I’m glad we scared Bobbie», «So we’re gonna forget about getting back at Trevor?» are getting a clear contrast by Luke’s «It’s what Julie said, we have a new band, a new sound» and «He has to live with that guilt».

While editing the article I realised a very cool thing I haven't noticed before. How badly Luke wants to go on tour. And again that's another thing Caleb offers as if reading his mind. That's actually brilliant, to think about it.

Caleb is a VERY good reader. He tests the waters with a speech about disappearing from stage and going around the world and all dreams coming true. Still he doesn’t know the boys and especially Luke, so his phrase “no real connection” doesn’t register that much.

But he learns. Remember the lines I’ve marked before?

Reggie is afraid they will not be together after they cross over. He is in desperate need of a family. So wouldn’t it be nice to spend the rest of your afterlife with your brothers? (Reggie's main insecurity is loneliness, feel of a broken family. That's why he is the most concerned about crossing over. Will his family stay intact?)

Alex is insecure, and not being understood by the people closest to him will always hit hard. So welcome to a place where you won’t be misunderstood. And actually we know there is a guy you like and find comfort in. (Alex's insecurity is growing up in times when he could not truly be himself even with his family and for sure not believing he would ever be able to find someone meant just for him)

That mirrors the whole Luke’s beach speech perfectly. Only comparing them we can truly appreciate why Luke is the leader. He shuts down his own demons to make Alex and Reggie remember that they are not alone (“and I believe in you”. sorry. Olicity fan).

Caleb makes them suffer to get what he wants. But this time he is careful with the words aimed at Luke. Yes, he repeats his words about vanishing and applauses BUT he makes sure that his words about CONNECTION are the key words for Luke. Intense look, calming voice, touching - these are all elements of hypnosis. And Luke is in a daze. (Continuing the parents' thing, for Luke the main insecurity is not managing to connect with his mom. Maybe that's such a big thing for him: through all these people he wanted to find that connection with her)

4. The Hero’s journey

That’s the best part actually but I won’t be saying anything new or that you don’t know. Luke is made of lyrics and music. That’s his soul, heart, that’s the feeling running through his veins. He doesn’t need anything other than that in his life. Playing for eternity is “a gift no musician would ever turn down”. But he actually does turn it down. As well as his dream to go see the world with his band (is there covid in jatp universe?). He is the one who resists the hardest to the pull. Luke, who always has a guitar in his hands, doesn't want to play. Because it’s not only about the music now. He has this amazing girl in his afterlife who was willing to accept them for who they were, helped Luke battle his own demons, eased his pain and made him open up. And it doesn’t make sense any longer without her anymore. “And you’re a part of me now till eternity”.

Caleb, being Luke’s foil, completely misses the whole point of connection. It’s not in his nature. His house band are just recruits (Just so happens you’re in luck we’ve got a vacancy). For Luke his band is his family (We are the only family we ever gonna need). The Connection theme is one of the main in the show. And it’s so cool to show it focused through Luke whose best way of interaction is a touch. But not being able to touch Julie Luke has to find other ways, although it’s not that simple for him. And Julie backs that up: We connect in so many other ways. They literally touched each other's souls. Without knowing she put a stamp of her own on Luke, Alex and Reggie. They’ve never felt loved enough, appreciated enough, supported enough. They’ve only had each other. And Julie’s stamp is love. And for Luke (as well as Reggie and Alex) from now on this girl is worth dying for all over again.

_______

So yeah. I hope you enjoyed it, as I for sure enjoyed writing. There is gonna be a part 3 about Julie and a few honorable mentions of parallels of the Pilot and the Finale (I hope at least to do all that). I’ve also figured very very cool connections in the songs and I can’t wait to share.

Also as I was heavily speaking about The Other side of Hollywood, @catty-words has a wonderful meta on rain metaphors here (sorry for tagging, if you don't want to be tagged), check it out if you somehow missed it. It's super clever.

#jatp #julie and the phantoms #julie molina #luke patterson #reggie peters #alex mercer #jatp meta #jatp analysis #my gifs #my edits #don't crop #please be nice #caleb covington #ana's meta #am i smart? i am #having more brain cells then sunset curve

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mj-irl · 4 years

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John needs some legal help so he turns to two lawyers who have a reputation for taking on clients who don’t aways have the cleanest of backgrounds but are trying to make a change

Karen sticks her head into the conference room where Matt and Foggy are waiting "Your ten o'clock appointment, Max Emerson, is here."

Foggy adjusts his tie and clears his throat, his heart rate jumps. "Please, send him in." His voice only brakes slightly which Matt thinks is an improvement.

"Thanks Karen." Matt smiles and leans in Foggy's direction. "You calm?"

"I am... I am. I just love his books."

"I know." Mattt chuckles and Foggy jumps to his feet as Karen shows their new client into the conference room.

"Can I get you anything to drink Mr. Emerson, water or coffee?" Karen asks.

"No, thank you, I'd like to get right to it." Max Emerson says with a slight accent, Australian Matt guesses, while setting his satchel on the conference table.

"Welcome Mr. Emerson...Mr. Max Emerson." Foggy gushes a little but pulls it together. "I'm Franklin Nelson, this is my partner Matt Murdock and our assistant Karen Page who if you don't mind will be taking notes."

They shake hands all around, which Matt can tell Mr. Emerson doesn't particularly like and everyone has a seat.

"What can we help you with Mr. Emerson?" Matt asks.

He knows from Foggy's descriptions before the meeting that the man in front of them is about their age with a young face, expressive eyes and a scruffy, handsome, poor grad student kind of look about him.

"Well, I've heard good things about what you've been doing here. I can't stand corporate kiss asses, and I believe your firm will be sensitive to the nature of my concern.” Mr. Emerson fidgets with his hands in a way that Matt is familiar with. “As you may be aware I write books, rather successfully. I have recently had it brought to my attention that a certain journalist is about to publish a book that has information about me that I didn't give the okay on... I suppose I always knew this would come out but I was hoping it would be on my terms."

"Mr. Emerson, there are things we can do to try and prevent the release of your information, of course we'll have to have some more details." Foggy says very professionally but his heartbeat says he's still nervous.

Mr. Emerson opens his bag and takes a thick printer paper manuscript out and sets it on the table. The title page is facing Foggy so he reads it out loud for everyone to hear. "The True Story of the Mutant Rights Movement: From RFK Stadium to Alcatraz."

"and this is the writing that contains your information? Were you involved with the movement Mr. Emerson?" Matt questions levelly, this could go a couple of ways either Mr. Emerson is a Mutant or a Mutant hater.

"Yes and you can call me John. Max Emerson is a pen name. My real name is St John Allerdyce and I am the subject of chapter 34 in this sensationalist drivel."

Foggy flips through the pages to find Chapter 34.

"Pyro: Led Astray" He reads the title when he finds it.

He looks back and forth between the client and the picture of the young man Pyro under the title.

Foggy can't believe it. One of his favorite authors was a Mutant terrorist or alleged Mutant terrorist or alleged former Mutant terrorist

"No way." Foggy blurts out and leaves Matt and Karen in without a clue.

"way." John confirmed a bit amused Matt can hear in his voice.

Matt flips back through the files in his mind. He had been dealing with his own stuff at the time, getting the hang of his heightened senses and what not.

He recalls the Mutant Rights Movement including the cure controversy and the young mutant people talked about from the Militant Mutant Brotherhood.

"You're Pyro?" Matt puts the pieces together without Foggy, who is still a bit too flabbergasted to speak.

"Yes."

"You were at the Battle of Alcatraz. I thought no one from the Brotherhood survived."

"I was the only one who survived uncured." John breathes in heavily, Matt gets the impression this is a painful subject for their client.

"If I recall correctly you were reported among the missing or I guess, hum, the dead." Foggy regained his voice.

"I was and I was missing... I just wasn't atomized like the others. I was knocked unconscious and taken from the battlefield before the Phoenix destroyed everyone and..." John knows he has to talk about this even if it is painful. "and I was experimented on by scientists until the X-Men found me a some... time later."

"Really?"

"Oh God."

"That's terrible... hum John.” Foggy’s says in disbelief.

“It was a difficult time.” John clears his throat and shifts uncomfortably.

"What happened after that, you were never publicly tried for your involvement with Magneto." Matt keeps the conversation moving.

"I was pardoned.” John continues matter of factly “I was a minor during my time with the Brotherhood. I had to agree to finish my education and train with the X-Men. I did and then went to college in Australia where I was born."

“that's quite a story.” Matt can hear Karen’s pen scratch online the paper as she tries to get it all down.

“yes, one that I'd like to not be undermined by some journalist trying to make a buck.”

Pt2 Continued in reply…

#John Allerdyce #Xmen Pyro #Matt Murdock #Foggy Nelson #Daredevil #Xmen #st john allerdyce #gifs #crossover #Autistic Character #Disabled Characters #Autistic Pyro

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gerec · 4 years

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Gerec’s Favorite Fics - 2020

A little early, but here’s a list of my favorite fics from this past year in no particular order. Hope you enjoy them as much I did! :D :D :D

Time the Preserver by MaxRobespierre

“Erik,” says the old man, looking directly at him, and, ah. Yes. That was why Erik stopped on his way back to the motel. His name, and the look in the old man’s eyes. He’s seen that look before, that depth of mourning. It’s not a look he likes to think about.

an empty hearth by Ireliss

The nighttime city, shrouded in fog.

(Logan works for Shaw, guarding his pretty young boyfriend. They grow closer than they should.)

Self-acceptance as an act of survival by winter_hiems

Charles and Erik get temporarily swapped into each other’s bodies.

Charles seems to be handling it.

He isn’t.

Four Funerals & A Wedding by midrashic

Four people who mourned Erik Lehnsherr, and one who didn't.

The Last Love Song & Testament of Charles F. Xavier by midrashic

When Erik is accused of domestic terrorism, Charles has no choice but to marry him to keep him out of jail.

The Marriage Bargain by kianspo

Erik Lehnsherr had made a fortune manufacturing steel in Europe. When he wished to expand to the New World, he discovered that no one would do business with him unless he was affiliated with one of the First Families, the creme de la creme of the NW aristocracy. When Lord Marko holds an auction to give away his 14-year-old stepson's hand in marriage, Erik sees his chance and takes it. He has no interest in Charles himself, but now that he has him, can they make it work?

Carry Me Anew (Frost & Darkholme Remix) by kianspo

While working as a model for Raven and Emma's clothing line, Erik experiences a strong attraction to his shoot partner. These things happen, except Erik has a boyfriend, who does not take this at all well.

linger like a tattoo kiss by ikeracity

Six months apart gives Erik a lot of time to think about what he really wants.

(Erik's POV from Carry Me Anew (Frost & Darkholme Remix) by kianspo)

Suddenly There'll Be a Blizzard (Let It Snow Remix) by kianspo

Charles was never at his best while jetlagged, but locking himself out in a snowstorm while barely dressed might be a new low. The last thing he expected was to be rescued by his high school nemesis, the man he hadn't seen in over ten years, who might have broken his heart for good once upon a time.

Once Upon a Time in the West by lachatblanche

Logan meets young, bright-eyed Francis in the run-down town of Charity while on the hunt for the notorious bank-robbers, the Xavier siblings, never for a moment dreaming that Charles Xavier is much nearer than he thinks ...

follow your most intense obsessions mercilessly by specficslut (homosociality)

Dr. Sebastian Shaw loves his job testing runaway omegas for fertility. Today, a boy named Erik is in the back of his medical van.

deeper than swords (the sun and stars remix) by specficslut (homosociality)

Erik has been traded to a foreign king for a chest of gold and a hundred bushels of grain. In Westchester, he must learn to start a new life... and navigate the roles that have been thrust upon him, whether concubine or courtesan, consort or slave.

The Shared Dream by TurtleTotem

Charles's cryo-pod malfunctions and wakes him up a century before everyone else. Will he spend the rest of his life alone on a ship full of sleepers? (A Passengers AU.)

Mr & Mr. Xavier-Lehnsherr by JackyJango

If you ask his late sister, she'd probably say that Charles had always had the hots for the bad boys.

Maybe it's true. Maybe that's how Charles had ended up willingly in their marriage bed. Maybe it's the ease with which Erik fights that had drawn Charles to him-- the confidence with which he uses his body to ensure maximum destruction, the fluidity with which he flares phasers as though they were an extension of his arm. Maybe Charles had been attracted to the grace with which Erik wielded his physical form in a way Charles would never be able to in his field of work. Maybe it's the aura that swirls around Erik for being the best mercenary on the planet. Or, maybe it’s just the roguishly handsome figure Erik cuts in a leather jacket and aviators with a cigarette caught loosely between his thin lips. The thing is, Charles doesn't know. And that's a tad antithetical coming from a man who had made knowing everything his job.

A Mr & Mrs Smith AU in Space!

We'll Show Them All by kaydeefalls

Pacific Rim AU. Ten years later, the monsters are back, and newly-instated Marshall Charles Xavier needs to pull a team together to prepare for the coming war. That means finding his talented sister a Drift-compatible copilot -- even if that turns out to be his old flame Erik.

Just One More Question by BelgianReader2, g33kyclassic

Erik meets Charles at Pub Quiz League and it is hate at first sight. But, his team does need a new member and Moira is insistent that Charles is just what they need.

Erik is not happy about Charles, despite his trivia skill. Can time change his opinion? What about an unexpected revelation or two?

To the tune of our souls by hllfire

Erik, the drummer and one of the lead singers of the band known as The Brotherhood, writes a song after being inspired by the words of a university professor called Charles Xavier — another big name in the mutant community, much like Erik himself — and he wants Charles' speech to be in his song.

The only problem is that Charles Xavier doesn't seem to agree with Erik's idea.

A Tale of Two Captains by ClarkeStetler, Goosenik

Charles Xavier had wanted to be on the ocean as far back as he could remember. He could remember toddling toward the shipyards as an infant, being snatched away by scolding parents just before he could touch the gleaming vessels. As he grew older, his attention never wavered from the prospect of living life on the seas. At twenty-one years of age, Charles and his ship had its first run-in with pirates, and he saw fit to protect his title and vessel as fiercely as he knew how.

Aka: a one-shot of Erik the pirate trying to ransom Charles the captain, but finding that Charles is a little hard not to get attached to.

I'm a bullet by Isolee (WIP) Since mother - since the house - since Cain - He's adapted. He can do anything. Now he wants something, and he suspects he might even deserve it. Or - Charles is sort-of a sex addict, and Erik is his married-with-family supervisor at Uni.

I'll Take You Down (The Only Road I've Ever Been Down) by kianspo

Tony and Emma are trying to help Charles get over a bad relationship. Many bad relationships, in fact, as Charles has the worst taste in men. They dare him to get 'cured' by sleeping with someone 'normal', having no idea that that normal guy just happens to be someone Charles has been crushing on for a while...

All We Are We Are by kianspo

Charles's boyfriend breaks up with him days before the holidays. Not willing to ruin anyone else's festive mood, Charles hides this fact from his sister and his friends, and retreats into the family mansion, letting the world move on without him. He's flirting with depression when a one-time ex and a long-term friend surprises him. Long-kept secrets are revealed, and it turns out, Charles hasn't been paying attention to the right things.

#gerec rambles #gerec's fic rec #2020 favorites #cherik #xavierine #starles #erik/shaw #charles/shaw #2020 #long post #year's not over so there may be more!#fic rec

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lunavadash-creates · 4 years

Text

The real pleasure

Warning: NSFW, explicit, first time Also all my works can be found on AO3 "Lass, have you ever been with a man?"

Shay's question was hanging in the air as you looked at him completely stunned. The sudden silence that surrounded both of you was awkward and you felt like every beat of your heart was as loud as thunder. You had no idea how your friendly, funny conversation became this weird.

Shay was your best friend, a fellow member of the Templar Order, one of your favourite people out there. You could rely on him, trust him and you thought you had no secrets from each other. Yet now you felt embarrassed. You had never expected to hear a question like this from his mouth.

For a second you wanted to turn it all into a joke like you usually did. But after one look at his handsome, worried face, you have changed your mind. One deep breath later you decided to simply answer his question.

"Yes, I have been with men before. Few times but I..." You stopped, biting your lower lip as you searched in your head for an appropriate word. "I have never truly enjoyed it. And to forestall your next question, no. I have never reached an orgasm with a man."

You reached for the glass of wine and took a sip, enjoying the taste. You had stolen the entire box of authentic Italian wine from the ship of the assassin you had been hunting together. It wasn't a big reward but definitely a sweet one.

After a moment of

silence during which Shay never took his eyes off you, he asked another question, one that made you choke on your wine.

"And with women?"

"Oh god, Shay!" your face blanched as though you had just seen a ghost. How could he read you so effortlessly?

"I don't know..." Shay rose his eyebrow, giving you a nod, encouraging you to continue. "I was with a woman once. I was completely drunk then, and I don't remember anything after the moment my ass hit the bed. I only remember that I was so fricking wet the next morning and both my head and throat hurt like a bitch. How about you?"

"If you are asking about my sex life then I haven't been with any men, but I know how to pleasure women."

He spoke with a purr, looking at you as a hunter would at his prey. A promise of divine pleasure was hidden in the twinkle of his eyes as he focused on your lips, redden from the way you had been biting them.

There was no denying it - Shay was a man made of dreams; he was as sweet as poison, as tempting as the most promising lie and as handsome like the work of art, a sculpture made by Michael Angelo himself. Everything about him was irresistible, from his dark hair, a scar on his face, his voice, his eyes, his lips, body, muscles, even his outfit.

You swallowed hard. It felt like something large was lodged in your throat, making you unable to speak. Was it a proposition? Suggestion maybe? Did he really want... or was it just a joke?

You waited for a second to see if Shay would burst out laughing, but it never came.

"Shay, do you want to have sex with me?" you choked out a question, still worried that you’d fallen for his trick like a novice, but once again, his eyes were expressing more than thousands of words. He reached for his wine, emptying the glass and wiping his lips with the back of his hand.

"I’m asking if you would let me show you the real pleasure. You deserve more than those useless bastards who don’t have a first clue on how to pleasure a lady." He paused, his eyes boring into yours. "Especially when she’s as remarkable as you"

Once again, you ended up stunned and speechless. You wanted to say yes, but you had so many doubts right now. Perhaps it wasn't about those men? Maybe it was you and your body? You never really doubted your look or features. You were healthy and strong, well-trained and you definitely had an appearance that earned you look from envious women and lustful men. Yet you had doubts. Maybe you were silent for too long as Shay let a sigh and shook his head.

"Forgot I asked. I'm sorry, Y/N. I never wanted to make you feel uncomfortable. Probably it's just...

"I want it Shay," you interject, suddenly coming back to reality. You couldn't waste that opportunity, especially since you had feelings for Shay. You hid them, of course. Your lives were far too dangerous, to ruin you relationship with love would be silly.

Bur if he wanted too…

"I just... I'm nervous. I haven't done it in such a long time, and I don't know if it's not just me being terrible at it."

"Shh," Shay was at your side in a blink of an eye. He gently stroked your cheek, looking straight into your eyes, before he leaned down to gently kiss your temple.

"I will take good care of you. I promise Y/N."

Before you knew it, he simply lifted you from the chair and carried you to his room. You were spending the evening at his home in New York – he’d proposed you stay with him instead of looking for an inn. And now, for the first time, you were in his bedroom. You have always been curious about it but never had the opportunity to sneak in, especially since you respected his privacy. And now, when you finally managed to find your way in, you had no time to look around as his lips were soon on yours.

Oh god, his lips were so much better than you imagined. Despite the first impression they were soft and warm, gentle even. He kissed you for the first time as though he were afraid he could hurt you. He held you so close, slowly devouring your mouth. You moaned silently, feeling the wave of heat spreading inside your body and cumulating between your legs. He broke the kiss for a second, resting his forehead against yours.

"I wanted to kiss you for so long y/n. You are far sweeter than the best wine."

Before you could answer he kissed you again, his tongue brushing against your lips, asking for entrance. You granted it gladly and in no time your tongues immersed in a dance of dominance and passion until you both ended up breathless.

With shaky hands, you reached for his coat to start to unbutton it and for the first time, you wondered, why he needed so many layers. At the same time, he reached for your coat, it was easy to open, you only had a few simple black buttons and a belt in the middle, so it was on the floor in no time. Shay took your hands away from his coat and kissed every single of your fingers, giving you a wink before he focused on undressing you again. Your shirt, trousers and boots soon joined your coat on the floor, and you laid back on the bed dressed only in your dusty punk slip and marching drawers.

Shay licked his suddenly dry lips and took the hem of your slip to get it off your body and then a loud gasp escaped his lips as he saw your beautiful, perfect body. He loved everything about it, your breasts, already protruding nipples, your skin and...

"I had no idea you had a tattoo."

You made it a long time ago to hide a particularly ugly scar. In its place was a tattoo of an Yggdrasil tree. Shay smiled and took off your panties before he started to undress himself. The floor was covered in clothes now, belts, coats, boots, underwear. And finally, you could see Shay naked and as beautiful as ever.

That man was perfect and that thin line of his black hair starting under his navel and reaching up to his cock that was already semi-hard made you gasp. You reached out to touch his body; you wanted to feel muscles of his stomach under your palm, to trace your fingers over his scars, especially that one on his stomach and under the collar bone. You knew the story behind those two, the wounds inflicted by his friends from the Brotherhood. He twitched when you touched one of those scars, but he didn't move away to begin with.

"Wait. Aren’t I supposed to take care of you? Be a good girl and lay still for me."

You did. You laid your hand on the cover and let Shay kiss you again. This time it was a short kiss, he soon moved on your neck to kiss and suck it gently. His hot tongue was tracing complicated patterns on your skin as he moved down until your collarbone where he left a little red bitemark. You inhaled sharply, letting out a moan as you moved your legs, trying to gain some stimulation with the wetness accumulating between them.

The next thing you felt were those warm lips closing around your left nipple. This time you moaned shamelessly. He sucked on it hard, licking the hardened nub, enjoying how resistant it seemed against his tongue, once he even bit on it. His free hand was in the meantime taking care of your other nipple, caressing it with his fingers, pinching it, twisting, pulling. You tried to cover your mouth to silence all those sounds you were making but he groaned, taking your hand away.

"Don't. I want to hear everything."

As he said that, he started to suck on your other nipple, making you squirm and wiggle on the bed. The pleasure was more intense than you have ever imagined. You felt jolts of pleasure spreading in your body, weird, almost unknown heat accumulating between your legs. His hand pinched on your nipple harder than before and you bent over the bed with a loud cry, that soon turned into a moan when he started to move his nail on the very top of your wet and hard nipple, now swollen from all the attention it received. You had never played with your nipples before, so it was such an alien feeling that made you all horny.

"Shay, God..." you moaned again as you felt his hand wandering lower, in between your legs. He just moved his fingers up and down your sex, and a wide grin appeared on his face. His raised his hand, and you could see his fingers wet and glossy from your juices, and that made you blush harder than ever in your life. But what made you almost faint was when he licked his fingers, giving you the most sensual purr, you have ever heard.

"So, wet for me. And so sweet. You won't deny me such a dessert, will you?"

You could only nod in response. In a matter of seconds, Shay positioned himself between your thighs and gave you a long lick before he closed his mouth around you. He sucked firmly on your clit while his fingers were caressing the insides of your thighs. You dug your fingers into bedding, squirming uncontrollably. You couldn't stop all the sounds escaping your throat as he was pleasuring you in ways you could never imagine. He moved his lips slightly to suck on your labia, then dug his hot tongue inside you.

In the beginning, he simply wanted to simply make you wet and well prepared for more. But then he heard your moans and screams, the moment he saw your face in pure bliss, he decided that this night would be unforgettable. He wanted you to cum for him and because of him. More than once.

He moved back to your clit and after a few more licks, the heat that was accumulating in your body for the past few minutes exploded. You back arched hard, screaming and digging your heels into the bed as he led you through your orgasm. You fell on the bed almost breathless and saw his face with a smirk plastered on it. His lips were still wet as he looked into your eyes.

"Hey lass, it's just a little foreplay. Don't tell me that’s all you can take." He was clearly mocking you, and you wanted to say something, but then he kissed you again. You could feel your own taste on his lips. His hand reached lower and he pinched your clit, making you jerk and moan again.

"Relax."

He disappeared between your legs again and you felt his fingers moving between your labia, gathering your juices and saliva before he slipped one finger into you. He moaned, feeling how tight you were. Your insides were clenching around his finger and he wanted to bury himself whole into you. But now he knew he needed to prepare you and he didn't hesitate for a second.

He started to suck you again, moving his tongue around your over-sensitive nub, while his finger was moving inside. But suddenly he stepped back and caught your hips to turn you on your stomach with a quick move.

"Shay?!"

"A little bit of trust," he muttered and lifted your hips higher. Soon his fingers were once again inside of you at his tongue danced around your most private area, making your breath harder than before. After the strongest orgasm of your life, you had trouble with formulating words, but Shay didn't mind. Your body was telling him everything about your pleasure, and that made him proud.

He slid inside you his second finger, searching for your sweet spot. You felt stretched and weird, penetration always made you feel uncertain, but somehow Shay was making it bearable. It wasn't the best feeling in the world at least until another shock shook your body. You moaned, rocking your hips as you wanted him to do this again. He brushed something inside you, making your muscles twitch. Another jolt of pleasure spread in your body, and this time you felt it even in your nipples.

"Do it again, please do it again!" you moaned, unable to resist the urge to feel it again and again. You heard Shay's chuckle as he added a third finger and brushed that spot again. His tongue returned to your clit and he started moving his fingers fast and hard, spreading and flexing them inside. He found that a little thickened and rough spot inside you and pressed it with all his fingers, at the same time biting in your clit.

The pleasure that overwhelmed your body was divine and your orgasm powerful and sudden, and your scream was so loud it could wake up all the dead in the city. Shay once again led you through it and you simply collapsed on the bed, your body trembling and twitching in post-orgasmic shock. You could heard Shay laugh and then the smacking sound as he licked his fingers clean once again.

"You are beautiful when you cum. And your voice could lure sailors at the sea into the doom. But that was only two... I wonder if you can take one more?" he purred, lying next to you. He gently ran his fingers over your spine, making you shiver. You turned around to face him, your breathing was still hard and you felt like your thoughts were shattered but you didn't mind at all. you looked at his beautiful body and then noticed his hard cock, waiting for more. You realised that all this time he was delaying his own pleasure and orgasm only to satisfy you and now... now you had to return the favour. You sat up and with a reassuring smile, you helped him sit. You wanted a different position as he already did so much to you. Now he will be the one moaning...

"Lean against the wall," you ordered and moved between his legs.

Actually, you had never sucked a penis in your life but you wanted to moisten him beforehand. You licked your lips and took his hot cock in your hand, stroking it gently a few times before giving a little lick on the tip. Shay's hips jolted in anticipation and you looked at him with a grin. You gathered all your courage and started to suck him. At first, it was very gentle and focused around the tip, but soon you started to be more confident with all Shay's moans and grunts. You dipped your tongue into the slit of his penis, while your hand was playing with his balls. Then you tried to make your way down, swallow as much of you as you could but he was just too big for you and soon you choked a little as you hit back of your throat.

"y/n don't overdo it. Use your tongue more. You can suck harder and by the gods, don't use your teeth." the last part came a bit shaky from his throat as you sucked hard on his head and wrapped your tongue around his hot shaft. In the same moment, he put the hand on your head, gently controlling your movements. You could feel the precum leaking from the tip, it was salty and weird but somehow it made you excited for more. You eagerly played with his shaft and balls, making him nice and wet. You even tried once more to take him deeper but then he stopped you. You left a disappointed moan, as a child that lost its favourite toy, but Shay just gave a smile and wiped the saliva from your chin. You had no idea you had made such a mess and immediately your cheeks became red, making Shay laugh.

"Don't be shy. There is nothing sexier than seeing your swollen lips wrapped around my dick."

"Is that so?" you asked mockingly, moving closer to him. You kissed him hard, grabbing his dick and directing him into you. You lowered yourself, impaling himself on his cock. You both left moans of pure pleasure as he filled you up so perfectly. You needed a second to adjust to the feeling of being so stretched before you started to move. Slowly at first but with every thrust, your movement became faster and stronger. You needed to lean against a wall as you work your hips hard. This time it was Shay moans that filled the room. He grabbed your breast, sucking on your nipple while his other hand was holding your hip. It was messy sex, fast and furious, but you both needed it.

Suddenly Shay slipped out of you and put you on all fours on the bed, making it clear in what position he wanted fuck you.

He entered you, grabbing your hip firmly and start moving, now hitting your sweet spot with every thrust. He was slipping out to the hilt and slamming back in you so hard that the whole bed started to move, hitting the wall with a metal bed frame.

His grunts became louder as he was getting closer and your screams were shameless now. You didn't care if the whole New York heard you. Now you were in your personal, sexy and rough heaven, reaching your third orgasm that night. And as you did you clenched around his cock so hard and he barely made it out of you before cumming all over your ass.

His breath was heavy and hard as he nearly immediately collapsed on you. Your heart was pounding in your chest, your body was devoided of all tension, you lost your name, your purpose, words and everything. The only thing you could feel on that moment was his warm body, his heart beating as hard as yours, his breath on your neck.

He moved off you with a moan and laid on his back, grabbing you and moving you to his side. You complied, wrapping an arm around his stomach. But then you felt something weird digging into your arm so you moved slightly to grab this thing. Surprisingly you found a piece of a wall. You both looked at it shocked and looked at the wall. In the place where the frame was hitting it, there was a whole reaching to the bricks. And on that moment you both burst out with laughter that filled the room.

"Now you can say that only one man made you cum," he said when both of you calmed down.

"The very best man I dare say. It was... my God. Shay, it was... divine."

"Well... If you wish we can do this more often. You are so beautiful Y/N. And you have no idea how long I've been dreaming about holding you in my arms. I wish to be the only one who can see you like this."

"I won't complain Shay. I wanted you for so long but I was too afraid to admit it."

He grinned like crazy and kissed you hard and passionately like he wanted to fill you with all emotions he has been hiding from you. He took your hand, rested it on his chest and smiled.

"Now I'm yours, y/n."

"And I'm yours, Shay."

"And I'm never again staying in this house with the two of you" Haytham entered the room, looking at you both with disappointment. He threw a damp cloth at Shay

"Clean yourselves. I expect you both well-rested, we have work to do."

As soon as Haytham left the room they both exploded in laughter once again. Well, it was so easy to forget about Haytham’s presence in this house...

#shay cormac #ac rogue #luna writes #asassins creed rogue #shay cormac x reader #shay x reader #haytham kenway #reader insert

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i-shall-never-repent · 4 years

Text

If you love a femme fatale in MDZS, here is a canon one for you.

This going to be long post with pictures, please remind yourself that skim reading or read just half of a post and then kick a fuss is unbecoming of an intellectual being humans suppose to be. Any discussion after finished reading the whole post is welcome. Also I’m not an expert on Chinese culture, just amateur with passion, and English is not my first language, if any grammar, spelling, or context error have been detected, please let me know, politely. I’m always willing to learn and improve.

From my observation, there is not a small part of this fandom salivating for a gorgeous seductive manipulative duplicitous bitch. Please believe me that we already have one in the canon, even with a fan. Though the correct term would be a Homme Fatal, a male equivalent of Femme Fatale.

Some of you may think of this man [Pic Source: Manhua]

No, not him. Not Nie Huaisang. This is a plot device for shock value.

You may have ask, then it must be this man right, but he doesn’t hold a fan? [Pic source: audio drama]

Also sadly no, not Jin Guangyao either. This man need to a kick and ‘son of a whore’ commentary from Nie Mingjue to motivate himself enough to kill him, too masochistic sentimental and not enough of ‘seducing’ evidence.

Homme Fatal, by the definition from Wikitionary, is “An ultimately seductive and dangerous man; a womanizer.”

Who fit this description most in MDZS? It’s this man, Jin Guangshan.

Let me introduce you to the real sexy manipulative scheming duplicitous mastermind of MDZS. With a fan. [Pic source: Donghua]

Now you might want to scream, this piece of trash, a man whore, slimy power hungry scumbag of the cultivation society Jin Guangshan? Are we talking about the same man? Yes, we are. And now I will elaborate.

First, look at his face, even though it might be universal agreement that he is not a good man, his appearance and his mannerism are indeed a seductive handsome man. Let me remind you again that these are his children.

From left to right: Jin Zixuan, Jin Guangyao, Qin Su, Mo Xuanyu [All pics are from Manhua]

They are undeniably, gorgeous. Jin Zixuan was rank 3rd in the young master list, that’s enough evidence of his good look. Jin guangyao may get most of his look from his mother - according to Guanyin statue that model after his mother’s face but people still thought it was his - but he still has his father’s charm. Qin Su is a beauty, even though we know nearly nothing about her, and Mo xuanyu’s face is definitely not shabby. Jin Guangshan’s gene is indeed worthy of a Jin’s name.

Second, Jin Guanshan is a dangerous man, might have been the most dangerous one on par with Wen Ruohan, even he was the weaker one in term of cultivation, at least you will have a gist if Wen Ruohan want you dead, you mostly still in the dark and not even wondering on your dead bed that did Jin Guangshan had a hand in your downfall.

People like to forget that this man was Lanling Jin sect leader, sit on the throne in the viper pit call Jinlin Tower. That sect full of backstabbing people, gossips, and a lot of maneuvering in the dark. I’m still curious how in the heavens Jin Zixuan grow up to be the man he was in that kind of environment to be honest.

I can’t remember that Jin Guangshan was the oldest one in his generation or not, but we could assume that he surely at least had a sibling of main family line, because we have Jin Zixun, a man in ‘Zi’ generation who close enough to main family to share the ‘Zi’ character in his courtesy name, raise next to the clan heir as a spare one, and he call Jin Guangshan “uncle” (Can’t remember which one between Bó Fù/older paternal uncle or Shū Fù/younger paternal uncle).

Which mean he already a winner of his generation, when the story start, Lanling Jin was his domain, he was the highest authority over there with no contest, we never see anyone from Jin sect disobey him. Madam Jin can only voice out her displeasure, but can’t do anything regarding of her husband conduct. Their marriage, arranged as they were, is what tied Jin clan and her family together, which mean her maternal clan also on a good term with Jin, she cannot kick a fuss, as a marriage in ancient time never a matter of two people, it’s a matter of two families.

And he was in process of securing his legitimated son place too. He raise his nephew as a ‘second best’, making sure that Jin Zixun will not have any ambition to ‘go above his station’ as we can see in the novel that Jin Zixun is Jin Zixuan’s fanboy or his lackey, he always praising or cheering Jin Zixuan, behave obediently toward his uncle, like that was his job. Jin Guangshan definitely win this one over already.

Now, one did not become a sect leader of a Great Sect and stay in power by being an incompetent moron. His habits of sleeping around may disgust people, but here me out, this is not unusual for a man of his status. His affairs with prostitutes [i.e Meng Shi] are easiest to take care, by the contract of transection, therefore he is blameless in the eyes of gentry class, they could only scold him for being ‘overindulgent’ or ‘lustful’, and he always go for the best one around, so some people might even praise him for his taste. Commoners and gentry class ladies [i.e. Second Lady Mo] are different, sleeping with those gentry class young miss not only a pleasure for him, it also could be a great way of getting information and blackmailing people too. Because if he let the public know which young lady he had already ‘conquered’, his reputation suffer nothing, but the lady in question will be ruined beyond saving, that’s one of the reason madam Qin decide to keep her raped quiet. And the lady’s reputation is link to her family, they will do many things just to keep Jin Guangshan happy and not to be shamed in public. Or if anyone want to have a problem with him, they still need to look at the social standing he had, both from his position as Sect Leader Jin and his extensive connections from all parties he threw. And if you think he would care about non-cultivators’ opinions, you have mistaken, to quote Tywin Lannister, "A Lion Doesn't Concern Himself With The Opinions Of The Sheep". Unlink Jin Guagyao who need his reputation to be spotless or else he’ll get a canon ending, the only ones he need to at least pretend to care are his cultivator peers of the same gentry class.

Sadly, him kicking Meng Yao down the stairs also ‘acceptable’ by the society standard of that era, because it’s Meng Yao who ‘trying to reach where he didn’t belong’ in the eyes of gentry, illegitimate children, if not acknowledged, have nothing to do with their father’s family. Cruel? Yes. But nobody care, this even become a famous joke, enough that people like Nie Mingjue know.

This prove that even he was a handsome man with a bad bitch vibes, many ladies still want to sleep with him, society still on his side, what a skill to have in one arsenal.

He was the only sect leader - in the Great sects categories - to get along with Wen Ruohan or play his card right, compare to Nie sect that lost the previous sect leader to a blatant assassination plot, but could only endure, the Lan’s Gusu was burned, Qingheng-Jun’s death, Lan Xichen need to flee for his life and his clan’s legacy, the Jiang’s Lotus pier suffer a massacre, and then you have Lanling Jin who sit on the fence with no damage.

Then Sunshot campaign happen, he let his heir lead the Jin force while stay at Jinlin Tower, he feigned ignorance over Nie Mingjue’s letter concerning Meng Yao, if Meng Yao die, he would have one less problem in his life, if he survive then Jin clan still get a soldier to be used, no big deal. And when Meng Yao become a spy, this also benefit him greatly, if the Wen wins, he could say that he sent Wen Ruohan a good tool and was force to join the Sunshot side, pulling “Look at how unwilling I was, the Jin not even try that hard you see”.

We already witness he jump in full force to reap the benefit after the Wen lost, Jin Guangshan is smart and skill enough to wait for the clear victory, legitimize Jin Guangyao to take the war credits, with a ‘Guang’ name to exclude him from succession line, with a connection to Lan and Nie clans via Sworn Brotherhood. The best of all is no one can publicly complain anything, Jin clan is the most intact great clan after war, Lan need money for their rebuild their home, Jiang need to be rebuild from scratch, Nie Mingjue lack seniority to scold a man of his father generation, Lan Qiren who is in the same generation lack a position to do so, smaller sects also need his backing to rebuild, want to be on his good side or risking annihilation when no one can help them. He rope in the Jiang clan by Jiang Yanli’s marriage, for the society, he is the benevolent man who honors the promise of two clans even when the Jiang is still in ruin, he is a kind man who help the younger generation, what a good father-in-law to be. Now do you feel that this man is scary? He come out of war, lying in his own house but still emerge with enough political power to maneuvering society, that’s an achievement on its own.

Then he look at Yiling Patriarch, his next goal. If he cannot control this dangerous man then let him be destroy and let him create the one that will belong to Jin clan. Not dissimilar to the opinion in Cold War related to nuclear weapon. First he sow a discord between Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian, play the insecurities of young sect leader who has no family backing, pressure him with society, even though losing his heir was out of the plan. He used his ‘spare son’, who has a great work resume for shady business, to do all his dirty work and supervise demonic cultivation experiment that if society found out he could have a perfect scapegoat, after all, it’s not surprise for ‘a son of a whore’ with ‘dirty blood and upbringing’ to be like that. Daggling his ‘love and legitimize’ over Jin guangyao’s head to ensure loyalty and obedience. Getting Mo Xuanyu into the clan also sent a message that ‘I can always replace you with any of my spare’. He let Xue Yang have fun with the Chang clan, a revenge massacre while tasting demonic cultivation experiment, win-win for then both, Nie Mingjue went to talk with Jin Guangshan on this matter but Jin Guangyao end up taking all the blame of his father’s conduct, wow. Correct me if I’m wrong here, Jin Guangshan was the one who order Nie Mingjue’s death wasn’t he. If yes, then his plan to establish Jin sect as the main power after the war is really clean cut, ‘get rid of the one I can’t control’.

Let’s be real, Jin Guangshan must be the best politician of his own generation, Wen Ruohan is too strong for this skill to be essential, but doesn’t mean he isn’t good (may be next essay then), Jiang Fengmian wasn’t a bad sect leader, but he just too mild for that political climate, late Nie sect leader was too careless in whatever spat he had with Wen Ruohan, and Qingheng-jun was a fail sect leader. Yes, marry for love must be so romantic, but then he just throw all his responsibility onto Lan Qiren’s shoulder, poor man, what a disaster older brother to have, madam Lan debacle must be a political nightmare.

Jin Guangshan’s mistake was he overvalue himself in Jin Guangyao’s eyes, and underestimated how low his bastard son willing to sink to before rise up, but need to give it up to him though, poetic justice of his death is so iconic. Not many people can claim they die while doing what they love aren’t they.

#mdzs #femme fatale #With a fan #nie huaisang #jin guangyao #jin zixuan #mo xuanyu #qin su #jin guangshan #nie mingjue #my analysis #Real bad bitch of MDZS

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pillow-anime-talk · 4 years

Text

my anime crush.

synopsis: As an anime fan, you have your favorite 2D boy. At the same time, your own boyfriend is jealous of him. LMAO.

# tags: scenarios; current relationships; romance; comedy; fluff; boys as attention whores; maybe spoilers??; sfw

includes: female reader ft. shoto todoroki, izuku midoriya, katsuki bakugo, denki kaminari & eijirou kirishima {bnha}

— SHOTO (ft. Roy Mustang)

shobby; Hello, Y/N. Would you like to come on a date with me?

You looked at the phone and the message from your boyfriend, then at your laptop screen and sighed.

you; I’m sorry, love. I have a date with Mustang today. We can go tomorrow <3 Love u.

You answered quickly, then turned off the phone and resumed watching the next episode of ‘Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood’. There was a lot of your favorite character at this arc, so unfortunately you couldn’t stop watching it right now! ‘Sorry, baby!’

Todoroki, on the other hand, had been staring at his smartphone’s screen for two or three... or maybe four minutes, probably not catching your joke about your alleged date with a non-existent 2D character. Only after long thought he decide to go to your room in the dorm.

Shoto expected everything; that you will be getting ready for a mentioned date, that you’re drunk or something, that you will cry while devising a plan to break up with him... but he certainly didn’t expect that you will lie on the bed hugging a large and fluffy dakimakura with the anime character’s face and body.

“Y/N?”

You glanced to the side, pausing the anime episode, and raised an eyebrow. “Oh. Hi?”

“What are you doing?”

“I have a date. I wrote it, remember?” You laughed softly as you sat on the bed. “You want to join?” You asked, but seeing his surprised expression, you decided to explain it. “I just watch anime, Sho. It’s a inside joke that you ‘go on a date’ with your favorite character when you just watch your favorite title. And my favorite character is Roy Mustang! Come here, please and watch it with me.”

After a short while, you played a few seconds of the anime for your boyfriend, and he raised his left eyebrow.

“Why you like this ‘Roy Mustang’ if you have me? Plus, my power is much better and I don’t need gloves to activate my quirk.”

You looking in shock at the boy, then blushed hardly. A moment later you grabbed his hand and pulled him to you, hugging him.

‘I guess, I just like hot guys Shoto-kun.’ You thought, still hugging Todoroki.

— IZUKU (ft. Genos)

“Y/N why do you like this Robot-Man more than me?” Izuku pouted so you looked at him in big surprise. For a moment you didn’t know what the young High School student was talking about, but after the next few seconds you realized he meant your favorite 2D boy – Genos.

“I never said I liked him more than you, baby.” You laughed softly as you looked again at the black and white page of the manga, which showed the changing pictures and the fight of your favorite hero with the huge scolopendre-like monster.

“B-But... You keep reading about him, you have him on your wallpaper, you have his photos on wall, and you even cry to him while watching anime. Not to mention that you’ve watched this title about eighteen times already...! You love him more than me! I’m so sad, Y/N-chan!”

You raised your left eyebrow, laughing softly, looking at the book again and then closing it with a little, colorful bookmark. Of course, the bookmark with the image of Genos. Lmao.

“Izu-kun... No offence, but you know that well – all your room is in All Might’s things; bedding, mugs, pens, carpet and posters. When we kiss there, I can feel his smile and eyes on me. All. The. Time.” You said honestly, causing his pouty cheeks to flush after a short while, like two huge red ripe apples from an orchard.

“Yeah... B-But...”

“Anyway, I like this manga also because the main character looks like you. He also beats the villains with one punch! You should read this with me... I think you will like it, baby.”

This one, simple sentence was enough to interest Midoriya, who was (yeah, let’s face it) obsessed with physically strong characters/heroes/people.

Unfortunately, after a short time you turned your boyfriend into a monster who started buying various ‘One Punch Man’ stuff... Mr. Yagi Toshinori had a competition from now. Lol.

— KATSUKI (ft. Tobio Kageyama)

“Stop watching this shit and go out on a date with me.”

“Leave me alone! They’re playing an important game with Shiratorizawa Academy right now! I can’t, I just can’t! I have to support my favorite team!” You squeaked as your boyfriend pulls your leg and tries to pull you out of the safe ‘nest’ on the bed. “Katsuki! LEAVE ME ALONE, YOU BASTARD.”

“Shitty woman, let’s go on a date.”

“Piss off, let me spend time with my beautiful volleyball players! I missed them.” You almost cry holding onto the wooden bed frame while kicking your boyfriend in the face. “Let me finish watching the game and we’ll go on that date. I promise. I PROMISE.” You add quietly, looking at the screen again.

Bakugo snorted loudly, finally sitting down on your white carpet and leaning back against the bed. Then he took out his phone to browse his social media, but shortly afterwards he speaks back again. His raspy voice was irritated.

“I just don’t understand why you like that anime and that black-haired idiot so much... Like, I’m better in every fucking way.”

“Don’t offend Kageyama, you stupid ass.” You growled, poking him with your foot. “I like him because he’s so handsome and cute. He’s tall, he can play volleyball, he has beautiful, blue eyes...” You started exchanging softly, blushing, which made your boyfriend mad.

After a moment was heard a sound of a laptop hatch closing loudly in the room.

“KATSUKI, YOU SON OF A BITCH. I HATE YOU.”

“Yeah, yeah. Anyway. We’re going on a date. Now.”

— DENKI (ft. Takumi Usui)

“CJSDDKJDKVIDOLVDFK!”

The blonde boy looked at you with a very scared expression on his face. When he saw the tears in your shiny eyes and the blush on your both cheeks, he approached you, asking if you were all right.

“Nothing’s alright, Denki!” You screamed out, stopping the episode of ‘Kaichou wa Maid-sama!’ and then looking back at your still worried boyfriend. “Usui kissed Misaki. I don’t know what to do with myself. I’M SO JEALOUS!” You squealed as you grabbed your warm forehead. “I’d like to kiss him too!” You added, causing the fear on his face to turn into surprise and confusion.

“Baby, I... Huh?”

“I would like to be a character in this anime. Life is hard, Denki. Life is painful.” You sighed, glancing at the colorful screen again.

After a while, however, you felt a warm touch on your hand, and then a gentle tug of your body towards the blonde’s chest. You looked at him questioningly, but before you could ask what he was doing, your man pulled you even closer, finally kissing your sweet lips. The kiss was gentle, slow and sweet; it was that kind you liked mostly and personally.

When you pulled away from Kaminari, he smiled at you, tucking unruly strands from your head behind one of your reddy ears.

“You may not live in the same anime as Usui, but at least you live next to me. It’s nice, isn’t it, Y/N?”

Your cheeks flushed even more than a few minutes ago, when you watched the last episode of your favorite title with interest. So you nodded gently. “That’s very nice, thank you, cutie.”

— EIJIROU (ft. Light Yagami)

“Y/N, why do you like this bad and nasty man so much?” Kirishima looked at you, and you paused the third episode, looking at him with amusement in your both, bright eyes.

“He’s not bad at all. He does justice as he sees fit.” You ate some popcorn and the boy pouted. “Hm? What’s wrong, baby?”

“I just don’t understand why you like this anime so much... There are much more enjoyable series! Honey, please, let’s watch ‘Pokémon’ or something where good and love wins. Pretty please.”

“But, you know that I don’t like this kind of anime or manga. I prefer what I’m watching now, Eiji-kun.”

“Yes, but you know it by heart!” He said reproachfully, and you shrugged your shoulders again. Kirishima gave up for a few more moments, watching your cute face, which with each second of the episode turned to an expression of admiration and big as heck stress. It was kind of cute in his own eyes, but still... Why did you like someone who killed others so much! After all, you were supposed to be a pro-hero, not someone who kills people for your own judgment and fun.

Out of the corner of your eye, of course, you could see your red-haired boy’s wrinkled face, so you tapped his warm hand and smiled softly as you looked at him.

“Umm... If you want you can hug me, baby. It’ll definitely be nicer to watch all these murders. I guess.” You whispered, to which the High School student laughed out loud and immediately executed your soft words.

Eijiro cuddled up against your thighs, and your hand automatically combed his soft, red hair, which weren’t now styled with a hair gel or gum.

‘Well.’ If, while watching the actions of the evil-like Light, Kirishima could hug you and kiss your hands, he may turn a blind eye to Kira’s awful behavior.

#— 🍁#boku no hero academia #my hero academia imagines #my hero academia x reader #boku no hero imagines #boku no hero x reader #bnha imagines #bnha #bnha x reader #bnha x you #todoroki shoto x reader #izuku midoria x reader #bakugou x reader #denki kaminari x reader #kirishima eijiro x reader

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vosh-rakh · 4 years

Text

a handsome hunt

Handsome has been tracking this particular mark for a year now. Her reputation depends on it: this argonian nearly killed the Queen of Wayrest, and under her watch. So through the East Wrothgarians she’s chased her, hunting from sighting to sighting, always one step behind. She’s a tricky one, this assassin, former sister of the Dark Brotherhood.

Handsome pulls her cloak tighter against the frigid air of this altitude. What a waste of time, she thinks, to be an assassin. It’s not much better than being a bandit, albeit a little more civilized. There’s a proper profession for people like her, like Handsome: bounty hunting, or at least other mercenary work. That way you can make money killing people legally. They had something like that in Morrowind, before it blew up: the Morag Tong. This assassin, an old member of the Wayrest chapter of the Dark Brotherhood, idealizes herself as one of those old state-sanctioned assassins. But there’s not much room for virtue in this kind of work in the 4th era.

Handsome’s last clue was a sighting climbing this path up Mt. Martag, spotted by a group of orc teens playing banditry in the valley. Not the best lead, but the trail is running dry. Handsome needs a little bit of luck on her side. The kids told her a story of a cave near the peak of the mountain, of an infamous marauder who hid his loot there before being caught by the Empire centuries ago. Many youngsters tried to climb to this cave to find his riches, but all either turned back halfway or were never seen again. There was a rumor that a vicious dire troll lived in that cave, but the adults knew the much simpler truth: the path was treacherous, and it was nearly impossible to reach it in the first place. Most never bothered to try to reclaim the bodies of the lost, and instead tried to instil the danger of trolls and dragons into the children to keep them away.

Handsome was experienced enough that she felt her odds were better. So she set out to climb the mountain, following the often narrow and icy path upwards. As she approached, she heard ominous sounds, almost like the roaring of a troll, but she convinced herself it was the wind. Now, as she nears the cave, she’s not so sure. Even if her target isn’t here, maybe she can make enough money killing the troll for the locals that she can run far away from Wayrest and start again somewhere else.

Handsome stares into the dark, narrow opening of the cave and sniffs at the frigid mountain air, the cold stinging the lining of her nostrils. No smell of troll dung, which she takes as a good sign. But she does smell something: the faintest whisper of smoke, an even better sign. The brief roar of her torch igniting breaks the howling winds for a moment, and she draws her axe. Then she begins to descend into the cave.

The air in here is hazy, smelling more strongly of smoke. She follows that odor as she keeps careful footing on the damp stone. No signs of habitation anywhere in these early corridors, so she commits to delving deeper.

The smoke leads her to a larger chamber in the bowels of the cave. She waves her torch around to get a better look. The smoke clears a bit and she can see a bedroll, a doused fire, and a handful of small barrels. Lying near the bedroll is a pack, lounging open on the stone floor. Whoever lived here, they left in a hurry, and recently.

Handsome lays her torch on one of the barrels to give the room light as she investigates. Halfway tucked into the pack is a small book, a journal by the looks of it. She picks it up and leafs through it with one hand, her other still firmly on her axehandle. It’s written in daedric script, which Handsome can read, but the language is entirely unfamiliar. She studies the cryptic handwriting for a moment, trying to decipher the text, but to no avail. Her best guess is that it might be written in the strange language of the argonians, seeing as her target is one herself. But to Handsome’s knowledge, that language is completely oral, with no written equivalent. Puzzling. She sticks it in her back-pocket to study more later.

“Hello.”

Handsome nearly jumps out of her skin. She swings around instinctively, her axe-arm outstretched in an offensive arc to catch her attacker. But all it finds is air, as the speaker is at the entrance to the chamber, leaning against the wall, arms crossed.

“Who are you?” Handsome asks, trying to gauge who she’s dealing with through the smoke and darkness. Looks like a dark elf, so not her target.

“Who are you, snooping around in my things?” The stranger draws a sword, but her arm is shaking. Clearly untrained. “I know how to use this.” No, you don’t, thinks Handsome.

“You live here?” Handsome waves her hand around, but keeps her axe leveled the stranger’s way.

“For the time being, yes. Why are you here?”

Handsome grunts. “I’m looking for someone.”

“Unless that person is Sivennis Dirale, I think you should leave.” She waggles her sword in what is surely meant to be an intimidating gesture.

Handsome grins. “Going to call the guards on me? The legion, perhaps? Or an ordinator?”

Sivennis drops her sword in a pleading gesture. “Please just leave me be. I’m just a hermit. I live here by myself.”

Handsome strokes her chin. “That may be so,” she says. “Tell me, have you seen an argonian around these parts? Possibly accompanied by an orc?”

“An argonian? Why are you looking for an argonian?”

Handsome decides to trust this poor woman. “I’m a bounty hunter. She’s wanted in connection to...an attempted murder. The orc’s her accomplice.”

“Oh! How awful!”

“I’ll leave you alone, if only you answer my question. Have you seen any suspicious argonians lately?”

“Well, no, why would any argonian come this far…” The woman bites her lip. “Oh Azura save me. I can’t tell you now that I know she’s a murderer. What if she comes after me next?”

“Attempted murderer. That means she’s not good enough to finish the job. Tell me what you know and I’ll make sure you’re protected.”

“Well...she came to me one night, with her orc man, asking for directions. I think they were heading south, towards Cyrodiil. Something about meeting with a friend in Skingrad, I think. That’s all I know, really.”

“That’s good enough. Thank-”

“I’m home!”

The words bellowed and echoed throughout the cave, causing Sivennis to cringe and whisper, “Dammit,” under her breath.

Handsome’s eyes dilate. “I thought you said you lived here by yourself.”

“I did, didn’t I? Sithis damn his loud mouth.”

There was a space of time between the sword being on the floor and then appearing in the elf’s hand again. In that brief moment Handsome saw through the dark haze clearly enough to make out some of the finer details of “Sivennis’s” face; notably, dark grooves on the sides of her neck, and the faintly reflective scales on her cheeks. After that brief moment was another, briefer, when Handsome’s axe-arm instinctively drew upwards to defend against the incoming strike.

“I told you I knew how to use this,” Hla-eix the assassin said, pulling back from the parried blow.

“You did, didn’t you,” quipped Handsome, readying her axe for a strike of her own. It came at the same time as one of Hla-eix’s, forcing her to quickly step to the side to avoid it. She certainly was a far cry from the quivering mess Sivennis had been, striking decisively like a viper, with a well-trained grace.

The two slowly circled one another, blocking and parrying each attack. Handsome needed to finish her, and quick, because she could hear the orc coming, his steps heavy down the stone halls - she certainly couldn’t take them both on, if he’s anything like her. When they had completely switched positions from the start of their duel, Hla-eix made a mistake that Handsome jumped on: she catches Hla-eix’s wrist under the beard of her axe, disarming her, her sword clattering away.

So much for the “alive” bonus, she thinks as she readies a finishing blow. She raises her arm over her head -

- but it won’t come down. She feels a weight on her wrist that holds her back. She elbows behind her and wrests her hand free, swinging it around to hit her attacker. She finds that the elbow connected with his throat, and her axe finds his side, but doesn’t manage to find much depth.

But something manages to find depth in Handsome’s back, sucking the air from her lungs. She falls forward, knocking the wounded orc over but catches herself on the wall of the cave.

Now, Handsome thinks, is the time to run.

She gropes her way through the dark cave, away from the light behind her, running as fast as her breath will allow. She realizes too late that she left her axe in the orc’s tough flesh but keeps pushing forward. Finally she finds the light of the moons and stars outside and follows it until she escapes the cave. She turns her head briefly behind her to see the orc hot on her heels, bleeding, holding her axe, eyes glowing red. No one escapes an orc’s rage, she remembers just as she realizes there’s nowhere else to run. She can’t manage the descent wounded like this, and all that remains is a nearly vertical cliffside.

She runs to the edge then stops, turning around. Hla-eix and the orc are both there, and Handsome is out of options. Hopefully there’s a soft snowdrift down there.

This is going to hurt, she thinks. She steps backwards.

Everything hurts, she thinks as she wakes up. Handsome tries to sit up but starts coughing so harshly that she has to lay back down. A little orc girl in the room notices and gasps before running away. She returns a moment later with an older orc woman, a shaman by her garb.

“You’re finally awake,” the woman says. “Was beginning to wonder if you would wake at all.”

“What happened? Where am I?”

“You’re in the village of Orsinium ag Martag, in friendly hands. You fell off a mountain. With a knife in your back. Which was poisoned. You also broke some bones. From falling off the mountain. I’m in the process of fixing you.”

Handsome raises a shaky hand to try to rub away a headache. “Is that all,” she whispers.

“It’s a miracle you survived,” the shaman says. “You should be thankful.”

“Yes, thank Malacath, I thought I was done for.”

“No, stupid girl,” the shaman shouts, slapping her on her unbroken leg. “Thank me. Malacath had nothing to do with it.”

“...sorry. Thank you.” Handsome slowly sits up, wincing all the while. “How can I repay you? I have gold. Drakes.”

“We don’t deal with Imperial gold in Orsinium,” the shaman says. “Tell me who you are and I call us square.”

“Okay. I’m Handsome. A bounty hunter. Just got my ass kicked by my current mark. Is that good enough?”

“I know you’re handsome,” the shaman says, “but what’s your name?” The little girl giggles.

“Handsome. It’s my name. Professionally.”

The shaman laughs deeply too. “Oh, I’m just playing with you. You outlanders are so fun to tease.”

“How do you know I’m an outlander?”

“People from here don’t climb mountains just to jump off them. Got more sense than that.”

“...Fair.”

The woman drags a sack over by the bed. Handsome looks through it, finding most of her things intact. She sees Hla-eix’s journal and pulls it out, puzzling over it again.

“We had to dig around where you fell to find a lot of this, so we may have missed some stuff,” says the shaman. “And you may be missing a few healing potions. We used them on you.”

Handsome acknowledges with a grunt, but is still poring over the pages. “You read daedric?” she asks.

“It’s all we write in,” says the shaman. “No cyrodiilic letters in Orsinium.”

“Can you tell what this says?” Handsome turns the journal out for the shaman to read.

The woman squints as she focuses on the words, but shakes her head. “Gobbledygook. Is it code or something?”

“I think it might be argonian talk,” Handsome replies, closing the book. “Know anyone who might know it?”

“Not out here. Maybe in the city.”

“How long until I can leave?”

#tes #tesblr #elder scrolls #orc #argonian #dark elf #dunmer #oc: handsome #oc: hla-eix #oc: daabush gro-dren #orsinium

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